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Biblical Illustrator
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Anecdotes, SimHes, Emblems, IHustradom;
Expository, Scientific, Geographical, His-
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SAINT LUKE, Vol III
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THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOK.
BT. LUKE.
CHAPTER XIV.
Ybbs. 1-6. He went into the house of one of the chief Phaxlsees. — Tht gapelfor
the seventeenth Sunday after Trinity : — I. Wb bebb behou) cub Satioub in the
BociAL oibcle. Jesus was not a recluse. He had a kind and aooial heart. He came
to instruct, benefit, and redeem men, and He took pleasure in mingling with them.
With all His holiness, majesty, and glory. He was a meek and social being, worthy
of all admiration and imitation. II. Wb herb have a bemabkablb testimony to
Chbist's goodness. There is reason to suspect that His iuTitation to this Pharisee's
house was for no friendly purpose. The Pharisees, as a class, hated Jesus, and
were intent npon bringing Him into condemnation; and this man had dis-
tinguished friends with him on this occasion, who were no exception. This is
proven from what occurred when they all got together in the house. Immediately
in front of Christ, and in a manner thrust upon His notice, was " a certain man
that had the dropsy." How he got there is to be inferred. Evidently he was
placed there to tempt our Lord to commit Himself. Yes, even their hard and bitter
hearts were so assured of the Saviour's goodness, that they felt warranted in build-
ing on it their plot to ruin Him. Sabbath day as it was, their convictions were
deep and positive that He would not pass by the opportunity for exercising his
marvellous power to cure the invalid they had stationed before Him. And that one
incidental fact speaks volumes. It tells of the constant stream of healing power
dispensed by the Saviour wheresoever He went. As the very cloud that would
cover the sun with darkness bears the bow which the more beautifully reflects his
glory, so the very wrath and malignity of these designing hypocrites did the more
magnificently attest the gracious goodness of our Lord. Nor did they miscalculate.
Knowing full well the nature and intent of the arrangement, and comprehending
all the Ul use the treacherous watchers around Him meant to make of it, He did
not flinch from His wont, nor suffer His merciful power to be diverted or oon-
strained. III. But how basb the oowabdice bboooht befobb us in the conduct or
THESE KEN ! To wish to Unseat and injure one of whose goodness they were so
thoroughly convinced, was in itself a seli-contradictory wickedness almost beyond
comprehension. Shame on a zeal that attaches sanctity to such hypocrisy, or
honour to such cowardice 1 IV. Wb hbbb behold the tbub spibit or thb^ law.
The Sabbath was not ordained for itself and its own sake ; nor as a mere arbitrary
act of Divine sovereignty ; but for the good of the living beings concerned in its
observance. V. We likewise behold fbom this nabbative, that an unchabitablb
PUNOniilOUSNESB ABOUT BELIOIOUS THINGS, IS ATT TO HAVE, AS ITS ACCOMPANIMENT, IT
hot ITS BOOT, SOME HtDDBN SELFISHNESS AND BELr-CONSEQUENCE. It WaS UOt that
they so loved God's appointments, or that they were so devoutly concerned to obey
them ; but anxiety for a bludgeon to break the head of Him whose pure teachings
were undermining their falsehood and tyranny. It was not God, but greed ; not
righteousness, but honour, place, and dominion ; not concern for Moses and the
prophets, but for themselves and their own consequence. On the occasion before
ns, there was a marked concern about honours and place. This was the inspira*
tion of their assumed sanctity, and all their superior orthodoxy was only a sham
tor pride and lust of power. And only too apt is this to be the case in every ia>
▼OL. m. 1 , _.
t THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xrr,
tolerant and onoharitable ado aboat the mere " mint, anise, and oommin " of th«
faith. YI. But tbb end of the whole matter is also hebb shown ns. Soch •
spirit has no favoar with God, and has nothing good to expect. (J. A. Seiss, D.D.)
They watched Him. — What may be learnt from watching Christ : — If we watch
Christ also, we see how exalted piety instructs the worldly-minded. 1. He con-
descends to accept in friendly spirit the invitation that appeared to be friendly.
2. He explains and defends the right use of the Sabbath. 3. He rebukes pride by
inculcating humility. 4. He unfolds to those around Him the nature of true
hamility. 6. From humility as His subject, in the presence of the prond, Ha
proceeds to speak of hospitality in the presence of the selfish. 6. Our Lord dis-
tinguishes between the hospitality of ostentation, and the hospitality of true
benevolence. 7. He deduces His instruction from passing events or from sur-
rounding objects. 8. Seated at the supper, He utters to His host and the guests
the parable of the Great Supper. {Van Doren.) Healing on the Sabbath: — Is it
lawful to do anything but heal on the Sabbatn day 7 Certainly not ; that is the
purpose of the day ; it is a day of healing. If, therefore, in the very complex
arrangements of our modern life, we are trying to interfere with anything that ia
customary on the Sabbath day, we should ask whether we are interfering with that
which has a healing effect, or whether we are interfering with that which has an
injurious effect ; because there are many things that in their outward form are
"works "that nevertheless in their general effects are healing. (T. T. Lynch.)
The coming Sabbath : — We have been thinking and speaking of a miracle done on
the Sabbath. It is evident that our Saviour had a preference for the Sabbath as a
time for working miracles. How, then, is it with respect to ourselves — we who,
many of us, would be glad to have a miracle wrought on our behalf, and yet have
no right whatever to expect one? It is just thus — we are waiting for the Sabbath.
In other words, it was intended, no doubt, to be taught us by our Saviour's prac-
tice, that there is a special time of rest coming, when all the various troubles that
hamper and injure us will be utterly removed — our burdens unbound ; our fevers
cooled for ever ; our weakness changed to strength ; all our heaviness lightened ;
our blind eyes made clear ; our deaf ears unstopped ; our feet filled with vigoroaa
leaping blood ; and all that is within us lighted up with joy, even as the house waa
lighted up, and music and dancing sounded in it, when the prodigal came home.
There is a Sabbath coming ; and as Christ wrought His cures upon the Sabbath,
when He was upon earth, we are taught to look on to a day of cure that is coming
— that Sabbath, namely, of rest, into which we hope to enter hereafter. It may
be needful for our perfection, and the perfection of our friends, that we should still
be burdened ; but we are quite sure that, after the round of the six days, there will
come the seventh ; we are quite sure, when the time of trial has ended, the boon of
health will be granted. {Ibid.) The dropsy.— Dropsy a figure of avarice: —
Dropsy is a disease which in general attacks only those of an advanced age. In a
similar manner, from indifference to God and celestial things, and attachment to
earthly goods, arises avarice — a vice to which many fall victims, especially in
advanced years. I. Similabitt between dbopsy and avabice. 1. In the thirst
occasioned by both. 2. In the sufferings occasioned by both. (1) Want of rest and
joy. (2) Pains throughout the whole body. 3. In the dangerous character of the
respective diseases. (1) Avarice is difficult of cure. (2) Should the avaricious
man be converted, there is the utmost danger of his relapsing into his former sins.
(3) Avarice frequently causes premature death. (4) Avarice causes everlasting
aeath. U. Death the delivebeb fbom both diseases. 1. Death and the grave
warn as to despise earthly goods. 2. The judgment warns the avaricious to
tremble on account of their possessions. For they provoke God — (1) By their
injustice and hard-heartedness, which are often the cause of sins crying to heaven.
(2) By the false confidence which they place in their goods. 3. Eternity teaches
us to covet unfailing goods. ( Venedien.) Grief aiding thought : — Here, then,
stands the man that had the dropsy. Does he object to a miracle on the Sabbath
day ? It is surprising how our own necessities give an internal light to our prin-
ciples. Many a thing that has been wholly dark to a man, so that he has said, ** I
cannot nnderstand it," becomes translucent to him as soon as God has lighted up a
gnat within him. Pat a grief inside a thought, and it is astonishing how much
clearer the thought is. This man had clear views of the Sabbath — very dear views.
Th« dropsy had given him those views. (T. T. Lynch.)
Tas. 7-11. He pnt forth a parable to those which were bidden. — Chritft grtaX
«H4r. S3V.] ST. LUKE. t
Uxt'book : — " When He marked how they ..." The book of daily life was Christ's
^reat text-book. What every man did, gave Him a subject ; every word He heard
started a novel theme. We poor preachers of the nineteenth century often cannot
find a text, and say to one another, " What have you been preaching about ? I
wish I could get hold of another subject or two." Poor professional dunderheads I
snd the great book of hfe — joy, sorrow, tragedy, comedy — is open night and day.
Jesus Christ put forth a parabUj not after He had been shutting Himself up for a
fortnight, and reading the classic literature of immemorial time, but " when He
marked how they . . ." Keep your eyes open if you would preach well — keep
your eyes open upon the moving panorama immediately in front of you, omit
nothing, see every line and every hue, and hold your ear open to catch every tone,
loud and sweet, low and full of sighing, and all the meaning of the masonry of
God. Jesus Christ was, in this sense of the term, pre-eminently an extemporaneous
speaker, not an extemporaneous thinker. There is no occasion for all your elaborate
preparation of words, if you have an elaborate preparation of yourself. Herein
the preacher would do well, not so much to prepare his sermon as to prepare
himself — his life, his manhood, his soul. As for the words, let him rule over
them, call them like servants to do his behest, and order them to express his
regal will. What sermons our Saviour would have if He stood here now 1 He
would mark how that man came in and tried to occupy two seats all to him-
self— a cunning fellow, a man who has great skill in spreading his coat out and
looking big, so as to deceive a whole stafi of stewards. What a sermon He would
have evoked on selfishness, on want of nobleness and dignity of temper 1 How the
Lord would have shown him how to make himself half the size, so as to accom-
modate some poor weak person who had struggled miles to be here, and is
obliged to stand. I have been enabled to count the number of pews from the
front of the pulpit where the man is. I paused there. My Lord — keener,
truer — would have founded a sermon on the iU-behaviour. He would have
spoken about us all. He would have known who came here through mere curiosity,
who was thinking about finery and amusement, who was shopkeeping even in the
«hnrch, buying and selling to-morrow in advance; and upon every one of us,
preacher and hearers. He would have founded a discourse. Do you wonder now
at His graphic, vivid talk? Do you wonder now whence He got His accent?
<Jan you marvel any longer to what He was indebted for His emphasis. His
clearness. His directness of speech. His practical exhortation ? He put forth a
parable when He remarked how they did the marketing, dressed themselves, trained or
mistrained their families, went to church for evil puiposes, spake hard words about
one another, took the disenuobUng instead of the elevating view of their neigh-
bours' work and conversation. The hearers gave that preacher His text, and what
they gave He took, and uent back again in fiame or in blessing. (Joseph ParkeT,D.D. )
Sit not down In the highest room. — Lessons: — 1. That Christianity is intended
to enter into our whole conduct, not only when we are engaged in religious exer-
cises, but even in our social intercourse with our fellow-creatures. Nothing, you
see, can be a greater mistake than to suppose that religion is to be confined to the
church or to the closet. It is intended to regulate our thoughts and passions, and
to dispose us always to cherish those dispositions which are amiable. 2. We infer
from this passage that humility is a disposition essential to true Christianity, which
ought to be exercised, not only on great occasions, but at all times ; and that it
does not consist merely in speeches, but includes actions done even in the most
common intercourse of life. 3. Nothing can be more true than the declaration of
oar Saviour in the eleventh verse: 'Tor whosoever exalteth himself shall be
abased ; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." In uttering this maxim
He addresses human feelings. He allows that all men aspire after distinction and
honour, but requires that these should be sought after by humility. For he who
is not humble, but cherishes pride and vanity, shall be subjected to mortification
snd disgrace. On the other hand, all are ready to raise the humble man, and to
rejoice in his exaltation. Even if he should pass unnoticed by his fellow-creatures,
the exercise of humility will constantly improve him, and will at length enable
him, with the blessing of God, to attain the true dignity which belongs to superior
excellence : " For the kingdom of Heaven is his." {J. Tlwmson, D.D.) Christ's
table-talk : — Some interesting volumes have been published under the title of
" Table-Talk." That of Luther is well known, in which many striking sayings of
the great reformer are preserved, which would otherwise have sunk into oblivion.
To other works of a biographical character, the above desiguatic a might have been
4 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xit»
appropriately given, especially BoBwell's "Life of Johnson." W* need not say
that its chief charm, the one feature in which its interest and value pre-eminently
oonsists, is not the incidents it contains, but the conversational observations which
are recorded. The table-talk, however, of Luther and Johnson, instructive and
important as it was, is not for a moment to be compared with that to which we are
permitted to listen on the present occabion. We have in this chapter, &b well as in
many other parts of the gospel narratives, the table-talk of Christ. And while in
His more public addresses, " never man spake like this man," the same can be
said of Him with equal truth concerning all He uttered in those social gatherings
to which, from various motives, He was occasionally invited. The gospel incul-
eatei good vianners : — There are no manners so refined and graceful as those taught
in the gospel, because the gospel refers all to the heart. The habit of " pushing,"
as we expressively call it, whether in affairs of smaller or greater importance,
Beema expressly discountenanced by the spirit of the gospel, and something very
different is taught. We who have to bring up our children to make their way in
life, should be careful how far we stimulate in them the pushing instinct. Do not
encourage them to be loud and clamorous in asking, and to make the interest of
"Number one" the point of only or first importance, and to thrust others aside.
Doubtless we have much counter-opiuion to meet on points like these, but let na
hold to it that the manners which are pervaded by the evangelical spirit and temper
are the true manners, both for the gentleman and the man of the world. It is said,
*• If we do not look after ourselves, no one else will." Certainly, as our great poet
says, " Self-love is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting." But this is not the point.
It is a self-love indulged so far that it becomes indifferent to the rights of others ;
it is the restless desire to get out of our proper place, and seize that which belongs
to another, which is condemned. The world is always glad of people who are bent
upon doing their duty and who keep their place, and takes delight in putting down
those who do not know their place, and would grasp at honours not their due.
Christ's lesson is one that comes home to us. It is not in the first instance a lofty
and spiritual lesson, but a hint for our behaviour in the world of every day. And
it is observable that He appeals to two very powerful passions — the sense of shame
and the love of honour. If, in effect He says, you will persist in snatching at
honours or advantages to which you are not entitled, you are on your way to be
ridiculed, perhaps to be disgraced. If, on the other hand, you take a low plaoe,
lower, possibly, than that to which you are entitled, the chances are all in your
favour. You may be promoted, and your promotion will bring honour upon you.
An Oriental proverb says, " Sit in your place, and no man can make you rise." In
other words, at life's feast sit down where all will accord you room, where none will
dispute your right to be — a place that is lowly, therefore not envied ; and there you
may sit in peace and comfort. No man can disturb you in a place secured to you
by the good will and respect of your neighbours. How much better this than to be
contending for a position which the spite of others will not permit you to enjoy,
and from which, sooner or later, you are likely to be removed. To how lofty a
religious application is this lesson carried in the parable of the Pharisee and the
publican 1 (E. Johnson, M.A.) Amongst the lowly : — We are aU the subjects of
love and of truth. We should indeed be dishonoured by absence from the feast ;
but as present, we show our fitness for honour by placing ourselves at the disposal
of our royal host. We take the lowest room, and in that bright presence not the
remotest comer is dark. Admission even, without promotion, is happiness. But
Love, with his truth-anointed eyes, will soon see at which of the lesser tables we
are suited to preside ; among which group of guests we may best receive and dis-
pense joy ; and in what place and oflSce of the festival we shall find our strength
most free for generous exertion. Possibly, Love may see that we shall find it the
truest promotion to remain in the lowest room and keep the door, and make those
happy who, not fitted as yet to occupy high places, were nevertheless thought
worthy of admission. Some of the great must always remain amongst the lowly,
lest these become neglected and desponding, and a lowly heart is needed for this
service. Perhaps our Saviour was sitting in a humble place, that the humbler part
of the company might see and hear Him ; and had declined, though with acknow-
ledgment, the courteous request of the Pharisee that He would '* come up higher."
(T. T. Lynch.) Promotion jwt to be Bought apart from, ability : — There is a weapon
much used in the contests of life — the elbow. We elbow our way on in the world.
And there is another weapon, less regarded, but powerful — the knee. We must
•toop the back to succeed in husbandry ; and we must bend the knee to subdue the
CHAP, xrv.} ST. LUKE. 8
evil power that assails us from below, the enemy, whose strength is in his pride.
And humility is not a temper to be put off on promotion ; it is our safeguard in the
sorrows of our early career, our ornament in elevation. At the first, like a shield —
beautiful as well as protective ; and at the last, like health — safety as well as
beauty. If, then, you ask, Am I sure of promotion If I take the lowest place ? Yes,
sure, we reply, if you take it with a lowly heart. But many seek promotion, as if
it were — in a spiritual, that is, in a real, sense —possible, apart from true ability.
Will any one blame the sapling for desiring to become an oak ? or even the little
forget-me-not for wishing to be made the memorial of some good man's friendship ?
No ; nor will we blame any man for asking a field for his strength, and an oppor-
tunity for his talent. But many seek promotion with little thought of service and
capacity. As if one should come to us, complaining of his lot, and we should say,
" I need a captain for one of my ships ; will you take the post ? " " Captain of a
ship," he exclaims, " I never was at sea." " Oh," but we say, " there are two
hundred men on board to do your bidding." " Ah," but he cries, " I could not even
tell them what sails to unfurl." " But," we add, " the ship is going on a lucrative
voyage ; the captain will be well remunerated." " Ah," he says, " I could take the
money." And, indeed, that is what be seeks. Men may not know how to earn a
loaf, still less how to make and to bake one ; but they know that they could eat it.
They may know themselves unable to fulfil a high function, yet they do not deem a
high chair unsuitable for them, because the cushion is soft 1 True promotion, how-
ever, is like that of the captain, who is the first man in the rule of a storm, and the
last man in flight from a peril. No man should wish for degrees of wealth and
praise unsuited to his inward attainments. He cannot indeed be rich to good ends,
to his own welfare or his neighbour's, without being wise and good. He cannot
honestly and safely receive the praise of men unless he deserves their love.
Humility is then the necessary condition of all true and abiding promotion. All
going forward that comes of a vain heart comes to a bad end. Vanity raised us ;
into " vanity " we sink. We have but stepped on, to be put back again. Now we
begin with shame to take the lowest room. Humility does not imply, but is incon-
sistent with, baseness of spirit. It knows self as feeble, because it knows God as
strong. It is the vision of God's glory that gives us the discovery of our own
poverty ; we feel, but not abjectly, our dependence upon Him. We are utterly yet
hopefully dependent. It is He who shall appoint to us our places, we seeking first
to do the duties next us in the best way ; content with a low place because of a good
work, wishing for a higher one because of a better. Through humility the lowest
things are well done ; and as we rise, we shall need the knowledge that experience
of such work will bring us, for we shall need to direct, and still occasionally to per-
form, labours which once exclusively occupied us. The wise master-builder is
acquainted with the humbler tools and meaner services his work needs, and so can
both control and encourage all the workmen he employs. Humility may fail to
secure earthly promotion, and yet the capable man will often rise through it to
places of serviceable power and pleasant esteem. Besults in this world do not at
once and invariably illustrate spiritual laws, but they frequently do so. {ZHd.)
Take the lowest room : — Most persons agree to say that their earliest religious days
were their happiest and best. May not this be traced, in part at least, to the fact
that, at the beguaning, we all take " a lower place " than we do afterwards ? Was
not it that then you were least in your own eyes — that your feelings were more child-
like— that you had more abasing views of the wickedness of your own heart than
now ? Or, you say, " My prayers are not efiectual. I do not get answers when I
pray, either for myself or others; and, in consequence of this discouragement,
prayer has become lately a different thing to me, a thing without life, a thing with-
out reality " — then I remind you. Those that point their arrows high must draw
their bows down low. You must " go lower." Bemember that it was to one who
felt herself " a dog " that our Lord said, " O woman, great is thy faith; " and then
gave her everything she asked — " Be it unto thee even as thou wilt." Be sure
there is '• a lower room " in prayer than you have yet found. You must discover
it, and go down into it, or you cannot find real peace of mind. Now, let us go into
this matter a little deliberately. You use the ordinances of the Church and the
private means of grace. It is well. Do you look for peace because you do this ?
You say, '• No ; I look for peace because I trust in Christ." That is better. But
there is " a lower room " than that ; and therefore a better way than that. We get
forgiveness — and peace, the fruit of forgiveness — not because we do anything, or
believe anything, or because we are anything — but because God is God, and becauM
• THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xrv.
Clirist is Christ. It is the out-flcwing of the free sovereignty of God'a eternal graoe,
which, by believing, v/e take — and we, where are we ? — but for that grace, in hell I
You are to feel the amazing distance which there is between you and a holy God.
*' God, be merciful." That is " the lowest room ; " and the way homo is nearer
and quicker — " I tell you that man went down to his house justified." {J.
Vaughnn, M.A.) True humility: — "Sit down in the lowest room." But first,
let me guard my meaning. To say, " I am not a child of God, He does not love
me," this is not to " sit down in the lowest room." This lowers God's grace, but
it does not lower you ; rather, it puts you up. Neither is it to " go down, and sit
in the lowest room " to reason upon any duty; it is above that — "Who am I that
I should do such a work as this?" Do you not know that you are one thing, and
the grace of God that is in you is another thing ? Nor yet is it to " take the lowest
room " to be ignorant of, or to deny the possession of talents which God has givea
yon. Still less is it intended that these words should extend to heaven, and that
we should be content with the " lowest place " in the "many mansions." I can
never for a moment hold with those who say, " Let me get only within the gate of
heaven, and I shall be satisfied." Avoiding, then, these misinterpretations, let as
now consider what is the real meaning of the words. First, towards God. What is
" the lowest room " towards God ? Now I conceive it to be, to be content simply
to take God at His word, without asking any questions, or raising any doubts, but
to accept, at His hand, all that God graciously vouchsafes to give you, the pardon,
and the peace ; to be a receptacle of love, a vessel into which, of His free mercy,
He has poured, and is pouring now, and will go on to pour for ever, the abundance
of His grace. Next, it is to be just what God makes you, to rest where He places
you, to do what He tells you, only because He is everything, and you are nothing,
conscious of a weakness which can only stand by leaning, and an ignorance which
needs constant teaching. But now, how to man ? This is the point which I wish
to view this morning as practically as I can. But unless the relationship is right
with God, it is quite useless to expect it will be right with man. Then make the
well-balanced sense of what you are, and what God is, the inner sense of weakness
and strength which makes true humility, a subject of express, special prayer ; that
when you pass into company, you may be able to know, by a quick perception,
what your own proper part is — to speak, or to be silent ; to take a lead, or to go
into the shade. But whichever it be, have prepared yourself to put self out of
Bight ; do not make yourself the hero of what you say, specially when you speak of
personal religion. Do not expect, or lay yourself out for notice, but seeks others'
preferment. Anything approaching to argument would be an occasion which
would especially call for this self-discipline of " taking the lowest room. " Be on
your guard, then, that self does not go up. Have a strong jealousy for the right, and
fight for it ; but do not confound your victory and the vindication of truth. If
there be anything particular to be said, or any work to be done, and you see
another willing to do it, and who can do it better than you, stand by, and let that
other speak or act. But if there be not such a one, it will be as true humility to
go boldly forward, and do it yourself. Only copy your great Pattern, and retire out
of sight the moment it is said or done. If there be one among those you meet
who is less thought of than the rest, show to that one the more kindness and
attention. Do not put yourself up into the chair of judgment upon any man ; but
rather see yourself as you are — everybody is inferior in something, far worse than
that man in some things. If you wish to do good to any one, remember that the
way is not to treat him as if you were above him, but to go down to his level,
below his level, and to speak to him respectfully. Sympathy is power ; but there
is no sympathy where there is self. If, brethren, you have failed in any relatioa
towards God or man, the reason is mostly that you have not yet gone " low "
enough. If you have not peace — if you have few or no answers to prayer — here,
probably, is the chief cause. Therefore just try the remedy, " Go and sit down in
the lower room." If you are troubled with suggestions of infidelity, the main
reason is this, intellect has gone up too high. Tou are sitting as judge upon the
Bible, when you ought rather to be the culprit at its bar. Be more a little child,
handling the immensities of the mind of the Eternal. " Go and sit down in the
lower room." And if you have not succeeded in your mission of life, this is the
root ; if yon will go and be less, you will do much more. {J. Vaughan, M.A.)
Prlsnd, go up higher. — Friend, go up higher : — We have been taught to regard this
parable as a counsel of prudence, and of a somewbut worldly prudence, rather thaa
M a counsel of perfection. Some of our best commentators so read it, while the/
8BAf. XIT.] 8T. LUKJS. t
confess that, thus read, it enforces an artificial rather than a real hamility, that it
even makes an affected humility the cloak of a selfish ambition which is only too
real and perilous. What this interpretation really comes to is this, that when our
Lord was speaking to men who eagerly grasped at the best places, all He had in
give them was some ironio advice on the best way of securing that paltry end, iu
the hope that, if they learned not to snatch at what they desired, tbey might by-
and-by come to desire something higher and better. Is that like Him ? Do yoa
recognize His manner, His spirit, in it ? Can you possibly be content with such an
interpretation of His words ? I. Even if we take the parable simply as a couNSEti
OF PRUDENCE, Considering the lips from which it fell, there is surely much more in
it. Why may we not take it as enjoining a genuine and unaffected humility ; as
teaching that the only distinction which deserves a thought is that which is freely
bestowed on men of a lowly and kindly spirit ? Why may we not take it as setting
torth a truth which experience abundantly confirms, viz., that even the most
worldly and selfish of men have a sincere respect for the unworldly ; that the only
men who they can bear to see preferred before themselves are those of a spirit so
gentle and sweet and unselfish as not to grasp at any such preference or dis-
tinction? II. But mat wk not take it as a counsel of peefeotion? In the
Church, as well as in the world, we find men and women of a pushing, forward
epirit, a selfish and conceited temperament, who covet earnestly the best seat
rather than the best gift, and the first place rather than the prime virtues ; who
never doubt that, let others be where they will, they are entitled to sit down in the
highest room. And, curiously enough, it is the comparatively ignorant who ate
most deeply convinced of their own wisdom ; the narrow mind which is most
sure that it is always in the right ; those who have the least m which
to trust, who trust in themselves ; those who are most incompetent to rule,
who are most ambitious of rule, most vexed and incensed if they are not
suffered to rule. What they most need, then, is to hear a Voice, whose
authority they cannot contest, which bids them take a lower place, both in
the Church and in their own conceit, than that which on very slender evidence they
have assumed to be their due. On the other hand, happily, we find many men and
women in the Church, who are either naturally of a meek and quiet spirit, or who,
by the grace of God, have so far tamed and subdued their natural self-will and
self-conceit as to show, by word and deed, that they are familiar with their own
weakness, and are on their guard against it. And when the Voice comes to them,
** Friend, go up higher, take a more honourable post, not that you may be better
seen or receive praise from men, but that you may serve them better, on a larger
scale, or in a more public way," no one is more unaffectedly surprised than they
are. Yet these are precisely the men whom we all delight to honour and to see
honoured. Because they abase themselves, we rejoice in their exaltation. III.
Does, however, even this wholesome and pertinent lesson on humility exhaust the
spiritual meaning which we are told this parable must have ? By no means, I
think. We may bead it in a sense in which even the unwelcome command, "Go
DOWN lower," mat become WELCOME TO US, AND MAT BEALLT MEAN, " CoME UP
HIGHER." How often does our Lord compare the kingdom of heaven — i.e., the
ideal Church — to a feast to which all are invited, and all may come without money
and without price ! And when we listen to the call, come into His kingdom, and
«it down at His table, how often does the first joy of our salvation fade into dis-
appointment and dismay as we perceive that His salvation is in large measure a
salvation from ourselves, that His call is a call to share in His own self-sacrificiug
love, His unthanked toil, or even His poverty, shame, and affliction ! When we
first apprehend what His call really means, does it not seem to us as if it were
a command to come down, not only from all that we once took pleasure or pride
in, but also from the very honours and enjoyments which we had looked for in His
kingdom and service? Alas, how we misread His love ! For what can any call to
the cross be, but a call to the thi-one? (<S. Coa:,D.D.) The outward place
reacting upon the inward spirit : — Does the Lord here inculcate a feigned humility ?
By no means: He simply enjoins that a man should mortify his individual pride
and self-seeking — an act of self -discipline which is in itself always wholesome and
beneficial. If the man deserved the lowest or a lower place, then all was
right; he took that to which alone he was fairly entitled. If he took a
place below what he was entitled to, then he left it to the master of
the feast, the only fountain of honour, to rediess matters. Anyhow he set an
example of "minding not high things," but "in lowliness of mind esteeming
9 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xrr.
others better than himself." It is to be remembered that in one of any real worth,
the outward act would react on the inward spirit. The pride of spirit is fosterad
by outward self-assertion, and mortified by outward self-abasement. {M. F.
Sadler.) Pride and humility before the Divine Prince : — With respect to tha
epiritual meaning of the parable, we have a remarkable key to it in Prov. xiv. 6, 7.
The Lord must have had this place in His eye ; He must have meant Himself by
the "prince," for it was He who, as the Wisdom of God, inspired this passage.
All pride, all self-assertion, all seeking of great things takes place in the presence
of a King, the supreme Fountain of Honour, the Lord of both worlds, the present
and the future. It is very necessary for us to remember this, for the shame and
confusion of face which in this parable is represented as the lot of mortified pride
does not always follow it in this world. Self-assertion, self-assumption, forward-
ness, and boasting, do not always entail a disgraceful fall upon the man who
displays them. The meek do not as yet " inherit the earth " ; though, if we can
trust the words of Christ, they assuredly will. David asks, how is it that ungodly
men " speak so disdainfully, and make such proud boastings." Men who are
ambitious and self-seeking at times attain to the height of their ambition, provided,
of course, that they have other qualities, such as prudence, cleverness, and
perseverance. But a day is coming when the words of Christ with which the
parable concludes (ver. 11), will be verified in the case of every man. He HimseU
is the " King " before whom all pride displays itself, and before whom it will be
abased. And there is the greater reason that He should do so, for when He had
the highest place in the universe next to the Eternal Father, He abased Himself,
and took the lowest place, even the place of the cross of death, in order that He
might exalt those who have "followed the example of His humility." The Judge
at that day will remember and humble every act of pride, just as He wHl
remember and reward every act of humility. Does this seem too much ? Not for
One who numbers the hairs of our heads, and without whose permission no
sparrow falls, and who has engaged to bring every idle word into judgment, and
make manifest the secrets of all hearts. Should it not, then, be a matter of
prayer that God may humble us here rather than hereafter? It may be very
bitter to have our pride mortified now, but it will be a thousandfold more bitter to
have it mortified before men and angels, above all in the presence of the Prince
whom our eyes have seen. {Ibid.) The inferior seat preferred: — It is said
that General Gordon used to sit in the gallery of the church among the poor
until, his fame becoming known, he was asked to sit in the luxurious seats
appointed for the grandees, but that he preferred to keep the seat in which
he had so long sat unnoticed and unknown. Whosoever exalteth himself
shall be abased. — On the vice of pride : — I. The vice of pride is foolish fbom
ITS VEKT NATUKE. We ought all to be deterred from pride by the fact that
the proud endeavours to deceive both others and himself by pretended ad-
vantages ; and also that, instead of gaining honour and favour, he usually
renders himself contemptuous and odious. Yet it will help us to a more thorough
conviction how utterly unfounded and foolish pride is if we meditate — 1. On
the nothingness of man. (1) In the natural order, (a) What were we, say one
hundred years ago ? Nothing ! No one thought of us. No one needed us. Goi
called us from nothingness to life because He is good. (6) What are we now ? We
are not able to prolong our life for one minute unless God preserves it ; we are
subject to frailty of body and soul, (c) What are we to be ere long? We are to
pass like a shadow : to die. (2) In the order of grace, (a) What have we been ?
Born in sin; and sinners by our own actions, (b) What are we to-day? Perhaps
hardened in sin, or lukewarm. At best, exceedingly weak, (c) What shall we be
at last ? Dreadful uncertainty I Either converted, persevering, happy for ever, or
obdurate, relapsing, reprobate for ever. Can we still remain proud, instead of
imploring in the dust the Divine meroy and grace ? 2. On the greatness of God.
II. The vice op pbide is fatal in its consequences. 1. In reference to God.
fl) Apostasy; (2) viciousness ; (3) obduracy. 2. In reference to human society.
1) Anarchy, caused by the undermining of the pillars of social welfare, fidelity,
piety, &c. (2) Revolution: when haughty governments oppress the people, or
•when the insolent masses refuse to submit to order. (3) Buin of families, caused
by dissensions. 3. In reference to individuals. The proud man is deprived of — 1.
Inward peace, which is never enjoyed by a soul enslaved by her own passions, and
at variance with God. 2. Outward peace, since it is continually clouded by real or
imaginary opposition, affronts, humiliation, and contempt. 3. The enjoyment of
CHAP. XIV.] -Srr, LUKE, •
true happinees. Althoagh the prond have their triumphs, jet they are insufficient
to satisfy man's heart, which will always crave for something more. Haman.
(Repertorium Oratoris Sacri.) Of humility : — I. I am to consideb what tbtth
HOMiLiTT IS, AND WHBBEiN IT CONSISTS. 1. With regard to superiors in general,
true humility consists in paying them cheerfully and readily all due honour and
respect in those particular regards wherein they are our superiors, notwithstanding
anj other accidental disadvantages on their side, or advantages on ours. 2.
Towards oar equals, true humility consists in civil and affable, in courteous and
rnodest behaviour; not in formal pretences of thinking very meanly and con-
temptibly of ourselves (for such professions are often very consistent with great
pride), but in patiently permitting our equals (when it shall so happen) to be
preferred before us, not thinking ourselves injured when others but of equal merit
chance to be more esteemed, but, on the contrary, rather suspecting that we judge
too favourably of ourselves, and therefore modestly desiring that those who
are reputed upon the level with us may have shown unto them rather a greater
respect. 3. With regard to our inferiors, humility consists in assuming to our-
selves no more than the difference of men's circumstances, and the performance of
their respective duties, for preserving the regularity and good order of' the world,
necessarily requires. (1) There is a spiritual pride in presuming to sin, upon the
sense of the virtues we are in other respects endued with. This was the case of
Uzziah, king of Judah. (2) There is a spiritual pride of vainglory in affecting a
public appearance of such actions as in themselves are good and commendable.
This was the great fault of the Pharisees (Mark xii. 38). (3) There is a spiritual
pride of men confidently justifying themselves, and being wholly iusensible of their
own failings, while they are very censorious in judging and despising others. (4)
There is still a further degree of spiritual pride in pretending to merit at the
hands of God. (5) There is yet a higher degree of this spiritual pride in pretending
to works of supererogation. Lastly. There is a spiritual pride in seeking after and
being fond of mysterious and secret things, to the neglect of our plain and manifest
duty. It remains that I proceed at this time to propose some arguments to
persuade men to the practice of it. And first, the Scripture frequently lays before
us the natural ill consequences of pride, and the advantages arising from true
himiility, even in the natural course and order of things. Pride makes men
foolish and void of caution (Prov. xi. 2). It makes men negligent and improvi-
dent of the future ; and this often throws them into sadden calamities (Prov. i. 32).
It makes men rash and peevish, obstinate and insolent ; and this seldom fails to
bring down ruin upon them (Prov. xvi. 18). It involves men perpetually in strifes
and contentions; and these always multiply sin, and are inconsistent with true
happiness (Prov. xvii. 19). It makes men impatient of good advice and instruction,
and that renders them incorrigible in their vices (Prov. xxvi. 12, 16 ; xxviii. 26).
Secondly. The next argument the Scripture makes use of, to persuade men to the
practice of humiUty, is this — tbat pride, as 'tis usually of natural ill consequence,
BO 'tis moreover particularly hateful to God, who represents Himself as taking
delight to bring down the lofty and to exalt the humble. 'Tis the observation
of Eliphaz in the book of Job, chap. xxii. 29 and chap, xxxiii. 14-17). An
instance of which is the description of the haughtiness and the fall of Nebu-
chadnezzar (Dan. iv. 30), and the instance of Pharaoh (Exod. v. 2), and
that of Herod (Acts xii. 21). Another example is that of Haman, in
the Book of Esther. Thirdly. The third and last motive the Scripture
lays before us, to recommend the practice of humility, is the example of God
Himself and of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. In a figurative manner of
speaking, the Scripture does sometimes ascribe humility to God, and recommends
His condescension as a pattern for us to imitate. " The Lord, who dwelleth on
high . . . humbleth Himself to behold the things that are in heaven, and in the
earth " (Psa. oxiii. 6). " Though the Lord be high, yet hath He respect unto the
lowly" (Psa. cxxxviii. 6). And the same manner of speaking is used by God
Himself (Isa. Ivii. 15). These are the principal arguments the Scripture makes
use of to persuade men to the practice of humility in generaL There are, more-
over, in particular, as many peculiar distinct motives to practise this duty as there
are different circumstances and varieties of cases wherein it is to be exercised.
Without practising it towards superiors, there can be no government; without
exercising it towards equals, there can be no friendship and mutual charity.
Then, vrith regard to inferiors ; besides the general example of Christ's singular
and unspeakable condescension towards us aU, there are proper argaments to deter
10 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOE. [chap. xit.
B6 from pride upon account of every particular advantage we may seem to have
over others, whether in respect of our civil stations in the world, or of our natural
abilities, or of our religious improvements. If the advantages of our civil stations
in the world tempt us to proud and haughty behaviour, we may do well to consider
that argument of Job, chap. xxxi. 13 : •' If I did despise the cause of my man-
servant or of my maidservant when they contended with me, what then shall I do
when God riseth up ? " And chap, xxxiv. 19 : " He accepteth not the persons of
princes, nor regardeth the rich more than the poor ; for they are all the work
of His hands." Which same argument is urged also by the wise man : " He that
oppresseth the poor reproacheth his Maker" (Prov. xiv. 31). (S. Clarke, D.D.)
Humility not the way of the world : — The world's rule is the exact opposite of this.
The world says, " Every man for himself." The way of the world is to struggle
and strive for the highest place ; to be a pushing man, and a rising man, and a
man who will stand stiffly by his rights, and give his enemy as good as he brings,
and beat his neighbour out of the market, and show oft himself to the best advan-
tage, and try to make the most of whatever wit or money he has to look well in
•world, that people may look up to him and flatter him and obey him ; and so the
world has no objection to people's pretending to be better than they are. (C
Kingsley.) God the true disposer of men: — If God is really the King of the
earth, there can be no use in any one setting up himself. If God is really the
King of the earth, those who set up themselves must be certain to be brought
down from their high thoughts and high assumptions sooner or later. For if God
is really the King of the earth. He must be the one to set people up, and not they
themselves. There is no blinding God, no hiding from God, no cheating God,
just as there is no flattering God. He knows what each and every one of us is fit
for. He knows what each and every one of us is worth ; and what is more. He
knows what we ought to know, that each and every one of us is worth nothing
without Him. Therefore there is no use pretending to be better than we are.
Ibid. ) Pride cast down : — Charles V. was so sure of victory when he invaded
France, that he ordered his historians to prepare plenty of paper to record his
exploits. But he lost his army by famine and disease, and returned crestfallen.
Humility exalted : — The day Sir Eardley Wilmot kissed his Majesty's hands on
being appointed Chief Justice, one of his sons, a youth of seventeen, attended him
to his bedside. " Now," said he, " my son, I will tell you a secret worth your
knowing and remembering. The elevation I have met with in life, particularly this
last instance of it, has not been owing to any superior merit or abilities, but to my
humility, to my not having set up myself above others, and to an uniform endea-
vour to pass through life void of offence towards God and man." Humility a
safeguard: — A French general, riding on horseback at the head of his troops,
heard a soldier complain, "It is very easy for the general to command ua
forward while he rides and we walk." Then the general dismounted, and
compelled the grumbler to get on the horse. Coming through a ravine
a bullet from a shai-p-shooter struck the rider, and he fell dead. Then
the general said, " How much safer it is to walk than to ride I " Low-
liness allied to loveliness: — A humble saint looks most like a citizen of heaven.
He is the most lovely professor who is the most lowly. As incense smells the
sweetest when it is beaten the smallest, so saints look fairest when they lie lowest.
(T. Seeker.) Humility allied to modesty: — The humble soul is like the violet,
which grows low, hangs the head downwards, and hides itself with its own leaves ;
and were it not that the fragrant smell of his many graces discovered him to the
world, he would choose to live and die in secrecy. (Sunday Teachers' Treasury.)
Humility the essence of Christianity : — St. Augustine being asked " What is the
first article in the Christian religion ? " replied, " Humility." " And what the
second?" "Humility." •' And what the third ? " "Humility."
Vers. 12-14. Call the poor. — The ChurcKs duty to the poor : — A recent advertise-
ment on our city walls struck me as singularly suggestive ; it contained the words,
"God and the poor." Such a conjunction of words is most remarkable: the
highest and the lowest. He who owns all things, and they who own nothing : it is
a conjunction of extremes, and though it looked very extraordinary on a placard, yet
if you examine the Old and New Testaments the idea will be discovered almost
more frequently than any other. I. The belation of God to the poor. There is a
ftrange mingling of terror and tenderness in God's language in relation to the
poor ; terror towards their oppressors, tenderness towards themselves. Take the
OUT. xiT.} ST. LUKE. M
former (Prov. xvii. 6 ; Isa. x. 2 ; Jer. xxii. 13 ; Amos v. 11'; &c.). Such are some
of the sentences of fire in which God speaks of the oppressor of the poor. Wa
now turn from terror to tenderness. We shall hear how God speaks of the poor
themselves. The lips that spoke in fire now quiver with messages set to music
(Isa. Iviii. 6, 7). There is an extract which I must give from God's ancient legisla-
tion, and as I read you will be able to say whether ever Act of Parliament was so
beautiful (Deut. xxiv. 19-21). And why this beneficial arrangement? A memorial
act ; to keep the doers in grateful remembrance of God's mighty interposition on
their behalf. When men draw their gratitude from their memory, their hand will
he opened in perpetual benefaction. II. The relation of the pooe to the Chuech.
"^ Tha poor ye have always with you." For what purpose ? As a perpetual appeal
to our deepest sympathy ; as an abiding memorial of our Saviour's own condition
'jfhile upon earth ; as an excitement to our most practical gratitude. The poor are
given into the charge of the Church, with the most loving commendation of Christ
their companion and Saviour. 1. The poor require physical blessing. Christ
helped man's bodily nature. The Church devotes itself more to the spirit than to
the flesh. This is right : yet we are in danger of forgetting that Christianity has a
mission to the body as well as to the soul. The body is the entrance to the soul.
And is there no reward ? Will the Lord who remembers the poor forget the poor's
benefactor? Truly not I (Psa. xli. 1). 2. The poor require physical blessing;
but still more do they require spiritual blessing. The harvest is great, the
labourers are few. Do you inquire as to recompense ? It is infinite 1 " They
cannot recompense thee, but thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the
just." And yet they can recompeuse thee I Every look of the gleaming eye is a
recompense 1 Every tone of thankfulness is a repayment. God is not unrighteous
to forget our work of faith. If we do good unto " one of the least of His
brethren," Christ will receive the good as though offered to Himself. Terrible is
the recompense of the wicked I " Whoso stoppeth his ears at the cry of the
poor, he also shall cry himself, but shall not be heard." Much is being said about
Charity. They have carved her image in marble ; they have enclosed her in
gorgeously coloured glass ; they have placed on her lofty brow the wreath of immortal
Amaranth ; poesy has turned her name into rhythm, and music has chanted her
praise. All this is well. All this is beautiful. It is all next to the best thing ;
but still the best thing is to incorporate charity in the daily life, to breathe it as
our native air, and to express it in all the actions of our hand. " Let this mind be
in you which was also in Christ Jesus." " If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that
thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven. " You will
then be one with God ! " Hearken, my beloved brethren, Hath not God chosen
the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which He hath
promised to them that love Him ? " Then do not contemn the poor. " He that
giveth, let him do it with simplicity." (J. Parker, D.D.) Christian benejleence : —
1. The duty oi a Chbistian to do good ; to lay himself out to do good to every
one within his reach. 1. This arises from the very nature of the Christian
character. Gratitude to Christ leads him to copy the Saviour, " who went about
doing good." 2. The duty of laying ourselves out to do good arises from our
Christian calling. When the Holy Spirit of God makes a difference between sinners
who are living in ungodliness and walking after the vanity of their minds, why
does He make that difference 7 God calls forth His people to be witnesses for
Him, in such a manner that those who are bhnd to His glory in creation, and
who neglect His glory in revelation, cannot refuse to acknowledge it when it
is evidenced and reflected from the people that He has called by His grace.
When God's people go forth doing good, when they manifest self-denial,
when they are wilUng to " spend and be spent," in order to contribute to the
temporal necessities or to the spiritual welfare of their fellow-creatures, there is
something in these actions which tells upon the heart that is closed to all other
means of receiving the knowledge of God's glory and salvation. II. The object
of Christian beneficence. When a Christian does good, or tries to abound in any
good work, it must not be from (1) personal vanity, (2) a desire of human
applause, (3) for worldly recompense. His sole inducement must be the love of
Chjist ; his one object the glory of God ; his whole desire to advance the temporal
and spiritual good of mankind. IH. The Chbistian's Encoubagement to lay himself
out to do good unto all men, without looking for anything again. " They cannot
recompense thee; but," &c. {W. Cadman, M.A.) Christian feasting — Much
6f the impressiveness of oar Lord m a preacher arose from the miracles He
IJ THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap xit.
performed in confirmation of the divinity of His mission, and the truth of His
doctrine ; much also from His adapting Himself to the state and conditions of
His hearers ; and much also from His deriving His instructions and encourage-
ments from present objects and occurrences, for this always gives a freshness
to our discourse, and a superiority to the artificialness of study. He sees a
eower going forth to sow, and for the instruction of the people is led to deliver
a parable on the good seed of the kingdom. I. The occasion of the abdresb.
' Then said He also to him that bade Him." Concerning this invitation let
us make four inquiries. 1. Who was it that bade Him ? It was one of the chief
Pharisees, a man of some substance and respectability, probably a rulsr of the
synagogue, or one of the Sanhedrim. We never read of any of the Sadducees
inviting our Lord, nor do we ever read of the Herodians inviting Him. Though
the Pharisees were the bitterest enemies of Christ, they had frequent interviews
with Him. 2. For what was He bidden ? Some suppose that this was a common
meal, but the narrative requires us to view it as an entertainment, or some kind
of festivity. 3. When was He bidden ? We are told that it was on the Sabbath
day. 4. Why was He bidden ? He was invited by Martha from a principle of
duty and benevolence, and she and Mary hoped to derive some spiritual advantage
from Him. I wish I could think that this Pharisee invited our Lord under
the influence of similar motives. But from whatever motive they were impelled
He went not to eat and drink only. No, He went about His Father's business,
this He constantly kept in view. He knew what His work required. He knew
that the Good Shepherd must seek after the lost sheep until He find it. My
brethren, you must here learn to distinguish between Him and yourselves. He
had nothing inflammable in Him. The enemy came and found nothing in Him.
Bnt you have much remaining depravity, and are in danger from external
circumstances ; you therefore, must watch and pray lest you enter into temptation ;
you are safe when in the path of duty, there God has engaged to keep you.
Let as learn from the Saviour's conduct to exercise good behaviour, that otibers
may not have occasion to speak evil of us on account of our religion. Consider — U.
What oub Saviotib fobbids. He said, " When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call
not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbours ;
lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee." This "supper
or dinner " supposes something costly, for you observe that in the following verse
ri is called " a feast." Observe, it is not absolutely wrong to invite our friends,
or our brethren, or oar rich kinsmen, or our rich neighbours ; but our Saviour
looks at the motive here, ' ' lest a recompense be made thee " ; as much as to
say, there is no friendship or charity in all this. And the apostle says, " Let
all things be done with charity." You are to show more hospitality than vanity,
and more charity than ostentation, and to be more concerned for those who
want your relief. This brings us to consider — HL What He enjoins. " But when
thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind." Here
we see what a variety of evils and miseries are incident to the human race.
Here are " the poor," without the necessaries of life ; " the maimed," whose
hcnds are onable to perform their office; "the halt," who are indebted to a
crutch to enable them to walk at all; "the blind." Here we learn, also, the
proper objects of your compassion, and the fittest subjects of your charity.
It is not necessary that you should always have " the poor, the maimed, the
halt, and the blind" at your table. You may fulfil the Saviour's design without
this, and do as Nehemiah did, " send portions to those for whom nothing is
prepared." IV. What oub Savioue insobks. "And thou shalt be blessed; for
they cannot recompense thee : for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection
of the just." L The blessedness: "Thou shalt be blessed." Blessed even
in the act itself. Oh, the pleasures of benevolence ! How blessed is it even
in the review I for this blessedness can be continued and improved on reflection.
How superior in the performance to sordid entertainments 1 " Thou shalt be
blessed" — blessed by the receiver. Think of Job. He says, "When the
ear heard me, then it blessed me, and when the eye saw me, it gave witness to
m«. Because I delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that
had none to help him. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came
upon me ; and I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy." What do we see
yonder when we enter Joppa with Peter? "When he was come they brought
him into an upper chamber : and all the widows stood by him weeping,
and showing the coats and garments which Dorcas made while she was with
, xnr.] ST. LUKE. 13
them." "And thon shalt be blessed" — blessed by the observers. Who doea
not observe ? And who observes and does not bless on such occasions ? Few,
perhaps none of us, knew personally a Eeynolds, a Thornton, or a Howard, of
whom we have read ; but in reading their history, when we come to their names
we cannot help blessing them, and thus the words of the Scripture are fulfilled,
"The memory of the just is blessed." "And thou shalt be blessed." Above all,
blessed by God Himself, upon whom everything depends, " whose favour is life,
and whose loving-kindness is better than life." He blesses personally and
relatively. He grants you spiritual and temporal blessings. David says, "Let
them curse, but bless Thou." 2. The certainty of this blessedness — '• For they
cannot recompense thee." This seems a strange reason, and would tend to
check rather than encourage a worldly man. The foundation of this reason is
this, that charity must be recompensed. If the poor cannot do this themselves,
some one else must undertake it for them, and therefore God Himself must become
answerable ; and it is much better to have God to recompense us than to rely
upon a poor dying creature. Paul therefore, says, to those who had made a
collection to relieve him, and had sent it by the hands of Epaphroditus, "My
God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus."
If, therefore, the thought ever occurs to your mind, " I know not those persona
who have relieved me; I shall never be able to repay them," so much the
better, for then God must, and if there be any truth in His word, if there
be any love in His heart, He will. 3. The time of this bestowment — " For
thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just." Not that this will
be done then exclusively, for, as we have already shown, there are advantages
attending charity now. But it will be principally then, publicly then. The
apostle says to the Corinthians, " Judge nothing before the time, until the
Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and
will make manifest the counsels of the heart ; and then shall every man have
praise of God." Then will it be done perfectly. It is not wrong to look for
advantage in religion. But yon should be upon your guard not to entertain a
notion of meritoriousness in any of your doings. No, the reward is of grace,
not of debt. (W. Jay.) ChrisVs counsel to his host: — Our Lord does not
here enjoin neglecting and refraining from one's friends, kinsfolk, and neighbours,
to entertain only the poor, maimed, halt, and blind. What He says is, when
yon make a dinner or supper — that is, as He immediately explains, a feast — let
it be, not for those with whom you are accustomed to associate, but rather for
the destitute and forlorn outside your circle. It is a question, yon see, not at
all of social fellowship, but of expenditure, and of the objects to which our great
expenditures should be devoted. When you would lavish trouble and money,
Bays Christ, let the lavishing be, not for your own personal gratification, not with
the view of securing some enjoyment or obtaining some benefit for yourself, but
for the blessing of others. The point on which the whole admonition turns,
and to which it refers, is largeness of outlay. This is obvious. Our Lord is
thinking and speaking, not of an ordinary meal such as might be spread any day,
but of a feast, like the " great supper " of the parable that follows : and remember
the occasion of His words, the circumstances under which they were uttered. He
was dining on the Sabbath, in the house of one of the chief Pharisees, who had
Him to eat Bread with him ; and everything indicates that it was no common
dinner at which He was present, but an entertainment on a large scale, got up
probably with much pains, and regardless of cost. Christ noticed, we are told,
how those who were bidden chose out the chief rooms ; nay, such were the
unseemly contests among the guests for precedence, and the rude struggling
for the best places, which He witnessed, that when at last the tumult had
subsided, and all were arranged. He could not forbear remarking on it in tones
of rebuke. Evidently the meal was a grand affair, a banquet numerously attended
and by many notable and distinguished persons. Contemplating, as He sat
there, the profusion, the sumptuousness ; picturing what it had cost — the amount
of money, labour, and worry, and perhaps sacrifice, that had been expended on it
— and penetrating that it was all mainly for selfish ends, with the idea and in the
hope of some advantage through it; Christ turns His great mournful eyes upon
the many with the words : " When you would make such another feast as this,
my friend, at so much trouble and cost, instead of calling to it your rich friends,
who are likely to recompense you for it, you should call to it the destitute and
afflicted, who are unable to recompense you, and thus be blessed at the resurreetioa
14 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xin
of the just." The inner point and spirit of which form of words was this?
♦• Ah ! my friend, it is a mistake to make your great outlays of strength and
treasure with a view to your own gratification and aggrandisement, for it is poor
recompense at the best, after all. These great outlays should be reserved rather
to meet the needs and ameliorate the unfortunate condition of others ; for the-
blessing of that, though more ethereal and less palpable, is infinitely more worth.
You should not burden yourself to win ought of present enjoyment or acquisition
for yourself. If you burden yourself at all, it should be to supply some want
or serve some interest of the necessitous around you." And the lesson remains
for us. Let your extensive expenditures, your toils and worries, and hardships
and sacrifices, be for those outside who require ministry, rather than for yourself.
"When it is a question of your own personal amusement or pleasure, of your own
worldly comfort or gain, be content to spend but little ; don't make a fuss, or
lie awake anxiously, or go out of your way for that. If you do so at all, do it
when the welfare of others is concerned, when there are others to be succoured
or saved by it ; reserve for such ends the incurring of heavy cost, the taking
on of heavy burdens of thought and care. {S. A. Tipple). Christian entertain-
mentt : — Jesus Christ d'i not intend that the rich should never have communion
with one another, or hold intercourse with one another ; that would be as absurd
as it would be impracticable. The idea is that, having had your own fellowships
and enjoyments, having eaten the fat and drunk the sweet, you are to send out
a portion to him that hath none, and a blessing to him who sits in loneliness and
sadness of heart. I had a wonderful dream some time ago — a singular dream.
It was about the Mansion House and the Lord Mayor. I saw the great banquet-
ing hall filled, and I looked and wondered at the people, for they had such a
peculiar expression upon their countenances. They seemed to be closing their
eyes, and so they were. Alas ! they were all blind people, and all over fifty
years of age. It was the great Lord Mayor of London himself who had invited
aU the blind people over that age in London to meet one another, and have
one happy night, so far as he could make it, in the ancient banqueting hall.
No loving cup was passed round, lest accidents should occur ; but many a Icviiig^
word was spoken, many a sigh full of meaning was heaved — not the sigh of misenj,
but the sigh of thankfulness. And then a strange silence fell upon all the-
guests, and I heard a voice from above saying in the English tongue quite
distinctly, " They cannot recompense thee, but thou shalt be recompensed at the
resurrection of the just." Then the banqueting hall seemed to be fihed with
spectators — glad witnesses — as if, at last there were upon the earth some fine
touch of Christian feeling, some recognition of the mystery of charity and
the boundlessness and condescension of Christian love. (J. Parker, D.D.}
True Christian festivity : — I. It should be unselfish. Not extended merely to
those from whom we expect a similar return, II. It should be meecittjl. Extended
to those who are generally neglected. III. This festivity will be eewarded.
With the blessing of the poor now, and the commendation of the Judge hereafter.
{Anon.) Christian hospitality .-—Our Lord really means that hospitality is first to
be exercised towards those who need it, because of their narrow means, and to whom
kindness of this sort is more pleasant, because they receive such little notice from
the world. These are to be first recipients of our hospitality, and after them our
friends, relatives, and neighbours, who may be supposed to be able to ask us again.
This, of course, is directly contrary to the practice of the world. Now I do not
think that we obey this injunction of the Lord by following its spirit (as the saying
is) rather than its letter. It has been said that " the essence of the beatitude, as
distinct from its form, remains for all who give freely, to those who can give them
no recompense in return, who have nothing to offer but their thanks and prayers,"
and that " relief, given privately, thoughtfully, discriminately, may be better
both for the giver, as less ostentatious, and for the receiver, as tending to the
formation of a higher character than the open feast of the Eastern form of
benevolence." But it is to be noticed that the Lord is not speaking of reUef, i.e.^
of almsgiving, but of hospitality. It is one thing to send relief in a basket to
some poor person from your house, and quite another yourself to proffer to the
same person food upon your own table of which you and he jointly partake. By
relief or alms you almost of necessity constitute yourself his superior ; by
hospitality yon assume that he is far more on the same level with yourself.
Partaking of food in common has, by the absolutely univflrsal consent of mankind,
been esteemed a very different thing from the mere gift of food. If it be said thai
«RAP. nv.] ST. LVKE. U
Buch hospitality as the Lord here reconunends is contrary to the nsages of even
Christian society amongst us, we answer, " Of course it is " ; but, notwithstanding
this, it is quite possible that the Christianity of our Christian society, of which wa
have 80 high an opinion, may be very imperfect indeed, and require reformation, if
not regeneration, and that '♦ the open feast of the Eastern form of benevolence "
may be worthy of more imitation amongst ourselves. Look at the extravagant
cost of some entertainments — viands set before the guests simply because they are
costly and out of season — and consider that the difference between a fair and
creditable entertainment and this extravagance would enable the giver to act ten
times more frequently on the principle which the Lord inculcates, and for which
he would be rewiirded ; consider this, and the folly of such waste, not to say its
wickedness, is manifest. {M. F. Sadler.) A model feast : — I cannot think there
is no connection with Divine things in the counsels Christ gave to His host about
making a feast. I think He meant more than to alter a custom, or change social
habits. What He advised went deeper, and had a profounder intention than that.
He was reaching down to the foundation of things ; showing how God deals with
men, and what are the principles, or what is the measure and scope of His
kingdom. He pourtrays a model feast. And if I mistake not, the portraiture is a
pattern of things in the heavens. A place at the feast, I think He means to say,
does not depend upon social grade, position, or attainments, but upon the needs of
those who are called. Necessity, misery, helplessness, were to be the qualifications
— poor, maimed, halt, blind. Friends and rich neighbours were not to be left out ;
they might come and share the joy and blessing — the joy of ministering and doing
good to others ; but the sore and the stricken were to be the guests ; the invitations
were to be sent specially to them. The ado, the preparation, the plentifulness,
and the freeness of the feast, must be all for them, to bless them, and make them
glad. That is God's feast. That is how God does. He prepares a feast for man
— man the sinner, man the miserable, man the outcast, the hungry, the starved,
the diseased, the dying ; and He throws it open, and bids them all come, and sends
to fetch them in. And when they gather, He lets His rich friends, the angels,
rejoice with Him ; for " there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one
sinner that repenteth." {W. Hubbard.) The poor invited to a feast: — When I
was quite a little boy, there lived in my father's house a man whom, as I look
back, I, in common with most who knew him, cannot help regarding as, perhaps,
the hohest man we were acquainted with. He lived a life of singular devotion and
self-denial, and seemed to walk constantly in the presence of God. Some little
time ago, when m Liverpool, I accidentally came across the person in whose house he
had lodged in the days when he had first devoted himself to God, when he was quite a
young man, before his connection with my own beloved father was as close as it
afterwards became. This good man, who kept the house in which this gentleman
lodged, told me a few anecdotes about him, and, amongst others, I remember the
following : " Ah, Mr. Aitken 1 " said the man, " I shall never forget Mr. C *8
Christmas dinner." I said, "I wish you would tell me about it ; " and he replied,
" I will." " Christmas Day came near, and Mr. 0— called up my wife, and said
to her, * Now, I want you to make the very best dinner you possibly can ; I am
going to give a dinner-party.' ♦ Well, Mr. C ,' she said, ' you have been a long
time in my house, and I never heard yon talk of giving a dmner-party yet ; but JC
will see to it that it is a right good dinner, and there shall be no mistake about it.*
* Do your best,' he said ; ' 1 am going to invite my friends, and I want everything
to be done properly.' My wife set to work and got a very good diimer indeed.
Christmas Day came. Towards evening we were expecting the gentlemen to turn
up who had been invited by our lodger ; we did not know who they were, but we
made sure they would be people worthy of the occasion. After a time, there came
a knock at the door. I opened the door, and there stood before me a man clothed
in rags. He had evidently washed his face, and got himself up a little for the
oecasion ; at the same time he was a beggar, pure and simple. He said, ' Does
Mr. C- live here ? ' • Yes,* I replied ; * he lodges here, but you cannot see him ;
he is just going to sit down to dinner.' *But,' said the man, *I was invited to
come here to dinner this evening.* Yoo may imagine my horror and astonish-
ment ; I could scarcely contain myself. * What 1 ' I said ; ' you invited to come
here this evening, a man like you ? ' I had scarcely got tixe words out of my
mouth before I saw another poor, miserable specimen of humanity crawling round
the comer ; he was another of Mr. 0 's guests. By-and-by, there was a round
dozen of them, or something like a score ; and m they oame, the most haggard.
ft THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. nr.
miserable, woe-begone objects you could possibly oonoeive. They went into my
wife's nice, smart-looking dining-room, with that grand white cloth, and all tha
good things which had been so carefully prepared. It almost took one's breath
away to see them. But when we saw the good man himself, setting to work, hka
the Master of old (who girded Himself to serve His disciples) — setting to work to
make these men happy, and help them to spend a pleasant evening, without
stiffness or formality, wo thought, ' After all, he is right. This is the best sort of
dinner-party ; ' and we did not grudge the labour we had bestowed." Now, I have
told that little anecdote in order to illustrate the fact that our Lord's teaching on
such subjects is eminently practical, and that when He gives a suggestion, you
may be sure that it is a very sensible and sound one. (W. H. Aitken, M.A.)
Call the poor : — Pococke informs us, that an Arab prince will often dine before hia
door, and call to all that pass, even to beggars, in the name of God, and they coma
and sit down to table, and when they have done retire with the usual form of returning
thanks. It is always customary among the Orientals to provide more meats and
drinks than are necessary for the feast ! and then, the poor who pass by, or whom
the rumour of the feast brings to the neighbourhood, are caUed in to consume what
remains. This they often do in an outer room, to which the dishes are removed
from the apartment in which the invited guests have feasted ; or otherwise, every
invited guest, when he has done, withdraws from the table, and his place is taken
by another person of inferior rank, and so on, till the poorest come and consume
the whole. The former of these modes is, however, the most common. {Biblical
things not generally knawn.) Feeding the hungry : — It was the custom of St.
Gregory, when he became pope, to entertain every evening at his own table twelve
poor men, in remembrance of the nimiber of our Lord's apostles. One night, aa
he Bat at supper with his guests, he saw, to his surprise, not twelve but thirteen,
seated at his table ; and he called to his steward, and said to him, " Did not I
command thee to invite twelve? and, behold! there are thirteen." And the
steward told them over, and replied, " Holy father, there are surely twelve only."
And Gregory held his peace ; and, after the meal, he called forth the unbidden
guest, and asked him, " Who art thou ? " And he replied, " I am the poor man
whom thou didst formerly relieve ; but my name is * The Wonderful,' and
through Me thou shalt obtain whatever thou shalt ask of God," Then Gregory
knew that he had entertained an angel ; or, according to another version of tha
story, our Lord EQmself." Christ-like hospitality: — It is said of Lord Chief
Justice Hale that he frequently invited his poor neighbours to dinner, and made
them sit at table with himself. If any of them were sick, so that they could not
4;ome, he would send provisions to them from his own table. He did not confine
his bounties to the poor of his own parish, but diffused supplies to the neighbour-
ing parishes as occasion required. He always treated the old, the needy, and the
sick with the tenderness and familiarity that became one who considered they were
of the same nature with himself, and were reduced to no other necessities but
each as he himself might be brought to. Common beggars he considered in
another view. If any of these met him in hia walks, or came to his door, he
would ask each aa were capable of working why they went about so idly. If they
answered it was because ^ey could not get employment, he would send them to
some field to gather all the stones in it, and lay them in a heap, and then pay
them liberally for their trouble. This being done, he nsed to send his carts, and
caused the stones to be carried to such places of the highway as needed repair.
Ver. 16. Blessed Is he that shall eat bread In the kingdom of God. — Unreal
words : — There are a great many ways of turning a conversation when it happens to
be suggestive of disagreeable truth, or to convey advice which we should prefer not to
take, or to reveal to as points in our character which we should wish to keep
hidden, even from ourselves. But of all the various devices resorted to for this
purpose the pious ejaculation is usually the most successful, as well as by far tha
easiest. If it fail to change the subject, it at least causes an awkward pause, after
-which there is a fair prospect of an altered tone in the general talk. I. Gla^nob a>
THB soxMK. The Saviour had been putting some pointed questions respecting
personal religion to His host and fellow-guests. Feeling that things had gone far
enough in their present direction, and yet that by no possibility could exception b«
taken to anything that had been said, the guest introduced to our notice in the text
attempts to dismiss to heaven those heavenly things which are not easily acclima-
tised to earth ; to project into the future those " very excellent things " which were
. XIV.] ST. LUKE. IT
felt to look best at a distance ; to refer the whole subject to another world, and to
change the venue, as I believe lawyers would say, by a formal remark — indispntable
but unpractical — " Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of God." II.
Let us see bow this speech was uet. All unreal ejaculations are evasive, self-
deceiving (Uke Balaam's), or procrastinating; or all three. The ejaculation of the
text was most likely all three. It was certainly evasive. And the Saviour met it
by pointing out that the blessedness which the speaker, and others like him,
professed to desire, was precisely that from which they were most ready to excuse
themselves the moment it was offered to them ; that " the kingdom of God " was
something present, and not something merely future ; that they could enjoy what
they professed to regard as its blessings now ; but that there were many other
things which for the time being they very decidedly preferred. III. Now why did
Ha WHO WOULD NOT " BBEAK THE BB0ISED BEED OB QUENCH THE SMOKINQ FLAX " THUS
DISCOUBAGB THOSE WHO WEBE SAYINO WHAT WAS VERT GOOD ? I should Say, He did
not discourage otherwise than by suggesting that they should weigh the import of
their words and test their reality. "By thy words," said our Saviour, "thou shalt
be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned." He did not mean, of
course, that we shall be judged by these alone ; but that they will be taken into
account. And for a moment, drawing away our thoughts from our bad words, let
US ask ourselves whether our good words may not prove, after all, the more
condemning, and waft over ages and ages, as the verdict of the Most High, the echo
of His words by Isaiah long ago, " This people honooreth Me with their lips, but
their heart is far from Me." {J. C. Coghlan, D.D.)
Vers. 16-24. A certain man made a great supper. — ParahU of tJte great
supper: — I. The elaboeatb pbepaeation. Indicating the treasures of Divine
wisdom, forethought, power, love, expended upon the work of redemption. II.
Men's pbefebenoe of otheb things — not things sinful in themselves, but worldly
pursuits, occupations, pleasures — to the rich provision of the Divine bounty, and
their consequent slighting of the Divine invitation. HI. Love slighted tubns to
INDIGNATION. IV. God'S PURPOSES ABE NOT FBU8TBATED BY THE DI80BEDIENCR AND
T7NTHANEFULNESS OF MAN. The house is filled. If one guest refuses to come, another
is brought in to occupy his place. Drop your crown, and another man will lift it
and place it on his brow. (Anon.) The gospel feast : — I. The chabactebistics o»
TEE gospel. 1. Its readiness. Nothing for man to do but come. The feast has
been preparing from the foundation of the world. 2. The gospel's abundance..
Grace enough in God's heart to include all the world. 3. The condescension of the-
gospel. No favouritism. Absolutely free. The vilest soul is good enough to be
jjaved. 4. The gospel's urgency. Not force, but moral earnestness. 5. The
gospel's triumph. Christ's blood is not shed for nought. H. The beception of thb
GOSPEL. 1. The gospel finds no favourable reception from — (1) The gospel-
hardened. Every invitation rejected does but set more firmly in opposition a will
already opposed to Christ. The heart grows stubborn and indifferent. (2) The proud.
(3) The pre-occupied. When Mark Antony began his famous speech with the
words, " Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears," he well knew that he
might as well toss his words to the idle winds that swept over the dead body of his
friend, as address an audience who paid him no attention. In the preaching of the
gospel, the very fact that people are interested in it, talking about it, working for it,
heralding it far and wide, is a guarantee of its effectiveness. We must make men
think about their souls. So long as their oxen, or their stores, or their wills, or
their ships are in their minds, Christ cannot get in. (4) The self-satisfied. Here
is the trouble with many a man of amiability and worth. He has a pleasant home»
friends he delights in, social ties, all possible comforts. He needs to see that this
is not enough. He ought to hunger and thirst after righteousness, and at th»
gospel feast he might be filled. 2. The gospel is tolerably certain to find reception
among — (1) The needy. (2) The neglected. (A.P.Foster.) The gospel supper : —
I. That God has made ample provision im the gospel fob all oub spibituai>
BziQENOiEB. That provisiou is here set forth under the similitude of a great
sapper. That the gospel supper may be thus designated will appear if we think of —
1. Its Author. It has been provided by God himself. 2. The expense at which it
was procured. Almost incredible sums have been expended in the getting up of
sumptuous entertainments. But what were they wher compared with the expense
incurred here f To provide this banquet, the Son of God became incarnate, Hved a
Uie of reproach, of poverty, of persecution, and died the accursed death of the
vox., m. ^
18 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xiv.
croBS. 3. The greatness and variety of the blessings which are set before ns. And
what tongue of man or angel can describe them in their ineffable importance?
They include all the treasures of grace here, and all the inconceivable treasures of
glory hereafter.' II. That invitations of the most ENCODBAoiNg kind abb given cj
TO COME AND PABTAKE OF WHAT GoD HAS GRACIOUSLY PEOVIDED. 1. The characters tO
whom they were addressed. First, to the Jews only. Then to all men. 2. The
manner in which the invitations should be applied. Moral compulsion. 3. The
motives by which they should be enforced. (1) That the provisions are all duly
prepared. " Come ; for all things are now ready." The Saviour has been made
flesh ; He has finished the work which was given Him to do ; the sacrifice He
offered has been accepted ; the Spirit has been poured out from on high ; the ministry
of the gospel is instituted ; the sacred canon is complete. (2) The amplitude of
the preparations, " And the servant said, Lord, it is done as thou hast commanded,
and yet there is room." Although so many have been gathered in, the seats are not
all occupied. III. That the Divine pbovisions, of which wb abb bo feeelt invited
TO PABTAKE, ABK BY MANY SLIGHTED AND DESPISED. The excuses offered are — 1.
Various. 2. Frivolous. 3. Evasive. IV. That those who despise the pbo-
VISION OF THE GOSPEL CANNOT DO SO WITHOUT INCTJBBING THE GBEATEST GUILT, AND
WITHOUT EXPOSING THEMSELVES TO THE MOST AWFUL DANGEB. {ExpOtitOTy OutUmS.)
The marriage f east : — We know that, in every department of life, happiness, health,
honour, and prosperity, involve two essential elements, one of which is a provision
for these things in nature and society, and the other of which is an appropriation
of that provision by those to whom it is offered. And this last is as indispensable
as the first. That which makes the offer and the provision of any validity or use-
fulness is the circumstance that there is some one to accept it. Let us look, for
one moment, at this. God has made great provision of the elements of nature.
Light — oh, how abundant ! how beautiful 1 how sweet ! — and all that will accept
this boon of Ood shall have the benefit of it. The blind cannot. The wilfully
blind cannot ; for although there is light enough for thrice ten thousand times as
great a population as that which inhabits the globe, if a man endungeons him-
self purposely, and shuts out the light from the room where he dwells, the
abundance of the provision and the offer make no difference with him. He loses
it and all its blessings. There is heat enough, and there are sounds enough, for
the comfort and for the solace of the human soul ; and yet, unless men accept
these things, the mere fact that they have been offered to all, and that they are
abundant, will do them no good. We know that in respect to those great quaUtiea
of nature the abundance of provision does not enforce acceptance. The great
prime necessities of life, such as food, raiment, shelter — God has put the elementa
of these things within our control, and there is provision for all the wants of men,
and for the growing needs of society : but if men refuse to work ; if they refuse to
practice frugality; if they will not put forth skill, the God of nature and the God
of grace lets them pine, and lets them starve, as much as if there had been no pro-
vision. The earth does not reveal its secrets except to those that search for them ;
and the rains, and the sun, and the soil, do nothing, except to the seed that ia
hid in the crevices of the ground. The summer is barren to the sluggard. There
is provision enough for all the wants of men, if they accept them on the conditions
on which they are proffered ; but if they do not accept them on these conditions
the abundance does not insure to their benefit. When men violate the laws of
their being, however innocently or ignorantly, they are made to soffer the penalties
of those violated laws, and sickness and pain come in. And when a man is sick,
though all remedies are provided, and though the most skilful physicians are called
to their bedside, these will do no good if he will not accept the remedies that skill
has found out, and that kindness is proffering. These facts ar6 familiar to ua.
They go to illustrate and confirm the general statement that something more is
required than a provision and a proffer. Thus far I have spoken of the physical
laws of nature. It may be said that this is not in the moral realm, and that the
analogy is not a fair one. Therefore, I proceed to show that in the moral realm
the constitution of things is even more marked than in the physical realm. Wa
know that a man's happiness or misery in this life depends upon the manner in
which he exercises his faculties. That is to say, it is not a matter of indifference
which way a man uses the powers of his mind, any more than which way a maa
turns the key when he winds his watch. Turning it one way ruins it, and turning
it th« other way expedites it. It makes a difference which side of the blade of a
knife you use if you would cut wood. It makes a difference which way you work
«HAP. nv.] ST. LUKE. 19
a machine. One way of working it agrees with its nature, and the other way of
working it disagrees with its nature. And so it is with a man's mind. It was
meant to act in conformity with certain definite principles and results. If it con-
forms to these there is happiness, and if it does not there is misery. We also set
in human society — which is as divinely-ordained as is human liie itself ; for a
man's organs are no more fitted to be put together to make the individual man than
individual men are fitted to co-operate together in society — ^we see in human society
this same law e?olved with terrible certainty at large. If men seek happiness,
honour, love, there is abundant provision for them in society. All things are
ready. They are accessible by right conduct. If men neglect the provision for
happiness, and honour, and love, they will miss these ends, and that, too, although
<70d is good and kind, although there is a providence that is supervising human
society — a Providence that will not suffer a sparrow to fall to the ground unnoticed
— a Providence that knows that we are in need of raiment, and shelter, and food,
and nourishing care. If men do not accept voluntarily the provision of these
things which is made in society, there is no providence that will rescue them from
the wretchedness that will ensue from disobedience. The administration of God is
full of goodness ; but goodness in the Divine administration is employed according
to law. All philanthropy, all humanity, and all sympathy and succour, carried
down to grog-shops and to the Five Points, will not assuage one pang, and will not
rescue one wretch, unless he is willing to return and co-operate, and bring himself
under the influence of remedial law. Now, at this point we reach again the Word
of God, and are prepared to receive its declarations, with all corroborations and
presumptive analogies in its favour. ' The feast of the gospel is spread. The King,
in His great bounty, sends His servants forth to say to all, " Come to the marriage
supper." To lay aside the figure, God makes the proffer of forgiveness, of amnesty
for the past, and of unbounded joy and happiness for the future. If you acoepii
the provision, which is ample enough for every human being on the globe, you are
blessed ; but if you neglect it, or refuse it, that provision, if multiplied a myriad
times, would be of no more avail to you than light to the bhnd, sound to the deaf,
or food to the dead. It is a provision that is invalid if you fail to accept it. If you
take it you live ; if you reject it you die. ' Although, then, the doctrine of the
Fatherhood of God is one of the most blessed doctrines of the Bible, and one of
■the most animating to out hope, we must not pervert it, and suppose that, because
God administers as a universal Father, therefore, all sorts of men, under all sorts
of circumstances, are perfectly safe. I would not take away one single whit of the
beauty, or attractiveness, or encouragement of the thought that God loves, and
that everything that love can do will be done to make men happy here, safe in
death, and glorious hereafter ; but I warn you not to suppose that everything can
be done merely because God loves. There are limitatious even in an infinite God.
(//. W. Beecher.) The great supper: — I. " A certain man made a great supper "
— the movement originated with himself, in his own miud — his own fbeb bodntt
— his own generosity — his unsolicited willingness to make others partakers of his
rich enjoyments. The man here supposed represents Almighty God Himself ; and
the action here ascribed to Him represents the preparation of Christianity — that
rich and saving feast for a perishing world. It originated (if an eternal purpose
can properly be said to have had a beginning) in His own mind. His own free love.
His own unsolicited willingness to make fallen men partakers of Bis own happiness,
" that they might be filled with the fatness of His house — that they might drink of
the river of His pleasures " (Psa. xxxvi. 8). See, then, the nature of the prepara-
tion. It is the mode adopted by Divine wisdom to render it a right thing — a
righteous thing — for a sovereign Lawgiver and upright Judge to deal with convicted
rebels as a pardoning father and a sympathizing friend ; it is, in the language of
St. Paul, that " God may be just, while He justifies the ungodly " (Rom. iii. 19-26 ;
V. 6-8). Behold, also, the extent of the preparation. It knows no earthly bounds,
it extends to heaven ; its value is not to be measured by earth, but is to be found
in the harmonized perfections of God. II. Now look at the invitation to it. He
said to his servant, at the supper time, Go and '* say to them who were bidden,
Come; for all things are ready." This represents the commission to preach the
gospel. St. Paul was determined to know nothing else, and preach nothing else.
He accounted it the most distinguishing and the most exalted of the favours
bestowed upon him, that he should declare among the Gentiles the " unsearchable
riches of Christ " — in other words, the preparation of the Great Supper. And ha
exhorted — i.e., he pressed the invitation upon men — earnestly, that they might
90 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chat. WT.
" not receive the grace of God in vain " ; and urgently, because the time was short :
" Now," he said, •' is the appointed time, now is the day of salvation" (2 Cor. vL
1, 2), III. And now having so spoken of the preparation and the invitation, our
next thome is a painful one — the keception teut this invitation met with. The
force of this portion of the parable Ues in this — that the objects which, in their
effects, became destructive, were in themselves lawful and right. The contrast ia
not between sin and duty, but between duty and duty — between duty number twp
and duty that ought always to be number one. The contrast is not between tht.
house of gambling and the house of God — it is not between intemperance and un-
cleanness on the one side, and prayer and praise on the other ; no, it is not that
phase of human guilt that is exhibited; the contrast is rather between the counting-
house and the church, the shop and the house of God, domestic enjoyments and
secret prayer. The contrast is between the attractions which the lawful occupations
of this world possess for the natural heart of man, and the secret repugnance felt
by that heart to the enjoyments of God. IV. But the parable does not end there;
the servants came in and repeated this answer, and the master was not satisfied ;
then he told the servants " to go out into the streets and lanes of the city, and to
bring in the poor and the maimed, and the halt and the bUnd." There is an
intimation in this part of the parable that a power would accompany the invitation
such as would not be refused — such as would secure a company — such as would not
leave the seats around the Master's table unoccupied, but, on the contrary, that his
house should be filled. Now, think of this secret power. Here, again, we refer to
the persons and resources of the Godhead, Jesus said, " I will pray the Father,
and He shall give you another Comforter, that He may abide with you for ever."
He shall present the preparation for the supper, and He shall urge the invitation,
so as to supersede all pre-engagements, and put an end to all excuses. He has
power to secure a gracious result without the slightest interference with the free
operation of the moral machine that He has made. Nothing else can secure this ;
there is to be no force, and yet the result is to be secured ; no action constrained,
and yet the character totally altered. " Thy people ehaU be willing in the day
of thy power" (Psalm ex.). The will rules the man; and who rules the will?
There is revelation of a secret power, which, touching the will, secures all that
follows in the man's life with perfect freedom. Look at a large and compUcated
machine under the control of a little fly-wheel; that locked, the machine is
stationary; that liberated, the machine goes on. See, the machine is stationary,
and ignorant violence is made use of to make it go on, but in vain — blows are
aimed at it to make it go on, in the wrong place, all in vain — it may be broken, but
it cannot by violence be made to work— sledge-hammers are raised on it in vain;
but see, a little child, properly instructed, with a little finger frees the fly-wheel,
and the whole machine goes forward in its work ; every arm, and every lever, and
every wheel performs its appointed action duly and freely. It was that touch that
did it — that touch is promised, of God, to us — in hope of it we preach, without it we
preach in vain ; all is sounding brass and tinkling cymbal without this. {H. McNeiU,
D.D.) A great feast : — I. With regard to thb natdbk op the feast. " A certain man
made a great supper and bade many." What, then, is this feast which our Lord
has provided, and of which He has sent His servants to invite men to come and
partake ? First, as bread satisfies hunger, and is necessary to sustain life, so Jesus
Christ is that true bread which cometh down from heaven — the bread of the soul —
the bread that alone can satisfy and sustain the spiritual and eternal life of man.
His flesh is given as meat, and His blood as drink ; and this is the feast. I cannot
enlarge upon the particulars of this feast, but observe that a feast is not merely
bread, it is fulness of bread ; it is a rich provision — there is variety of provision.
This the gospel gloriously attests ; here is everything that man can want ; here
is not only pardon for the guilty, reconcihation for him that is at enmity with God,
but all the rich provision of grace, all the fulness and comfort of the Spirit of God ;
all the plenitude of His promises is here ; there is nothing that the soul can eat or
desire, in any state or condition in which it is seen, but is to be found here ; in the
gotfpel feast there is all that is wholesome, suited to its tastes, its appetites, its
desires, its lofty capacities, and capable of fully and eternally satisfying them.
Here, then, the children of God see their privilege. The Saviour is an omniscient-
Saviour and an omnipresent Saviour — a Saviour present with the Church, knowing
every case, every heart, and every want ; and He has in Himself fulness to satisfy
every longing desire or wish. II. We are to consider the condition of those who
WBBB FIBST BIDDEN TO THIS FEAST, AND FOB WHOM IT WAS SPBCIAIiLT FBBPABXD. I Bay
OHAP. XIT.] ST. LUKE. n
Epecially provided ; for you will recollect that these persons were the children of the
promise — the heirs of the covenant. " Go ye into all the world, and preach the
gospel among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem." So St. Paul says, " the gospel
is tne power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth ; to the Jew lirst."
The three principal grounds on which men slight the gospel are here referred to —
they are common, not to the Jews only, but common to the Gentiles. The first
ground is wealth. The first said, " I have bought a piece of ground, and I must
needs go and see it." The disposition of mind by which a man is induced to seek
the increase of wealth is opposed to the gospel. This disposition is so fatal to
many that it operates, as in the case of the parable, utterly to exclude them from
tasting the supper. It does not so fill and choke up the appetite — it does not so
corrode the taste as to prevent their enjoying, as to prevent their fully partaking of
this blessing, but it cuts them off altogether — they cannot taste of this supper. Is
it not so with your hearts, while you are coveting the world? Can you enjoy Christ?
You cannot I 2. The second disposition of mind which excludes men from tasting
the supper of the gospel grace, is that which involves them in the vortex of this
world's cares. This is figured in the parable by the yoke of oxen — " I have bought
five yoke of oxen, and must needs go and prove them." 3. Another said, " I have
married a wife " ; and therefore he was in a greater strait than the other two — he
said positively, " I cannot come I " This parable is against those moral people —
those honest people — those people whose lives are so irreproachable and blameless
in everything except the matter of their salvation. It applies to those that are
comparatively enlightened, to those that would be shocked at gross immorality, to
those who woold not exhibit in their lives, on any account, those vices which they
condemn in others ; but sin sits enthroned in their heart, in the shape of a secret
and subtle covetousness, in a character that absorbs them in their pleasures, and
feteals and weans their affections from God. And this is, perhaps, the most awful
case of alL Go and preach the gospel to those who have no ground of justification ;
and if you can get them to listen to the gospel, they will fall down at your feet and
confess their sin. Examine, trace in your hearts the working of this worldliness,
consider the objections that hold you back from Christ, and you will find that they
resolve themselves into the excuses of those who were first bidden to this feast. It
is the land and the oxen, it is the pleasure of this world, aU which perish in their
using, and will leave you hungry and naked, and poor and wretched at the bar of
Godl I come now to speak of — IIL Thk chaeactbb or thosk who beally did
ENTEB IH AND PABTAKB OF THIS SUPPEB. Tou wiU observe that those who were thus
bidden the second time were described by this character, which marked the destitu-
tion of man : " Bring in hither the poor and the maimed, and the halt and the
blind " ; for this was the spiritual condition of the Gentile world. It marks their
destitution — they are poor, they are without God and without hope in the world.
In the heathen countries they were without Christian ordinances, without Christian
Sabbaths, without Christian instruction. The verse also relates to those who
might justly make excuse upon any ground than that of the gospel invitation ; who
might by self-abasement and humility of spirit say, " How can it be ? How can it
be that the Prince, the King, and Lord of this supper should send for me ? Yoo
must be deceiving, you must be making game of me — you must intend soma
derision ; the invitation cannot be for me." " Go," says the King, *• and compel
them to come in ; go and tell them how large the offer is." (J. Suteliffe.) The
feast only for those who can appreciate it : — Now why is it difficult to us to represent
to ourselves this nnwillingness ? Because we always think of the great supper
simply as so much unmeasured happiness, so much unmixed delight. It will
be happiness, it will be delight, bat only to those who can appreciate it ; not to
the base, not to the selfish, not to the false, not to the weak, not to the impure. It
will be the highest happiness of which human nature is capable ; but it can only be
tasted by those who are of kindred nature to Him who gives it. Those who would
not come when they were invited would not have found it a happiness if they had
come. Now this, the very principle of the parable, is just as applicable to our daily
life as it is to any such critical moment as the parable supposes. We are invited
to a spiritual feast ; to a feast of that happiness which is got from perfect self-
mastery, from peace with our consciences, from having no cloud between us and
those whom we love, from having no cloud between us and God. We know perfectly
well that this is a very real happiness. We have had foretastes of it now and then,
qoite enough to show what it is like. But this duty, which thus seems ever t«
porsua as and give us no rest, it is so exacting, it is bo dull, it is so imrewarded |
22 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha». nr,
what wonder that we tnm away ? No, indeed it is not. There aie those who find
it so ; those, namely, who refuse the invitation, and go to this and to that ; and
then not in repentance, but in sullen acquiescence ; not because their hearts ara
touched, but because they fear consequences, and because they are disgusted with
the pleasure which they have preferred to duty — come back, like Balaam, to obey
in deed but not in spirit. Such men learn what is meant by the words " None of
those men who were bidden shall taste of My supper." To them the supper is no
supper at all. To them that obey in an unloving, discontented, sulky mood there
is indeed no happiness in obedience. They obey, and find no peace in obedience.
They deny themselves for the sake of others, and instead of loving those whom they
thus benefit all the more, they love them all the less. They conquer the outburst
of temper, and substitute an inward brooding of ill-will. They resist temptation,
and feel a kind of resentment against Providence for having put this hard task
upon them. They come, but they do not taste the supper, for they refused it. Buc
it is a real pleasure, a pleasure above all other pleasures, to those who come heartily
and gladly, who make the needful sacrifice with a ready spirit and with a resolute
cheerfulness, forcing away from their minds all gloomy suggestions and all discon-
tented feelings, recognizing in the trifle which calls them as sure a summons from
the Great King as if it had been the royal messenger Death ; seeing in each invita-
tion to Christian effort a call, not to pain, but to joy ; not to a task, but to a supper;
not to a loss, but to a service in the King's court. ' {Bishop Temple.) The gospel
feast : I. A tspk or the gospel of Chkist. 1. Of the nature of the gospel. A
supper. It is God's provision to satisfy the soul's hunger. 2. Of the abundance
of God's provision in the gospel. A great supper. (1) Every want of the soul can
be satisfied by the gospel. (2) Satisfied for ever. 3. Of the freeness of the gospel.
(1) In the grace which provided it. (2) In the generousnesa which invites to it.
II. A TXPB OF THB TREATMENT THE GOSPEL BECEIVE8. 1. The term used to expresd
this treatment is very noticeable. Excuse. Not positive refusal, yet not accept-
ance. 2. The excuses mentioned are noticeable. (1) Though often rendered, how
untenable. Feast occurring probably in evening, would not have interfered with
land ipeculator or enterprising farmer ; and the young husband could have taken
his bride with him. (2) Though differing in their phases, how similar in spirit.
Setting personal gratification above the claims of God. III. A type of the effect
OF THIS TBEATMBNT ON THB DiviNE MIND. 1. The Divine resentment is here stated.
2. Fresh orders are given. 3. New decree declared. Lessons : 1. The provision
God has made for us in Christ— how satisfying and abundant. 2. Excuses for pro-
crastination— how common — how dangerous. 3. When God says, " None of those
who were bidden shall taste," &c., seals the doom of such. {D. C. Hughes, M.A.)
On receiving the grace of the gospel : — The eating of bread mentioned in previoua
verse imports the enjoyment of eternal goods, both for necessity and delight, in
heaven. But our Lord here takes that man off, and us in him, from a general
admiration of their happiness in heaven, to a particular application of the means
conducing to that happiness, even the receiving the grace of the gospel. They that
would eat bread, or enjoy fellowship with God in heaven, must first eat bread, or
partake of the gospel-provision here on earth. I. The way to bnjoy thb btbbnai.
GOOD THINGS IN THB KINGDOM OP GLOBY, IS TO CLOSE WITH THB SPIRITUAL GOOD
THINGS IN THE KINGDOM OF GBACE. 1. " Eating bread " implies most intimate and
immediate union with God. 2. It denotes the abundant supply of all wants.
3. The full and familiar enjoyment of good company. 4. Complete satisfaction in
the fruition of all contents and delights. II. What abe those spibitoal good
THINGS which W« ABB TO CLOSE WITH IN THE KINGDOM OF GRACE? 1. Spiritual
privileges provided for us in the grace of the gospel (Isa. Iv. 1 ; Zech. xiii. 1).
Beconciliation, adoption, remission, sanctification, vocation, salvation. Thia
gospel provision is the plank after the shipwreck, or the ark in the midst of
the deluge. No other way of escaping destruction or obtaining salvation. ^ 2.
Spiritual ordinances for the conveying of spiritual privileges, and ensuring
them. Preaching. Sacraments. 3. Spiritual graces for the improvement of
spiritual ordinances (Gal. v. 22). These are the clusters of grapes to make
UB in love with the Holy Land, notwithstanding oppositions. This fruit growi
nowhere but in Christ's garden. The Vine which bears it is Himself. 4. Spiritual
duties for the expression of spiritual graces. Praying; hearing; exhorting on«
another, <feo. III. flow abb we to close with thkse spiritual good thtnob?
1. We are to receive them by faith, embracing the grace of the gospel (John i. 12).
i. We are to walk as we have received Christ (Coi. ii. 6) ; leading a holy life b/
CHAP. xiT.] ST. LUKE. 23
Tirtue drawn from Him through our anion with Him ; giving the world a proof in
oar holy life of the virtue in Christ's death for rectifying our crooked nature. IV.
Why wb must close with bpiritual good things, if we would enjoy eternal.
Because the one is part of the other. Saints in heaven and saints upon earth
make up but one family. Grace is the beginning of glory ; some compare it to the
golden chain in Homer, the top of which was fastened to the chair of Jupiter.
Grace will reach glory, and it must precede glory. Use 1. This informs us — (1)
That it is good for man now to draw near to God (Psa. Ixxiii. 28). It tends to his
everlasting happiness. (2) See their vanity who draw back from God, or bid God
depart from them when He comes near them in the means of grace vouchsafed to
them (Psa. Ixxiii. 27 ; Job xxi. 14). Sin divides between God and the soul. Use
2. Yet this doth not make, but many may partake of gospel mercies in the kingdom
of grace, and yet never come to glory. Those who have slighted their privileges
ajid advantages will receive the greater condemnation. Use 3. Would you come
into the kingdom of glory ? (1) Come into the kingdom of grace. (2) Live aa
under the laws of this kingdom of grace, (o) Perform allegiance to God, yielding
yourself to Him. (b) Expect protection from God, and draw nigh to Him (James
iv. 8). (c) Pray that the territories of the kiugdom of grace may be enlarged more
and more upon the face of the earth, (d) Prepare for the translation of the king-
dom of grace into the kingdom of glory (1 Cor. xv. 24, 28). {John Crump.)
Refuxing the Divine call : — The election of the just, and the reprobation of the
wicked, are inscrutable mysteries. Yet, as much as is necessary for as to know,
Jesus reveals to us in this parable, without satisfying vain curiosity. I. On the
CALL extended TO MEN. 1. Nature of this call. (1) It is Divine. (2) It is holy.
(3) It is a free call. (4) It is a universal call. 2. Manner of this call. (1) God
calls men outwardly : by teaching and preaching, in order to take away the dark-
ness of understanding caused by original sin. (2) God calls men inwardly : by the
inspiration of Divine grace. H. On the declinino of the invitation. 1. Co-
operation with the Divine call is necessary. 2. Man often refuses to co-operata
with the Divine call : (1) Because he is attached to earthly things. (2) Because
he is enslaved by the vice of pride. (3) Because he is the slave of his own flesh.
As the Jews lost all taste for the manna, because they longed for the flesh-pots of
Egypt, so all taste for the sweetness of spiritual joys is lost by carnal lust. III. On
befbobation. Most awful is the judgment of being excluded from Divine charity
and communion ; but, at the same time, it is most just. 1. The wrath of the king
against those who were invited, but who refused to come, was just. With God,
wrath is not the eruption of passion, but the zeal of justice, directed against him
who, by not accepting His loving invitation, has insulted His infinite majesty. 2.
The sentence pronounced by the king was just. (1) God does whatever is necessary
for our salvation. (2) But man, the sinner, is not willing to be saved (Matt, xxiii.
37). Man must do what he is able to do, and pray for what he is not able. 3.
His sentence of reprobation is most just. (1) He gives them up to the desires of
their heart, as He soSered those who were invited to go after their business (Bom.
i. 23, &c.). (2) God invites others instead of those who were first invited, that His
house may be filled, and that the latter may be for ever cut off from the hope of
recovering their place. Thus David was elected instead of Saul ; Matthias instead
of Judas. (3) He condemns irrevocably those who decline the invitation (Prov. i.
24-26). (Nicolas de Dijon.) The great supper : — I. The invitation. 1. The time
of the invitation. Evening. At the introduction of the gospel dispensation. 2.
The nature of the invitation — " Come." (1) Free. (2) Generous. (3) Direct.
3. The persons by whom the invitations were sent — " His servants." Apostles,
disciples, &o. II. Rejection df the invitation. 1. The unanimity of their
refusals. 2. The various reasons which they assigned. (1) The inspection of
new-bought property. (2) Engrossing business. (3) Domestic duties. HI.
Fobtheb invitations issued. 1. How extended the commission. 2. How bene-
volent the arrangement. 3. How urgent the appeal. (1) That in the gospel,
abundant provision is made for the spiritual wants of mankind. (2) That the
invitations of Divine mercy include all ranks and conditions of men. (3) That
these invitations are free and full, and urgently and sincerely presented by the
Lord Jesus Christ. (4) That only self-excluders will be refused a place at the
feast of salvation. (5) That it is the duty and interest of all, immediately and grate-
fully to obey the invitation and sit down at the gracious banquet. (J. Bums, D.D.)
The great feast, and itn Maker : — I. The Maker of the feast. Cnrist God-Man,
or God in Christ, is a bountiful Benefactor to man. God in Christ is here called a
24 TEE BIBLICAL ILLVSTEATOR. [chap. xw.
Man — 1. By way of resemblance ; those properties of any worth appearing in man,
or spoken of man, being more eminently in God : as (1) Sovereignty ; (2) pity; (8J
rationality. 2. By way of reality. (1) In respect of Christ, by whom this gospel-
provision is, wherein God shows Himself such a Benefactor. Christ has (a) th«
blood of a man ; (b) the bowels of a man ; {c'j the familiarity of a man. (2) In
respect of man for whom this gospel-provision is, wherein God shows Himself such
& Benefactor. The grace of the gospel is called " the kindness and love of God oor
Saviour toward man." And that — (a) by way of distinction from other creatures
in general ; (b) by way of opposition unto fallen angels in particular. (3) In
respect of the ministers of the gospel, through whose hands this goppel-provision
is distributed. Uses : 1. Observe the condescension of God. 2. The advancement
of man. 11. Thb feast. Supper — chief meal of the day: intimating the abun-
dance of the provision made for the recovery of lost man. 1. What is this gospel-
provision for the good of souls 7 It is the only way of man's salvation since the
Fall, begun in grace, and swallowed up or perfected in glory. 2. How does the
provision appear to be so plentiful ? (1) Look at the Maker of the feast. God,
rich in mercy, great in love. (2) The materials. Christ Himself. The sincere
milk of the word. The promises. Work of grace in soal. Sum up all this : here
is solidity, plenty, variety ; here is for necessity and delight, for health and mirth.
'Tis a great supper. (3) The vessels. Ordinances : " golden vials full of odours,"
(4) The guests. Such as are clothed with the righteousness of Christ. Kings and
priests unto God. (5) The attendants. Ministers instructed by God. III. Thb
PKBSONS BIDDEN. 1. Adam was invited, and with Him the whole race of mankind.
2. Noah was invited, and with him the old world. 3. Abraham was invited, and
with him the whole nation of the Jews. 4. Moses was invited, and with him the
Jews had a fresh invitation under that pedagogy of his which was to bring them to
Christ. Uses : I. Information. ' This shows us God's desire for man's happiness.
He not only propounds a way for man to be happy, but invites man to accept of it.
How inexcusable, then, is man if he refuse. 2. Caution. (1) Though rnen are
thus generally invited, yet other fallen creatures have not so much as an invitation ;
so that there is somewhat of distinguishing mercy in the very invitation (Heb. ii.
16). (2) Though men are thus generally invited, yet they are very hardly
persuaded really to close with the invitation. (3) Though men are thus generally
invited, yet they will not be continually invited. (4) Though men are thus generally
invited, yet they will be as generally rejected, if they continue slighting God's invi-
tation. 3. Be exhorted to hearken to this call and invitation of God. To move
you to accept : consider seriously — (1) God communes with ns in a way of
familiarity (Isa. i. 18). (2) God commands us in a way of authority (1 John iii.
23). (3) God beseeches us in a way of entreaty (2 Cor. v. 20). (4) Upon refusal,
God threatens us in a way of severity (Prov. i. 24, 32). They who will not feed
upon these gospel dainties, "shall eat of the fruit of their own way." They that sow
the wind of iniquity shall reap the whirlwind of misery. ^{John Crump.) The gos-
pel feast : — I. With eespect to the invitation. Although the dispensations of God
to Jew and Gentile may be different, the declaration of the gospel is the same. It ia
especially worth noting how perfectly free from all impossible conditions, on the
part of man, is the gospel invitation. H. Now look at the way in which this
INVITATION WAS BKCEivED. "They all with one consent began to make excuse.'*
They wanted to do something else instead. And in this reply we see a lesson,
how, when the passions of man are set against the truth, how additionally hard
and presumptuously bold they make the heart. The spirit which actuated these
excuses was worldliness — preferring something to God. And this is strictly true of
every one who has not really closed with the gospel invitation now. IH. Observe
again, that the pebsonb eternally excluded fbom the oobfel-feabt are those
WHO HAVs BEEN BIDDEN TO IT ; the invitation is, therefore, real : God means what
He says. '' It was in all good faith that the invitation was given, and it is in all
seriousness that God speaks when the invitation has been refused. I warn yoa
against making excuses to-day, lest when you would accept the Lord's graoioas
invitation, yon cannot ; lest you become too blind to read, too lame to go to the
house of God, and too deaf to hear-!-altogether too infirm to get any good. Now,
I repeat tp you, you know these things are true ; you understand these things ; you
are perfectly weU aware that what I say is the exposition of the parable, and yoo
are perfectly aware that as long as you neglect God's invitation, you are wrong.
You cannot say, "Lord, forgive me, for I know not what I do." You do know;
jroor conscience speaks to you now : do not harden it by neglect. 1. I would, in
OHAP. XIV.] ST. LUKE. ti
eonclasion, say, take these four considerations home with you : Consider, first,
to-night, dear brethren, before you lay yonr heads upon your pillows, the greatnesa
of the Host that invites you. Consider His love, His power, if you apply to Him,
to overcome every hindrance, His grace to give you all needful strength, Hia
mercy, which will embrace you in His arms, and take you to His heart. 2. The
excellence of the feast. He sets before you salvation, pardon, peace, eternal life.
Are not these things worth having ? Are they not necessary to the welfare of your
Boul? Where can you get them, but in the way you are called to accept now ? 3.
The blessedness of partaking of this gospel-feast. 4. The misery of refusing
— of never tasting the gospel-supper — never, never! — never knowing pardon
of sin — never knowing peace of conscience, {J. W. Reeve, M.A.) The
great supper: — I. The feabt. This is the gospel which God has provided for
mankind and sinners. Great preparations had to be made before it was available
for men. The law which we had broken bad to be satisfied ; the penalty which we
had incurred had to be endured ; the obedience in which we had failed had to be
rendered. None of these things, however, could be done by man for himself.
Christ therefore took human nature, &c. • 1. A feast in respect of the excellence of
the provision which it sets before us. Pardon of sin, favour with God, peace of
conscience, renewal of the heart, access to the throne of grace, the comforts of the
Holy Spirit, the exceeding great and precious promises of the Scriptures, and a
well-grounded hope of eternal lifer 2. A feast in respect of abundance, for the
supply is inexhaustible. 3. A feast in respect of fellowship. The blessings of the
gospel are for social, and not simply for private, life ; and what circle of earthly
friends can be put into comparison with that into which we enter when we seat
ourselves at the gospel table? Communion, not only with best and wisest of
earth, but with redeemed before throne ; yea, fellowship with Father, and His Son
Jesus Christ. 4. A feast in respect of joy. The Giver of it and the guests at it
rejoice together. II. The invited guests. The invitation to this feast is given
to every one in whose hearing the gospel is proclaimed. A great privilege, also a
great peril. God's invitation is not to be trifled with or despised. In the court
language of Great Britain, when a subject receives an invitation to the royal table,
it is said that her Majesty •• commands " his presence there. So the invitations of
the Eing of kings to His gospel banquet are commands, the ignoring of which
constitutes the most aggravated form of disobedience. IIL The beception givew
BT THOSE FIKST INVITED, TO THE CALL WHICH HAD BEEN ADDBESSED TO THEM.
Animated by one spirit, moved by one impulse, under the influence of the same
disposition, they all began to make excuse. Each of them considered some worldly
thing as of more importance to him than the enjoyment of the feast ; and that ia
just saying, in another way, that they all treated the invitation as a matter of no
momi3nt. Their excuses were all pretexts. > If the heart is set on anything else, it
cannot be given up to Christ ; and every excuse that is offered for withholding it,
whether the excuse itself be true or not, does not give the real reason for
His rejection. That must be sought in the fact that the heart is set on
something else which it is not willing to part with, even for Him. It is the old
story. " One thing thou lackest : " but that one thing is everything, for it is the
love of the heart. / lY. Those who persistently decline to come to the feast
SHALL BE FOB EVEB EXCLTIDED FBOU ITS ENJOYMENT. V. NOTWITHSTANDINO THB
BEJECTION OF THIS INVITATION BY MXTLTITUDB8, God's HOUSE SHALL BE FILLED AT LAST.
(W. M. Taylor, D.D,) The love of thia world it a hindrance to salvation: — L
BeASONS WHY THE LOVE OF THIS WOBLD IS A HINDRANCE TO SALVATION. 1. Ou aCCOUUt
of its power over the heart. (1) It is not attentive to the greatness of Divine grace.
(2) It disregards the means of this grace, through which the sinner must be brought
to the fellowship of it. (3) It hardens the heart against the repeated invitations of
Ood. (4) It does despite to the free grace of God, which has at once provided
eveiything necessary for our salvation, and invites us to partake of it without any
personal desert. 2. On account of its nature. (1) It is directed to what is earthly,
perishable, (a) To goods and pleasures, (h) To honour, influence, and con-
sideration, (c) To ties and connections. (2) It prefers that to what is heavenly
and eternal. (3) It lays claim, in doing so, to a right frame of mind (vers. 18, 19),
considering itseli to have a proper excuse, and thus manifests its ingratitude, levity,
and obstinacy. II. Proof that the love of the world is such a hindrance. 1„
From the consequences resulting to the despisers. (1) They draw upon themselvei
the anger of God. (2) They forfeit the offered salvation. 2. From the subsequent
procedure of God, who still manifests His mercy and grace ; (I) In that He oon-
S6 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip. xtt.
tinoes to invite men to the blessings of salvation ; (2) and even the most wretched
of men; (3) and all, without exception, in the most pressing manner. {F. <?.
Lisco.) The gospel feast: — Though this parable resembles, in some respects,
that of the marriage feast in the twenty-second chapter of Matthew, it is a distinct
and independent parable. 1. What those gospel blessings are to which we are here
invited under the comparison of a feast. We are invited, then, to partake of the
blessing of knowledge, saving knowledge, the knowledge of God, the knowledge of
the truth. 2. Let us observe what is implied in coming to this feast. It supposes,
then, a desire and endeavour to obtain these blessings, and an actual acceptance of
them just as they are offered. 3. God employs His servants to invite persons of all
descriptions to this feast. 4. We are reminded by this parable that multitudes
reject the gospel invitation with vain excuses. 5. Once more, this parable teaches
that, however many may have hitherto refused the invitation, ministers are bound
to persevere in most earnest endeavours to bring in sinners. The office of
ministers, in this respect, is weighty and responsible. (Jas. Foote, M.A.) God's
banquet : — From the earliest ages it has been common to speak of God's merciful
provisions for fallen men under the imagery of a feast. Thus Isaiah sung : " In
this mountain shall the Lord of Hosts make unto all people a feast of fat
things, a feast of wine on the lees, of fat things full of marrow, of wines on
the lees well refined." And so familiar was this conception to the ancient
Jews, that many of them were led to indulge the grossest notions about feasting
and banqueting in the kingdom of the Messiah. Many of the Babbins took
it literally, and talked and wrote largely about the blessed bread and plenteous
wine, and delicious fruits, and the varieties of fish, flesh, and fowl, to be enjoyed
when once the Messiah should come. It was to this coarse eating and drinking
that the man referred whose exclamation — " Blessed is he that shall eat bread in
the kingdom of God " — called forth this significant parable. But, although thd
Jews much perverted the idea, it still was a proper and expressive figurative repre>
sentation of gospel blessings. The Saviour ffimself takes up the idea, approve*
and appropriates it, and proceeds to speak of the provisions of grace as a ^eijrvoi' —
a supper — a feast— a banquet. Very significant also is this imagery. 1. A feast is
not a thing of necessity, but of gratuity. ' If a man makes an entertainment to
which he invites his friends and neighbours, he does it out of favour and good feel-
ing towards them. It is because he takes an interest in their happiness, and is
pleased to minister to their enjoyment. And precisely of this nature is the blessed
gospel. 2. Again : a banquet is furnished at the cost of him who makes it. And
80 the gospel comes to men free of expense to the guests. All that it embraces is
proposed without money and without price. 3. A banquet also implies the spread-
ing of a table, plentifully supplied with all inviting, wholesome, and pleasant
viands. It is an occasion when the very best things, and in the greatest profusion,
are set before the guests. True, " the kingdom of heaven is not meat and drink " ;
but it is to our inner life what the most precious viands are to the body. The soul
has appetites, and needs meat and drink as well as the physical man. It must be
fed, nourished, and refreshed with its appropriate spiritual aliment, or the man
must starve and die, notwithstanding the abundance of the things which he
possesseth. And this life-giving spiritual food is what God has provided for as in
the gospel. 4. A banquet is also a social thing. It involves the coming together of
multitudes to exchange civilities, to form and strengthen fellowships, and to enjoy
communion with each other, as well as with the maker of the feast. The gospel
embraces a holy fellowship of believers with believers, and of each with God. It em-
braces a coming together of men in common brotherhood and communion with each
other and with the Master, as full of sweetness, cheer, and blessedness as the viands
of which they are invited to partake. Christianity is a social religion. (J. A. Seisnt
D. D. ) Come ; for all things are now ready. — The gospel invitation : — I. Thb feast.
1. The author of this feast. 2. The provisions. (1) Abundant. (2) Various. (3)
Suitable. 3. The characteristics of the feast. (1 ) It is a sacrificial feast. (2) It
is a great and universal feast. (3) It is a gratuitous feast. (4) It is a heavenly
feast. II. The invitation — " Come." Now this implies distance. All men far
from God, Ac. Prodigal 1. To what must they come ? To the Word of God.
To the preached gospel (Rom. i. 15). 2. How must they come? By repentance.
Humbly, believingly, unreservedly, immediately. 3. To whom may this invitation
be addressed? To the young, middle-aged, and to the old. To the moralist,
profligate, and backslider. To the rich and poor, the learned and illiterate.
IlL Thb motive cKGED-*"For all things are now ready." 1. The Father ifl
CBAP. xiv.] ST. LUKE. 27
ready. To embrace the repenting prodigal. 2. The Son is ready. To speak for-
giveness and peace. 3. The Spirit is ready. To regenerate and save. i. Ministers
are ready. " And now then as ambassadors," &g. 5. The ordinances are ready.
And you are freely welcome. 6. The Church is ready. To own you as her sons,
<fec. 7. Angels are ready. To bear the tidings of your repentance to glory. ^ (J.
Burns, D.D.) The gospel invitation: — The invitation to come is in harmony
with the kingdom of heaven, and in harmony with the character of man. An invi-
. tation implies a happiness. When a calamity or a sorrow is before us, we are not
invited to it — we are drawn hither by an irresistible power. But when earth has a
joyful event, or one that promises happiness, invitations a,re issued, because it is
not conceivable that man would need to be driven toward happiness. Thus the
invitation harmonizes with the kingdom of Christ, for it is a happiness. Whether
you contemplate that kingdom as reaching through eternity with its blessedness,
or as filling earth with its virtue and faith and hope, it is the highest happiness of
vhich we can conceive. It is, indeed, a feast of love, of knowledge, of virtue ; and
hence is a blessedness worthy of the word " Come." The word is also in harmony
with the character of man, for, being a free agent, he is not to be forced towards
blessedness, but only invited. I. Now this word " come " contains no deep
MTSTEBT. It is not a tantalizing request to do what we cannot do. It is not irony,
as though one should say to a blind man, " See this rose ! " or a deaf mind, " Oh I
please hear this music." The Bible is the last book in the world to be accused ol
trifling with the soul, for it is the soul it loves, and for it it prays and weeps. It is
not to be inferred from this that the heart can correct itself and forgive itself and
sanctify itself; but what is to be inferred is that the will is not a mockery, not a
dead monarch, but is a king upon a throne, and can commaud the soul to go many
a path that leads to God. You can all start upon a heavenly road, for there is not
a movement of the heart toward God that is not a part of this large "Come."
Where the human ends and the Divine begins no one can tell, any more than in
nature one can tell where the rain and earth and sunshine cease to work in the
Terdure, and where they are supplauted by the presence of God. There is no tree
that stands in the woods by its own act. God is there. So no Christian stands up
Btrong in his own sole effort. God's grace is somewhere. But yet, for all this, great
is the power and responsibility of the soul. Nothing in religion can be true that
renders void the law of personal effort. II. But we pass by this ' ' coming," and go
to the second thought — "All things are eeady." I shall not restrict myself
here to the exact import of the text, but shall accept o f the words in all their
breadth and application. 1. Religion is ready for you. Having passed through
myriad shapes — Pagan, Mosaic, Grecian, Boman — religion seems to have found in
the gospel of Christ a final readiness for human use. Beason may learn to deny
all religion, science may hear and then teach atheism, but when the thought turns
to a positive religion, there is at last one ready, the religion of our Lord ; it is
ready for you and me. But when we have declared it ready as a philosophical
system, we have only told half the truth, for to this it adds the readiness of an
cver-hving Father and Saviour standing by each of you as a mother, and waiting
to welcome you. 2. Let us proceed now to our second head : You are ready for
this religion. I do not mean that you feel ready, for there are doubts and sins that
etand between the soul and religion. The obstacle is not in the world without, but
•within. But I have said you are ready. In what sense ? In this : that your life
has come to its responsible, intelligent years. The lineaments of God — knowledge,
visdom, reason, love, hope, hfe — have all unfolded, and here we are all to-day,
moving in all the spiritual qualities of Deity, and yet are willingly in the vale of
ein. The ignorance of youth has passed away : we are children no more. Vice
has revealed her wretchedness, and virtue her utility and beauty, and with intellects
so discerning, and with an expfirience so complete, and then clothed with the
attributes of God, we are all marching to the grave, a solemn gateway between
action and judgment, between time and eternity. These facts make me declare we
are ready for that sentiment called religion, that makes man one with God. I
confess that we all are ready for the gospel of Christ — ready for its virtue, its
mediation, its sunny hopes. 3. Society is ready for you to accept the gift. I hope
that old day has wholly gone when men were afraid to profess Christianity lest an
outside world might ridicule the ' ' new life." Little of this fear is any longer per-
ceptible. I imagine that the growth of individual liberty — the growth of the
consciousness of it, rather — has silenced both the ridicule and the sensibility to it.
It is only ignorance and narrowness that ever ridicule the profession of religion.
28 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, nr.
Bat we pass from this conscions readiness to that of need and fact. Sooietj is
toiling to-day under the awful ciuamities of vice, slavery, dishonour, and crime, and
is sorrowfully ready for millions of wicked ones to read and imitate the life of Jesoa
Christ. When society was .ruled by brute force, as in the days of Ceesar or Peter
the Great, it mattered little what might be in the hearts of the populace, for, if i*
was crime, there was a policeman for each citizen ; and if it was sorrow in the heart
of woman or child or slave, nobody cared. But in our day, when the vice of the
heart breaks out, and there is more reliance upon education than upon the knout
or chains, and when the upper classes have reached an education that makes
indifference to sorrow impossible, in such an age society begs the Christian
religion to come to its help. In the old empire of Cyrus there were, all along the
highways, criminals with hands or feet cut off, or heads of offenders raised up, to
keep the populace in constant fear. What that age demanded in its heart was not
a gospel, but an ever-present police. It did not know of anything better. But our
land, based upon the nobleness and equality of man, and springing up out o(
brotherly love, and every day strengthening this sentiment by education, silently
begs that its millions, high and low, shall come unto Jesus Christ. (David Swing. )
The hinquet : — 1. The Lord Jesus Christ Himself is ready. /No banqueter ever
waited for his guests so patiently as Christ has waited for us. 2. Again, the Holy
Spirit is ready. That Spirit is willing to come to-night at our call and lead you to
eternal life ; or neady to come with the same power with which He unhorsed Saul
on the Damascus turnpike,^ and broke down Lydia in her fine store, and lilted the
three thousand from midnight into midnoon at the Pentecost. / With that power
the Spirit of God this night beats at the gate of your soul. 7 Have you not noticed
what homely and insignificant instrumentaUty the Spirit of God employs for man's
conversion? There was a man on a Hudson river-boat to whom a tract was
offered. With indignation he tore it up and threw it overboard. But one fragment
lodged on his coat-sleeve ; and he saw on it the word " eternity " ; and he found
no peace until he was prepared for that great future. Do you know what passage
it was that caused Martin Luther to see the truth ? " The just shall live by faith."
Do you know there is one — just one — passage that brought Augustine from a life of
dissolution ? " Put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh
to fulfil the lusts thereof." It was just one passage that converted Hedley Vicars,
the great soldier, to Christ : *' The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin." Do
you know that the Holy Spirit used one passage of Scripture to save Jonathan
Edwards ? ♦• Now, unto the King, eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wisa
God, our Saviour, be glory." 3. The Church is ready. 4. The angels of God are
ready. 5. Your kindred in glory are all ready for your coming. Some of these
spirits in glory toiled for your redemption. When they came to die, their chief
grief was that you were not a Christian. They said : " Meet me in heaven " ; bat
over their pillow hung the awful possibility that perhaps yon might not meet them.
{Dr. Talmage.) God^t anxiety for man'$ $alvation: — I. God is vkbt dbobnt
WITH UBM TO ACCEPT Of GOSPBL-PBOVISION FOB THB GOOD OT THEIB SOULS. He
Epeaks once and again (Jer. vii. 25). This truth will thus appear: 1. By the
several acts of God put forth in gospel-provision for man's salvation. (1) He has
prepared the provision without any desert or desire of ours (Titus iii. 4, 5). (2)
The means of grace are vouchsafed to many that do not improve them (Matt. zL
16, 17, 21). (3) God propounds a way, and offers help to do as good, before we
inquire after it (Isa. Izv. 1). (4) God forbears His wrath when we do not presently
close with His mercy. He stays, though man lingers. (5) God reproves where we
are defective, and happy are the wounds of such a friend. He who first reproves ia
unwilling to punish. (6) God stops our way when we are running headlong to our
own misery (Hosea ii. 6). Many times He keeps us short that He may keep ua
humble. (7) God makes us consider our ways, and recollect our thoughts, whither
our course tends (Haggai i. 5). (8) Notwithstanding our obstinacy, God persuades
us by a sweet and holy violence. He not only stops our way, but changes our
wills. 2. By the manner of God's speaking to sinners in the Scriptures. (1) By
way of interrogation — "Why will ye die?" (Ezek. xviii. 81). (2) By way of
lamentation (Luke lix- 41, 42). (3) By way of protestation with the strongest
asseveration (Ezek. xxxiii. 11). Uses. 1. This informs us that the destruction of
man is a thing displeasing to God. 2. But though God be thus urgent about the
salvation of man, yet He is quick and peremptory in the destruction of maoT.
Although He seem to come slowly to punish man, yet His hand will fall hearily
npoo those who abase Hia patienoe. 8. Answer Goi's urgency with yoa to Mcept
CHAP, xrv.] ST. LUKE. 29
of gospel-provision. (1) Be urgent with your own hearts to turn to the Lord by
faith ; and then be as urgent to bless His name for turning them. (2) Urge your
hearts to turn from all sin by true repentance. II. The sekvakts sent out. 1. All
the prophets. 2. Pre-eminently, Christ Himself. 3. The servants of Christ.
in. The time of sending the servants. Supper-time ; the fulness of time, the
very nick of time for man's redemption. Now is the accepted time ; improve it.
IV. The manneb in which the message is to be delivered. By word of mouth.
Uses. 1. Information. (1) The gift of utterance is very requisite for a minister
(Eph. vi. 19). (2) The calling of the ministry is very useful (Titus i. 2, 3). 2.
Ministers should not only preach with their tongues, but likewise with their hearts
feelingly, and with their lives. 3. Let us be thankful to God that the Word of
faith is so nigh as in the preaching of the Word (Eom. x. 6, 7, 8). Manna faUs at
our very doors ; we have but to step out and take it up. V. The word of
invitation — " Come." 1. Whither God would have us come. (1) To ourselves
(Luke XV. 17). (2) To His people (Heb. xii. 22). (3) To Him. (a) The Father
would have us come (Jer. iv. 1). (6) The Son would have us come (Matt. xi. 28).
(c) The Spirit would have us come (Rev. xxii. 17). He comes to us, that we may
come to Him to get victory over our sin. 2. By what means we should come,
(1) By the use of all means of grace (Psa. xcv. 6). (2) By the exercise of the truth
of grace, and especially the acting of faith (Heb. xi. 6). (3) By pressing forward
towards the perfection of grace (Phil. iii. 12). 3. In what manner we should
come. (1) Humbly (Luke xv. 19). (2) Speedily (Luke xix. 6). (3) Joyfully, as
we come to a feast. YI. The readiness of aui things. 1. The mind of Ood,
concerning the salvation of all His elect, is ready (2 Tim. ii. 19). 2. The work of
Christ for the recovery of lost man is ready (Heb. x. 12). The incarnation,
passion, resurrection, and ascension of Christ, are all overi 3. The remission of
sin upon the score and account of Christ is ready (Neh. ix. 17 ; 2 Cor. v. 19). 4.
The glorious inheritance in heaven is now ready (Heb. ii. 16). Uses. 1. For
information. Men has nothing to do toward his own happiness, but to receive
what God has prepared, and to walk as he has received it. The receiving is by
faith. 2. For caution. Though all things be said to be " now ready," we mast
not think, as if all were but now ready : we must know that Christ is the Lamb
slain from the foundation of the world (Bev. xiii. 8), so that Christ's blood in its
virtue, and God's acceptation was of force for man's salvation long before He came
personally into the world. Then, again: though all things are said to be
" now ready," yet there is much to be done before all the elect come to heaven ;
many enemies of Christ must be pulled down, &o. 3. Be exhorted to answer
this readiness of God. (1) Be ready to receive this grace of the gospel. (2)
Be ready to express this grace of the gospel, (a) In acts of piety towards
Him. (6) In acts of charity towards men. {John Crump.) Tht invita-
tion : — Now we oome to our Lord's description of what a really religious Ufe
is. He gives it to as under the figure of a feast. Let us try and get some
, lessons from this ; for when oar Lord employs a figure, we may be sore He has a
meaning in it. What are the thoughts connected with the figure f In the first
place, A FEAST IB designed fob the satisfaction of oub natubal appetites, is it notf
We go to a feast, not that we may be hungry, but that we may be fed. Wherever
Christ goes, the first thing He proposes to do, my dear friends, is to satisfy the
wants of our souls. He knows better than we what those wants are, and how in*
capable we are of satisfying them ; and you know it too, if you will but reflect.
Is there not in your daily occupations, and pleasures, and cares a certain secret
sense of something wanting ? When yoa succeed in life, do not yoa feel strangely
disappointed with the results of success f How little pleased you are with that
which you thought might be expected to give the most exquisite pleasure ! Oh, my
yonng fiisnds, bow straiigs it is that we all fall into the fallacy, or, at any rate,
80 many of us do, of supposing that we can make up in quantity for that which is
radically deficient in quality. You understand what I mean. Here is a boat-load
of shipwrecked mariners, tossing about on the wide waste of waters. We will sup-
pose that one of them, burning with thirst, dips his fingers into the briny ocean,
and just puts two drops of the water on his tongue ; does that satisfy him ? Not
a whit ; on the contrary, it increases his thirst. Suppose the man thinks, '* What
I want is increased quantity ; two drops will satisfy no man's thirst ; if I can only
get enough I shall surely be satisfied." And suppose he were to lean his head over
the gunwale of the boat, and take a deep draught of the brine, would that satisfy
him any more than the two drops ? Some time ago a friend of mine was coming home
80 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTBATOR. [OHiP. nv.
from Australia in a ehip that took fire. Those on board were saved in two boats,,
one a large and the other a email one. On board the smaller boat was this gentle-
man and his wife, and into it had been cast, in the confusion and hurry of the
moment, several cases containing solid gold to the value of many thousand pounds
in each. In the large boat there was a considerable quantity of provisions, but in
the smaller boat there was a very slender supply of provisions, but a large amount
of gold. The men pulled away from the burning ship ; there was a stiff breeze
rising, and they knew that in all probability they should not see each other in the
morning dawn ; so just before they separated for the night, they began to overhaul
their provisions. The men on board the smaller boat found that they had only a
meagre supply. My friend remarked that he should never forget the moment when
three or four stalwart sailors lifted up a huge case of gold, held it before the eyes
of the men in the other boat, and shouted across the water, " Ten thousand pounds
for one cask of bacon ! " A big price, was it not ? The men would not look at it 1
That one cask of bacon was worth all the gold in the world to them. Why f
Hecause the meat was congruous to their natural appetite, and the gold was not ;
they could feed themselves with the one, but not with the other. Now, young
man, tbe world is whispering in your ear : What you want is, not to change your
mode of satisfying your appetite, but to have a little more. Yon are not very rich,
you cannot indulge yourself in going to the theatre every night ? perhaps you can
only go once a fortnight or once a month ; make a little money ; get on in life ; Bet
up in business for yourself, and then you will be able to go every night in the week
if you like. 2. Then, again, a feast is not only an occasion for satisfying our wants ;
IT IS ALSO USDAIiLY AN OCCASION FOR MERRIMENT, HILARITY, ENJOYMENT, IS IT NOT ? We
do not go to a feast to wear very long faces, to look very mournful and miserable. It
is true, men sometimes do look very grave at feasts, because they are so unlike what
feasts ought to be; there is so much form and ceremony, and so little social enjoy-
ment in them. Everything is real that God gives. Blessed are thsy who are
permitted to sit down at the board which has been spread by the hands of Jesus.
But you say, " Do you really believe it ? Is it true ? Do you mean that it is all a
lie that the devil has been telling as — that if you become a real Christian, you will
grow so gloomy, and look so sad, and that life will lose all its charm? Is that
really false ? Surely it never can be." Why do so many people say this ? I will
tell you. Look yonder. There is a man who is a Christian — at any rate, he calls
himself so ; and, dear me, what a miserable sort of being he is ! Yes, with shame
and sorrow I admit it ; there we discover the foundation of the devil's lie. The
truth is, there are so many of us who name the name of Christ, but do not give our
selves wholly up to God. There ars many people who call themselves Christians,
but who give occasion to the enemies of God to blaspheme. There is many a
Christian, for instance, who does not walk by faith, but by unbelief. Look at »
man like Paul ; there you find one who has committed himself to God's will. At
first sight the man of the world might say, "Well, he gets a rough life of it. I
should not like to lead such a life, tossing about to and fro over the wide world like
a waif and stray in human society, with nobody to say a kind word to him,
sometimes shipwrecked, sometimes exposed to perils of robbers, sometimes
thrust outside the city. Dear me, I should not like to lead such a life ! "
Would you not? Look a little closer, my dear man. Look at the man's face;
listen to some of the openings of his heart. Amid all his outward trials, difficulties^
and persecutions, he says he is alwajrs rejoicing. Are you always rejoicing ? Where
is the worldly man in London who is always rejoicing ? Ah, who are so happy as
real Christians ? Young man, when you form your idea of a Christian, take care
that you get hold of the genuine article. Suppose I were to say, " Have you ever
seen a rose ? " " Well, no," you might reply ; " I have heard a good deal about thr
rose, but 1 have never seen one." And suppose 1 were to say, " I will show you
one ; come along with me," and then were to take you down to one of the purlieus
of London, to some miserable, sodden-looking, uncultivated little garden, and show
yon s poor, half-dead, struggling plant, just trying to put out a few little crimson
leaves, which were already being mercilessly nipped and shrivelled np by the
chemical compounds which make up the air of this city of London. The thing is
already decaying ; there is no fragrance about it, no beauty, no perfection or sym-
metry of form. Suppose I say, •• There is a rosel did you ever see such a beautiful
thing in your life 7 " And suppose there was a friend from the country beside us ;
would he not say, " Don't call that a rose. The man will turn back, saying, * I
have Men a roie; bat I wouldn't go a couple of yards to see another.' Take him.
CHAP, iiv.] 8T. LUKE. %1
down to my garden in the country, and show him the standard rose-bush outside
my door ; he will remember that if he has never seen one before. Come with me,
my lad, and I will show you what a rose is like." Now, when you form an idea
about a Christian, don't get hold of some poor, blighted Christian, shrivelled up
by the east wind of worldliness ; don't get hold of a Christian who tries to serve two
masters — God and the world too ; don't get hold of a Christian who leads a life of
chronic unbelief, a sort of asthmatic Christian, who cannot get his breath at alL
No, no ; get hold of a Christian in good, sound health, who can honestly say, "To
me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Then compare his life with your own;
and if yon do not come to the conclusion that that man is, all round, a hundredfold
happier than you are, or ever can hope to be, so long as you remain a child of the
world, then I will say that my gospel is no longer worth preaching, and the Word
of God no longer worth trusting. But you will be constrained to make the admis-
sion. 3. Again, what is a feast 1 It is a time for feeding the body, a time for enjoy-
ing ourselves ; it is also a timb for pleasant social intebcoubsb. I find that a great
many people are kept back from Christ, especially young men, because they think
they would have so much to give up in the way of fnends. Not very long ago a gen-
tleman said to me, " One of the things that struck me most after my conversion was
the effect on my relations with other people. I always passed for an affectionate hus-
band, and loving father; but really, really, as I looked at my wife and my children,
it seemed as if I loved them with an entirely new affection, as though I had never
really loved them before. I loved them with such a new and mighty love, that it
just seemed as if I had become their father or husband over again. But that was
not all. When I came into contact with other Christians, I found out that I got to
know more of, and to be really more attached to, men whom I had only known ten
days or a fortnight— real Christians — than I was to men whom I had been
meeting day after day in business, or social life, and coming constantly in
contact with, long, long years before. I seemed to know more of a man in »
week than I had been able to know of a man of the world in a twelvemonth
before. So wonderful was the change in my own personal feelings towards
others, that I felt that the number of my brothers was indefinitely multiplied."
My friends, it will be so. Believe me, where the grace of God gets into the human
heart it maies us brothers. (W. H. Aitken.) Offered mercy : — Let us, then, con-
sider the readiness of all things as a reason for coming to Christ now. And as the
simplest way of doing this, let us consider what it is that hinders us from coming.
No external force ; you act freely in refusing to come. What inward cause, then —
why do you not come ? Alas ! I need not ask ; for in the way of every sinner who
knows what it is to think, there always rises up one barrier which effectually stops
his course till God removes it ; it is guilt — the paralyzing and benumbing sense of
guilt. The very same thing that creates the necessity of coming, seems to render
it impossible. God is a holy God, a just God, and a Sovereign. But, perhaps,
your way is not yet open ; your obstacles are not yet all removed. Whatever yon
may think of the benevolence of God, yon cannot lose sight of His justice. How-
ever His compassion might consent. His holiness. His truth. His righteousness,
still stop the way. But now, perhaps, you feel another hindrance, one of which
you took but little note before. Though God be ready to forgive you for the sake
of Christ's atoning sacrifice, yon find a hindrance in yourself, in your heart, in yoor
very dispositions and affections. Expiation, pardon, renovation, the grace of the
Father, the merit of the Son, the influence of the Spirit, the Church on earth, and
the Church in heaven, safety in life, peace in death, and glory through eternity, a
good hope here, and an ineffable reality hereafter — all thmgs, all things are now
ready. Will you come ? If not, you must turn back, you must retrace your steps,
and take another view of this momentous invitation. Higher we cannot rise in the
conception or the presentation of inducements. If you ro^ist have others, they
must be sought in a lower region. The feast is a figure for salvation or deliverance
from ruin. To refuse it, therefore, is to choose destruction. This must be taken
into view, if we would estimate the motives here presented. Such is the brevity of
life, and such the transitory nature of the offer of salvation, that even the youngest
who decides this question, may be said to decide it in the prospect of death, and on
the confines of eternity. (c7. A. Alexander, D.D.) Go$pelinvitationt ihould be
pertonal: — Do yon know why more men do not come to Christ ? It is beeaaae men
are not invited that they do not come. Yon get a general invitation from your
friend: *< Come around some time to my house and dine with me." Yon do not
go. Bat he says, *' Come around to-day at four o'olock and bring your family, and
3S THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xit.
we'll dine together." And you say : •' I don't know that I have any engagement ;
I will come." " I expect you at foar o'clock." And you go. The world feels it is a
general invitation to come around some time and sit at the gospel feast, and men
do not come because they are not specially invitfid. It is because you do not tak«
hold of them and say, ' ' My brother, come to Christ ; come now 1 come now ! "
How was it that in the days of Daniel Baker, and Truman Osborn, and Nettleton,
80 many thousands came to Jesus? Because those men did nothing else but
invite them to come. They spent their lifetime uttering invitations, and they did
not mince matters either. Where did Bunyan's pilgrim start from? Did he start
from some easy, quiet, cosy place t No ; if you have read John Bunyan's " Pil-
grim's Progress " you will know where he started from, and that was from the City
of Destruction, where every sinner starts from. Do you know what Livingstone,
the Scotch minister, was preaching about in Scotland when three hundred souls
under one sermon came to Christ ? He was preaching about the human heart an
unclean, and hard, and stony. Do you know what George Whitefield was preaching
about in his first sermon, when fifteen souls saw the salvation of God ? It was this :
"Ye must be born again." Do you know what is the last subject he ever preached
upon? "Flee from the wrath to come." Oh I that the Lord God would
oome into our pulpits and prayer-meetings, and Christian circles, and
bring us from our fine rhetoric, and profound metaphysics, and our elegant
hair-splitting, to the old-fashioned well of gospel invitation. {Dr. Talmage.)
Attendance on Holy Communion : — I. In the first place, then, what is not pbk-
8XJMPTI0N WITH EEFEEENCB TO THB MATTER BEFORE DS ? The iuvitatiou — " Come,
for all things are now ready," may be applied to that Holy Communion to which all
who flee to Jesus are invited. 1. And I would observe, in the first place, that it is
not presumption to be obedient to the Lord's command. Knowledge ought to
induce obedience. The victim is slain, the sacrifice is offered; Jesus has " died,
the Just for the unjust, that He might bring os to God." He who has done all this
as our Surety enjoins this ordinance upon us, and tells us to " do it in remembrance
of Him ? " Gratitude should induce obedience. " All things are ready." 2. But,
secondly, it is not presumption to accept the invitation of our heavenly Xing. If we
are invited there is no presumption, and there can be no presumption in accepting the
invitation. 3. And so, I observe, thirdly, that it is not presumption to come to the
Holy Communion, as all other worthy communicants do come. How do those who are
worthy come ? that is, those whom God esteems to be worthy ? Do they come
because they are holy ? that is, because they are perfectly free from sin ? because
they have no temptations around them, to which sometimes they feel inclined to
give way ? No; it is that, feeling their weakness, they flee to God for grace in this
holy sacrament of His own appointment. H. But now, let us look at the other
side of the question, and examine what is presumption in this matter of which
WE ARE 8PEAKINO. 1. I auswcr, then, to this inquiry, that it is presumption for
any one to profess practically to be wiser than God. This is what those do, who
neglect Holy Communion- 2. But further, it is presumption, I will allow, to attend
this holy ordinance in thoughtlessness and willing ignorance. 3. Then, thirdly, it
is presumption to attend this holy ordinance while living in wilful and acknow-
ledged sin. 4. Lastly, it would be presumption to come to the Lord's table io an
unforgiving spirit. (fV. Cadman, M.A.) All things are ready ; come : — I. It is
God's habit to hate aUi things beady, whether for His guests or His creatures.
Ton never find Him behindhand in anything. He has great forethought. 1. God's
thoughts go before men's comings. Grace is first, and man at his best follows its
footsteps. 2. This also proves how welcome are those who come. II. This
readiness should be an aroombnt that His saints should come continually to
Him and find grace to help in every time of need. 1. All things are ready ; there-
fore come to the storehouse of Divine promise. 2. Come to the mercy-seat in
prayer ; all things are ready there. 3. Christ is always ready to commune
with His people. 4. For a useful life in the path of daily duty, ail things
are ready. 5. For a higher degree of holiness all things are ready. III. Thk
perfect bbadiness of the feast of Divine mercy is evidently intended
TO BE A BTRONQ ARGUMENT WITH SINNERS WHY THEY SHOULD COME AT ONCE. 1. All
things are ready. 2. All things are ready. 3. All things are now ready. There-
fore, come now, IV. This text disposes of a great deal of talk about the
sinner's readiness or unreadiness. He only needs to be willing. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Form of Eastern invitations: — When a person of respectable rank in society
^proposes to celebrate a feast in his house, he forthwith circulates his invitations to
CHA». XIV.] ST. LUKE, S3
the friends he wishes to be of the party, either by card or by a verbal message,
carried by a servant of the house, or a person hired for the purpose, and superbly
decked, according to the rank of his employer. The following is a specimen of the
form of invitation: " Such a person [naming him] sends best compliments to such
another person [naming him also], and begs to inform him that as to-morrow there
is a little gaiety to take place in his house, and he wishes his friends, by their
presence, to grace and ornament with their feet the house of this poor individual,
and thereby make it a garden of roses, he must positively come and honour the
humble dwelling with his company." Having after this fashion gone to all the
houses, and returned with assurance from the invited friends of their intention
*tO come next day, a messenger is again despatched for them at the appointed time,
to inform them that all the preparations for the banquet are completed. This
second invitation is included by our Lord, and is very characteristic of Eastern
manners. When Sir John Malcolm was invited to dine with the eldest son of the
Shah, the invitation was given two days before, and one of the prince's attendants
was despatched at the hour appointed for the banquet to teU him that all things
were ready. And Morier also informs us, that having been engaged to dine with a
Persian Khan, he did not go till his entertainer had sent to the English ambassador
and his train to say that supper waited. After the same manner, the invitations
to the great supper described in the parables, seem to have been issued a consider-
able time before celebration ; and as the after invitation was sent, according to
Eastern etiquette, to the guests invited, they must be imderstood as having
accepted the engagement, so that the apologies they severally made were in-
admissible, and could be regarded in no other light than as an affront put upon the
generous entertainer, and an ungrateful return for all the splendid preparation he
had made for their reception. {Biblical Things not Generally Known.) Chinese
invitation : — Amongst the ancient Chinese an invitation to an entertainment is not
supposed to bs ^en with sincerity until it has been renewed three or four times
in writing. A card is sent on the evening before the entertainment ; another on
the morning of the appointed day ; and a third when everything is prepared. The
invitation to this great supper is supposed to have been given when the certain man
had resolved upon making it ; but it is again repeated at supper-time, when all
things are ready. Now, as it does not appear that the renewal of it arose from the
refusal of the persons invited, of which no hint is yet given, it is clear that it was
customary thus to send repeated messages. The practice is very ancient among
the Chinese, and no doubt it prevailed amongst the Jews ; it certainly gives a
significance to the words not otherwise perceived. They all with one consent
began to make excuse. — The reasons why men are not Christians : — I. Our first
point relates to the causes ob reasons wht men abb not Christians, ob in other
WORDS, WHY THEY WISH TO BE EXCUSED FROM BEING CHRISTIANS — which is the form
in which it is presented in the text. There is something remarkable in the aspect
which the subject assumes on the first view of it. Men ask to be excused, as if it
were a matter of favour. It is natural to ask, From what? From a rich banquet,
says the parable from which my text is taken. From the hope of heaven through
Jesus Christ. From loving God and keeping His commandments. From that
which is fitted to make a man more useful, respected, and beloved in life, re-
membered with deeper affection when he is dead, honoured for ever in heaven. In
searching for the causes or reasons why men wish to be excused from becoming
Christians, I may be allowed to suggest that they are often under a strong tempta-
tion to conceal those which are real, and to suggest others which will better answer
their immediate purpose. My idea is, that the real cause is not always avowed,
and that men are strongly tempted to suggest others. The actual reason may be
such as, on many accounts, a man would have strong reluctance to have known.
The grand reason why men are not Christians, as I understand it, is the opposition
of the heart to religion; that mysterious opposition that can be traced back through
aU hearts, and all generations, up to the great apostasy — the fall of Adam. 1. A
feeling that you do not need salvation in the way proposed in the gospel ; that yoa
■do not need to be bom again, or pardoned through the merits of the Redeemer.
The feeling is, that your heart is by nature rather inclined to virtue than to vice,
to good than to evil ; that the errors of your life have been comparatively few,
vonr virtues many. 2. You suppose that in your case there is no danger of_ being
lost — or not such danger as to make it a subject of serious alarm. The idea is
this, that if the duties of this life be discharged with faithfulness, there can be no
lerions ground of apprehension in regard to the world to come. 3. A secret
Toi.. m. 8
84 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip. xiY.
scepticism about the truth of Christianity. The mind is not settled. The belief ia
not firm that it is a revelation from heaven. 4. A fourth class are deterred by a
feeling that the Divine government is unreasonable and severe. In one of His
parables the Saviour has taught us expressly that this operated in preventing a
man from doing his duty, and being prepared for His coming (Matt. xxiv. 24, 25).
6. A fifth class are deterred from being Christians by hostility to some member
or members of the Church. 6. A sixth reason which prevents men from
becoming Christians is worldliness — the desire of this world's goods, or pleasures,
or honours. II. Our next point is, to inqoire whether these bkabons fob not
BBiMO A Christian abs SATisrAcxoBT. Satisfactory to whom? you may ask. I
answer. To conscience and to God. Are they such as are sufficient reasons for not
loving God ? 1. Tou dare not yourselves urge them as the real cause why yon do
not attend to religion, and embrace the offers of mercy. They are so little satis-
factory to your own minds, that when we come to you and urge you to become
Christians, we are met with other reasons than these. You resort to soma
difficulty about the doctrine of ability, and the decrees of God, some metaphysical
subtlety that you know may embarrass as, but which you think of on no other
occasion. Who will dare to urge as a reason for not becoming a Christian the fact
that he is sensual, or proud, or worldly-minded, or ambitious, or covetous, or self-
righteous, or that he regards God as a tyrant ? 2. These excuses will not stand
when a man is convicted for sin. All, when the hour comes in which God designs
to bring them into His kingdom, confess that they had no good reasons for not
being His friends, and for their having so long refused to yield to the claims of
God. 3. The same thing occurs on the bed of death. The mind then is often
overwhelmed, and under the conviction that the excuses for not being a Christian
were insufficient, the sinner in horror dies. But I will not dwell on that. I pass
to one other consideration. 4. It is this. These excuses will not be admitted at
the bar of God. (A. Barnes, D.D.) Making excuses: — I. Au. excuses fob
DISOBEDIENCE TO GoD ABE VAIN. 1. One is, God makes us sinners, either by
creating sin as a substantial property of the soul, or by the laws of propagation,
just as the other properties of the mind, or as the members of the body are propa-
gated. But can this be so ? No. Sin is man's work. Sin is moral action — the
act or exercise of the heart. God creates the man a free moral agent ; and the man
makes himself a sinner. " 0, Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself." 2. Again, it
is a sort of standing excuse with some sinners, when urged to perform their duty, to
reply. We cannot. But what is the nature of the inability? Their own consciousness,
and the Word of God, alike testify that it is the simple inability of disinclination.
3. Others say there are so many hypocrites in the world, that we have our doubta
whether, after all, religion be a reality. But why should there be hypocrites, if
religion itself is not a reality ? If there were no true bank-notes, no bank, would
there be counterfeits ? Do you excuse one debtor from the payment of his debts,
because others have paid you in base coin ? There is one principle which exhibits
them in all their vanity. God has not revealed His law and precepts for men to
alter. He knew all the reasons which would or could exist to impair the obligations
of each, to extenuate the guilt of transgression ; and as a righteous Sovereign, if
one such reason could exist, would have made the exception. But He has not
made it. II. All excuses fob disobedience to the will of God are cbiuinal.
To make an excuse for what we have done is impenitence, and for not doing what
we ought to do, is determined disobedience. III. This practice is most euinocb.
The real nature of disobedience to God cannot be altered by any delusive covering
we can give it. To that heart which " is deceitful above aU things," self-delusion
is an easy task. Nor is there any form in which it can prove more certainly fatal
than by leading us to make habitual excuses. And who shall hope to conquer his
■ins who refuses to see them ; who shall turn from and escape the danger on which
he shuts his eyes ? The sinner must take the shame and guilt of sin to himself,
and clear his Maker, or nothing can be done for him. Concluding remarks : 1.
How infatuating is the power of sin. 2. How opposite is the spirit of excuses to
the spirit which the gospel inculcates. The one is the spirit of treachery and
impenitence — the other, of frank, open confession, and of devout contrition. The
one a spirit of determined perseverance in sin, the other a spirit of prompt,
cheerful obedience. The one prays, " Have me excused " ; the other, " Search me,
O God 1 " 3. Let all self-excusers reflect how they must appear at the judgment
of the great day. Should they be permitted to offer these excuses at the bar of
God, how will they look 7 Tou plead your inability to love God. Plead it, then.
«Hi*. xiT.] 8T. LUKE. 85
st the jndgment-seat of CSirist. Oo there and expose yoar ingratitade and eninitj,
by telling the Judge on the throne, the Saviour that died for you — that you oould
not help trampling His blood underfoot, by not believing the record of His Son.
riead the incessant occupation of your time — exhibit then ita results — show your
bags of gold, your houses, your farms, your shops, and tell Him these so occupied
you, that you had no time for the concerns of your soul. Bring forward these and
other apologies. Will they dazzle the eye of Omniscience — will they beguile the
Judge of the quick and the dead ? You know it will not. {N. W. Taylor, D.D.)
Sinful excuses :—l. Some men will say they have no need to come to Christ. This
arises from insensibility, and ignorance of their lost condition. 2. Others imagine
ihey are already come to Christ ; and the act being performed, they have no need
to repeat it. Their hope is too firmly fixed to be shaken, and their confidence too
deeply rooted to be overthrown. Is there not daily need of Christ ? Have there
been no departures 1 and do they not call for a return 7 Is faith to be exercised
but once f Why, then, are we told, that "the just shall live by his faith "f 3.
Pre-engagement is another excuse which sinners make for not coming to Christ.
4. Some say they have tried, but cannot come to Christ. 5. Others, who are
deeply bowed down in spirit, do not so much plead their inability, as their onfitness
«nd onworthiness. They do not say they cannot come, but dare not come. There
«rs some preparations and dispositions necessary, and they are destitute of them.
Willingness is the only worthiness that Christ looks for : so that we are to come to
Him not with quaUfications, but for them. 6. Some stumble at the austerities of
religion, and the dangers to which it will expose them. They own that it is
glorious in its end, but complain that there is something very discouraging in the
way. 7. It is the fear of some, that if they do come to Christ, they shaU either ba
rejected, or dishonour Him. 8. Many who do not come to Christ now, purpose to
do so hereafter. What is hard to-day will be harder to-morrow ; and it is only tha
present hour, the present moment, that we can call our own. {B. Beddome, M.A.)
A bad excuse is worse than none: — I. 'Let us try to account fob the fact, the sad
VACT, THAT HKM ABB SO BEADT TO MAKB EX0DSE8 BATHER THAN TO BBCEIVE THB WoBD
OF God. We account for it in the first place by the fact that they had no heart at
all to accept the feast. Had they spoken the truth plainly, they would have said,
" We do not wish to come, nor do we intend to do so." If the real secret of it
was that they hated Him and despised His provisions, is it not melancholy that
they were not honest enough to give Him a " nay " at once ? It may be that you
make this excuse to satisfy custom. .- It is not the custom of this present age to fly
immediately in the face of Christ. There are not many men of your acquaintance
or mine who ostensibly oppose religion. It may be you make these excuses
because yovi have had convictions which so haunt you at times that you dare net
oppose Christ to His face. Satan is always ready to help men with excuses. This
is a trade of which there is no end. It certainly commenced very early, for aftac
our first parents had sinned, one of the first occupations upon which they entered
was to make themselves aprons of fig-leaves to hide their nakedness. If you will
fire the gun, Satan will always keep you supplied with ammuuition. II. We comj
to BECouNT THESE EXCUSES. Many will not come to the great supper — will not be
Christians on the same ground as those in the parable — they are too busy. They
have a large family, and it takes all their time to earn bread and cheese for thosa
tittle mouths. They have a very large business. Or else, if they have no basiness,
yet they have so many pleasures, and these require so much time — their butterfly
visits during the morning take up so many hours. Another class say, " We are too
bad to be saved. The gospel cries, 'Believe in Jesus Christ and live,' but it
«annot mean me ; I have been too gross an offender." Then comes another excuse,
" Sir, I would trust Christ with my soul this morning, but I do not feel in a fit
state to trust Christ. I have not that sense of sin which I think to be a fit pre-
paration for coming to Christ." ' I think I hear one say, " It in too soon for me to
4}om3 : let me have a little look at the world first. I am scarce fifteen or sixteen."
Others will row in the opposite direction, pleading, •• Alas I it is too late." The
devil first puts the clock back and tells you it is too soon, and when this does not
serve his turn, he puts it on and says, " The hour is passed, the day of grace is
over ; mercy's gate is bolted, you can never enter it." It is never too late for a
man to believe in Jesus while he is out of hia grave. ' Here comes another, " O sir,
I would trust Christ with my soul, but it seems too good to be true, that God should
eave me on the spot, this morning." My dear friend, dost thou measure God's
«om with thy buahel ? Because hs thing seems an amazing thing to thee, should
86 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. tc%
it therefore be amazing unto Him ? " Well," says one, " I cannot trnat Christ, I
cannot believe Him." It means, " I will not." ' A man once sent his servant to a
certain town to fetch some goods ; and he came back without them. " Well, sir,
why did you not go there? " " Well, when I got to a certain place, I came to a
river, sir, a very deep river : I cannot swim, and I had no boat ; so I could not get
over." A good excuse, was it not ? It looked so, but it happened to be a very bad
one, for the master said, ♦* Is there not a ferry there ? " " Yes, sir." ♦• Did you
ask the man to take you over?" "No, sir." Surely the excuse was a mere
fiction 1 So there are many things with regard to our salvation which we cannot
do. Granted, but then there is a ferry there 1/ There is the Holy Spirit, who ia
able to do all things, and you remember the text, '• If ye then, being evil, know
how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which
is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him ? " It is true you cannot make
yourself a iiew heart, but did you ask for a rew heart with sincerity and truth f
Did you seek Christ? If you say, "Yes, I did sincerely seek Christ, and Christ
would not save me," why then you are excused ; but there never was a soul who
could in truth say tbat. III. How foolish thds to make excuses. For first
remember with whom it is you are dealing. You are not making excuses before a
man who may be duped by them, but you make these excuses before the heart-
searching God. Eemember, again, what it is you are trifling with. It is your
own soul, the soul which can never die. You are trifling with a heaven
which you will never see if you keep on with these excuses. Eemember,
again, that these excuses will look very different soon. How will you make
excuses when you come to die, as die you must? (C. H. Spurgeon.) The
recusancy of the guests : — I. Gospel-peovision, as it is generally ofpeeed, so
IT is generally refused. 1. Befused by most of the (1) Kulers (John vii. 48;
1 Cor. ii. 8) ; (2) Learned men (Acts xvii. 18) ; (3) Common people. 2. In what respectn
this refusal is general. (1) In respect of the doctrine of the gospel, which mem
generally look upon as strange and incredible, and so will not believe, but rather
scoff at it. (2) In respect of gospel discipline, which seems hard, and so men will
not submit to it. (3) In respect of gospel professors. Men generally despise them,
and care not for their company (John vii. 49), 3. Why this refusal is so general.
The three grand enemies of man's salvation are opposed to the gospel. (1) The
world, or the powers of the earth without us. (2) The flesh, or the power of cor-
rupted nature within us. (3) The devil, or the power of hell beneath us. Uses.
1. Information. Christ's flock is a little flock (Luke xii. 32). Multitude is no true
note of a Church. 2. Caution. (1) Though men generally refuse true happiness,
yet men generally desire some kind of happiness (Psa. iv. 6). Their natural desire
is a stock to graft the plant of grace upon. (2) Though men generally refuse the
gospel, yet there may be more receive it than we are aware of (Rom. xi. 3). (3)
Though men generally refuse the gospel, yet many do receive it (Heb. ii. 10). (4)
Though the Jews generally refused the gospel, yet they shall generally receive it
(Rom. xi. 26). 3. Exhortation. Do not follow a multitude to do evil. II. Una-
nimity OB conspiracy in refusal. 1. The refusers of the gospel agree in that,
though they may differ in many respects, such as nation, religion, affection, &e,
2. How they agree. This will appear — (1) In the design they drive at, which is to
oppose the power of godliness. (2) In the principle they act from : natural light,
carnal reason, which is not only dim-sighted about, but prejudiced against, spiritual
things. (3) In the rule they walk by, which is their own will, their lust their law
^Eph. ii. 2, 3). (4) In the way which they take to carry on their opposition to the
gospel, (a) They lay their heads together as one in a way of consultation, (b)
They join their hearts together in a way of approbation, taking pleasure in the sina
of one another (Rom. i. 32). (c) Tiiey strike their hands together as one, in a way
of confederation (Psa. Ixxxiii. 5). III. Readiness to refuse. IV. The plausibility
or hypocrisy op the excuses. Men will have none of Christ, and yet would put
it off fairly if they could (Psa. xxxvi. 2). 1. What are the excuses or pleas which
sinners make ? (1) They plead multiplicity of worldly business. (2) The frequency
and urgency of outward temptations. (3) They plead the society and fellowship ot
others in their way. (4) The weakness of their nature. (5) The smallness of the
sin. (6) Their good intentions. (7) The unnecessariness of such strictness in
religion. (8) The impossibility of fulfilling God's law. (9) The inequality of God's
ways. 2. Why do sinners make excuse ? (1) It is the nature of fallen man to do
BO (Gen. iii. 12, 13). (2) Sin is so ugly that sinners will not have it appear in ita
proper colours ; therefore foul sins must have fair names to make them go down
CHAP. xiT.] Sr. LUKE. 31
the better. If sin were to appear in its cnrsed nature and wretched effects, it would
BO frighten men that they would take no pleasure in committing it. Uses. 1. This
informs us of the madness of wickedness. 2. Though sinners excuse their sin, yet
their sin will accuse them. 3. Do not deceive yourselves by vain excuses or false
reasonings (James i. 22). {John Crump.) A common sin: — The making of idle
excuses is the oldest, as it is the commonest of sins. It began with Adam in Para-
liise, and ever since that time men have, more or less, continued with one consent
to make excuse. First, let us look at some excuses which people make for putting
off repentance. Now listen to the story of one who repented late, but in time.
During the London Mission, a lady, one of the Church workers in a certain parish,
noticed a young girl lingering one night by a church door, where the mission ier-
vice was aoout to commence. She invited the girl to enter, but she excused herself
on the plea that she had no Bible. The lady offered her own, and accompanied
the girl into churoh, where she was evidently much affected. On leaving the church,
the lady begged her companion to accept the Bible, in which her own name w»s
■written, and the girl passed out of her sight. Next morning the lady visited a
hospital, where she was accustomed to read to the patients, and a nurse informed
her that they had a Bible bearing her name which had been brought in on the
previous night. The young girl, after leaving the mission service, had been run
over, and taken mortally injured to the hospital, carrying the Bible with her. She
died the same night, and her dying words were these : *' Thank God it was not
before last night." Another common excuse for delaying repentance is this, "I
am no worse than others." I was speaking lately to a mother about the sin of her
daughter, and she excused her on the plea that she was no worse than others in a
higher position, and instanced a lady who had sinned in the same way. But, my
brethren, surely sin is none the less a sin because it is committed in the company
t)f others. Again, people excuse themselves by saying, "It is so hard to repent."
But it is still harder to die in our sins, and receive the wages of sin, which is death.
It is hard to give up bad habits, but it is harder still to be ruined by them. Now
let us look at another class of excuses which people make for staying away from
church. One of these excusers says, "Church-going will save no one," That is
quite true. ""You may come to church in a wrong state of mind, or from an un-
worthy motive, and no good will come out of it. Attendance at church is a
means of grace, not grace itself. If rightly used it is a means of placing us in the
way of salvation, and of keeping us there. If you get into a railway carriage at the
station, the mere act of doing so will not take you to London, but if you do not first
get in, the train cannot carry you there. Another self-excuser says, "Church-
going is a mere form and show ; pure religion is not outside, bat inside one. " It
is perfectly true that pure religion is inside, and not outside. But surely we must
show outside what we feel inside. Suppose that your landlord were to reduce your
Tent 20 per cent, because of the bad times, and were to give your children a
handsome present as well, you would, I think, go up to his house to thank him,
and you would not consider it a mere show. You would not leave him to imagine
the gratitude inside you. Well, one of the chief reasons why we come to cLurch
is to thank God for His goodness, and to openly declare " the wonders that He
doeth for the children of men." ' Another meets us with the old, old plea, " I was
not very well on Sunday." It is a curious fact that more people are unwell on
Sunday than on any other day of the week. They are quite able to attend to
business on Saturday, and are quite fresh and ready for work on Monday, but they
are poorly on Sunday. " I am afraid the disease is one of the will rather than the
body. I will only speak of one more excuse, as common as it is foolish. " I don't
go to church myself," says a man, "but my wife goes." So much the better for
file wife, so much the worse for the husband. Tou aannot do your duty by
deputy, and you cannot save your soul oy deputy. Every one of us must answer
for himself. 'There is an old legend of a man who never attended church, but
whose wife went regularly. Both died, and when they came to the gates of Para-
dise the woman passed in. But when the husband presented himself, the keeper
ol the gate said, " Your wife worshipped God for both of you, now she has gone
into Paradise for both of you, you cannot enter here." My friends, you who have
been trying to excuse yourselves from doing what is right, think on these things.'
[H. J, fVilmat Bujcton, M.A.) £xcM»e» ;-f There is scarcely a sin which we can
commit, tor which, to ourselves if not to others, we cannot find some excuse. ^ If
we have told a direct falsehood, we say to ourselves that we were surprised into it :
we were asked a question on the sadden ; and in the hurry, taken off our guard, we
38 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xtr,
answered it one way when we should hare answered it another: it was the fault of
the master who asked such a question ; why oould he not have let it alone ? For
other acts of sin there is the excuse of temptation : we should not have done it but
for bad example, or the suggestion or solicitation of another ; it was scarcely our
act ; circumstances caused it ; and so Providence itself is sometimes made to share
the blame with us. So much for sins of commission ; each has its appropriate
excuse. And even more is this so with our omissions. We scarcely ever neglect
a private duty without making to ourselves some excuse for it. We omit or post-
pone our morning prayer ; which of us does not excuse this for the time, and then
tind that the exouse extends itself indefinitely to other times? The Bible is left
unread one day ; we have an excuse for it ; the next day it is still less thought of,
btiU more easily let alone. But excuses made for these single acts of neglect are
only examples of those with which we palliate a life of neglect. Do not make
e:i:cuse for forgetting God. Think of it as a sin, a daily, hourly sin. / Think of it
too as a loss, a daily, hourly diminution or deprivation of happiness. Think that,
if you coutinue thus, you are undone ; that it is only by turning to God tbat you
can escape. This, which sounds little, is a great thing. Put away excuses.
Attempt none to yourselves ; attempt none to Qod. No man will make an
excuse to himself for not being happy ; then do not you. Excuses will never
cease till earth ceases. Then they will. Before the judgment-seat of Christ
no excuses wiU be heard ; none will be attempted. Then, in the words of
Scripture, *' every mouth will be stopped." {Dean Vaughan.) Excuses: — If I
invite you to my house: "My friend, on Tuesday evening I shall be at home,
amid my pictures you admire, with music which yon love, gathering a circle
of gentlemen whom you like; will you make one of us?" Then, if you do
not care a straw for my friendship, had as lief as not I rate yon a boor, you
would probably return me no answer, or tear up my message in the face of the
messenger, or say, "Go tell him I won't come — and that's all." But if you
return me an excuse, you acknowledge our friendship and yourself a gentleman.
Perhaps the above is a small class ; at any rate it is not a class to be reached
by kind appeals. Such persons do, indeed, become converted, bat it is through
some fear, by the lash, by some shock. Yon are, however, not of that class;
you render an excuse. Observe, then ; taking up my former homely illus-
tration, which, lest I offend, we will transpose. You invite me to your pictures,
music, board, entertaining. I read, thinking : " This man would do me a favour,
would make me happy ; he is my father's friend and mine ; has seen me in trouble,
coming to me : now sees me prospered, and would rejoice with me, going to him;
but my feet are slippered, I am sitting at my ease, by my own grate, with Motley or
Dickens. I prefer home." Is this an excuse sufficient, and would our friendship
outlive such a truth-telling ? No ; I might lie : " I am sick, exouse me, have an
imperative engagement." These society lies I — and these are good reasons, if real
reasons. You cannot see my heart to detect the truth or falsehood. Neighbours,
hear me, for eternity's sake, receive it. Christ's word is: " Come, for all things are now
ready." Your excuse must be a sufficient excuse ; and it must be an honest excuse,
for He can see clean through camel's hair and silk, through Melton and broadcloth,
to the secret reason written on the heart. " My business is such that I pray Thee,
O Christ, have me excused." Well, let ns suppose you are, in this, sincere. la
yours an immoral business ? No. Do you transact it in a dishonest or otherwise
immoral way 7 No. What, then, do you mean ? I mean this : Times are hard,
trade must be watched. " I am well enough off now : " and this time it is a woman
who speaks. Why should she worry herself ? She has a good husband ; to be sure
he is not a Christian, but where is a nobler man ? What lacks she yet? Nothing.
Good lady, may I ask, dare you pat that in a prayer : " O Lord, because I lack
nothing, I pray Thee excuse " ? Dare you say in good English, " Lord, my
heart is full. That husband I If I was widowed, childless, roofless, desolate,
then I — "? You ask me if I mean to hint that you love these too much?
A thousand times then, no ; but that you love the Giver too little, yes. " I
pray Thee have me excused, because I am good enough now ; I need no oonver-
sion." Well, neighbour, that means something or nothing. TyndaU calls me to his
marvellous evenings of experiment with light. It is from the point very far from
me to profess a knowledge of grammar, addition, subtraction, as thorough as my
neighbour. Can the great phUosopher teach me ought — no matter how much I
know of algebra ? Christ professes to have come not to recall the righteous but
linners. They that be whole need not a physician, but the sick. And I humbl/
«Hi». xiT.] ST. LUKE. St
urge upon you, the purest moral man of this good audience, that this call is sent
for your ears. He invites you to His heart-feast. If now you can truthfully say :
** Christ, I am good enough ; my soul is as beautiful as Tour soul ; my thoughts ar«
«B lofty as Tour thoughts ; the walls of my spirit are hung with pictures as rare aa
Tour own, and the feast of my heart at its own board leaves nothing to be desired,'*
then your excuse means something. Tou ought to be excused. Indeed, you are not
invited. No, ninety and nine df a hundred do not mean wbat they say when declaring
that they are good enough, needing no conversion. It is too bare conceit. " I could
not hold out ; have me exous=ed." Friend, be honest ; such is not your real reason.
Ton are not the man to undertake and fail ; or to refuse to undertake what you really
desire. The truth is, you do not desire to follow Christ. " I do not believe in the Book."
Be honest. Tou have tried to disbelieve ever since you backsUd, five years ago ; yet
you do believe in the Bible. The truth is, your proud heart will not say " Forgive."
(E, J. Haynes.) Invitation and excuse : — Excuses are specified by our Lord, and
these all relate to necessary and even laudable things. These excuses may be taken
as in division or in succession ; that is to say, one man may be supposed to make
one excuse, and another man another, or you may suppose the same man making
all these excuses one after another. For Truth does not make to a man one good
offer, and then no more ; but if we are invited by Truth, we are invited again and
again. Perhaps it will be most useful to ourselves to think of these excuses as made
in succession. Thus, we are under an engagement to give our attention to things
just and true ; we are under it by virtue of our training, by virtue of our own
voluntary effort directed to good ; we are under an engagement to attend at the
banquet of Truth. Well, now the hour arrives ; Truth wants us, and the messenger
comes. We are very sorry, but that " piece of land " ; — still we consider ourselves
onder the engagoment ; we shall be more fortunate next time ; for, after all, it is we that
have to regret our failure. Another time, then, arrives; we are very sorry, but that
** piece of land " has engaged us so much, that we have found it necessary to obtain
•everal " yoke of oxen " to bring it into proper condition ; we are very sorry ; still
we consider ourselves under the same engagement, and we hope to be more fortunate
the next time. Then the messenger comes a third time : oar services are indeed
wanted now ; onr presence cannot be dispensed with ; and now we say, ' ' This is
unfortunate. Our land is in excellent condition ; indeed we have had so much to
look after, that we have felt it necessary to take a wife, in order that our domestic
affairs may be superintended. We have met with an amiable person, possessing an
agreeable fortune, and we have concluded a domestic and commercial arrangement."
And now, perhaps, Truth leaves us, and "lets us alone." But three times may
represent any number of times, and Truth often comes more than three times. Let,
then, Truth be supposed to come a fourth time. Well, now we are all very much
engaged ; the whole house is in a flutter of delight ; there is a feast to celebrate
the birth of our firstborn 1 So, then. Truth comes a fifth time, just when one of the
children is sick of fever ; and we look at Truth quite reproachfully, and say, "Too
would not expect me to come now, would you ? " And once again Truth comes, for
the last time ; and now the house is in confusion, and there are signs of distress,
and Truth is informed that we were not content, though we were prospering exceed-
ingly well ; bat that, hearing of some gold-diggings, we had gone out, and whilst we
were io the golden pit, a great piece of quartz rock had fallen and crushed our chest
right in, and there was a nugget fonnd in the very middle of our heart, and so an
end of us ! That is a plain picture of what happens again and again. There are
all sorts of nuggets — they need not be made of literal gold — there are all sorts of
nuggets upon which a man sets his heart ; and often the very attainment of the
nagget, when he gets it right into the centre of that heart, is his utter destruction.
For now the world will never get any more benefit of him ; and Truth has visited
him for the last time. (T. T. Lynch.) Butinesa hindering religion : — I said one
day to a respectable tradesman, "When are you going to begin to think of eternity
and come to the house of God t " Hia reply I shall never forget. " I know, sir,
that I ought to come ; but it's no use ; my mind is so full of business, I can think
of nothing else." {Tfiain Davidson, D.D.) Human depravity at the bottom of all
exeuiet : — I was at a conference held about the state of the people in Liverpool. It
was a large conference, with the Mayor in the chair. They were conferring about
why it was that so many of the working people particularly would not go to church
or chapel, but would lie about on Sundays and seem to have nothing but an animal
life. One man after another made a speech about it. Tou never heard such a
■amber of reasons given : too hard work on Saturdays — which seemed to me to be
40 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xit.
a strange thing ; or they had no place near them which suited them ; or the
preachers did not preach well enough ; or the sermons were too long ; or they did
not like pews ; or they did not get the best seats when they went to church ; or pew-
rents were required. You never heard such a number of reasons — the people that
did not go to church were not to blame, it was always the people about the church,
or in the church, who were to blame, till at last an old man got up (1 think from
his speech he was a Scotchman, and said, •' Mr. Mayor, there is one reason that
■trikes me that I have not heard a word about yet " — they had spoken for
an hour and a half — "I think it is the reason of the whole thing." We
were all struck dumb to hear what this was. " What I have to say
is that the most of it comes from human depravity." (D. Froser, D.D.)
Distinguish between reasons and excuses :-i- An "excuse" is an entirely different
thing from "a reason." "A reason" comes into the mind before a conclusion;
" an excuse " follows after. The conclusion rests upon the •' reason." Its only
wish is to appear to rest upon the "excuse." "A reason" is a reality; an
"excuse" is, generally, an invention: or, at the best, an "excuse" is the second
or inferior "reason." It is not the primary, actuating motive. The "reason"
Adam ate the fruit was that he liked it ; the " excuse " was, " She gave it me."
The " reason " why the man " hid his talent," was, that he was indifferent and
lazy — " a wicked and slothful servant " ; the " excuse " was, " I knew thee — thou
art an austere man." The " reason" the Jews killed Christ, was, because they were
jealous of Him ; and hated Him for His holiness and His reproofs ; the "excuse "
was that He spoke against Ctesar, and uttered blasphemy. The " reason " why all
the men who were " bidden to the great supper" refused to come, was that they
did not care for it ; or preferred something else ; the " excuses" were the same — o£
duty, and prior or more important engagements. If you knew God — and what
those " things " are " which He has prepared for them that love Him," all
" excuses " would be flung to the winds. It would not be, " Have me excused I "
but, " I come 1 " "I come 1 " " Me first — me now — me for ever 1 Lord, bid me —
Lord, let me — Lord, make me come 1 " (J. Vaughan, M.A.) Excuses : — God's
supper is ready, and the call to it is pressed with urgency, but people make excuses,
and do not come. People have no mind for salvation. The many have too much
to do, too many pressing cares, too many honourable engagements pre-occupying
their attention, and so cannot comply with the calls of God. / Such useful citizens,
Bueh respectable men of business, such thinkers for the comfort of their fellow-
citizens, and for the welfare of the State, are, forsooth, not to be expected to give their
time and thoughts to piety and to God I Of course, tJiey are to be excused I But,
alas iEor thee, deluded man, if with thy lands, or thy oxen, or thy " material
interests," or even with thy learned investigations, though they should be in
divinity itself, thou hopest to compensate for thy neglect of the calls and
invitations of thy Maker I But others are so happy in the objects of their earthly
affection, so blessed with things of their own, that they see no reason to disturb or
burden themselves with attention to these sacred matters. Why, the world wac
made to be enjoyed 1 God would not have created for us all these pleasant things
if it were not excusable in us to make the best of them while we can ! Why should
we incommode our pleasant homes and joyous circles with religion's rigid rules?
Surely the good Father in heaven does not wish to make us unhappy. He will not
be offended with what harms no one, and yet is so delightful to us 1 He will excuse
us I 'Alas, they have married themselves to earthly loves, and lusts, and vanities ;
and so they " cannot come." Effeminate pleasures, though mingled with pains,
and transient as the honeymoon, are their apology for letting go their chance to
secure the eternal blessedness of heaven. {J. A. Seiss, D.D.) The excuses : —
" I pray thee, have me excused." I do not think you can offer a worse prayer than
that. Of all the prayers that ever left human lips, and of all the desires that
ever formed themselves within human hearts, I think this is the most fatal.
Mast I not go as far aa to say that such a reception of the offer of God's mercy
constitutes the grand crowning sin of man? One might have expected there
would have been quite a demand for invitations, that everybody would have been
besieging the house and asking the chamberlain, or the secretary, or the great
person, whoever he might be, " Can you give us an invitation to the feast ? " When
one of our princes is married, only a certain number of invitations are issued ; and
only a certain number of people oan be present on the occasion. Supposing the
tickets for such a ceremony could be sold, I wonder what they would fetch. I
should not be surprised if some gentlemen in London would be ready to pay down
OBAP. xiT.] ST. LUKE. 41
a hundred or five hundred pounds, juat for the privilege of being present and being
able to say, " I saw Prince So-and-so married." But the honour cannot be bought
for money ; you must occupy a high social position before you can get such an
invitation. Whoever heard of a man in such circumstances making an excuse ?
Now about these excuses. I want you to observe, my friends, how these men
received the message. In Matthew's Gospel we read of some who " entreated the
servants spitefully, and slew them." And there has been always a class of that
kind — I mean to say, that there is always a certain number of persons bitterly
hostile to religion. They hate it. If they could, they would kindle the fires of
Smithfield again. There was another class of persons to whom the invitation
came ; and who are they ? The man whom he now addresses is a most polite and
civil person, a perfect gentleman. Oh, dear me, no ! Say a rough word I Never
thought of such a thing. " My good sir, now I hope you will understand that the
very last thing I wish is, to convey to the mind of that admirable person who sent
you on your errand anything like a feeling of contempt for the kind invitation
which he has been good enough to offer me. On the contrary, I have the greatest
possible respect for him. I should be very sorry indeed if anything I said hurt his
feelings in the least degree ; but the real plain truth of it is, that you know, sir, I
am in a very awkward position. I should be very glad to go to the feast ; I have
no doubt it is an excellent feast. It is a great honour to be asked to go to such a
place; at the same time, it so happens very unfortunately that I have got something
else on hand. I have just bought an estate over there ; I am just going to start to
see it. That is the way it was done — civilly, respectfully, I may almost say,
reverently: but it was done all the same. And that is just the way it is done by
many still. When I ask the question. How is the Lord Jesus Christ rejected in our
England in the nineteenth century ? I find my answer, not merely in the open
blasphemy, not merely in the atheism and unbelief. I find the terrible answer
coming back to me, " He is rejected by the people who go to church, who hear the
message of salvation sounded in their ears from Sunday to Sunday, who have bad
great privileges, and who will tell you they have great respect for religion. "_ They
subscribe to the Church Missionary Society, or to any other society they think will
do good. Now observe the excuses that these men made did not refer to things
evil in themselves. Then, observe, once again — and this seems to me to be a very
interesting and instructive point — it was not, after all, the pressure of necessary
engagements that kept these people back from the feast. That is a very remarkable
thing. The man does not say, '• I am just on the point of transacting a bargain
for a piece of land ; but the deeds are waiting to be signed ; and I cannot sign the
deeds before I see the piece of land." It is not a case of necessity of that kind.
Observe the lesson. It is not the necessary occupations of life that keep men back
from Christ. What is it? What did the man want to go and see his land for ? In
order that he might gloat over his acquisition. He might look round and round
and say, "Dear me 1 it is a nice snag place after all — as sweet a little house as ever
I gaw — nicely situated ; the land, too, is the best in the country side. I have made
a very good bargain; I think I shall make myself very comfortable here." The
man's mind is given over to the thing, and he has no time to accept the invitation
to the feast. So it is with many a man still. It is true to life, as God's Word
always is. There is no harm in domestic happiness ; but how many a man there
is that allows the pleasures of his home to take the place that belongs to God ; tbat
puts those home comforts before his soul as a kind of substitute for the presence
and power of God in his heart ? Whenever a man does that, he turns the pure and
holy relationships of life into the devil's own snare, and the things which were for
his peace become to him an occasion of falling. So they made their decision ; and
that decision was — "I pray thee have me excused." What I said at the start of
my sermon, I say again ; it is the worst prayer ever offered, and, like many a bad
prayer, my friends, it was a prayer that was answered. And I am persuaded that
whenever men offer such a prayer, they will get an answer. *' Yes, not one of them
shall taste of My supper." So they were excused; and by-and-by the table was
spread, and the guests were gathered together: and the minstrels tuned their harps,
and the song commenced, and the feast, and the joy, and the pleasure ; and the
King came in to see the guests. Yes, and all the while these men were excused.
That man over there is walking round and round his land, until at last I think I can
hear him saying to himself, " Well, after all, there isn't much to be got out of a field."
Ah, he is beginning to tire of it already I And the other man feels it, too. After
ail, you cannot make a heaven out of five yoke of oxen. And my eye follows th«
42 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. tit.
man that had tnarried his wife — where is he now f Look 1 he and hia wife art
iiending over the corpse of their firstborn child ; and the hot, ecalding tears are
falling. He has found it cat now ; after all, domestic happiness is a very different
thing from heaven. My brothers, are there any of you that are saying in yonr
hearts, " I pray Thee have me excused " t Well, let me ask you, what are yon
asking the Lord to excuse you from ? "0 Lord, I pray Thee have me excused from
being happy. I want to go on in my misery ; let me alone. O Lord 1 I have got
a great load of nnforgiven sin in my heart ; I don't want to part with it just yet.
'I pray Thee have me excused.'" My young friend there went to the meetLag,
last night, at Exeter HaU, and cast his burden on his Saviour. I met him in the
street; I scarcely knew him. "Have you heard the news, old fellow? I am a
new man." He was evidently very happy ; I never saw a man so happy.
Lord, I pray Thee have me excused from such happinesB. (W. Hay Aitken, M.A.)
' Ready exeutes : — I have often wondered at the cleverness with which people make
excuses for neglecting heavenly things. A poor woman was explaining to me why
her husband did not attend church. " You see, poor working folks nowadays are
RO holden down and wearied out, that they are glad to rest a day in the house when
Sabbath comes." An unopened letter was lying on the table, which she asked me
to read, believing that it was from her sick mother. It was a notice to her husband
that the football team, of which he was captain, was to meet on Saturday at 3 p.m.,
and that, like a good fellow, he must be forward in good time. And that was the
man for whom my pity was asked, as being so worn out with his work that
he could hardly creep up to the church 1 Another woman admitted to me that she
never read her Bible, but pleaded that she was too busy, and had too many cares. My
eye caught a great bundle of journals above the clock. She confessed that these
were novels, on which she spent twopence halfpenny every Saturday, and that she
read them on the Sabbath. If you wish an excuse, the smallest thing will give yoo
stuff enough for the weaving of it. {J. Wells. ) ^ Exexues of non-communieanU :—
I. First, then, it is not uncommon for people to say, " I do not pretend to be a
scholar, and I do not understand the meaning of this sacrament." Can yon
really say that yon have been earnest to gain instruction ? or have yon not ratiier
been well satisfied to be ignorant ? Let me ask you, dear brethren, if the life of
your body depended on your knowing how to plough, or sow, or reap, would yoo
not take pains to learn ? Should you not think yourselves justly blamed if you
did not ? II. I come now to consider another excuse, which is most commonly
made, for not attending this sacrament — " I am not fit to come." lU. Another
excuse is, " I am now too much troubled with worldly cares ; I cannot attend as I
ought to my soul ; but I hope the time will come when I shall be more at liberty."
IV. Again, youth is made an excuse for not coming to the Lord's table. God says
in the Bible, " Those that seek Me early shall find Me " (Prov. viii. 17). (E.
Bleneowe, M.A.) On the Lord's supper : — The causes which prevent men from
observing this ordinance of our religion are various. It may be presumed that a
leading cause of the neglect of this ordinance is a thoughtlessness of its nature and
obligations. 1. The pressure of the business and cares of this world is urged by
many as a reason why they neglect to receive this sacrament. 2. Further. A
eense of sinfulness deters many from approaching the table of the Lord. They are
Bo oppressed with the consciousness of having transgressed many commands, and
omitted many duties, that tbey dare not go to so holy an ordinance. 3. There are
many persons, who have a lively sense of the holiness of this ordinance, and wish
to join in the celebration of it, who are deterred by a fear that they shall not be
able afterwards to live up to their obligations. 4. Another cause which prevents
men from receiving this sacrament is the existence of anger and animosity in their
bosoms — the consciousness of ill-will between them and some of their fellow-beings.
5. It is urged by some who neglect this ordinance that they see many go to the
Lord's table who seem not in any respect to be benefited by it. There are many
persons deterred from receiving this sacrament by a particular passage of Scrip,
ture, which is frequently misunderstood. I mean that striking observation by St.
Paul, that " he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damna>
tion to himself, not discerning the Lord's body." There are two causes from
which the misapplication of this passage proceeds — from affixing a meaning to the
word "damnation," which in the original it does not bear, and from indefinite or
erroneous ideas of the unworthiness which the apostle condemns. By damnation
is not here meant, as by many is supposed, everlaisting destruction, but immediate
disapprobation, the displeasure of the Most High ; which displeasure is manifested
CHAP. xiv.J ST. LUKE. 43
as the apostle states, by visiting the unworthy recipients with divers temporal
judgments ; and this too in order to their final salvation ; if, haply, being
chastened ol the Lord, they may not be condemned with the world. And,
accordingly, the same word which is here rendered '• damnation " is rendered
in one of the following verses of the same chapter, by " condemnation." Moreover,
we should have definite ideas what it is to eat and drink unworthily. The
Corinthians, whom the apostle here addresses, had fallen into an irreverent,
and in some cases profane, manner of celebrating the Lord's Supper. They
brought their own bread and wLae ; they blended this sacred mystery with their
common feast ; the rich waited not for the poor ; the poor were jealous of the rich.
(Bishop Dehon.) Go out quickly Into the streets and lanes of the dty. —
Home tnissiom: — I. Thb pabtizs to whom the sebvant was dibbcted to make
xsowN HIS benevolent COMMISSION. Stripped of its figurative clothing, the
passage intimates to us the calling of the Gentiles upon the rejection of the
gospel by the Jews. But the compassion of the Lord was as large as His
provision and the creature's necessity ; therefore the servant was sent further
from home — he was to "go out into the highways and hedges," to pick up the
vagrants and the wanderers, to address those for whose condition no man had
oAred, and to invite and urge them to partake of the banquet of heavenly mercy. The
parties to whom our attention is to be directed are presented to us under a twofold
aspect. They are described — First, by the nearness of their residence to us. They
are the miserable and the distressed in the streets and lanes of the city. Next to our
own individual conversion to God, our attention is to be directed to the conversion of
those around us. But the persons to whom this merciful attention is to be directed
are described — Secondly, by their miserable and destitute condition. The dismal
description which is given us of these wretched beings in the parable is borrowed
from temporal things, and is expressed in terms which convey a lively picture of
misery and vrretchedness. U. The method to be employed by the sebvant in
OBOBB TO BBINO THESE FEBSONS TO THE BOYAL BANQUET. He WaS tO "bring" them
in, and "compel" them to come. 1. The servant must "compel" sinners by
setting before them their guilty and perishing condition. 2. There must be, in
connection with this, an exhibition of the Saviour's grace. 3. He must " compel"
sinners to come in by unfolding the encouragement which is given to comply with
the invitation and to believe the gospel. And these encouragements are neither
few nor small. 4. The servant of the Lord must "compel" men by a solemn
testimony of the guilt and danger of a refusaL (J. E. Ooode.) The kingdom oj
God thrown open: — L The kingdom of God is opened amongst men. It is here
DOW. We have not to go to it — it has come to us. There is nothing to wait
for ; all things are ready. The love, the light, the pardon, the mercy, the sonship,
the welcome, the plenty, are all waiting. II. God invites all men into His
kingdom. The feast was always intended for all. God's own people were to
be admitted first, as being members of His household ; and they were expected
to entertain the strangers who should afterwards come in. But when the time
came they failed. So without them, instead of through them, the gates of the
kingdom had to be thrown open, and the universal invitation given. They shut
themselves out, but not, therefore, would God permit the despised and perishing
everywhere to remain uninvited. The feast should not therefore spoil. The
abundance of the feast shows it to be for all. The freeness of it says it is
for alL Those for whom it is prepared — the stricken and needy everywhere —
show it to be for all. Can infinite love be restrictive? Can infinite pity be
elective f UL The kingdom is not yet vulu We need not be afraid of inviting ;
and we need not be afraid of coming. There is room yet. Grace will endure
ft vacuum as little as nature. {W. Hvbbard.) Personal labour for toula: —
" How shall we gain the masses ? " "Go for them 1 " was Moody's rough but
sensible response. Let the text be our guide. Scripture, reason, history, and
experience corroborate it. There is a vast work outside our ordinary Church
connection. Those whom we daily meet in business, in the neighbourly inti-
macies of life, or in circles of pleasure — many of them are neglecters of God
and His worship. Shall we let them die? Our Christianity needs to be more
abundant in labour ; our prayers need feet ! 1. This work is to be done by you, or
the blood of souls will be found on your skirts. 3. You have the facilities for
doing it. Let not religion be the last thing on your tongue in " society."
Bemember, ;fon must give account for your opportunities. 8. It is inhumanity
to neglect this work. 4. It takes but littie time. 5. It is the most successful kind
44 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. Xlf.
of work. It builds up Sunday-school, prayer-meeting, Christian character. 6. No
special talents are needed. Only a special consecration. The diversity of worka
fits to the varied talents we have, as one cog-wheel works into another But only
the gifts that are on the altar can God use. {J. L. Peck, D.D.) The power of
earnestness in converting souls : — I once knew a wonderfully successful winner of
souls. Few were so blessed. Yet he could not speak six words without stuttering
and stammering painful to hear. Everybody would have said, " He'd better keep
still " ; but everybody would be wrong. The love of Christ will bum up the chaff
of your excuses. The angel was terribly in earnest when he laid hold of Lot and
brought him out of Sodom. If you are thus roused, then your vigils of prayer and
hand-to-hand labour for souls will prove the reality of your Christian life. A gay
girl went to Troy to buy a ball-dress, fell in the way of a newly-converted com-
panion, and came under the power of an endless life ; returned home, roused her
father out of his formal piety, and then sought out and led to Christ the pastor's
daughter. These two girls started a prayer-meeting, and in ten days from the time
that the unworn, now useless, ball-dress was brought home, so mighty a work of
grace had begun that the pastor sent to Troy for help in the new and unlooked-for
burdens thrown upon him. " Go ye out into the highways. Compel them to oome
in ; for yet there is room." (Ibid.) iThe gospel feast i$ free to the vilest : —
Christ has spread the table, and our poverty, our imperfections, our limping steps,
our blindness of spiritual sight, are the reasons why He would have us come.' Thu'
island of Molokai, in the Hawaiian Archipelago, is set apart for the occupancy ol
lepers. These poor, filthy beings stagger about there in all stages of disease, a
most pitiful sight. Now, suppose a famous physician lands upon the island, and
sends out his invitations through the community. He has spread a table large
enough for all, and on it placed a variety of deUcacies such as none there had ever
tasted, which are a aovereign specific against the prevalent disorder. " Come," says
he, " poor diseased company, and sit at my table just as ^ou are. / This feast will
cure you. You are incurable otherwise." All Molokai is in commotion. The
lepers gather in knots and talk the matter over. " Oh," say they, " what a looking
company are we to sit down at a rich man's table 1 We had better wait awhile.
By and by, perhaps, we shall be more presentable, and then we will go." So they
send up a delegation to the doctor, with their compliments and thanks, but beg to
be excused till they are more deserving of the honour. And so the good man
sadly turns away, leaving the islanders slowly to rot into their graves. The passage
before us presents a case precisely parallel. / Christ invites a sin-stricken world to
His feast. The fact that we are sin-stricken, unworthy, lost, helpless, and hope-
less is why He asks us to come. .^ {A. P. Foster.) Fetch tliem in: — Samuel
Martin tells this beautiful story of a ragged-school teacher who went out into the
streets to bring in neglected children. He found a child, the very incarnation of
wickedness and wretchedness, and led her to the school. There she heard ex-
pounded and applied the parable of the Prodigal Son. Shortly after the child was
seized by fever, and the teacher visited her. In one of his visits he read this
parable, and when he came to the words, " When he was yet a great way off, his father
saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him," the
child exclaimed, "Oh 1 that was just like me! That's good; say it again. 'A
great way off ' ; what, ever so far away, away, like me with the devil ? That mnst
be far from God and the Lamb. Yes 1 I was a great way off. How good t
How kind 1 But I'm afraid I have been worse than that bad son. Still I have said,
' Dear Jesus, I want to love You, I want to get away from the devil ; please help
me.' And I think He heard me, for I have felt somehow different ever since.
I am not afraid now ; no, not one bit." When death was so near that it
was supposed all power of utterance was gone, she aroused herself, and said
in a clear and distinct voice, evidently referring to destitute children allowed
etill to wander through the streets and lanes of the city, " Fetch them
in t Oh 1 be sure and fetch them in. Fetch them in, and tell them
of Jesus, tell them of Jesus ; oh 1 be sure and fetch them in." Yet
there Is room. — Tiie gospel feast : — " Yet there is room." 1. In the merits of
Christ's sacrifice. 2. In the grace of God's Spirit. 8. In the mansions of
God's house. 4. In the love of God's heart. This is best of aU. (J. Dobie,
D.D.) Yet there is roam: — "Grace no more endures a vacuum than nature,"
says a shrewd commentator on this passage. The fact that there is room is the
very strongest invitation ; those words on God's lips are the mightiest appeal. L
/''There is room in the Saviour's heart. Till that heart is full, till the largest deaiies
BBAP. XIV.] ST. LUKE. 45
of that love are satisfied, there is not a call only, there is a claim on jon to oome.
2. There is room in the great Father's home. The Father is the head of the home.
Take your own fatherhood, motherhood, sisterhood, or brotherhood, to help you to
tinderstand the cry of that Father's heart, '■' there yet is room," Do not misunder-
stand the matter. Love may be outraged finally. There may come a point where
even the wisest, most patient, most loving father is bound to cut off the son from
his family, and extirpate each tender memory from his heart. But He has not cut
you ofif. Your place still waits for you. Sin-sick, wretched one, there yet is room.
3. There is room among the blessed ones on high. Believe that the whole spiritual
world throbs in sympathy with the Father and with Christ. Saints and angels,
cherubim and seraphim, watch with rapt expectation the issues of a work which
cost so much sacrihce, and expends so much love. It is the one theme on high ;
how heaven is to be filled, filled with the fruits of the Redeemer's travail and the
trophies of His grace and love (Eev. vii, 9-12). {J. B. Brotcn, B.A.) And yet
there is room : — I. For what is thebe boom ? There is room for the most agreeable
and delightful entertainment and improvement of all the faculties of a reasonable
and immortal soul in this life, and for its eternal satisfaction, exaltation, and
rapture in the next. II. Fob whom is thebe boom ? There is room for sinners of
all nations, wherever the gospel comes. There is room for sinners of all ranks
and degrees, and of all characters in the moral, civil, and natural life ; for younger
and older sinners ; for greater and lesser sinners. There is room for such as might
be thought of all others the most unlikely, the most miserable, the most unlovely,
and the most unworthy, even for the poor, the maimed, the halt and the blind, ai
they are represented in the verse before our text. III. Whebb is there boom t
And you may take some account of this in the following particulars. 1. There is
room in the heart of God. 2. There is room in the provisions of Divine grace.
3. There is room in the encouragements of the gospel. 4. There is room in God's
house. IV. How is it to bk understood that yet thebe is boom ? 1. There stUl
continues to be room. 2. There will not always be room. I. By way of en
couragement. If there is still room for all sorts of sinners, you that are y&t
young, may be assured with advantage that there is room for yoa. II. By way of
caution as to three things. 1. Take heed of every kind of refusal. 2. Take heed
of attempting to come in thine own strength. 3. Take heed of expecting to be
entertained on account of thine own worthiness, because thou art not so old a
sinner as others. (J. Guyse, D.D.) The door of hope yet open: — I. Whebb
there is room, viz. — 1. In the mercy of God. 2. In the merits of Christ. 3. As
to the efficacy of the Spirit to change the heart. 4. In the covenant of grace. 5.
In the household of faith. 6. In the mansions of glory. II. Fob whom there is
room. In general for all sorts and degrees of men. Particularly — 1. For the
meanest and most despicable in the world. 3. For the rich. 3. For the afflicted.
4. For such as have long stood out. 5. For backsliders. 6. For the chief sinners.
Application : 1. How justly may the gospel be called a joyful sound ; and with
what thankfulness should it be heard and entertained. How joyful a sound would
it be reckoned by the spirits in prison, could it be proclaimed among them with
truth, that the door of hope was still open. 2. With what cheerfulness should
gospel-ministers address themselves to the work of winning souls upon this ground,
that yet there is room : which they may firmly conclude the wisdom and goodness
of God will, in the fittest season, fill up. 8. Let none take encouragement from
hence to make light of the gospel-invitation, or delay to close with it. Yet there
is room, but you know not, as to particular persons, how long or little while it may
be so. (D. Wilcox.) Yet there is room : — I. In the Church militant, yet there
is room. 1. In the hearts of the faithful preachers of the gospel. They wish well
to the souls of their hearers (2 Cor. vi. 11, 12). 2. In those ordinances that are
dispensed by the ministers of the gospel. Wisdom's gates are wide enough to
receive all that come (Prov. viii. 34). 3. In the virtue of Christ's blood, and riches
of God's grace, which is held forth in the ordinances (Rom. v. 20, 21). II. In the
Church triumphant, yet there is room. Many mansions (John xiv. 2). There is
room enough — 1. Objectively: without us. God fully communicates Himself to
the saints above (1 Cor. xv. 28). 2. Subjectively : within us. The understanding
widened, clearly to know God ; the will widened, fully to love God. Conclusion —
1. This informs us, that when any who hear the gospel perish, it is not through
any scantiness of the gospel-provision, but for want of applying that provision.
This also informs us that there is more room than company, more provision than
guests, at the gospel feast. Like a fountain, out of which there is more water runs
46 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xit^
\vaste than is used. 2. Thongh yet there is room, yet we know not how long ther*.
may be any room for us. We had need therefore be careful, lest any should seem
to come short of it (Heb. iv. 1). 3. Then do not perish in the midst of such
plenty : turn not the grace of God into wantonness, as some do to their own destruc-
tion ; do not transpose or remove it from its ordinary end and use, from gospel
ends, 80 as to cast oS obedience to the law of God. {John Crump.) Room at
God's feast for all : — L The provision which has been prepared bt Divine mercy
FOR THE WELFARE OF MANKIND. 1. Man is in a State of spiritual want and destitu-
tion. 2. It is on this condition of man as a sinner, •' without hope in the world,"
that God looks in mercy, and provides the abundant supplies of His grace. 3.
This provision is made in the gospel (1) The gospel is the means of communi-
cating spiritual truth. (2) Pardon of sin. (3) All spiritual blessings, and the final
happiness of heaven. IL The proclamations issued bt the Ditinb command to
BBIKO mankind to A PABTIOXPATION OF THE BLESSINGS PROVIDED. Those pcrsOUS who
are sent out by God must make it the object of their anxiety — 1. To give an accu-
rate statement of the nature of the gospel provision as it really exists. 2. To
deliver the message in the spirit, and to the extent demanded by the spirit and
extent of the gospel itself. III. The amplitude of accommodation bt which thb
PBOTiBiONS OF THE GOSPEL ABE DISTINGUISHED — "Yet there is room." And front
whence does this amplitude arise? From the infinite merit of the atonement
of the Son of God. 1. What effect should this produce on the mind of a minister T
The effect should be powerful. There is an amazing provision made, and all people:
and all nations may come and partake ; then am I a minister ; let me place no
limits to my invitations ; wherever I find men, let me tell them how they may be
saved. 2. This view of the subject ought to have powerful effects on the minds of.
penitents ; on those who are sorrowful, being convinced of sin. S. This view of
the amplitude of the gospel should enkindle our hopes for its nniversal propaga-
tion. (James Parsons.) Yet there it room : — 1. Where there is room. 1. At the
feast of the gospel. 2, In the grave. 3. In heaven. 4. In hell. n. What ther*
is room for. 1. Bepentance. 2. Prayer. 3. Faith. 4. Holiness. IH. Fob whou
there is room yet. 1. Those who have lost early impressions. 3. Those who still
delay to come to Christ. 3. All. [Mark Cooper, M.A.) Room enough in the
gospel : — On one of the hottest days of a sultry July, two of us, weary and worn
from a long and dusty tramp along the Portsmouth road, reached at length the top
of Hindhead. Not a tree or a shrub within hail, and the sun pouring down
remorselessly a flood of fire, there was no sign of shadow except from a large stone
cross which garnished Hindhead's snmmit. That cross was elaborately adorned
-with Latin inscriptions, and in form was accurate and classical ; but its shadow
\Fas too narrow to furnish perfect shade even for one, mnch less for two. Tht
shadow was most refreshing, but there was not enough of it, and one traveller
must, parched as he was, stand or lie down beneath Sol's blazing beams, for there
was no room for him within the cooling shade. Thus may it be with the gospel of
Jesus as set forth by some ministries. Jesus is eloquently talked of, but the freeness
of His grace and the abundant power of His blood are not enforced ; or it may be
Bystematic theology is the preacher's idol, and Christ is narrowed down to the
creed ; accuracy of doctrine is fostered, but the Christ who is set forth has no
breadth of love, no vastness of shade for the refreshment of weary sinners. At
the same time too many take away the solid character of the atonement altogether,
and, while aiming at breadth, give us instead of a granite cross a mere gauze with
no shade at all. The true scriptural idea of the atonement is " The shadow of a
great rock in a weary land." The motto of the gospel of Jesus is, "And yet there
is room." (C H. Spurgeon.) Compel them to come in. — I. Sinners natuballt
ABB OUT. n. It is the great errand of the friends of the bridegroom to bring them
IN that abb out. III. SiNNBBS MAT COHB IN. lY. SiNNEBS ABB DESIRED TO OOMB
IN. Will ye then refuse ? V. Sinnebs must comb in. Compel them to come in.
"VI. Sinnebs shall come in. (T. Boston, D.D.) Compel them to come in : — I.
First, I must find tod out. Yes, I see you this morning, you that are poor. I am
to compel you to come in. You are poor in circumstances, but this is no barrier
to the kingdom of heaven, for God hath not exempted from His grace the man that
ehivers in rags, and who is destitute of bread. But especially I must speak to yon
who are poor, spiritually. You have no faith, you have no virtue, yon have no
good work, you have no grace, and what is poverty worse still, you have no hope.
Ah, my Master has sent you a gracious invitation. And now I see you again. Yow
tie not only poor, but you are maimed. There was a time when you thought yo»
CHAJ. nv.] 8T. LUKE. 47
eoold work ont yonr own Balvation without God's help, when yon could perform
good works, attend to ceremonies, and get to heaven by yourselves ; but now you
are maimed, the sword of the law has cut off yonr hands, and now yon can work
no longer. You have lost all power now to obey the law ; you feel that when yon
would do good, evil is present with you. You feel that you are utterly undone,
powerless in every respect to do anything that can be pleasing to God. There ia
yet another class. You are halt. You are halting between two opinions. You are
sometimes seriously inclined, and at another time worldly gaiety calls yon away.
And yet I see another class — the blind. Yes, you that cannot see yourselves, that
think yourselves good when you are full of evil, that put bitter for sweet an<l> sweet
for bitter, darkness for light and light for darkness ; to you am I sent. Now, I
pause after having described the character, I pause to look at the herculean labour
that lies before me. Well did Melanothon say, " Old Adam was too strong for
young Melancthon." As well might a little child seek to compel a Samson, as I
eeek to lead a sinner to the Gross of Christ. If God saith Do it, if I attempt it in
faith it shall be done ; and if with a groaning, struggling, and weeping heart, I
so seek this day to compel siimers to come to Christ, the sweet compulsions of
the Holy Spirit shall go with every word, and some indeed shall be compelled to
come in. II. And now to the work — directly to the work. Unconverted, unrecon-
tiled, nnregenerate men and women. I am to compel you to cohs is. Permit me
first of all to accost yon in the highways of sin and tell you over again my errand.
{C. H. Spvrgeon.) Gospel eompultion: — 1. Be entreated to come in by the
consideration of yooi naturally miserable and perishing condition. 2. Be entreated
to come in by the consideration that "all things are ready." 8. Be entreated
to come in by the consideration that already many excellent and honour-
able guests have entered. 4. Be entreated to come in to this feast by the
consideration that "yet there is room." 5. Be entreated, therefore, finally, to
come in by the consideration that if yon reject the invitation to the feast of
gospel grace here, you shall be excluded from the feast of heavenly glory hereafter.
{Jas. Foote, M.A.) The urgent invitation: — ^I. The fbeeness of the gospel.
"Highways": every class invited. H. The pdlness — "All things ready." IIL
The banquet is the pbovisiom of love and the expbessiom or love. " Compel "
means, use strong persuasion. No principle is so urgent as love. It reasons with
the soul. IV. God, in sending out His invitations, backs them with the authority
or Fathebhood. V. The doom of those who refuse to accept. The door is shut
as effectually through your neglect as through your refusal. VI. Pbactical obser-
vations. 1. God constrains souls to come to Him by a great many methods.
Prosperity, trials, <&c. 2. Hunger ought to send to that feast — soul hunger. 3. It
is the duty of Christ's people to make the religion of Christ attractive. An invita-
tion to a cold, cheerless house, would not win even a beggar. 4. The refusal of
Christ's invitation is a terrible insult and injury. 5. The time to accept is very
bhort. Come. The banquet waits. {T. L. Cuyler, D.D.) Kind compulsion : —
" Now," said the great man of the feast, " I will not be defeated in this matter ; I
have with an honest purpose provided a banquet, and there are scores of people
who would Uke to come if they were only invited." We must take care how we
give the invitation. My Christian friends, I think sometimes we have just gone
opposite to Christ's command, and we have compelled people to stay out. Some-
times our elaborated instructions have been the hindrance. We graduate from our
theological seminaries on stUts, and it takes five or six years before we can come
down and stand right beside the great masses of the people, learning their joys,
sorrows, victories, defeats. We get our heads so brimful of theological wisdom
that we have to stand very straight lest they spill over. Now, what do the great
masses of the people care about the technicalities of religion ? When a man is
drowning he does not want you to stand by the dock and describe the nature of the
water into which he has fallen, and tell him there are two parts hydrogen gas and
one of oxygen gas, with a common density of thirty-nine Fahrenheit, turning to
steam under a common atmospheric pressure of two hundred and twelve. He does
not want a chemical lecture on water, he wants a rope. Oh, my friends, the
paralysis of God on the Church, it seems to me, in this day, is metaphysics. We
speak in an unknown tongue in our Sabbath schools, and in our religious assem-
blages, and in our pulpits, and how can people be saved unless they can understand
TIE ? Oh, for the simplicity of Christ in all our instructions — the simplicity. I
think often in our rehgious instructions we compel the people to stay out by oui
Church architecture. People come in and they find things angular, and cold, and
48 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xrr,
Btiff, and they go away, never again to come ; when the Church ought to be a great
home-circle, everybody having a hymn-book, giving half to the one next him, every
one who has a hand to shake hands, shaking hands — the Church architecture and
the Church surroundings saying to the people, *' Come in and be at home." Instead
of that, I think all these surroundings often compel the people to stay out. I read
of a minister of the gospel who was very fond of climbing among the Swiss moun-
tains. One day he was climbing among very dangerous places, and thought him-
self all alone when he heard a voice beneath him say, " Father, look out for the
safe path, I am following," and he looked back and saw that he was climbing not
only for himself, but climbing for his boy. Oh, let us be sure and take tbe
safe path 1 Our children are following, our partners in business are following, our
neighbours are following, a great multitude stepping right on in our steps. Oh I be
sure and take the right path 1 Exhibit a Christian example, and so, by your godly
walk, compel the people to come in. I think there is work also in the way of
kindly admonition. I do not believe there is a person in this house to-day who, if
approached in a kindly and brotherly manner, would refuse to listen. If you are
rebuffed, it is because you lack in tact and common-sense. A Christian physician
who is a friend of mine, one day became very anxious about the salvation of
a brother physician, and so he left his ofiSce, went down to this man's office,
and said, "Is the doctor in?" "No," replied the young man waiting; "the
doctor is not in." " Well," said the physician, " when he comes in tell him I
called, and give him my Christian love." This worldly doctor came home after
a while, and the message was given to him, and he said within himself, " What
does he mean by leaving his Christian love for me ? " And he became very
much awakened and stirred in spirit, and he said after a while, "Why, that
man must mean my soul." And he went into his office, knelt down, and then
took his hat and went out to the office of this Christian physician, and said,
"What must I do to be saved?" and the two doctors knelt in the office and
commended their souls to God. All the means used in that case was only the
voice of one good man, saying, " Give my love to the doctor." The voice of kindly
admonition. Have yoa uttered it to-day ? Compel them to come in. I think there
is a great work also to be done in the way of prayer. If we had faith enough
to-day, we could go before God and ask for the salvation of all the people
here assembled, and they would all be saved, here and now, without a single
€xception. At the close of a religious service, and when the people had nearly
all left the building, a pastor saw a little girl with her head bowed on the back
of the pew, and, passing down the aisle, he said to himself, " The little child
has fallen asleep." So he tapped her on the shoulder and said, "The service
is over." She said, "I know it is over; I am praying, sir, I am praying, sir,
I am praying. " " Well," said the minister, " Whatsoever ye ask of God, believ-
ing, ye will receive." She said, " Is that in the Bible? " " Yes," he said, " there
is a promise of that kind in the Bible." "Well," she said, " let me see it." So
he turned over the Bible until he came to the promise, and she said, " That's bo, is
it? Now, O Lord, bring my father here to-night." While she was praying her
father passed into the door of the church, and came down by his child and said,
" What do you want of me ? " When that child had begun to pray one hour before
for her father, he was three miles away ; but by some strange impulse that he could
not understand, he hastened to the church, and there the twain knelt, the father's
arm around the child's neck, the child's arm around the father's neck, and there he
entered on the road to heaven. " Whatsoever ye ask of God, believing, ye will
receive." That was an answer to the child's prayer. What did she do ? She com-
pelled him to come in. (Dr. Talmage.) The compulsion of love : — What is the
sense of the word " compel " ? It is quite vain for us to seek the sense of a word
onless we have sense in ourselves. "Compel"! Did not Stephen compel those
to whom he spoke to listen ? He could not so far tame their ferocity that they
should oast away the stones upon the ground, and spare him ; but they could not
resist the power of the Spirit with which he spoke. There is always some com-
pulsory force in wisdom and in spirit, and how much is there in love I Bat
observe, the guests first of all invited were not compelled to come in ; he sent hia
servants to say, " All things are ready." " They may be," said these distinguished
people, " but we are not." He did not send his servants to compel them to come
in; no, in his anger he " let them alone." " Compel them to come in " is spoken
of the outcast — the necessitous — those that are beyond the very circle of the city,
and not merely in its lowest places. " Compel," as spoken of these, hints at once
CKAT. nr.] ST. LUKE. 49"
to UB that persuasiveness and urgency are necessary to effect conversion, and also
ih&t most potent means of conversion will be found stored up in the gospel as we
go outwards, and try to conquer the world. Therefore, this word " compel " is like
A promise given by God. Of course, there is nothing here against human liberty.
It is the happiest way of being overcome, to be persuaded that somebody loves us^
and BO made to go, in willing captivity, to receive his love. (T. T. Lynch.y
Compel thevi to come in : — There are tbree ways of compelling men to come in,,
that is, of bringing persons over to our communion, and to our opinion, in matters
of religion. The first is, by ill usage and persecution, the unlawfulness of which I
propose to show. The second is, by persuasion, instruction, and conviction. The-
third way is of an ambiguous kind, which it seems difflcult to appraise ; for it is
neither so good as to deserve to be cried up for a virtue, nor yet so bad as to be'
condemned for a vice. It is overcoming men by kindness and courtesies, alluring
and proselyting them by favours, honours, profits, gifts, and rewards. Now let ua
consider the vile nature and the pernicious effects of persecution. 1. It is not a
probable way to make men good. If we would serve God in an acceptable manner,
it is requisite that we know the will of God, and that we pay Him a cheerful
obedience. 2, Persecution will probably make men more wicked than they were,
whilst they lived in error unmolested. 3. Persecution is contrary to the spirit of
Christianity. The religion of our Saviour is a religion like its Author, full o{
humanity, lenity, and universal benevolence. 4. The consequence of supposing
persecution to be recommended by the gospel, is, that all sects of Christians would
have the same call to plague and destroy those who differ from them. All sects of
Christians are the true Church in their own opinion, and would apply such a com-
mission to themselves, as their right, or their duty. 5. It is very strange that
Christians in these latter ages can find the doctrine of persecution so plainly laid
down in the New Testament, when the first Christians could see no such thing
there. But let us not altogether pass over their more plausible arguments. 1. They
tell as that it is good to punish men who are in error, to make them bethink them-
selves, to pat them upon an examination of facts and reasons, which else they
would not have considered. 2. Persecutors frequently object, that, by permitting
liberty of conscience, encouragement is given to scurrility and profaneness. 3.
Persecutors object also, that by such indulgence heresies are propagated to the
eternal destruction of those who are deluded, and that therefore the utmost rigour
ia true Christian charity, and, by the punishment of a few, saves many from ever-
lasting misery. 4. Auother argument of which persecutors make great use, is taken
from the laws which God gave to the Jews, by which idolaters and false prophets
were to be put to death ; and from the practice of those kings of Israel and Judah
who put these laws in execution. Divine wisdom alone can authorize them, and
not public wisdom, as some mightily love to call it, which is too often public folly.
(J. Jortin, D.D.) Against persecution for religion: — I. Our Saviour, in this
parable, compares the kingdom of heaven to a king making a marriage-feast for hia
Bon. It is evident that when our Lord, in the text, bids the preachers of His gospel
go into the highways and hedges and compel men to come in. His meaning ia not.
Compel them by force of arms ; but. Compel them by irresistible clearness of reason,
by strength of argument, and affectionate admonition ; convince, persuade, entreat
them ; set before them the certainty of a future judgment, the promises and the
threatenings of the Lord ; prevail with them by your own good example ; urge,
press, inculcate upon them the necessity of religion (2 Tim. iy. 2). II. To show to
what a wicked sense they have sometimes been perverted by men of corrupt and
ambitious minds. Compel them to come in : that is (in their explication), compel
them by violence and force of arms, by racks and tortures, bv dragoons and inquisi-
tiona, by fire and sword. As if religion, whose great end is peace and love, the
universal reconciliation of men to God and to each other, could itself be propagated
by the highest oppressions, and most inhuman cruelties ; and be made to authorize
and to sanctify such practices, the preventing whereof is indeed the very chief
design of all religion both natural and revealed. But to be more particular. 1. It
ia originally, in the very nature of things, inconsistent and absurd to think that a
right sense of religion can be put into men's minds by force of arms. For what is
religiou but auch a persuasion of mind towards God aa produces obedience to His
eommanda ; arising from a due sense of Him in the understanding, a just fear and
love of Him in the affections, and a choice or preference of virtue in the will ? Now
to attempt to influence tlie will by force, is like applying sounds to the eyes in order
to be seen, or colours to the ears in order to be heard. 2. As force i» inconsistent
VOL. m. 4
60 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. nv.
with the nature of religion in general, so is it much more opposite to the spirit of
Christianity in particular. 3. As force is inconsistent with the nature of religion
in general, and Btill more opposite to the spirit of Christianity in particular ; so it
is in Scripture still further made the distinguishing character of the great apostasy
foretold by Christ and His apostles. (S. Clarke, D.D.) Anxious constraint :~~
A young man, deeply concerned for the conversion of his brother, while listening to
a discourse addressed by me to the young, was strongly possessed with the idea that
if he oould obtain permission to publish it, his brother, who was a compositor in a
printing-office, might be led to read it first for the press, and afterwards for pubUca-
tion, and thereby the subject might arrest his attention, and impress him with its
Vnxih. and importance. The success was even beyond his expectation, and he lived
to see that brother united to the Church of which he himself was a member, and
also employed in missionary labours, in which he has now been successfully engaged
for many years. (J. Leif child, D.D.) Earnestness in seeking to save : — Simeon waa
once summoned to the death-bed of a dying brother. Entering the room, the relative
extended his hand, and with emotion said : " I am dying, and you never warned
me of the state in which I was, and of the great danger I was in of neglecting my
soul." " Nay, my brother," said Simeon, " but I took every reasonable opportunity
of bringing the subject of religion before you, and frequently alluded to it in my
letters." " Yes," said the dying man, '• but you never came to me, closed the door,
took me by the collar of my coat, and told me that I was unconverted, and that if
I died in that state I should be lost; and now I am dying, and, but for God's grace,
I might have been for ever undone." It is said that Simeon never forgot the scene.
{Handbook to Scripture Doctrines.) No provision made for defeat: — It is a
remarkable thing in this parable, that Christ makes no provision for defeat. Ha
does not say what we are to do if they refuse to come in. He takes it for granted
that we must overcome if we are in earnest. It used to be said of the Duke of
Wellington, that it was a characteristic of his career that in the orders which h*
issued to his brigadiers he never made any provision for defeat. He said, " Ck> and
capture that hill from the French," or, " Go and drive the enemy from that house " ;
and he never told them what to do if they failed. It was their business to do it,
and he never made any provision for defeat; and they did succeed. So, too,
Christ makes no provision for defeat. He assumes that we shall not fail.
Cheerful, audacious. Christian work cannot fail. It was said by a great
Latin historian of Alexander the Great, that the secret of his marvellous
victories, by which the world was brought to his feet was this : he wisely dared to
think nothmg of imaginary dangers 1 All sorts of reports reached him with respect
to the difficulties of invading Asia, and so forth, but he pat them all on one side.
Oh, that we may be filled with the same glorious spirit — that we may think nothing
of imaginary dangers ! The devil is always ready to exhibit a few ghosts of diffi.
eolties to terrify weak saints. Let us despise the ghosts; there is nothing in them.
We cannot fail if our heart is full of love to God, and of sympathy with our fellow
Christians. The only real hindrance to the progress of the gospel is unbelief, ia
the form of downright selfishness, (fl. P. Hugfies, M.A.)
Vers. 25, 26. If any man come to Me, and hate not, *e. — The statute-law of
discipleship : — I. The natube of this mecessabt qualu'ication or a tbus dibciplb
or Chbibt. 1. An esteem of Christ above all. 2. The heart renounces its property
in all things of the world, in the day of its closing with Jesus Christ. 3. The soul
resigns all to the Lord ; lays down all at His feet, to be disposed of as He will.
4. The soul accepts of Christ for, and instead of the things resigned. 5. The soul
is disposed to part with them, when the Lord calls for them ; has an habitual
readiness to part with them for Christ. 6. There is in the soul a new power of
living, without them, on Jesus Christ ; a life which is an absolute mystery to every
Christless soul (John vi. 57). We now proceed — II. To confirm the doctrine of the
text, or show, that no man can be a true disciple of Christ, to whom Christ is not
dearer than what is dearest to Him in the world. For this purpose, consider — 1.
That the soul cannot truly lay hold on Christ, but it must of necessity part with
the world — " No man can serve two masters " (Matt. vi. 24). 2. It is impossible
that the love of God, and the love of the world (the persons and things of the
world), can at the same time be predominant in tne heart. One of them must of
necessity be uppermost. S. That if Christ be not dearer to us than the world,
there is no universal resignation, which is necessary to prove the sincerity of ths
heart 4. That if Christ is not loved supremely, there is a root wanting, the fruit
CHAP. XIV.] ST. LUKE. 51
of which is necessary to evidence sincerity. Because of the deceitfulness of your
heart, it will be good to be very distinct and particular in this point, on which
«temity depends. In consequence I would advise you — (1) To give up with ail
your lasts. Yoa have held the grip long, let it now go — " Ephraim shaU say,
"What have I to do any more with idols ? " (Hos. xiv. 8). (2) To lay down at tha
Lord's feet your nearest and dearest relations, so as that you may never break with
Christ for them : His favour, truths, and ways, must be dearer to you than they.
And sure I am, if thou meetest with Christ at His table, thou wilt say, '• Hence-
forth know we no man after the flesh." (3) Lay down at the Lord's feet your
substance in the world, be it great or small, houses and lands, goods, &c., that Ha
may dispose of them as He may see meet. (4) Lay down at the Lord's feet your
credit and esteem in the world. This is often a great idol, and goes betwixt many
a man and Christ. (5) Lay down at the Lord's feet your ease and liberty (Acts
xxi. 13). (6) Lay down at Christ's feet your desires. Your desires shall be to your
spiritual Husband, who shall clioose for you your inheritance (Psa. xlvii. 4).
(7) Lay down at the Lord's feet your life. Let your bodies be given now to the
Lord, not only for service, but also for a sacrifice, if He requires it. I now proceed
— HI. To offer some reasons why Christ is dearer to His true disciples than what
is dearest to them in the world. Among other reasons the following are mentioned.
1. Because to every true disciple, sin, of all bitter things, is the bitterest. 2. That
God is man's chief end; and when He made him, He made him pointing towards
Himself as His chief end (Eccl. vii. 29). 3. That as there unquestionably is, so
they have seen, a vanity and emptiness in aU things of the world, even the thinga
that are dearest to them (Psa. cxix. 96). 4. Because they find Christ of all objects
the most suitable to them, and therefore He cannot but be dearer to them than tha
dearest thing in the world. 5. Because He is their greatest benefactor; His
unparalleled benefits command their hearts to be all His : He has done for them
what none other could do. 6. Because they are sensible that whatever they hava
in the world, they have it through and by Him. And so they behold Him as tha
fountain of all their mercies. Thus — {1) They have the enjoyment of their
blessings through Him. (2) They have the comfort of them through Him. 7.
Because, if it were not so, Christ would have no Church in the world. If im-
prisoning, banishing, spoiling of goods, fields and scaffolds reeking with the blood
of the saints, would have deterred all persons from following Christ, there had been
no Church in the world this day. But God will have a Church in spite of devils
and wicked men. (T. Boston, D.D.) Christ worthy of our highest esteem : — I.
What is inciiUded in the love hebb spoken or. 1. An esteem and valuation of
Christ above all worldly enjoyments whatsoever. 2. A choosing Him before all
other enjoyments. 3. Love to Christ implies service and obedience to Him ; the
same love that when it is between equals is friendship, when it is from an inferior
to a superior is obedience. Love, of all the affections, is the most active ; hence
by those who express the nature of things by hieroglyphics, we have it compared
to fire, certainly for nothing more than its activity. The same arms that embrace
a friend, will be as ready to act for Him. 4. Love to Christ implies an acting for
Him in opposition to all other things ; and this is the mideoeiving, infallible test
of a true affection. 5. Love to Christ imports a full acquiescence in Him alone, even
in the absence and want of all other felicities : men can embrace Christ with riches,
Christ with honour, Christ with interest, and abundantly satisfy themselves in so
doing ; though perhaps all the time they put but a cheat upon themselves, thinking
that they follow Christ, while indeed they run only after the loaves. II. Thb
BEA80N8 AND MOTIVES THAT MAT INDUCE US TO THIS LOVE. 1. That He is best able tO
reward our love. 2. That He has shown the greatest love to us. HI. The sions,
UABKS, AND CHABACTEBs WHEBEBY WE MAT DiscEBN IT. 1. A frcqucnt and Indeed a
continual thinking of Him. "Where your treasure is," says our Saviour, •' there
will your heart be also." That is, whatsoever yoa love and value, that will be sure
to take up your thoughts. 2. The second sign of a sincere love to Christ, is a
willingness to leave the world, whensoever God shall think fit to send Hia
messenger of death to summon us to a nearer converse with Christ. ** I desire to
be dissolved, and to be with Christ," says St. Paul. 3. A third, and indeed tha
principal sign of a sincere love to Christ, is a zeal for His honour, and an im-
patience to hear or see any indignity offered Him. A person truly pious will
mourn for other men's sins, as well as for his own. {R. South, D.D.) Lovin<f
Christ above all, the character of His true disciples : — ^I. Let us consider what it is
so BB woKTHY 01 Chbibt. Aud thls we find is very well explained in the passage
62 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xiy.
just now referred to by this expression, «' he cannot be My disciple " ; that is, h«
cannot be a sincere Christian ; he may call himself by that name. II. To consider
THE liOVB OF ChEIST AS IN COMPAEISON WITH, AND OPPOSITION TO THE LOVE OF FRIENDS,
and all other worldly interests. Such affections have deep and firm foundation in
naiire and reason. As this maybe justly attributed to God as its Author, and Hia
■wisdom and goodness shine in it, religion is not intended to root it out, or in any
degree to weaken the bonds of humanity. But the immediate ends of these
natural relations are not the highest ends of our being. We are capable of nobler
pursuits and higher enjoyments than the ease and conveniences of our present
condition. It is the predominant affection which constitutes the character and
temper of a man. The covetous is he in whom the love of wealth prevails over
all other inclinations ; the ambitious, in whom the love of honour ; the voluptuous,
in whom the love of sensual pleasures. Each of these will sacrifice every other
interest to his idol, and every other desire, which is even natural to him, yet not so
Btrcng. But to preserve an universal harmony in the mind of man, and to con-
etitute a truly religious and virtuous character, the love of God and of goodness
ought to be predominant. Other affections are not to be rooted out, but this must
be supreme ; and they gratified and indulged only by its permission, and so far
as not to be inconsistent with it. This is the true meaning of my text. For what
I would principally observe for illustrating this subject is, that the love of Christ,
and the love of God and goodness, is just the same. And as moral excellence ia
the inseparable character of the Deity, so it is absurd to pretend that we love
Him without loving it ; that we love the holiest and best of all Beings without
loving holiness and goodness itself. Again, let us consider that to be worthy ol
Christ, to be His true disciples, and obtain His acceptance, it is absolutely neces.
sary that we should adhere to Him inviolably, that we should hold fast the
profession of our faith without wavering, and be stedfast and immovable in good
works. For they only who endure to the end shall be saved, and to them alone who
remain faithful unto death, the crown of life is promised. Now, the only possible
security of this stedfastness, is love to Christ, and to religion and virtue above alh
I shall only add that a stedfast and universal obedience to Him is imported in
our beinj< worthy of Christ, or His sincere disciples. It remains now that we make
some application of this subject ; which may be the better done, because our
Saviour Himself has gone before as in applying it to one of the highest and most
difficult points in the practice of religion, that is, to the case of suffering
persecution. For can there be any sincere affection to God, to our Saviour, and to
His cause of pure religion and virtue, if it be not a prevailing affection, stronger
than any other, which opposes it in the heart ? But, we may apply this also to
other and more ordinary purposes in the practice of religion. If the commanding
love of Christ be a sufficient defence against the strongest temptations, it may well
support the mind against lesser ones. Our affection to our friends and worldly
interests may mislead us by flattery as well as terror : and their insinuating smiles
may prove a snare as well as their frowns. Besides this, there are other tempta-
tions which derive their force from the same root, the love of our intimate friends ;
and are only defeated by the same principle, a superior affection to Christ. There
is nothing more common in the world than for men's families to be snares to them ;
while to make a large, or (as they pretend) a competent provision for them, they
violate their consciences, and sin against God, either by direct injustice, or, at
least, by such immoderate solicitude and incessant toU as is inconsistent with
piety, leaving no room for the exercises of it ; or by such narrowness, and with-
holding more than is meet, as is directly contrary to charity. But let us remember
that this is to render ourselves unworthy of Oirist, by loving sons or daughters, or
other worldly interests more than Him. Besides, distresses befalling our friends,
their deaths and misfortunes, which, considering the vicissitude of human affairs, are
always to be expected, and they are to some minds, at least, among the most sensibly
affecting trials in life ; these are to be supported on the same principle. (/. A bemethy,
M.A.) Love for Chritt greater than love for a sitter : — There is a beautiful story,
which some of you will probably know, as it forms the groundwork of one of the best
tales of modem times, and which affords a noble example of what I have just been
saying. The daughter of a poor Scotch farmer — her name was Helen Walker — after
her father's death, supported her mother by her unceasing labour, and by submit-
ting to every privation. She had a sister, many years younger, whom she brought
up and educated, and loved as her own child. This sister, however, bronght great
grief and shame upon her. She fell 7nto foul sin. She was delivered of a child. The
CTtAT. xiT.] ST. LUKE. S3
child was found dead, llie mother was tried for child-murder. This trial was a
terrible one for poor Helen. Notwithstanding her sister's sin, she could not forget
how she had loved her ; she could not cast her out of her heart : she longed that
her sister's life should be spared, so that she might have time to repent. A fearful
temptation assailed her. It seemed as though her sister's life hung upon her word
— a single falsehood might save her. If she would but say that her sister had made
any preparations for the birth of the child, or had ever mentioned it to her, her
sister would be acquitted. Her sister implored her ; her love for her sister rent her
heart ; but Helen said, It is impossible for me to swear to a falsehood. Whatever
betide, I must speak tha truth. Thus the sister was condemned to death ; and the
thoughtless looked upon Helen as hardhearted. But she had shown that she loved
God above her sister. She now showed how deeply she loved her sister, with a love
far deeper than it would have been, had she attempted to save her life by a lie.
She resolved to take up a petition herself to the King, to spare her sister's life. She
walked to London barefoot, a journey of above four hundred miles ; such a journey
in those days, a hundred years ago, being far more difficult and dangerous than it
is now ; and though she was only a poor, helpless peasant, such was the energy and
boldness with which her love inspired her, that she gained the King's pardon,
carried it back on foot, and arrived just in time to save her sister's life. I have
told you this story, because it is such a beautiful example of the right proportion
between love and duty, whereby both are greatly strengthened — of the right pro-
portion between our love to God and our love to our earthly friends. It is an
example too, which if we kept it in mind, might often help to admonish us of our
duty. For the temptation which Helen Walker resisted is a very common one, and
comes across us in a number of shapes. We are often tempted to do something that
is not quite right, to say something that is not strictly true, for the advantage, as
we deem it, of those whom we love ; and because our love is feeble and shallow, and
shrinks from pain and sacrifices, we yield to the temptation. Sometimes the
temptation may be very strong. You, who are fathers, may see your wives and
children suffering from want. At such a time evil thoughts will rise up ; you will
think you may do anything to save your wife and children from starving. So you
may, and ought to do everything, everything in your power, and even beyond your
power, provided it be not against the law of God. Whatever is, you should shrink
from, remembering our Lord's words, that, unless you love Him above wife and
child, you cannot be worthy of Him. (J. C. Hare, M.A.) Love oj Christ greater
than love of relatives : — While discussmg this passage one day, I noticed that a
beam of sunlight had fallen upon the mass of glowing coal in the grate, and where
the sunlight fell the bright redness was turned into absolute blackness. «' Ah I "
thought I, " there is the meaning of this passage." As the glowing coal appears
black beneath the far more intense light of the sun, so Christ asks that the light of
of our love for Him should be so intense as to render our earthly loves even as
hatreds in comparison. In reality, although the red coal appears black under the
sunhght, it is still as hot as before, yea, hotter than before, because of the added
heat from the sun ; so our love for friends and relatives, though it should appear as
hatred beneath our love for Christ, will not be quenched by it, but added to, and
rendered deeper and purer. (H. Stanley.) Christ demanding hatred : — The word
" hate " is a strong word, and I believe that it points both to strong feeling and
strong action. The words " hate his own life also " are the key to the whole
aphorism. A disciple is to hate his relatives and friends in the same sense in which
he is to hate himself. In what sense, then, can a man hate himself ? He can hate
what is mean and base in himself. He can hate his own selfish Ufe. To cling to
life is natural ; to desire ease and comfort is natural ; to gratify the appetites is
natural ; but all this natural life, whenever it comes into collision with the spiritual
side of our being, may be even hated. It is not merely that the Christian may, after
a struggle, prefer to remain true to God and Christ, rather than gratify the selfish
cravings of his own natural life ; he may positively hate these selfish cravings
when they are tempting him to forsake his duty. The word may be paradoxical ;
but is it too strong t Have we never felt disgusted at our own selfishness 7 Hava
we never experienced a strong revulsion of feeling when we have been tempted by
** onr own life " — by our natural Uking for what is agreeable to tbat life — to shirk
our duty, and to do something mean and base ? In the old Greek drama, Admetoa
is disgusted with the life which, in selfish cowardice, be has purchased by the Kacri-
lice of his wife Alkestis. And we can well conceive that many a Christian martyr
may have felt disgusted with his own life, when be was tempted to preserve it at th«
64 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. Icune. xiT.
cost of denying his Lord. It is thus, then, that a man may hate himself. Not ia
the bald, literal sense ; for he still cares for his own true best life, and wishes that
to be developed and strengthened. But he does, in a sense, hate himself when tha
self in him rises in rebellion against God and Christ and duty. Now, in this sensa
also, a man may hate hia relatives and friends. He may hate that in them which
is mean and base. He may hate that in them which seeks to drag him away from
Christ (r. C. Finlayson.)
Ver. 27. And whosoever doth not bear his cross, fta — On taking up tJie erots : —
Christiani sunt cruciani, says Lather, Christians are cross-bearers. It is in their
hearts to bear the cross, whatever it be, whensoever Christ shall require it ; and
they do actually bear it whenever they are called to it. They do not flinch from it,
nor decline it, nor turn from it, by any indirect or unlawful course. I. What i3
MEANT BY THE CROSS. 1. The cross includes loss and damage, the greatest losses as
well as the least ; the loss of all outward things, as well as the loss of any. When
Christ was nailed to the cross, He was bereaved of all, and fastened to it naked -,
He had not so much as His garments left ; they who brought Him to the cross
divided these amongst them. He that is not willing to part with all, to foUo*^
Christ, when he cannot fully and faithfully follow Him witiiout quitting aU, he 13
not worthy of Him, unworthy the name of a Christian. 2. It speaks shame and
reproach. It was servile supplicium, a base ignominious suffering, to which nona
were exposed but the vilest of men. It was a suffering proper to slaves and fugi-
tives ; there was not the meanest freeman amongst the Bomans but was above it.
Hence shame and the cross are joined together (Heb. xii. 2). Hence that expression,
"bearing His reproach" (Heb. xiii. 13), i.e., bearing the cross. No coming w
Christ but in this posture, when the Lord calls to it. 3. It imports pain and torture.
The cross was a most grievous and painful suffering. Ausonius calls it pcenw.
extremum, the extremity of torture. And Cicero, crudelissimum teterrimumqua
supplicium, the most cruel and horrid suffering. When Ignatius was going to b(j
exposed to the fury of wild beasts for the name of Christ, he cries, " Now I begin
to be a disciple." 4. It imports death itself. The cross was ultimum supplicium,
the last thing that could be suffered. Cruelty was herein terminated, and could go
no further, at least to the sense of the sufferer. It was the worst kind of death. II.
What it is to bear the cross. 1. You must make account of it. Calculate what
it will cost you. 2. A resolution to bear the cross, whatever it be, how heavy, or
grievous, or tedious soever it may prove ; a firm, and hearty, and settled resolution
to bear it, is a virtual bearing of it beforehand (ver. 33). 3. You must be alwaya
ready for the cross, always preparing for it, whether it seem near, or whether i*;
seem further off. One paraphraseth the words thus, " Whosoever doth not coma
to Me with a preparation of mind to suffer anything rather than part with Me, ho
is not for My turn." This is to bear the cross daily, as Christ requires (Luke ix.).
Though every day do not afford a cross, yet every day we bear the cross by dail:'
preparing for it (1 Cor. xv. 31). Even when the cross seems far off, much mora
when it is in view, you must be preparing for it, if you be Christians indeed ; and
the Lord will take your readiness to bear it for a bearing of it, when He sees good
to prevent it. 4. It speaks actual undergoing it when it is laid on us. But when
the Lord brings it to us, we must actually take it up. He is no disciple for Christ
that will not do it. III. The manner of bearing the cross. 1. A Christian
endeavours to bear the cross patiently. That while the cross oppresses his outward
man, he may possess his soul in patience. Not the patience of the Stoics, a sende-
less stupidness ; nor the patience of the heathen, a mere yielding to necessity ; but;
a due sense of the pressure, with a quiet submission to the hand of God, whoever
be the instrument, without murmuring, repining, disquietment, or despondency. 2
He endeavours to bear it cheerfully. That which is bearing the cross here is taking
up the cross (chap, ix.), Christ bore His cross willingly ; Simon of Cyrene was
compelled to bear that cross. Christ would have us come a^ter Him, bear it as Ha
did. It should not be a forced, but a voluntary act. 3. He endeavours to bear it
fruitfully. The cross is dry wood, and so was Aaron's rod ; but as that blossomed.
80 does this bring forth fruit, when improved (Heb. xii. 11). This puts the followerg
of Christ upon seeking the sweet fruits of peace and holiness in the bowels of
devouring calamities ; to get spiritual gain and advantage by outward loss ; to grow
richer unto God by worldly impoverishment ; to converse more with Qod whea
separated from friends and relations ; to value more the love of Christ when they
•mart by the world's hatred ; to partake more of hoUness when he partakes less of
•HAP. XIV.] ST. LUKE. 55
the ease, peace, plenty of the world ; to make use of the cross for the crucifying of
the flesh ; to make sin more hateful and dreadful, the conscience more tender, the
world less tempting, more contemptible, grace more active and lively, the word
more sweet and effectual, prayer more fervent and affectionate, the appearing of
Christ more lovely and desirable, the conversation more heavenly. To bear the
cross as a disciple of Christ, is to bring forth more fruit in bearing of it. (£>.
Clarhson, B.D.) The Christian's cross : — I. The ckoss is ordinaiult the lot or
Chbistians. Persecution and troubles have always attended the people of God.
And the reasons of it are evident. 1. The malice of Satan, who knowing himself
to be cast off by God, he hates God with an implacable hatred ; and since the Lord
is above the reach of his malice, he falls upon those who are dearest to Him, the
people of God. 2. The enmity of the world. The world would be sure to cross, to
afflict and persecute what it hates ; and the disciples of Christ are hated by the
world (John xv. 19). Not only that part of the world which evidently lies in
wickedness, but the more refined part of it which dresseth up itself in a form of
godliness. Those who have no more but the form, hate those that have the power,
because this is a real reproof and conviction of the vanity and insufficiency of out-
ward forms, how specious soever ; and that which detects them is hated by them
?John V. 19). 3. There is a necessity of the cross upon a manifold account. (1)
0 distinguish true disciples from hypocrites and pretenders. When Christ may
be professed and followed with ease, and safety, and credit, multitudes will follow
Him, every man will profess Him whose hearts are not with Him. But when the
cross comes, that makes a distinction. (2) To try His disciples, that He may have
an experiment of their affection and faithfulness to Him : " Who is on my side ?
Who ? " says Jehu (2 Kings ix. 33). So says Christ, when He brings out the cross ;
let Me now see who is for Me, let Me see who it is that will bear the cross for Mq.
(3) For the advantage of grace. A Christian is not complete unless he have on his
whole armour ; and it is the cross puts us upon putting of it on ; it would lie rust-
ing by as, if we were not roused to the use of it by the frequent approaches of the
cross. (4) To take us off from the world. The cross embitters the world to us.
and confutes those vain conceits which make us fond of it. The vizard falls off by
which it had deluded us, and now we may perceive what an impostor it was, when,
for all its fair promises, we meet with nothing but vanity, and enmity, and vexa*
tion, and hard usage. And will it not seem lovely ? Or can we doat on it any
longer J The cross lets us not only see, but feel what the world is. (5) To tame
the fiesh, and keep it under, which otherwise would grow headstrong, and bear
down all the restraints of grace, and hurry us into carnal excess — " Every branch
that beareth fruit He purgeth it " (John xt. ). He lops off the luxuriances of natural
corruption. And how is this done ? Why, a sharp cross will be effectual to do it,
when the Lord takes it into His hand and useth it for this purpose 1 (6) To endear
heaven to us. The ark was more acceptable to Noah's dove when she found no
rest to the soles of her feet on the face of the earth. II. A Christian cannot
OBDINABILY AVOID THE CROSS WITHODT SINNINO AGAINST ChRIST. HI. Hb THAT WILI.
ORDINARUiT BIN AGAINST ChRIST TO AVOID THE CROSS, CANNOT BE A CHRISTIAN. This
being proved, it will appear an evident truth, that he that doth not, will not, bear
the cross, is not, cannot be a Christian. {Ibid.)
Vers. 28-30. For which of you. Intending to bolld a tower. — The Christian
builder : — Our Lord on purpose mentioned a tower rather than any other building,
perhaps to signify that the top of our spiritual building must reach to heaven, or
otherwise it will be vain to build. A Christian, then, is a man that builds a tower,
a noble building, not a cottage, and therefore should count the cost. L What
SORT OF A TOWER THE CHRISTIAN BmLDS. 1. A towcr is HO Small building, but a
noble structure ; and so is the believer's spiritual building. (1) Lifinite wisdom is
the contriver of it. (2) The Lord Jesus Christ is the foundation of it. 2. It is a
noble building, or a famous tower, because the design of it is to preserve the soul
from all its enemies, and from all dangers whatsoever, to eternal life. 3. This spiritual
building may be called a tower, because a Christian is a soldier, and this building is
to be his fortress ; and if he builds on Christ, or rightly upon the only foundation,
he need not fear all the gnnshot of Satan, sin, the flesh, and the world, though he
mast expect to be battered severely by these enemies. 4. It may be called a tower,
because the Christian builds for another world. He must gradually proceed until
he reaches heaven. H. Why is a Christian said to build this tower 7 1. Because
he ia to believe in Jesus Christ, i.e., to build on Him, 2. But note that it is God
66 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cblt. nr.
who finds all the materials. Ill, Evert Christian should consider the mattkb
BO WELL AS TO COUNT THE COST. Why ? 1. Bccause it; will be a very costly building
to him. (1) He must give up all his cui«ed sins and lusts, though as dear to him
in times past as a right hand or eye. (2) He must expect it will cost him the loss
of whatsoever he once accounted gain. (3) He must part with all hia former com-
panions, and expect they will mock and deride him, and may be his own wife also.
2. Because great storms may rise, and floods come, and beat upon his high tower ;
and he should count the damage he may sustain in such storms. 3. Because he is
not able either to begin, nor to build, or lay one stone by his own strength ; and if
he knows not this, or does not utterly despair of any power or ability of his own,
he will never be able to finish, and then men '* will mock him," &c. 4. He must
account how rich, how strong, and able he is in Jesus Christ ; and if He knows
that Christ is his strength, he counts the cost aright ; and if he depends wholly,
constantly, and believingly upon Jesus Christ, he need not fear but he shall have
wherewith to finish this famous tower, i.e., the salvation of his precious bouL
Application : 1. This reprehends all rash and inconsiderate persons, who, through
some sudden flash of zeal (which may prove like a lava flood) set out in a visible
profession of Christ and the gospel. 2. This may inform us of the reason there
are so many who grow cold, and soon falter, and fall off, or decline in their zeal
and seeming love to Christ, His truth, and people. They counted not the cost —
what corruptions they must mortify, what temptations they must withstand, what
reproaches they must expect to meet with, what enemies they may find, and what
relations they may enrage and stir up against them. 3. Let all from hence be
exhorted to count the cost before they begin to build, and not expose themselves by
their inconsiderateness to the reproach of men, either to the grief of the godly, or
to the contempt and scorn of the wicked. 4. Yet let none from hence be dis-
couraged, or decline closing with Christ, or with His people ; for if they are sincere
and gracious persons, they will understand that the almighty power of God is
engaged to help them. 5. Count also all the external charge, which a visible pro-
fession of Christ may expose you to ; for the interest of Christ, and the charge of
His Church, must be borne. 6. How great is the work of a Christian. No lazy
life. 7. Let all learn on what foundation to build, and not refuse the chief corner-
stone. Depend wholly upon God in Christ. His money pays for all. Yet you
shall not miscarry for want of money to finish, if in all your wants you
go to Him by faith and prayer. (B. Keach.) Importance of consideration : —
Nelaton, the great French surgeon, once said that if he had four minutes in which
to perform an operation on which a life depended, he would take one minute to
consider how best to do it. {Baxendale^s Anecdotes.) Purposes should be weighed : —
Before proceeding to any work, we should weigh it. Letters are charged
in the post ofiice according to weight. I have written and sealed a letter
containing several sheets. I desire that it should pass ; I think it will ; but
I know well that it will not be allowed to pass because I desire that it should or
think that it will. I know well it will be tested by imperial weights and measures.
Before I plunge it beyond my reach, I place it on a balance before me, not con-
structed to please my desire, but honestly adjusted to the legal standard. I weigh
it there, and check it myself by the very rules which government will apply. So
should we weigh our purposes in the balance, before we launch them forth in action.
{W. Ainot.) The religious life exceeds human resource : — He is not, in our Lord's
estimation, the true spiritual builder, such as will bring his work to a successful
end, who, counting the cost, finds that he has enough, as he supposes to finish the
building which he has begun ; but the wise and happy builder is he who counts and
discovers that he has not enough, that the work far exceeds any resources at his
command, and who thereupon forsakes all that he has, ail vain imagination of a
spiritual wealth of his own ; and therefore proceeds to build, not at his own
charges at all, but altogether at the charges of God, waiting upon Him day by day
for new supplies of strength. {Archbishop Trench.) Counting the cost : — I. True
BELioioN IS COSTLY. A poor man is suddenly made a prince ; it wiU cost
him the giving up of his former manners, and will involve him in new duties
and cares. A man is set on the road to heaven as a pilgrim : d»es he pay
anything to enter by the wicket-gate t I trow not : free grace admits him to
the sacred way. But when that man is put on the road to heaven it will cost
him something. It will cost him earnestness to knock at the wicket-gate, and
sweat wherewith to climb the Hill Ditiioulty ; it will cost him tears to find his roli
again when he has lost it in the arbour of ease: it will cost him great care in
OHAP. xiy.] ST. LUKE. 67
goiixg down the Valley of Humiliation ; it will cost him resistance nnto blood wheo
he stands foot to foot with Apollyon in conflict. What, then, is the expense ? 1.
If you would be Christ's, and have His salvation, you must love Him beyond every
other person in ibis world. 2. Self must be hated. I must mortify the flesh with ita
affections and lusts, denying myself anything and everything which would grieve
the Saviour, or would prevent my realizing perfect conformity to Him. 3. If we
would follow the Saviour, we must bear our cross. He who has the smile of the
ungodly, must look for the frown of Qod. 4. We must follow Christ, i.e., act as He
wsted. 6. Unreserved surrender of all to Jesas. If you possess a farthing that is
yoor own and not your master's, Christ is not your master. II. Wisdom sTjaoKSTS
THAT ws should COUNT THE COST. 1. If you do not count the cost, you will not be
able to carry out your resolves. It is a great building, a great war. Faith and
repentance are a life-work. 2. To fail in this great enterprise will involve terrible
defeat. Half-hearted Christians, half-hearted rehgious men, may not be scoffed at
in the public streets to their faces, but they are common butts of ridicule behind
their backs. False professors are universally despised. Oh 1 if you must be lost,
be lost as anything but hypocrites. III. Cost whateveb it uay, tbub religion is
WOBTH THE COST. I. The present blessings of true religion are worth all the cost.
2. What recompense comes for all cost in the consolation afforded by true godliness
in the article of death ? 3. Christ asks you to give up nothing that will injure you.
4v Christ does not ask yon to do anything that He has not done Himself.
{G. H. Spurgeon.) Ill-considered beginnings: — This parable stands in juxta-
position with that of the Great Supper, and is plainly designed to supplement its
lesson, and preclude any perversion of its meaning. In the one yoo have the
freedom of gospel privileges, in the other you have the costliness of gospel
responsibilities. "Tou that are following me so readily," says the Saviour,
" consider what you do. As builders of a spiritual house, are you incurring a new
and a serious outlay ; are you prepared to face it 7 As warriors on a spiritual
campaign, you are challenging new and uncompromising enemies ; are you able to
coufront them ? Far better leave an undertaking alone, than, after starting it,
have thereafter to abandon it, especially when, as in the present case, it attracts
the observation of so many watchful eyes, and provokes the resentment of so
many jealous hearts. Beware lest you waken the world's hostility by your pre-
tensions to strength when yon begin, and live to incur its mockery by your con-
fession of weakness when you desist." That, then, is the drift of this passage. Of
course, only one side of the truth is here brought before us. It is not only on
account of the views of outsiders, their spitefulness when a man commences, and
their contempt when he leaves off, that our Saviour bids those who would join Him
count the cost. There are other and worse consequences to be faced by him who
begins and who ceases in this matter, than the pointing of a worldling's finger or
the wagging of a worldling's tongue, and for these we must look elsewhere. But so
far as it goes the parable is both pertinent and pungent, the lesson of it plain, the
application unavoidable. He that will build a tower necessarily invites attention,
provokes scrutiny, sets speculation astir, and these not always of the kindest or
most favourable sort. Publicly he succeeds, if success be in store for him ; but
publicly, too, he must fail. Exactly so is it with the assuming of a Christian
position. Let a man bear in mind that for this, if for no other reason, he is wise
to think well ere beginning, remembering that the eye of the world is upon him.
Not ouly is this matter of a Christian profession and a spiritual life a necessarily
public undertaking ; it is also a very costly one. And the higher the ideal we erect
for ourselves, the more important and commanding the position w6 assume, the
greater the outlay we must face. True, let me remind you again, the building of
the tower may turn out in the end the most gloriously profitable investment that
is open to us. When the walls are complete, and the headstone brought forth with
shoutings of "grace, grace unto it," it may prove a magnificent and an everlasting
habitation, repaying a thousandfold, both in shelter and in splendour, the dis-
bursements its erection occasioned. But, meanwhile, these disbursements may b«
trying. And let every man weigh the solemn fact, the assuming of a Christian
profession and the maintenance of the Christian life may in some oases involve a
serious price. Nor will any be able to say that the estimates for the building of the
tower have been kept in the background by Scripture ; they are clearly drawn up,
and faithfully presented. And what is the expenditure they specify 7 This among
other things (let the context testify) : the hatred of father and motlier and sisters
and brethren, the losing of one's own life, the taking up of the cross, the forsakiiig
68 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xit.
all a man hath. These be strong words, but, brethren, they are Christ's, and
there are those, many and many a one, who have found them no whit beyond the
lacts. This brings me to the third point in the parable, for which we are now pre-
j ared, namely, the consequence that too often takes place from a rash and 111-
c )nsidered beginning. For a time the building proceeds. He has founded it in
accordance with God's appointment, he rears it in conformity with God's plan.
But there comes a period when the enterprise gets costly. It touches him on the
side of his comfort, touches him on the side of his pride, and the unaccustomed
drain begins. It is first a call on his time, time he wanted to use as he liked ;
next a wrench of affection, the severance of a tie which was dear to the flesh, but
which Christian principle forbade ; next, the sudden disappointing of desire — desire
which only a disciple of Christ would possibly have been asked to deny himself ;
then an inroad on his purse. And thus there comes a time when in his own heart
of hearts the ominous uncertainty begins, even though shame for a time makes
him persevere. *• Have I not gone too far ? " he is now beginning to ask of himself,
"and may not this tower of mine bear curtailing, without any loss to the general
riesign ? God will make allowance for my poverty, and the world will be unaware
of the difference, or approve of it." So, lesser inconsistencies creep in; lesser
incompletenesses make themselyes manifest ; there is a saving here and a saving
there. Already the man's life has fallen below his profession ; the execution of the
building is not up to the plan, and the end of it all throws its shadow before. We
all know what that was. Alas, he had not sufficiently examined himself ; he had
not sufficiently counted the cost. He did not know all he was doing when he
separated himself from the world's companionship, and resolved to take up the
cross of Christ. Better never to have asserted a superiority to the world at aU,
than, having assumed the position by leaving it, thereafter to renounce it by going
back. When Pliable re-entered the City of Destruction with the mud of his
expedition bespattering his clothes, and its terrors still pale on his face, the city was
moved round about him, and we read that some called him foolish for going, and
others called him wise for coming back. But I can fancy that even these did not
quite take the erring one back to their arms, nor forget the facts of his escapade,
and that all the time he went in and out in the midst of them the consciousness
never faded from their hearts, the sneer never passed from their lips. And when
the man who has begun to build the tower of a religious profession, and is com-
pelled to leave it unfinished, slinks back to the comrades his enterprise has
offended, saying, "Brothers, I find I have made a mistake ; I am, after all, no better
than yourselves ; I will henceforth make amends for my folly by dwelling in a house
and sitting at a table like your own," think you that the world will have any sym-
pathy or respect for him ? It may applaud him to his face, but behind his back
there will ever be the pointed fiuger and the whispered scoff : " That man began to
build, and was not able to finish." For, oh ! here is the solemn thought. The man
may change his mind, but the fabric he has reared remains notwithstanding, the
monument of his pride and his folly alike, unhonoured, untenanted, and unfinished.
There the building stands, in the words of seeming sincerity the man has spoken,
in the Christian teaching he has published, in the Christian schemes he has
launched, all which he has long since abandoned, because he had failed to lay his
account with the difficulties, had forgotten to count the cost. And through all
time the unfinished fabric shall remain, the sorrow of the Church and the triumph
of the world, ay, and perhaps throughout eternity too, as the rebuke of conscience
and the taunt of the lost. Hitherto we have moved only along the strict lines of the
parable, and narrowed ourselves to the special thought that the Saviour was
enforcing at the time. But there are several thoughts in connection with the
passage before us, which, though not exactly in it, are so closely akin to it and eo
naturally suggested by it, that we cannot quite omit them. 1. And first, are there
any among us who have been saying to themselves, " But we have been building
the tower. Ours has been a Christian profession ever since oar earliest years. And
really we have had no experience of the difficulties of which you speak. So far as
we know, our operations have wakened no one's envy, and provoked no one's
hostility." And do you think, therefore, that the statements already made as to the
costliness of a Christian profession are overdrawn and exaggerated, suitable per-
haps to the times in which the Saviour spoke, but scarcely suitable to our own t
Bemember, however, ye who speak thus, that there is an evil quite as ba^d
as unfinished bailding, and that is unstable building. 2. Then, again, it
follows from all this, that we are to be cautious and oarefol in our judg-
»EAP. XIV.] fir. LUKE. 59
bientB as to those around us, whom we might have expected to build, but
who seem to hesitate. Oi the utterly indifferent, who have never yet faced the
matter nor once realized the claims of Christ, we do not, of coarse, speak. But
there are others who have not yet taken up A Christian position, not from want of
thought, but rather because they are thinking so deeply. They, at any rate, are
sensible of the cost, and are settling down to count it. And that is better than the
conduct of the man who complacently offers God a eervice that costs him
nothing, and perseveres in his presumption, or of the man who rashly begins
what is costly, and then desists. 3. But thirdly, a word in closing to this very class,
— the backward and reluctant. Brother, yon are counting the cost. You do well
to count it. Christ here counsels you to count it. And you feel, do you, that it is
B risk that yon cannot honestly face ? Far better, do you say, to be a consistent
man of the world than an imperfect professor of religion — like him who began the
i ower, and was not ^ble to finish ? True, again ; but is your state of hesitation
therefore defensible ? Do you think Christ bids any man sit down and count the
cost of the project only that he may renounce it altogether? Nay, verily ; it is only
that out of a deep sense of your weakness you may be driven to ask the needed
strength from Himself, and, knowing that you have not the wherewithal to carry
on the fabric He nevertheless seeks you to rear, you may be thrown on the helpful-
ness and ready supplies of Him who giveth liberally and upbraideth not. {W.
Gray.) Religion: — The great fact which our Lord designs to illustrate is this —
that numbers embrace the gospel from reasons that are not conclusive, and when
stronger reasons, as they appear to them, arise in their intercourse with social life,
they lightly renounce a creed they lightly adopted. I. First, there are those who
ACCEPT BELioiON MEBELY 7B0M lUPULSE. They ate Constitutionally the creatures of
impulse. One man is the creature of feeling ; another is more the creature of
intellectual conviction ; another is more borne away or decided in his course by
fact. The Scotchman must have strong arguments ; the Irishman must have
eloquent appeals ; and the Englishman must have hard matter of fact. Each nation
has its idiosyncracy ; each individual his peculiar temperament. Men who are the
creatures of strong and impetuous emotion, subscribe to a creed, if I may use the
expression, on the spur of the moment, and because they feel profoundly, they think
they are convinced, and that the creed which they adopt is demonstrable and
necessarily true. Now, I answer — this will not be sufficient to keep you steadfast.
This is commencing the " tower," before you have laid a fit foundation ; this is
plunging into a conflict whilst you have not the weapons that will enable you to
conquer. Feeling in religion is right ; but feeling must not be all. An eloquent
appeal may move you, but it ought not to decide you. II. In the second place,
there is the keligion of the cbowd. Many men are religious in a crowd, who
are most irreligious when alone. They like what seems to be popular ; they can be
Christians in the mass, but not Christians when insulated from others. Many a
eoldier is a coward when alone, but he becomes a hero in his rank and place in the
battalion. HI, There is a third sort of religion — the beligion op mebe cibcum-
BTAi^CE. People often accept the religion of those they love, and with whom they
associate. IV. There are others whose religion is simply the beligion of tkadition.
An outside robe ; not the inner life. V. There is another religion which may be
tailed, thb beligion op sentiment. This religion is nourished by all the beautiful
and the romantic. It is the religion of Athens rather than the religion of Jeru-
sakim — the religion of painters and of poets, rather than the religion of thinkiug
and intellectual minds. VI. There is another religion which is equally false ; and
that is the beligion of mebe fobu. It regards the outer aspect of things ; not
the inner light. This is not a religion that will stand. VII. And in the next place
let me add, there is the beligion of intellect. If some profess Christianity from
sentimental sympathy with its beautiful parts, and others profess Christianity from
admiration of its ritual, or its form, there are others who profess Christianity from
deep intellectual apprehension of it ; and yet theirs is a religion that will not stand.
Vin. And, lastly, there is another religion which will still more surprise you when
I say that it also may be a religion that will not stand — the beligion of con>
soiBMCE. It is possible for conscience to be in religion, and yet your heart not to be
the subject of living and experimental Christianity. You will go to the house of
<Tod because your conscience would torment you U you did not do so. But is this
the beautiful, the blessed, the happy religion of Jesus ? Such service is slavery ;
inoh duties drudgery ; and such a religion is a ceaseless and perpetual penance, and
fiot " righteousness and peace in the Holy Ghost." {J. Gumming, D.D.) On
60 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha*. xit,
taunting the cost : — The cost attending thb Christian profession. 1. In order
to be the disciples of Christ, there is muoh that we must instantly renounce. It is a
profession of holiness : it, therefore, demands the immediate renunciation of criminal
and forbidden pleasures. By His gospel, and by His Son, God has "called us, not
to uncleanness, but to holiness " ; so that he that despiseth the precepts of purity,
despiseth not man but God. 2. The Christian profession is spiritual, and therefore
requires the renunciation of the world. 3. In order to be a disciple it is necessary,
in the concerns of conscience, to renounce every authority but that of Christ. The
connection of a Christian with the Saviour is not merely that of a disciple with his
teacher ; it is the relation of a subject to his prince. " One is your Master, even
Christ." 4. The cost of which we are speaking relates to what we are to expect. In
general, to commence the profession of a Christian, is to enter upon a formidable
and protracted warfare ; it is to engage in an arduous contest, in which many dilB-
cnlties are to be surmounted, many enemies overcome. The path that was trod by
the great Leader is that which must be pursued by all his followers. 5. The cost
of the Christian profession stands related to the term and duration of the engage-
ment — " Be thou faithful unto death." It is coeval with life. II. Why, wk sat,
IS IT EXPEDIENT FOB TBOSE WHO PROPOSE TO BECOME CHRISTIANS TO " COUNT THB
COST " ? 1. It will obviate a sense of ridicule and of shame (see the context). 2.
It will render the cost less formidable when it occurs. 3. If it diminishes the number
of those who make a public and solemn profession, this will be more than retrieved
by the superior character of those who make it. The Church will be spared much
humiliation ; Satan and the world deprived of many occasions of triumph. III.
The reasons which should determine oub adherence to Christ, notwithstan'd-
INO THE COST WHICH ATTENDS IT. 1. His absolute right to command or claim our
attachment. 2. The pain attending the sacrifices necessary to the Christian pro-
fession greatly alleviated from a variety of sources. 3. No comparison betwixt the
cost and the advantages. {R. Hall, M.A.) True heroism : counting the cost :—'
The cost of a Christian profession, if it be genuine and true. Alas ! to be called
Christian, to have the Christian name, to pass muster with the world as a Christian,
is a light and little thing ; and as John Bunyan well paints in his admirable por-
traiture of the false as well as the true professor ; •' There are many By-ends, who
like to go with religion when religion goes in silver slippers, who love to walk with
him in the street, if the sun shines and the people applaud him, but such By-ends
will not pass muster in the great day." They may be esteemed members of the
visible Church, but the question is, " Will they stand the test in the great day,
when the Lord comes to reckon with the servants?" If, indeed, we understand the
Christian profession as Jesus portrays it, we cannot suppose it is a thing that does
not require to be weighed well. There is a cost, there is a sacrifice to be counted
upon, there are difiBculties and dangers to be looked forward to, there is much to be
borne up against that will be hard to bear, and on these things we are to decide. If
a man must thus deny himself in order to be a soldier of his country, how much
more must he deny himself to be a soldier under the Captain of his salvation ? He
requires us to renonnce His enemies, who are our foes, let us not forget, though we
naturally regard them as our friends. Our sympathies are with them, and our
desires and tastes lead us captive after them. A man must make his election ; will
you have Jesus to be your Redeemer ? But we must not glance only at what a man
must forego, but at what he must undergo ; and here is the part of the cost that
many shrink from. For instance, a young man is entangled in the midst of worldly
connections, and he begins to look more serious, and to go to church, and to read
his Bible regularly, and to find out that he is disinclined to go to the theatre, and to
scenes of rioting and revelling, and to join the multitude to do evil. He knows
what will follow, but the cross must be taken up. He will be laughed at by the
silly and ungodly. And therefore, brethren, tlie/e is a cost ; a man must undergo
shame and the cross ; it will not do to dismiss it, to muzzle it, to step over it even in
order to escape it, for, as the Master tells us, " If any man will come after Me, he
must bear his cross " daily and hourly. If a man counts the cost, he counts also
the help and succour he shall find ; for he knows his weakness, and he learns his
strength ; and if he finds himself encompassed with danger, he will not rush into
the temptation, but he will nestle beneath the Almighty wings, and shelter beneath
the ark of safety. In the first place, if a man count the cost ot taking op the
standard, and enlisting in the army of Christ, he has to obey the simple claims of
Christ as one in whom there is power and authority. And then, brethren, let ni
not forget that ii the service of Christ has its sorrows, it has its joys ; if it has itl
CHAP. XIV.] ST. LUKE. et
Belf-denials, it has its Belf-indnlgenoes ; if here there are thorns and briers, the
world above has everlasting flowers, and heavenly violets, and sweet-smelling lilies,
that shed a fragrance around all and above all ; and though the way may be narrow,
it is a straight one ; it has no pitfalls, no traps, no bitter fears, no dark forebodings,
no haunting spirits, but it has the "promise of the life that now is, and of that which
is to come." It saves a man from a thousand snares, it shields him from a thousand
dark remorses, it guards him from a thousand fearful misgivings, and enables him
to look God and man in the face. Can the world, or the service of the world, do
that t Then, to sum up all, if we oast into the balance of gains " life ever-
lasting," surely that must make the scale touch the ground, and the opposite
Bcale strike the beam. " What shall it proflt a man, if he gain the whole world,
and lose his own soul ? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul f "
" I reckon," said one, who had large experience of the world's trials, " that the
Bu^erings of the present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory
which shall be revealed in us." "For our light afliiction, which is but for a
moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Can
language go further ? And that is not the language of a fanatio or a fool, but of
the Spirit of God, teaching us through one whom He had taught with Divine
wisdom, that overcoming is heroism. The heroism of the Cross — that is true
heroism. {U. Stowell, M.A.) Holiness: the cost: — I. What it costs to bk a
TBUE Cbbistian. 1. It will cost a man his self-righteousness. He must be content \
to go to heaven as a poor sinner saved only by free grace, and owing all to the merit
and righteousness of another. " Sir," said a godly ploughman to the well-known
James Hervey, of Weston Favell, " it is harder to deny proud self than sinful self.
But it is absolutely necessary." 2. It will cost a man his sins. No truce with any
one of them. This also sounds hard. Our sins are often as dear to as as our
children : we love them, hug them, cleave to them, and delight in them. To part
with them is as hard as cutting off a right hand, or plucking out a right eye. But
it must be done. 3. It will cost a man his love of ease. He must take pains and
trouble, if he means to run a successful race towards heaven. He must be careful
over his time, his tongue, his temper, his thoughts, his imagination, his motives,
his conduct in every relation of life. 4. It will cost a man the favour of the world.
He must count it no strange thing to be mocked, ridiculed, slandered, persecuted,
and even hated. IL Wht couNTiMa thb cost is of such obeat iupobtance to
uan's Bonii. There are many persons who are not thoughtless about religion : they
think a good deal about it. They are not ignorant of religion : they know the out-
lines of it pretty well. But their great defect is that they are not " rooted and
grounded " in their faith. For want of " counting the cost " myriads of the children
of Israel perished miserably in the wilderness between Egypt and Canaan. For
want of " counting the cost " many of our Lord Jesus Christ's hearers went back
after a time, and "walked no more with Him." For want of " counting the cost,"
hundreds of professed converts, under religious revivals, go back to the world aftor
a time and bring disgrace on religion. They begin with a sadly mistaken notion
of what is true Christianity. They fancy it consists in nothing more than a so-called
*• coming to Christ," and having strong inward feelings of joy and peace. And so,
when they find after a time that there is a cross to be carried, that our hearts aro
deceitful, and that there is a busy devil always near us, they cool down in disgust,
and return to their old sins. And why ? Because they had really never known
what Bible Christianity is. For want of " counting the cost," the children of
religious parents often turn out ill, and bring disgrace on Christianity. And
why? They had never thoroughly understood the sacrifices which Christianity
entails. They had never been taught to "count the cost." III. Hints which
MAY HELP UBN TO COUNT THB COST BioHTLY. Set down honestly and fairly what
yoQ will have to give up and go through if yon become Christ's disciple. Leave
nothing out. But then set down side by side the following sums which I am
going to give you. Do this fairly and correctly, and I am not afraid for the
result. 1. Count up and compare, for one thing, the profit and the loss, if yoa
•re a true-hearted and holy Christian. You may possibly lose something in this
world, but yon will gain the salvation of your immortal soul. 2. Count up and
compare, for another thing, the praise and the blame, if yoa are a true-hearted I
and holy Christian. You may possibly be blamed by man, bat yoa will have |
the praise of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. 3. Count
up and compare, for another thing, the friends and the enemies, if yoa are %
true-hearted and holy Christian. On the one side of you is the enmitj of tba
62 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. nT„
clevil and the wicked. On the other, you have the favour and friendship of the
Lord Jesus Christ. Your enemies at most can only bruise your heel. They
may rage loudly, and compass tea and land to work your ruin ; but they cannot
<i. stroy you. Your Friend is able to save to the uttermost all them that come
unto God by Him. 4. Count up and compare, for another thing, the life that
now ie and the life to come, if you are a true-hearted and holy Christian. The
time present, no doubt, is not a time of ease. It is a time of watching and praying,
fighting and struggling, believing and working. But it is only for a few years. The
time future is the season of rest and refreshiag. Sin shall be cast out. 6. Count
op and compare, for another thing, the pleasures of sin and the happiness of God's
service, ii you are a true-hearted and holy Christian. The pleasures that the
worldly man gets by his ways are hollow, unreal, and unsatisfying. They are like
the tire of thorns, flashing and crackling for a few minutes, and then quenched for
ever. The happiness that Christ gives to His people is something solid, lasting,
and substantial. It is not dependent on health or circumstances. It never leave*
a man, even in death. 6. Count up and compare, for another thing, the trouble
that true Christianity entails, and the troubles that are in store for the wicked
beyond the grave. Such sums as these, no doubt, are often not done correctly.
Kot a few, I am well aware, are ever " halting between two opinions." They oan-
i.ot make np their minds that it is worth while to serve Christ. They cannot do
this great sum correctly. They cannot make the result so clear as it ought to be.
But what is the secret of their mistakes? It is want of faith. That faith which
made Noah, Moses, and St. Paul do what they did, that faith is the great secret of
coming to a right conclusion about our souls. That same faith must be our helper
End ready -reckoner when we sit down to count the cost of being a true Christian.
That same faith is to be had for the asking. " He giveth more grace" (James iv.
6). Armed with that faith we shall set things down at their true value. Filled
vith that faith we sball neither add to the cross nor subtract from the crown. Our
conclusions will be all correct. Our sum total will be without error. (Bishop Ryle.)
ihi the folly of profession without forethought : — L The entrance upon, and progress
ill, a religious life, may, with some considerable propriety, be coMPABEn to thh
BTJiLDiNO OF A TOWKB. Something to be done by us. Many graces to be exercised,
many temptations to be resisted, many enemies to be vanquished, and many duties
to be performed. The power of rehgion must first be felt, then a profession of it
made, and, last of all, care taken to adorn the profession ; the whole of which may
be compared to building a tower, because — 1. There must be a foundation to support
the building. Christ — the foundation of doctrinal, experimental, and practical
religion. 2. It is a work of labour and difficulty. Kequires exertion of all the
Btrength we have, and eveiy day fresh supplies out of the fulness of Christ. 3. A
gradual work. A tower reaching to heaven. Patient continuance in well-doing.
4. A visible work. The Christian is a spectacle to world, angels, and men. Hia
Bufferings make him so ; his conduct, so different from that of others, makes him
BO ; and though the springs of his life are " hid," yet the workings and effect of it
are manifest to the world. Grace makes a visible change in the temper and con-
versation. 5. A durable work. True religion is like a strong and well-built tower,
secure itself, and a security to its builder. The foundation and materials of it are
both lasting. II. This work chllb foe great caution and cieccmspection. 1. The
Christian will consider beforehand the certain and necessary expense. (1) Remorse
for past sin. (2) Conflict with spiritual enemies. (3) Corruptions to be mortified,
a. To this he will add the possible and contingent expense. Not only what it mugt,
bat what it may, cost him. Friends may desert him, enemies assail, and a thousand
obstacles be thrown in the way to discourage him. 8. There is another kind oi
expense which such a one will also take into account, not only what it will
•ost hint, but what — if I may be allowed to use the expression — it must cost
God, before He can finish his work. The Spirit of God must afford him His
continual aid, and Christ's strength most be made perfect in bis weakness. No
epiritual duty can be performed without a Divine influence. 4. To the labout
and expense he is at, he will oppose the benefits and advantages hoped for.
The cross is the way to the crown. 6. Where this caution and circumspection
is neglected, it is an instance of egregious folly, and will expose to universal
shame and contempt. (B. Beddome, M.A.) Unfinished work*: — Such uncom-
pleted buildings, open to all the winds and rains of heaven, with their naked
walls, and wiUi all that has been spent apon them utterly wasted, are called io
the language of the world, which often finds so Apt » word, This man's, or thai
CHAP. XT?.] ST. LUKE. €8
man's Folly ; arguing as they do so utter a lack of wisdom and prevision on
their parts who began them. Such, for example, is Charles the Fifth's palaoa
at Granada, the Kattenburg at Cassel. They that would be Christ's disciples shall
see to it that they present no such Babels to the ready scorn of the scornful ;
begixming as men that would take heaven by storm, and anon coming to an end of
all their resources, of all their zeal, all their patience, and leaving nothing but an
utterly baffled purpose, the mocking-stock of the world ; even as those builders of
old left nothing but a shapeless heap of bricks to tell of the entire miscalculation
which they had made. Making mention of " a tower," I cannot but think that the
Lord intended an allusion to that great historic tower, the mightiest and most
signal failure and defeat which the world has ever seen, that tower of Babel, which,
despite of its vainglorious and vaunting begiimiug, ended in the shame, confusion,
and scattering of all who undertook it (Gen. xi. 1-9). {Archbishop Trench.)
Vers. 31, 32. Or what king, going to make war. — Consider before you fight. — L
First, then, thebb ase some hebe who abb not the tbiends of God, and in this
case he that is not with Him is against Him. If you could have what you wish
there would be no God. If it were in your power you would never trouble yourself
again with thoughts of Him. You would like to live, you say, as you list, and I
know how you would list to live. It would be anyhow, rather than as God com-
mands. Now, as you are engaged in antagonism with Him, just think awhile — Can
you expect to succeed ? Let me put a few things before you which may, perhaps,
make you think the conflict too unequal, and thus lead you to abandon the thought
at once. Think of God's stupendous power ! What is there which He cannot do ?
Think, again, O rebellious man, you have to deal not only with almighty, but with
an ever-encompassing power. Think, again, how much you are personally in His
hand ! It is well also to remember the mighty army of the Lord of hosts, and that
you live amidst the creatures of God, who all are ready to do His bidding. Re-
member, moreover, what is the extent of God's wisdom, and that EUs foolishness is
greater than your highest knowledge. Yet there is another matter I want you to
recollect, you that are the enemies of God — that you have a conscience. You have
not got rid of it yet. It is not put out ; and God has ways of making it to become
a terrible plague to you, if you do not accept it as a friend. One other reflection^
for I must not keep you thinking on this point long — it is this. Bemember yoa
must die, and therefore it is a pity to be at enmity with God. Here is this, too*, to
think of, there is a future state, so that when you die you have to live again. I
should not choose to enter upon the realm of spirits without having God to be my
fiiend. Besides, let me say, you cannot hope to succeed, all experience is against
you ; there never was one yet that, either in this state or the next, has fought with
Ood and conquered. H. And now we turn the subject, so as to look at the second
CONTEST, IN WHICH I TBUST MAN? ABE ANXIOUS TO BE ENOAQED. Some yOUUg Spirit
that has been touched with a sense of its own condition, and somewhat aroused,
may be saying, " I will be God's enemy no longer ; I will be His friend." Bowing
the knee, that heart cries, " Oh God, reconcile me unto Thyself by the death of Thy
dear Son. I throw down all my weapons ; I confess my guilt ; I plead for mercy.
For Jesus' sake vouchsafe it to me." "But," says that soul, "if I am the friend
of God, I must be the foe of Satan, and from this day I pledge myself to flght for
ever with Satan till I get the victory, and am free from sin." My dear friend, I
want you to stop. I do not wish you to make peace with the evil one, but I want
you to consider what you are at. There are a few things I would whisper in your
ear, and one is, that sin is sweet. Bemember, again, you may be enticed by friends
who win be very pressing. You can give up sin just now, but yoa do not know who
may be the tempter at some future time. If the shoidd allure thee, who has
tempted so well before ! Then again, remember, man, there is habit. Yoa say you
wiU all of a sudden give op your sins and flght Satan. Do not tell me that ; can
the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? Again, yoa think
yoa will give ap sin, but ridicule is very unpleasant, and when the finger
comes to be pointed at you, and they say, "Ah, so you have set up for
a saint, I see " ; when they put it as they only can put it, in such a sharp,
catting, grating maimer, can you stand that! And yet farther, let me say
to you, you that are for going to heaven so zealonsly — gain, gain is a very
Eretty thing, a very pleasant aSair. Who does not like to make money t Yon
now, if you can be religious and grow rich at the same time, that will jast suit
come of you. Think of this then, for the trial will oome to you in the shape of
«4 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [<!«*»• mt.
yellow gold, and it will be hard to keep yourself from the glittering bait which the
god of this world will lay before you. I am putting these things to you, bo that you
may calculate whether you can carry on the war against the devil with all these
fearful odds against you. If I were a recruiting-serjeant I should not do this. He
puts the shilling into the country lad's hand, and the lad may say fifty things.
*' Oh, never mind," says the gallant soldier, " you know, it is all glory, nothing but
glory. There, I will just tie these ribbons round your hat. There are some long
strips of glory to begin with, and then all your days it will be just glory, glory for
ever ; and you will die a general, and be buried at Westminster Abbey, and they
will play the ' Dead March in Saul,' and all that kind of thing." Now I cannot
thus deceive or try to cheat men to enlist under the banner of the Gross. I do not
desire to raise objections to it ; all I want of you is to count the cost, lest you should
be like unto liim who began to build without being able to finish. (G. H. Spurgeon.)
The Christian war : — The doctrine here is, that a sinner who designs to close with
Christ, and become His disciple, should first consult matters well, and then take
courage and not fear any enemy, but resolutely pursue his great and good design.
I. Show pabticulablt what a poor sinneb, who designs to enter upon this wak,
SHOULD consult. 1. He should consult the charge of this war. He who spares one
beloved lust will be worsted and lose the field. 2. He should consult what great
hardship he must undergo. 3. He should consult the cause and absolute necessity
of the war. 4. He should consult the length or duration of the war. 5. He must
consider at whose charge the war is to be carried on and maintained. Christ's
riches and treasures are infinite and inexhaustible. 6. He should carefully consider
the manner and time when he must enlist, and what armour he must wear (Heb.
iii. 13 ; Eph. vi. 14-17). 7. He must consider the strength, policy, wrath, and
cruelty of Satan and other enemies. 8. He must be sensible of his own weakness,
and never engage in his own name or strength. 9. He must consider the power
And irresistible strength of his Captain, the Lord Jesus Christ. 10. He must con-
eider the covenant of peace, the oath and promises of God the Father to Christ as
Mediator, and in Him to all believers ; also, how in that covenant all the elect are
put into Christ's hand, not only to redeem them, to renew them, but also to aid,
help, and assist, and to fight for them ; yea, and to strengthen and support them.
II. He must consider the relation in which they stand to their Captain. He has
espoused and married them for ever. 12. They should also know that all their
enemies are already conquered. 13. They should consider the honour of God, and
the honour, exaltation, and glory of their Captain, and prefer that above their lives.
While we seek His glory. He will seek our good. 14. They should consider the
nature of the crown for which they fight. II. Show why sinnebs should sit down
AMD CONSmEB THESE THINGS BEFOBB THBT EMTEB INTO THESB WABS. 1. BeoaUSe mail
is naturally self-confident, and thinks he can do wonderful things by his own
strength ; but did he know how weak he is, and how deceitful his heart is, and all
the powers of his soul, he would not pride it so in himself, nor ever venture to go
forth in his own strength against one who is so much stronger than he. 2. Because
bH who ever engaged these enemies, not considering their own weakness, but went
oat in their own strength, were put to flight and utterly beaten. 8. Because our
Lord would have none of His soldiers be surprised, either by the power, wrath,
malice, or subtlety of the enemy. 4. That we may be better prepared for the
worst. Forewarned, forearmed. Application : 1. This informs as that the work
of a Christian is no easy, but a very hard and difficult, work. 2. It may inform na
■what the reason is that so many professors, who seemed zealous in times of peace
end liberty, have deserted in an hour of trial and persecution. They did not sit
down and consider the strength of their enemies. 3. It may be of use to all poor
aonvinced sinners that purpose to follow Jesus Christ, first of all to ponder and well
weigh the nature, troubles, and difficulties of a Christian life. 4. It also may tend
to convince us of the great strength and power of Satan and other enemies of our
souls, and the need we have to be well armed and to stand always upon our watch,
«nd never give way to self-confidence. 5. It shows also the woeful condition of
mnbelievers, who have not the power of Christ to help and assist them. {B. Keach.)
Unequal to the war ;— Louis XII., King of France, sent an army into Italy to take
the kingdom of Naples, which had been given to Louis XI. by King Een6 of Pro-
vence. When Alfonso, King of Naples, heard that Louis and other enemies were
eoming against him, he looked round for help, and actually begged the Sultan of
Turkey to aia nim. Not getting assistance in this quarter, and having no army fit
to oppose that of Louis, he made peace with him, gave up Naples, accepted the
HEAP. XIV.] ST. LUKE. 65
Dnchy of Anjon, and went to live there. First weigh, then venture : — Count Von
Moltke, the great German strategist and general, chose for his motto, '• Erst wagen,
dann wagen" (First weigh, then venture), and it is to this he owes his great
victories and successes. Slow, cautious, careful in planning, but bold, daring, even
seemingly reckless in execution, the moment his resolve is made. Vows must ripen
\nto deeds, decision mast go on to performance. (H. O. Mackay.)
Ver. 33, He cannot be My disciple. — Christ requires supreme regard: — I. Thb
POSSESSIONS WHICH Jesus Chbist requibes ds to forsake in obdeb to oub
BECOMING His disciples. In our text Jesus Christ authoritatively asserts the
absolute right and the first claim to all that we have and to all that we
are. Ourselves and our possessions are to be His. We are to consider our-
selves not as proprietors, but only as stewards. 1. Christ requires us to
forsake the world and the things of the world. 2. Christ requires ns to exercise
self-denial, and to bear the cross daily. 3. Jesus Christ requires us to forsake
our own relatives, whenever they would hinder us from following Him. 4. Jesus
Christ requires you to forsake even life itself rather than renounce Him and
His cause. II. The iMPOssiBiLiry of oub being His disciples if we befusb to
COMPLY with His BEQDiBEMENT. " He Cannot be My disciplc. " The solemn and
authoritative manner in which this decision is pronounced ought very deeply to
affect our hearts. Christ, you perceive, does not say that such a man is an incon-
sistent disciple, or an ungrateful disciple, or a half-hearted disciple ; but He says
that he is not a disciple at all; nay, says He, '* he cannot be My disciple." He
may profess to be a disciple, and he may be acknowledged as a disciple by others,
but he is not one : and though men and angels should declare, " Behold a disciple
indeed! " Christ would reply, ** I know him not 1 " And this decision, be it remem-
bered, my brethren, is not mine, but Christ's. HI. The means and the motives
WHICH Jesus Chbist affoeds to induce and to enable us to comply with His
bequieembnt. And here I intend to show that we ought to forsake all for Christ,
because it is the most reasonable and advantageous duty that we can discharge. 1.
We should forsake all that we have for Christ, because He commands us to do so.
2. We should forsake all that we have for Christ, because He hath loved us and
given Himself for us. 8. We should forsake aU that we have for Christ, because
He has promised to enable us to do so if we ask Him. 4.. We should forsake all for
Christ, because He can give us infinitely more than we can relinquish for His sake.
{J. Alexander.) An Indian's all : — ^An Indian, on being asked how it was that he
came into the kingdom of Christ so easily, at once replied, " We are commanded
to forsake all. The white man have to give up his house ; but I have no house.
The white man have to give up his riches ; but I have no riches. The white man
have to give up his farm ; but I have no farm. Indian have nothing to give up but
his blanket, and I throw off my blanket very easily." ^ Yielding aU to Christ: —
In America a farmer felt convinced that he was not living to Christ as he onght,
with that warm-hearted earnestness which characterises those who are born again.
He was a large farmer, and had a great number of stacks in his yard. He went
into the centre one day, and threw himself on his face, and said he would have it
oat with God. He prayed to Jesus Christ, and found forgiveness through His
righteousness. He got up to tell his wife and children. It was Pentecost-like.
Peter said, "Bepent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ
for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost." The
farmer beheved it, and went home, but he had not reached the fence ere he was
arrested by a voice which said there was something more. He stopped, and cried
out, " O Lord, what more ? is there anything more, and I will give it Thee ? " He
went back to the spot where he was bound to Christ, and reiterated again, " What
more, 0 Lord ; is there any more I can do ? " And something told him that he had
not given up the stackyard to the Lord. He burst out, "Lord. I yield ; take the
stack-yard — take the horses — take the farm 1 " He returned to his wife and
children. But there was something else ; he had a large balance at the bank. He
bad been a prosperous man, and was counting on the better time when he could
hold a palatial residence for himself and family. That money was not given to the
Lord ; but he cried out, " Take it. Lord ; I give it all up." And instead of building
a residence he built a chapel, and supported the ministers of God, and went to the
eamp meeting, and gave his stack-yard, farm-houses, his wife and children, into
the hand of the Lord. He used ihe money in the bank judiciously, and it is a
voib m. fi
66 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. nr.
pleasure to him to lend waggons to his poorer neighbours, and plough their fielda.
(Handbook to Scripture Doctrines.)
Vers. 34, 35. Salt is good. — Salt that it genuine^ and salt that is saltless: —
Among the snbstances that enter into the composition of this globe of earth, salt i^
a very important one, being of essential use in the economy of the world, uxiu
eminently conducive to the preservation of human life. It may be regarded as tha
grand conservative principle of nature, whose office is to keep this earth, tha
habitation of man, in a wholesome state, to check the progress of decay and corrup-
tion, and promote the health and wellbeing of the animal world. To fit it for these
important purposes, the All- wise Creator, who communicates to every element its
peculiar character, has given it the quality of being soluble in water, and has thus
made it capable of diffusing itself over the whole globe, impregnating the various)
departments of nature, and penetrating the finest fibres of vegetable and animal
substances — a hidden agent that, by means of the element that holds it in solution,
conveys its salutary influence to every region of creation. Suspended in strong
infusion in the ocean, it preserves its immense reservoirs from putrefaction, and
makes them the means of conveying health to the shores they wash, and salubrity
to the atmosphere that rises above them ; while it further serves, by increasing the
gravity of the waters, to aid in buoying up the tribes that inhabit and the ships
that navigate them. It is largely deposited in the heart of the earth, in rocks and
strata. It is also found to enter into the composition of plants, some of which
yield it in large quantities, and even to form an ingredient in the bodies of animals.
If this element were withdrawn, the great deep, we have reason to think, would
become a putrid pool, the air would conssequently be a pestilential vapour, and
vegetable and animal life would quickly be extinct. Now our Lord here speaks of
salt in a figurative sense, using it as an illustration to declare the excellence and
usefulness of the Christian character, as exemplified in those who maintain it
faithfully and consistently ; and the loss of all excellence, the shipwreck of aU
valuable attainments and of all good hope, in those who forsake and abandon the
principles and spirit with which they once started on the Christian race. L Thhs
EXCELLENCE AND USEFULNESS OF THE CHRISTIAN CHABACTEB. The discipleS of Christ
are destined to the same office in the moral world that salt supplies in the natural
— namely, to check the progress of corruption, and diffuse ealubrity and health ;
and while they preserve their appropriate character, they fulfil this high destination.
Sound in principle and exemplary in conduct themselves, they serve to arrest cor-
ruption in others ; savouring the things of God, they communicate the same unction
to others ; active and beneficent, they extend a beneficial influence around them.
The faithful followers of Christ are like " good salt," in respect of those principles
of truth which they embrace and maintain. For error corrupts the mind, and,
insinuating itself through its faculties, " will eat as doth a canker," and blend in
all its communications ; truth is the healing salt that arrests its progress and
defeats the operation of the poison. Again, the true disciples are hke good salt in
respect of that temper of mind, and those good and gracious affections, which they
cherish and manifest. For the truths of the gospel, when received in faith, fail
not to renovate the heart and inspire it with corresponding dispositions : they
necessarily awaken an unfeigned piety and holy reverence toward God, a simple,
chUd-Iike dependence on Christ, a genuine benevolence toward men, a true humility^
a spirit of sympathy with the afflicted, a desire to do good to all, a disposition to
forgive injuries and to overcome evil with good. Now this temper of mind has a
healing efficacy : like salt, it is diffusive, and tends to preserve the atmosphere of
life from the putrid exhalations of selfishness, envy, and malevolence ; it gives
also a grateful relish and gracious aspect to society, fostering and maintaining in
healthful exercise the substantial blessings of mutual esteem, friendship, and
harmony. In a word, the true disciples are like good salt in respect of their whole
conduct in life ; which, while they act in character, cannot fail to have a beneficial
infiuenoe, since it both presents a model to be copied, and suggests the motives and
arguments that commend it. For their whole manner of hfe, if candidly inter-
preted, shows that they are governed by high and heavenly principles — that they
are " not of the world, but of the Father." II. The ruined and unhappy con-
nrriOM of those who abandon that chabacteb. If he who bears the Christian
name lose the distinctive qualities of his Christianity — if he relinquish those prinr
eiples of truth whidi he has professed — if he forsake the Christian temper — ii,
forgetful of heavenly things, he inmierse himself in the world and live for himself.
CHAP. XIV.] ST. LUKE. 61
lot gain, for pleasure, and not for Christ — alas 1 " the glory is departed," the
nsefulnesi of his character as a guide or example is at an end ; he hecomes, if not
a betrayer, yet a deserter, worthless and contemptible, fit only to be " cast ont, and
trodden under foot." 1. The salt loses its savour when professing Christians lose
their relish for those Divine truths that peculiarly distinguish the gospel and make
it what it is. 2. The salt loses its savour when professing Christians lose their
relish for the duties of religion. 3. The salt loses its savour when professing
Chrifltians imbibe the love and become conformed to the spirit of the world. 4.
The salt loses its savour when the professor of religion falls into open immorality.
Finally, the salt has lost its savour when the soul learns to vindicate its errors
and without shame to persist in them — when reproof is unwelcome, when expostula-
tion is offensive, and the man is anxious rather to defend his character than amend
his ways — ^when, deaf to admonition and rebuke, he wilfully yields himself to the
snare of the devil, to be " led captive at his will." How calamitous such termina-
tion of what was hopeful in its beginning I {H. Gray, D.D.) Grace in crystals : —
It would take all time with an infringement upon eternity, for an angel of God to
tell one-half the glories in salt-crystal. So with the grace of God ; it is perfectly
beautiful. Solomon discovered its anatomical qualities when he said, " It ia marrow
to the bones." I am speaking now of a healthy religion — not of that morbid
religion that sits for three hours on a gravestone reading Hervey's • ' Meditations
Among the Tombs." I speak of the religion that Christ preached. I suppose
when that religion has conquered the world that disease will be banished. But the
chief beauty of grace is in the soul. It takes that which was hard, and cold, and
repulsive, and makes it all over again. It pours upon one's nature what David
calls "the beauty of holiness." It extirpates everything that is hateful and un-
clean. It took John Bunyan the foul-mouthed, and made him J<ihn Bunyan the
immortal dreamer. It took John Newton, the infidel sailor, and in uie midst of the
hurricane made him cry out : " My mother's God, have mercy upon me 1 " It
took John Summerfield from a life of sin, and by the hand of a Christian edged-
tool maker, led him mto the pulpit that burns still with the hght of that Christian
eloquence which charmed thousands to Jesus whom he once despised. Ah ! you
may search all the earth over for anything so beautiful or beautifying as the grace
of God. Go all through the deep miue-passages of Wielitzka, and amid the under-
ground kingdoms of salt in Hallstadt, and show me anything so exquisite, so
transcendentally beautiful as this grace of God fashioned and hung in eternal
crystals. Again, grace is like salt, in the fact that it is a necessity of life. Man
*nd beast perish without salt. What are those paths across the Western prairies ?
Why, they were made there by deer and buffalo going to and coming away from
the salt " licks." Chemists and physicians, all the world over, tell us that salt is
a necessity of life. And so with the grace of God : you must have it or die. I
know, a great many people speak of it as a mere adornment, a sort of shoulder-
strap adorning a soldier, or a light, frothing dessert brought in after the greatest
Eart of the banquet of life is over. So far from that, I declare the grace of God to
i the first and the last necessity. It is a positive necessity for the soul. You can
tell very easily what the effect would be if a person refused to take salt into the
body. The energies would fail, the lungs would struggle with the air, slow fevers
would crawl through the brain, the heart would flutter, and the life would be gone.
That process of death is going on in many a one because they take not the salt of
Divine grace. Again, I remark, that grace is like salt in abundance. God has
strewn salt in vast profusion all over the continents. Bussia seems built on a salt-
cellar. There is one region of that country that turns out ninety thousand tons in
a year. England and Bussia and Italy have inexhaustible resources in this respect.
Norway and Sweden, white with snow above, white with salt beneath. Austria
yielding nine hundred thousand tons annually. Nearly all the nations rich in it —
rock-salt, spring-salt, sea-salt. Christ, the Creator of the world, when He uttered
our text, knew it would become more and more significant as the shafts were sunk,
and the springs were bored, and the pumps were worked, and the crystals were
gathered. So the grace of God is abundant. It is for all lands, for all ages, for all
conditions. It seems to undergird everything. Pardon for the worst sin, comfort
for the sharpest suffering, brightest light for the thickest darkness. Again, the
grace of God is like salt in the way we come at it. The salt on the surface ia
almost always impure — that which incrusts the Bocky Mountains and the South
American pampas and in India ; but the miners go down through the shafts and
through the dark labyrinths, and along by galleries of rock, and with torches and
68 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ciUP. xiT.
Siokaxes find their way nnder the very foundations of the earth, to where the salt
es that makes up the nation's wealth. To get to the best saline springs of the
earth huge machinery goes down, boring depth below depth, depth below depth,
tintil from under the very roots of the mountains the saline water supplies the
aqueduct. This water is brought to the surface, and is exposed in tanks to the sun
for evaporation, or it is put in boilers mightily heated, and the water evaporates,
and the salt gathers at the bottom of the tank — the work is completed, and the
fortune is made. So with the grace of God. It is to be profoundly sought after.
With all the concentrated energies of the body, mind, and soul, we must dig for it.
Superficial exploration will not turn it up. Then the work of evaporation begins ;
and as when the saline waters are exposed to the sun the vapours fioat away, leaving
nothing bat the pure white salt at the bottom of the tank, so, when the Christian's
BOul is exposed to the Sun of Eighteousness, the vapours of pride and selfishness
and worldliness float off, and there is chiefly left beneath, pure, white holiness of
heart. Then, as in the case of the salt, the furnace is added. Blazing troubles,
stirred by smutted stokers of darkness, quicken the evaporation of worldliness and
the orystalhzation of grace. Have you not been in enough trouble to have that
work go on ? But, I remark again, that the grace of God is like the salt in its pre-
servative quality. You know that salt absorbs the moisture of articles of food, and
infuses them with brine which preserves them for a long while. Salt is the great
anti-putrefactive of the world. Experimenters, in preserving food, have tried sugar,
and smoke, and air-tight jars, and everything else ; but as long as the world stands,
Christ's words will be suggestive, and men will admit that, as a great preservative,
" salt is good." But for the grace of God the earth would have become a stale
carcass long before this. That grace is the only preservative of laws, and con-
stitution, and literatures. Just as soon as a government loses this salt of Divine
grace it perishes. We want more of the salt of God's grace in our homes, in our
schools, in our colleges, in our social hfe, in our Christianity. And that which has
it will live — that which has it not will die. I proclaim the tendency of everything
earthly to putrefaction and death — the religion of Christ the a"2y preservative.
My subject is one of great congratulation to those who have within their souls this
gospel antiseptic. This salt will preserve them through the temptations and sorrowa
of life, and through the ages of eternity. {De Witt Talmage, D.D.) The talt that has
logt its savour : — He that is ungodly would be ungodly still. And why ? Because the
salt has lost its savour. The mischief is not without — it is within. The wretched
houses, the rent-books, the pawn-shops, are but symptoms — are but the efflorescence
of a deep-seated disease — and if we are wise, we shall aim not at putting them to
rights, except where grievous distress and impending ruin call for ready rescue ; but
we shall aim far deeper — we shall be ever musing on and seeking an answer to the
question, *' Wherewith shall it be seasoned ? " And this is just the question which
has been occupying so many Christian hearts, and employing so many Christian
hands, now for some years in this our land. I called it the most fearful and diffi-
cult problem of our times ; and every one who has fairly grappled with it will bear
me' in saying so. No special philanthropic agency will so much as touch the whole
matter, however widely and efficiently supported. Each one of these, alone, is but
opposing a feeble resistance for a time to the vast and gathering mass as it rolls
and plunges downward. " Improve the dwelhngs of these poor people." Yes ; of
all mere remedial measures, doubtless this is the most obvious and lies nearest the
surface. But how slow the progress ; how distant and almost hopeless the result.
Then again: '• Improve their Sundays. " By all means. The general observance
of the Lord's day in our land is perhaps the most powerful instrument and the
surest pledge for future good, which we possess. But again. How ? For here once
more we are beset with difficulties. You will be easily able to apply remarks of the
same character to those various other agencies which are at work for this most
salutary and beneficent purpose. (Dean Alford.) Christianity the salt of the
earth : — ^A wealthy, irreligious, shrewd business man in Illinois was approached by
a member of the Church of Christ for a subscription towards building a meeting-
house. He cheerfully put down his name for two hundred dollars, and then
remarked, " I give that as a good business investment. I would rather give two
hundred dollars every year than not to have the gospel preached in this community."
•* How is that ? " he was asked. ♦• You do not pay any heed to the gospel Why
are yon interested in having it preached? " '• Oh," he replied, "I live here with
my family, and my property is around here ; without the influence of Christianity
the condition of society would soon become such that neither property nor Ufa
CHAP. KIT. J ST. LUKE. 69
•would be safe. I would not be willing to live in any commnnity where the gospel
was not preached 1 " These views of a hard-headed man of the world are confirmed
by all experience. Christianity is the salt of the earth. Only the utterly abandoned
would be content to live where its influence had ceased to be felt. Religion should
be practical if it is to be influential : — William Smith, a Primitive Methodist local
preacher, had a business letter shown to him from a manufacturer of cloth. The con-
cludingparagraph was a rather high-flown rhapsody about revivals, and some sermon
that had been to him (as he said) *' wines on the lees." His pair of eyes keenly watched
the reader of the letter, to whom he said, when the reading was concluded, " What
do you think of that?" Answer: "I don't think I should have written the last
paragraph." Besponse : " I should think not ; I only wish the fellow would put
his religion into his cloth instead of his invoices." Salt : — I. Look at what is
HEBE so EXPBESsrvELY SYMBOLIZED. " Salt js good." Salt is a necessary of life,
and it is an essential element of true altar service. There was no real sacrifice
without salt. 1. It is the symbol of the covenant of everlasting mercy, but of ever-
lasting mercy as the basis of a sinner's new life. There is a purpose of grace. God
wills not the death of sinners, but their re-union with Him as the God of hfe. That
purpose does not change. God pursues it in spite of the infatuation, the wilfulness,
the ingratitude of men ; and " He will have aU men to be saved, and to come to the
knowledge of the truth." " Salt is good." It is the salt of the great sacrifice for
sin. •' It is the salt of the covenant of thy God." He receives, and pardons, and
renews, and cleanses all who believe on His Son Jesus Christ. No man can be
saved but through the Divine mercy, and by an action of the Divine Spirit on mind
and heart. 2. Salt symbolizes not only God's covenant of mercy with man, but
man's covenant with God. Salt was a human offering on the altar, according to a
Divine appointment. It meant, on the part of the offerer, the laying aside of
enmity ; it meant the submission of the offerer to the terms of the Merciful
Sovereign ; it meant the surrender of the will — of the life — to the Divine service.
Salt symbolizes human consecration. 3. Salt is also the principle of counteractive
grace. Antiseptic. The new principles of Divine life in the spirit arrest moral
decay ; work against the downward, earthly, immoral tendencies and temptations
of the heart. 4. Salt symbolizes the preventive, corrective, life-nourishing power
of the Christian society in the world. 5. Salt is also the principle of peace.
*• Peace with God " comes of salt within. With surrender to Him reconciliation is
effected ; and there is now no condemnation, and no dread, and no discord — man
and God live in harmony the perfectest. II. The Savioub's lesson conoebnino
THE DETEBioEATiON OF THE SALT. Salt symbolizcs God's coveuant of mercy in its
nnchangeableness ; and there can be no deterioration of that ; but there may be a
oareless feeling concerning its excellence, its necessity, and its grace. Salt
symbolizes man's covenant with God — the principle of entire self-surrender; it
symbolizes the principle of counteractive grace both in the individual and the
Church ; and it is the principle of individual and social peace. Of these our Lord
declares — 1. The possibility of deterioration. "If the salt have lost its savour."
Bock salt exposed to the atmosphere becomes utterly tasteless and insipid ; it comes
to lack all the essential characteristics of its own nature. Whatever the truth may
be on the Divine side of the great fact of human redemption, on the human side we
are obliged to admit the possibility of a fall from grace. It is involved in the very fact
that it is a free human spirit which is being dealt vnth. 2. Christ marks here three
things as characteristic of men in this state. (1) They are useless for any good
purpose whatever — useless in the Church, useless in the world. What shall be
seasoned with such salt ? It is useless to make anything grow. It is a heap and
nothing more — neither man nor beast can ever be the better for its existence. (2)
Such characters are utterly contemptible. They are neither fit for the land nor yet
for the dunghiU, which, if it does not grow itself, helps other things to grow. (3)
And last of all they are rejected with utter disdain. " It is henceforth good for
nothing, bat to be cast out and trodden under foot of men." It must not b«
allowed even to occupy the place of the real thing. There can be no itUowuhip
between Ule and death. {This Freaeher'$ Monthly.)
90 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, tv.
CHAPTER XV.
Ykbs. 1, 2. Tills man recelveth sinners, and eateth with them. — Christ't
influence with the ma»ses : — The masses were drawn to Christ's teachings.
I. Thb seasons fob this admibation. 1. All lack of affectation— no parada
of greatness, no false assumption of humility. His manner was what beauty
is to the landscape, what the sublime, majestic repose of the ocean is to the
ocean's greatness. His manner ever reflected the moral grandeur of His
being. 2. The originality of His methods. 3. The grandeur and claims of His
doctrines. 4. The authority with which He spoke. 5. The adaptation of style and
matter to the people. 6. His profound earnestness. 7. His scathing denunciation
of the hypocrisy of the ruling sects. II. The effobtb of the scbibes and Phabi-
BEES TO UNDO THIS iNFiiDENCE. Not because they loved men, but because of caste,
of pride, and cold-hearted selfishness. III. Ghbist's mankeb of meetino this
OPPOSITION. He takes every opportunity to overcome their prejudice, and enlighten
their minds, seeking to impress upon them the superior glories of the new dispen*
sation. (W. E. McKay.) Christ receiving sinners: — I, The desceiption of
siNNEBB Cubist will beceite. 1. Sinners of all ages. 2. Sinners of all stations.
3. Sinners of all degrees. II. Into what Jescb beceives sinnebs. 1. Into His
forgiving grace and favour. 2. Into His family. 3. Into His heaven. HI. Thb
WAT AND MANNEB DJ WHICH Cheist BECEIVES SINNEBS. 1. In the Way of acknow-
ledgment and confession. 2. In the way of repentance, or turning from sin. 3.
In the way of humility and faith. Now as to the manner : 1. Most freely. 2.
Most tenderly. 3. Most readily. Application : 1. The subject is one to which
every believer's heart responds. 2. The subject is full of encouragement to the
inquiring sinner. 3. The subject is limited to the present life. Here only He
receives. {J. Burns, D.D.) This man receiveth sinners: — These words were
originally spoken as a reproach against our Lord. 'When we repeat them it is with
widely different feelings. They are to us a message of joy — nay, the only true
grounds of joy and hope to man. I. The febsonb befbbbed to. " This man " :
" sinners." 1. The contrast in its most general aspect. They — '• sinners " — evil-
doers, violators of God's law. He — " holy ; separate from sinners." 2. Take the
outward life of both. His — faultless, beneficent. Theirs — the reverse. 3. Con-
sider the spirit of His life, and of theirs. Perfect love and confidence in God ;
perfect love and devotion to the good of man. They, governed by selfishness ;
destitute of faith ; living under influence of impulse, passion, &g. U. The bela-
TION EXPBESSED BETWEEN THESE TWO CLASSES OF PEBSONS. 1. What should yoU
expect? A man is known by his companions. Like seeks like. 2. Yet, Ha
receiveth sinners. (1) To mercy and pardon. (2) To grace and guidance. (3) To
love and friendship. 3. And all this He does (1) freely ; (2) readily ; (3) eternally.
III. What is oub inteeest in this subject ? 1. To some, none. But why, and
how ? Are they not sinners ? How, then, can they be saved ♦ Is there another who
can thus receive? 2. Do yon fear to come? Why? Consider His words of invi-
tation and promise. Consider His acts of welcome and beneficence. 3. Are we
received? See that you never abandon His protection. {W. R. Clark, M.A.)
Christ receiving sinners : — I. Who it is that beceiveth sinners ? 1. " This man."
That Christ was " man," may easily be shown from the united and ample testimony
of Scripture. Bevelation makes no attempt to conceal this fact. It treats it as a
matter that is necessary to be known, and as fully and readily to be believed, as
His essential and eternal divinity. Godhead without manhood could have effected
no atonement for the world's transgression. 2. But " this man " was Divine, He
was God "manifested in the flesh," combined all the glory of the Deity with all
the weakness of man — all the infirmities of the creature — with acts and attributes
splendid and incomprehensible 1 He was frail as flesh, yet omnipotent as God.
Thus was our nature infinitely enriched, though sin had beggared it of all worth.
3. " This man " gave to the universe the most amiable, attractive, and stupendous
manifestation of the Deity ever witnessed, a *• manifestation " altogether different
from any which had been previously afforded. Here was no throne of sapphire,
no city of pearl, no retinue of celestials, no blaze of unapproachable brightness, no
footpath on the firmament, no chariot rolling " on the wings of the wind," and
studded with the stars of the skies. The majestic symbols of the presence and
power of the Infinite were kept back, and here was man in -veakness. destitution.
«HAP. w.] 8T. LUKE. n
reproach, saffering, and death. " This man " showed how low the Deity coaM
Btoop, bow much the Deity could love, how infinitely the Deity could redeem,
with what frail and broken things the Deity could rebuild His moral universe. II.
How THIS MAN BECEivsTH siMNEBS. I. He " received " them universally ; His arms
of love are ready to embrace all. 2. " Christ received sinners " without upbraiding
them on account of their sins. S. Observe the dehghtful and blessed certainty
that •♦ sinners " have of being •♦ received " by Him. IH. What does Ghbist's
BxcEPTiON OF siNNEBs coMPKEHEND 7 To what are they received? The world
receives its votaries, but only to oppress them with its vexations and vanities.
Satan receives sinners, but oi^y to slavery and wretchedness. Doth Christ receive
them f It is — 1. To a state of reconciliation with Himself ; He casts around them
His Divine complacency, makes and calls them " His friends." 2. Christ " receives
sinners " into a state of holiness. He sanctifies all the powers of the intellect, all
the affections of the heart, and all the actions of the life. 3. Christ "receives "
them under the special protection and guidance of His providence. They rest under
the pavilion of the Almighty Bedeemer, are encircled as with a wall of fire, and
fenced round and defended by the angels of glory. 4. Christ " receives " them into
the full immunities of His kingdom of grace. In that kingdom " aU things are
theirs." 5. Christ "receives the sinners "He thus sanctifies and blesses into
heaven. This is the last and greatest gift of God in Christ. This will perfect
every holy principle and every religious joy. (S. Horton.) Jeaua receiving
tinners : — I. The words, as they were intended, contain a false and malicious
CALUMNY. " This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." The fact itself
was undeniable : but what interpretation did the Pharisees wish to put upon it ?
1. They meant to insinuate that the followers of Jesus consisted chiefly of worth-
less and disreputable characters ; and this was false. 2. These murmurers meant
to insinuate, further, that Jesus loved the company of sinners for its own sake ; and
this again was false. 3. Or, perhaps, they meant to insinuate, that those whom Ha
favourably received continued sinners still ; and this was as false as the rest. U.
The same words undesignedly express a most glorious truth. They truly
describe — 1. The persons on whose behalf the Son of Man is interested — " This
man receiveth sinners." (1) None but sinners — among the race of Adam, at least
— have any concern or part in Jesus Christ. (2) The vilest of sinners are not shut
out from partaking in that mercy, which is equally needful to the most virtuous.
(3) Once more — sin still dwelleth even in those who have partaken of the mercy of
Christ ; yet doth He not cast them oS. And why 7 Because He is not displeased
to behold sin in His followers ? God forbid ! No — but because He delights to see
them " fighting manfully " against it, and gradually overcoming it through the
power of His grace. 2. The regard which He shows toward them — He " receiveth
them, and eateth with them." (1) He receives them to His own favour, and to that
of His Father. (2) He receives them to spiritual communion with Himself, and with
His Father. (3) He receives them, finally, to His visible presence in the kingdom
of His Father. (cT". Jowett, M.A.) Christ receiving tinners : — I. The impious
CALUMNY intended. You all kuow that the proverb has been accepted in all ages,
and clothed in all languages, " A man may be ever known by his associates." Tell
me his friendships, and I will tell you his nature, for according to his companion-
ships must be his character. Now these Fhari sees would force home this proverb
upon the holy Saviour. Could He come forth from that Father's bosom, could He
have just stepped into this naughty world out of that world of holy love, and not
be the Friend of publicans and sinners ? — ay, the very best Friend they ever had,
for He came to seek and to save the chief, as He said most feelingly who had not
been a publican and a sinner, but a Pharisee and a sinner. This shall be to eternity
His praise and glory. But then it is said, or it is thought, by Bome Pharisees
and scribes, that such a reception of the sinner is a patronage of his sin — that
Buch • gospel of free grace has a perilous tendency to release man from moral
duty ; that if good works do not enter into the ground of the sinner's salvation,
no obligation remains for the performance of them by the man — just as these
Pharisees implied that receiving sinners was to be a patron of their sin. Befute this
error whenever it shows itself, as the Lord refuted the slander of the scribes — by
the revealed mind of God. I m^an by the pure word of Scripture ; on the one hand
saying, "Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according onto
His mercy He saved us " ; and on the other hand affirming " That faith ab^nald.
work by love." IL The precious truth asserted. The eater never did bring
forth such sweetness as when this testimony was extorted from wicked men. Why
72 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cm*, xw.
this revelation of the Father's will ? My brethren, the great foandation of all
Divine revelation, from the forfeiture of Paradise downward through all its pro-
phecies, and through all its promises, the great foundation of all revelation lies in
this httle fact, " God receives sinners." Open your Bible, read through the Scrip-
ture ; it gives you the character of God. Surely the errand of the beloved Son must
be in harmony with that character. Listen ! hear the declaration of your Father's
mind : " I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord." Listen
to the exhortations of your Father's love : " Let the wicked forsake his way, and
the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let Him return unto the Lord, and He will
have mercy upon him ; and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon." Listen
to the proclamation of His own name : " The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and
gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for
thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin." Hear His promise : " I
have blotted out as a thick cloud thy transgressions, and as a cloud thy sins : return
unto Me; for I have redeemed thee." Hear His remonstrance: "How shall I give thee
up, Ephraim ? how shall I deliver thee, Israel? how shall I make thee as Admahf
how shall I set thee as Zeboim ? Mine heart is turned within Me, My repentings
are kindled together. I will not execute the fierceness of Mine anger, I will not
return to destroy Ephraim ; for I am God, and not man." Oh I declarations,
expostulations, proclamations, promises, remonstrances, surely these must have
their sign and seal in Him, of whom it was said, " See Him, and yon see the
Father" ; of whom it could be said, "The voice of those human lips is the very
echo of the voice of God." {J. P. Eyre, M.A.) The approachableness of Jesus : —
I. First let us prove the approachableness op Christ, though it really needs no
proof, for it is a fact which lies upon the surface of His life. 1. You may see it
conspicuously in His offices. Our Lord Jesus is said to be the Mediator between
God and man. Now, observe, that the office of mediator implies at once that he
should be approachable. Another of His offices is that of priest. The priest was
the true brother of the people, chosen from among themselves, at all times to be
approached ; living in their midst, in the very centre of the camp, ready to make
intercession for the sinful and the sorrowful. So is it with our Lord. You may be
separated from all of human kind, justly and righteously, by your iniquities, but
you are not separated from that great Friend of sinners who at this very time is
willing that publicans and sinners should draw near unto Him. As a third office
let me mention that the Lord Jesus is our Saviour ; but I see not how He can be a
Saviour unless He can be approached by those who need to be saved. 2. Consider
a few of His names and titles. Frequently Jesus is called the "Lamb." I do not
suppose there is any one here who was ever afraid of a lamb ; that little girl
yonder, if she saw a lamb, would not be frightened. Every child seems almost
instinctively to long to put its hand on the head of a lamb. 0 that you might
come and put your hand on the head of Christ, the Lamb of God that taketh away
the sin of the world. Again, you find Him called a Shepherd : no one is afraid of
a shepherd. Timid, foolish, and wandering though you may be, there is nothing
in the Good Shepherd to drive you away from Him, but everything to entice you to
come to Him. Then again. He is called our Brother, and one always feels that
he may approach his brother. I have no thought of trouble or distress which I
would hesitate to communicate to my brother, because he is so good and kind.
Brethren, you can come to the good elder Brother at all hours ; and when He blames
you for coming, let me know. He is called, too, a Friend ; but He would be a very
unfriendly friend who could not be approached by those He professed to love. If
my friend puts a hedge around himself, and holds himself so very dignified that I
may not speak with him, I would rather be without his friendship ; but if he be a
genuine friend, and I stand at his door knocking, he will say, " Come in, and wel-
come ; what can I do for you ? " Such a friend is Jesus Christ He is to be met
with by all needy, seeking hearts. 3. There is room enough for enlargement
here, but I have no time to say more, therefore I will give you another plea,
Becollect His person. The person of our Lord Jesus Christ proclaims this tnith
with a trumpet voice. I say His person, because He is man, born of woman, bone
of our bone, and fiesh of our flesh. 4. If this suffice not, let me here remind yoa
of the language of Christ. He proclaims His approachability in such words as
these, " Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give yoa
rest." 6. The old proverb truly saith that " actions speak louder than words,' and
therefore let ns review the general ways and manners of the Redeemer. Yon may
gather that He is the most approachable of persons from the actions of His lile.
CHAP. TV.] 8T. LUKE. 73
He was always very bnsy, and bnsy about the most important of matters, and yet
He never shut the door in the face of any applicant. Not once was He harsh and
repulsive. His whole life proves the truth of the prophecy, " The bruised reed He
will not break, and the smoking flax He will not quench." 6. But, if you want the
crowning argument, look yonder. The man who has lived a life of service, at last
dies a felon's death I The cross of Christ should be the centre to which all hearts
are drawn, the focus of desire, the pivot of hope, the anchorage of faith. Surely,
you need not be afraid to come to Him who went to Calvary for siimers. II. I now
shall proceed, with as great brevity as I can command, to ilIiTtbtbate this qbbat
TBUTH. 1. I illustrate it by the way which Christ opens up for sinners to Himself.
The coming to Jesus which saves the soul is a simple reliance on Him. 2. Thi><
truth is further illustrated by the help which He gives to coming sinners, in order
to bring them near to Himself. He it is who first makes them coming sinners. 8.
I might further illustrate this to the children of God, by reminding you of the way
in which you now commune with your Lord. How easy it is for you to reach His
ear and His heart 1 A prayer, a sigh, a tear, a groan, will admit you into the
King's chambers. 4. The approachableness of Christ may also be seen in the fact
of His receiving the poor offerings of His people. 5. The ordinances wear upon
their forefront the impress of an ever approachable Saviour. Baptism in outward
typesets forth our fellowship with BLim in His death, burial, and resurrection-
what can be nearer than this ? The Lord's supper in visible symbol invites ue to
eat His flesh and drink His blood : this reveals to us most clearly how welcome sse
are to the most intimate intercourse with Jesus. IH. In the third place, we come
TO ENFORCE THIS TBUTH ; or, as the old Puritans used to say, improve it. 1. The
first enforcement I give is this : let those of us who are working for the Maeter iu
Boul-winning, try to be be like Christ in this matter, and not be, as some are apt
to be, proud, stuck-up, distant, or formal. 2. There is this to be said to yon who
are unconverted — if Jesus Christ be so approachable, oh 1 how I wish, how I wish
that you would approach Him. There are no bolts upon His doors, no barred iron
gates to pass, no big dogs to keep you back. If Christ be so approachable by all
needy ones, then needy one, come and welcome. Come just now I 3. The last
word is — if Jesus be such a Saviour as we have described Him, let saints and
sinners join to praise Him. (C H. Spurgeon.) Open home for all comers : —
I. Jesus beceivino sinnees. 1. This was and is a great fact — our Lord received,
and stiU receiveth sinners. A philosopher wrote over the door of his academy,
•' He that is not learned, let him not enter here " ; but Jesus speaketh by Wisdom
in the Proverbs, and says " Whoso is simple, let him turn in hither: as for him
that wanteth understanding, let him eat of My bread, and drink of the wine which
I have^mingled " (Prov. ix. 4, 6). He receives sinners as His disciples, companions,
friends. " This man receiveth sinners " ; not, however, that they may remain
sinners, but to pardon their sins, to justify their persons, to cleanse their hearts by
the Holy Spirit. 2. I want your attention to another thought — namely, the con-
sistency of this fact. It is a most consistent and proper thing that this man should
receive sinners. If you and I reflect awhile we shall remember that the types
which were set forth concerning Christ all seem to teach us that He must receive
sinners. One of the earliest types of the Saviour was Noah's ark, by which a cer-
tfin company not only of men but also of the lowest animals were preserved from
perishing by water, and were floated out of the old world into the new. Moreover,
the Master has been pleased to take to Himself one or two titles which imply that
He came to receive sinners. He takes the title of Physician, but as He told the«e
very Pharisees a little while before, " The whole have no need of a physician, but
they that are sick." There is no practice for the physician in a neighbourhood
where every man is well. 3. Observe the condescension of this fact. This man,
who towers above all other men, holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from
■inners — this man receiveth sinners. 4. Notice the certainty of this fact. 6. Do
observe the unquahfied sense in which the sentence is put, " This man receiveth
sinners." But how? What sort of sinners ? How are they to feel 7 How are they to
come ? Not a word is said about their coming, or their preparation, but simply,
"This man receiveth sinners." One man came on his bed — indeed, he did not
come, but was brought by other people ; Jesus received him all the same for that.
n. Now, I wanted to have spoken upon the second head, but I have not had
lufficient forethought to store up the time, so we must only say of that just this :
that Jesus Christ having once received sinners, enters into the most familiar and
endearing intercourse with them that is possible. Hs fxasts with thbk — their
74 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOH. [chap, xf,
joye are His joys, their work for God is His work for God. He feasts with them at
their table, and they with Him at His table ; and He does this wherever the table
JB spread. It may be in a garret, or in a cellar ; in a wilderness, or on a moun-
tain ; He still eateth with them. This He does now in the ordinances and means
of grace by His Spirit ; and this He will do in the fulness of glory, when He takes
these sinners np to dwell with Him. (Ibid.) An appeal to sinners : — Many a true
word has been spoken in jest, and many a true word has been spoken in slander.
Now the scribes and Pharisees wished to slander Christ ; but in bo doing they oat-
stripped their intentions, and bestowed upon Him a title of renown, I. First,
then, THE DOCTRINE. The doctrine is, not that Christ receiveth everybody, bat
that He " receiveth sinners." Christ receives not the self-righteous, not the good,
not the whole-hearted, not those who dream that they do not need a Saviour, but
The broken in spirit, the contrite in heart — those who are ready to confess that
they have broken God's laws, and have merited His displeasure. Now, let us
remark, thab there is a very wise distinction on the part of God, that He hath
been pleased thus to choose and call sinners to repentance, and not others.
For this reason, none but these ever do come to Him. There has never been such
a miracle as a self-righteous man coming to Christ for mercy ; none but those who
want a Saviour ever did come, and therefore it would be useless for Him to say
that He would receive any but those who most assuredly will come. And mark,
again, none but those can come ; no man can come to Christ until he truly knows
himself to be a sinner. The self-righteous man cannot come to Christ ; for what
is implied in coming to Christ ? Bepentance, trust in His mercy, and the denial
of all confidence in one's self. His very self-righteousness fetters his foot, so that
he cannot come ; palsies his arm, so that he cannot take hold of Christ ; and
blinds his eye, so that he cannot see the Saviour. Tet another reason : if these
people, who are not sinners, would come to Christ, Christ would get no glory from
them. When the physician openeth his door for those who are sick, let me go
there full of health ; he can win no honour from me, because he cannot exert his
skin upon me. The benevolent man may distribute all his wealth to the poor ;
but let some one go to him who has abundance, and he shall win no esteem from
him for feeding the hungry, or for clothing the naked, since the applicant is neither
hungry nor naked. A great sinner brings great glory to Christ when he is saved,
n. Now, then, the bncookaoement. If this Man receiveth sinners, poor SM-sick
sinner, what a sweet word this is for thee ! Sure, then. He will not rrjftci thee.
Come, let me encourage thee this night to come to my Master, to receive iiiig great
atonement, and to be clothed with all His righteousness. Mark, tho«se whom I
address are the bona fide, real, actual sinners, not the complimentarj sinners, not
those who say they are sinners by way of pacifying, as they ;^uppose, the
leligionists of the day ; but I speak to those who feel their lost, ruined, hopeless
condition. Come, because He has said He will receive you. I know your fears ;
we all felt them once, when we were coming to Christ, Doth not this suffice
thee ? Then here is another reason. I am sure " this Man receiveth sinners,"
because He has received many, many before yon. See, there is Mercy's door ;
mark how many have been to it ; you can almost hear the knocks upon the door
now, like echoes of the past. Yoa may remember how many wayworn travellers
have called there for rest, how many famished souls have applied there for bread.
Go, knock at Mercy's door, and ask the porter this question, " Was there ever one
applied to the door that was refused ? " I can assure you of the answer : " No,
not one." III. Now the last point is an exhobtation. If it be true that Christ
came only to save sinners, my beloved hearers, labour, strive, agonize, to get a
sense in your souls of your own sinnership. {Ibid.) Christ receives all: — In the
New Testament the Lord seems to have selected some of every kind and class to
show that He will receive all. 1. He will receive the rich — Joseph of Arimathea.
2. The poor — Lazaras the beggar. 8. The learned — Dionysius the Areopagite,
4. Physicians— Luke. 6. Soldiers — the Boman centurion. 6. Fishermen — th«
apostles. 7. Extortioners — Zaccheas. 8. Tax-gatherers — Matthew. 9. Thieves
— the dying robber. 10. Harlots — the woman who was a sinner. 11. Adulterers
— the woman of Samaria. 12. Persecutors and murderers — Paul. 13 Back-
sliders— Peter. 14. Persons in trade — Lydia. 15. Statesmen and courtiers—
the eunuch of Ethiopia. 16. Families — ^that at Bethany. 17. Whole multitudes —
those on Day of Pentecost. (Van Doren.) Christ^s treatment of sinners : — There
are two classes of sins. There are some sins by which man ornshes, wounds,
xnalevolently injares his brother man : those sins which speak of a bad, tyrannioaL
CHAP. XT.] ST. LUKE. 78
and selfish heart. Christ met those with denunciation. There are other sins by
•which a man injures himself. There is a life of reckless indulgence ; there is a
career of yielding to ungovernable propensities, which most surely conducts to
wretchedness and ruin, but makes a man an object of compassion rather than of
condemnation. The reception which sinners of this class met from Christ was
marked by strange and pitying mercy. There was no maudlin sentiment on His
lips. He called sin sin, and guilt guilt. But yet there were sins which His lips
scourged, and others over which, containing in themselves their own scourge, His
heart bled. That which was melancholy, and marred, and miserable in this world,
was more congenial to the heart of Christ than that which was proudly happy. It
was in the midst of a triumph, and all the pride of a procession, that He paused
to weep over ruined Jerusalem. And if we ask the reason why the character of
Christ was marked by this melancholy condescension, it is that He was in the
midst of a world of ruins, and there was nothing there to gladden, but very much
to touch with grief. He was here to restore that which was broken down and
crumbling into decay. An enthusiastic antiquarian, standing amidst the frag-
ments of an ancient temple surrounded by dust and moss, broken pillar, and
defaced architrave, with magnificent projects in his mind of restoring all this to
former majesty, to draw out to light from mere rubbish the ruined glories, and
therefore stooping down amongst the dank ivy and the rank nettles ; such was
Christ amidst the wreck of human nature. He was striving to lift it out of its
degradation. He was searching out in revolting places that which had fallen
down, that He might build it up again in fair proportions a holy temple to the
Lord. Therefore He laboured among the guilty ; therefore He was the companion
of outcasts ; therefore He spoke tenderly and lovingly to those whom society
counted undone. (F. W. Robertson, M. A.) Christ's demeanour towards xinners : —
The heathen philosopher Seneca made a practice of dining with his slaves, and
whea challenged for an innovation so directly in the teeth of all customary pro-
prieties and so offensive to the Boman mind, he defended himself by saying
that he dined with some because they were worthy of his esteem, and with others
that they might become so. The action and its defence was alike admirable, and
read a salutary lesson to the aristocrats of Bome. But it was even a greater
shook to the Pharisees, and if possible even more unaccountable, that Jesus should
prefer the society of notorious sinners to their own irreproachable manners and
decorous conversation. They could not understand why a teacher of holy life,
instead of frowning upon the notoriously profligate, should show a preference for
their society. Our Lord's explanation is ample and thorough. He devotes, there-
fore, the three parables recorded in this chapter to this purpose. It is perhaps
worth remarking that on one point He felt that no explanation was required.
Even the Pharisees did not suspect Him of any sympathy with sin. These critics
of His conduct had not failed to remark that in His presence the daring profanity
and audacious license of wicked men were tamed. Those who so narrowly
criticized our Lord's conduct might have seen its reasonableness had they been
able to look at it from another point of view. With equal surprise they might
have exclaimed : " Sinners receive this Man and eat with Him." These dissolute
and lawless characters could themselves have explained the change. They were
attracted to Jesns, because together with unmistakable sanctity, and even somehow
appearing as the chief feature of His sanctity, there was an understanding of the
sinner's position and a hopefulness about him which threw a hitherto unknown
spell over them. Separate from sinners, as they had never before felt any one to
be. He seemed to come closer to their heart by far than any other had come. He
had a heart open to all their troubles. He saw them through and through, and
yet showed no loathing, no scorn, no astonishment, no perplexity, no weariness.
Instead of meeting them with upbraiding and showing them all they had lost. He
gave them immediate entrance into His own pure, deep, efficient love, and
gladdened their hearts with a sense of what they yet had in Him. Therefore men
whose seared conscience felt no other touch, who had a ready scoff for every other
form of holiness, admitted this new power and yielded to it. The contrast
between this new attitude of a holy person towards the sinner and that to which
men had commonly been accustomed has been finely described in the following
words: "He who thought most seriously of the disease held it to be curable;
while those who thought less seriously of it pronounced it incurable. Those who
loved their race a little made war to the knife against its enemies and oppressors ;
He who lov«d it lo maeCi as to die for it made overtures of peace to them. Tb*
76 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. rr.
half-just judge punished the convicted criminal ; the thoroughly ju?t judge offered
him forgiveness. Perfect justice here appears to take the very course which would be
taken by injustice." It is this, then, that calls for explanation. And it is explained
by onr Lord in three parables, each of which illustrates the fact that a more active
interest in any possession is arroused by the very circumstance that it is lost. I.
The first point, then, suggested by these parables is that God suffers lobs or
BVEBT 6INNEB THAT DEPAETB FEOM HiM. This was what the Pharisees had wholly
left out of account, that God loves men and mourns over every ill that befalls
them. And this is what we find it so hard to believe. II. Secondly, these
parables suggest that the veby fact or oub beimo lost excites action or s
BPEciALLT TENDEB KIND TowABD US. God does not console Himself for onr loss
by the fellowship of those who have constantly loved Him. He does not call new
creatures into being, and so fill up the blank we have made by straying from Him.
He is not a Sovereign who has no personal knowledge of His subjects, nor an
employer of labour who can always get a fresh hand to fill an emptied post : He ia
rather a Shepherd who knows His sheep one by one, a Father who loves His
children individually. He would rather restore the most abandoned sinner than
blot him from his place to substitute an archangel. Love is personal and settles
upon individuals. It is not all the same to God if some other person is saved
while yon are not. These parables thus bring us face to face with the most
significant and fertile of all realities— God's love for us. This love encompasses
you whether you will or no. Love cannot remain indifferent or quiescent. Inter-
ference of a direct and special kind becomes necessary. The normal relations
being disturbed, and man becoming helpless by the disturbance, it falls to God to
restore matters. A new set of ideas and dealings are brought into play. So long
as things go smoothly and men by nature love God and seek to do His will, there
is no anxiety, no meeting of emergencies by unexpected effort, hidden resources,
costly sacrifice. But when sin brings into view all that is tragic, and when utter
destmction seems to be man's appointed destiny, there is called into exercise the
deepest tenderness, the utmost power of the Divine nature. Here where the
profonndest feeling of God is concerned, where His connection with His own
children is threatened, Divinity is stirred to its utmost. This appears, among
other things, in the spontaneity and persistence of the search God institutes for
the lost. III. The third point illustrated by these parables is the exceeding jot
CONSEQUENT ON THE BESTOBATiON Or THE BiNNEB. " Joy shall be in hcaven over
one sinner that repenteth more than over ninety and nine just persons which need
no repentance." The joy is greater, because the effort to bring it about has been
greater, and because for a time the result has been in suspense, so that when the
end is attained tiiere is a sense of clear gain. The joy of success is proportioned
to the difficulty, the doubtfulness of attaining it. AH the hazards and sacrifices
of the search are repaid by the recovery of the lost. The value of the unfallen
soul may intrinsically be greater than the value of the redeemed ; but the joy is
proportioned, not to the value of the article, but to the amount of anxiety that has
been spent upon it. (M. Dods, D.D.) The devil's castaway » received by Christ : —
" Mr. Whitfield," said Lady Huntingdon, " these ladies have been preferring a very
heavy charge against you. They say that in your sermon last night you made use
of this expression : " So ready is Christ to receive sinners who come to Him, that
He is willing to receive the devil's castaways.' " Mr. Whitfield pleaded guilty to
the charge, and told them of the following circumstance. " A wretched woman
came to me this morning, and said : ' Sir, I was passing the door of your chapel,
and hearing the voice of some one preaching, I did what I have never been in the
habit of doing, I went in 1 and one of the first things I heard yon say was that
Jesus would receive vtdllingly the devil's castaways. Sir, I have been in the town
for many years, and am so worn out in his service, that I may with truth be called
one of the devil's castaways. Do you think that Jesus would receiva me ? ' I,"
said Mr. Whitfield, "assured her that there was not a doubt of it, if she was
willing to go to Him." From the sequel it appeared that this was a case of true
conversion, and Lady Huntingdon was assured that the woman left a very charm-
ing testimony behind her, that though her sins had been of a crimson hue, the
atoning blood of Christ had washed them white as snow. Publican* and sinnert
drawn to Christ; or^ the wisdom of gentleness ! — Eigorous courses hath ordinarily
produced sad effects. Thou seest that those drops that fall easily upon the eom
ripen and fill the ear, but the stormy showers that fall with violence beat the stalkt
down flat upon tiie earth, which being once laid, are afterwards kept down without
CHAP. xv.J ST. LUKE. 77
hope of recovery through weeds' embracementa. Hare you never known any that
have been sent faulty to the jail who have returned flagitious and vile ? {N.
Roger$.) The worst capable of much : — White paper is made of dunghUl rag3.
God can bo work the heart of the vilest wretch with beating and purifying as it
shall be fit to write His laws upon. (^Ibid.) Murmuring : — Murmuring is a sin
betwixt secret backbiting and open railing ; a smothered malice which can neither
utterly be concealed, nor dare openly be vented. Eemedies against this evil : First,
keep thy heart from pride, envy, passion, for from hence flows murmuring, malignity,
whispering. Seldom do we murmur at those below us, but above us. {Ibid.)
Vers. 8-7. What man of you, having an hundred sheep. — Lost, sought, found : —
The three parables in this chapter fall into two sections, each setting forth sepa-
rately one-half of a great truth, and both in combination exhibiting the whole. 1.
The first two parables illustrate conversion on its Divine side. Christ had to seek
these lost publicans and sinners in order to find them. 2. The third parable
illustrates conversion on its human side, and was intended to imply that these
publicans and sinners would never have been received by Christ unless they had
sought Him. 8. The three parables combined illustrate conversion on both its
Divine and human sides, and, consequently, the complete truth: God seeking
man, and man seeking God ; and the twofold search rewarded, by God and man
finding each other. I. Lost. 1. In the first parable the loss falls mainly on what
is lost. By sin (1) man loses himself ; (2) man loses protection ; (3) man loses
comfort. 2. In the second parable the loss is sustained exclusively by the owner,
and is considerable. One out of ten pieces. (1) The piece of silver was lost in the
house, not in the street. (2) The piece of silver was lost to usefulness. 3. In the
third parable we have a double loss. The nature and extent of the loss reach their
cUmax here. Of two sons the father loses one — the loss of one-half as against the
loss of one-tenth or one-hundredth. The son has only one father ; and losing him
he loses all. (1) Measure God's loss, as represented in this parable. Man is lost
to Him not by death, but by depravity, which is far worse. (2) Consider man's
loss. No possible compensation. The loss of God is the poverty, the forsakenness,
the degradation, the bondage of the soul. II. Socoht. 1. In the first two
parables the seekers are Divine. Let us endeavour to trace them. (1) The shep-
herd represents (a) the self-sacrificing seeker ; {b) the persevering seeKer. (2) The
woman represents the careful and painutaking seeker. How suggestive of the
minute and searching work of the Holy Spirit — Christ's fan and Christ's fire.
2. The seeker in the last parable is htjman, and it is just here that all experience,
and the plan of salvation laid down in Scripture, would lead us to expect to
find him, and exactly as here portrayed. Now we see where the other parables
have been leading us, and to understand that theur help is imperatively required.
For notice— (1) Light dawns upon the prodigal and conviction pierces his soul.
He passes through three preliminary states of experience as a lost man. First,
danger and misery, when he begins to be in want ; then uselessness and degrada-
tion, when he is sent into the fields to feed swine ; and, finally, guilt, when he
says, " I have sinned." (2) Hope now arises within his convinced and enlightened
soul. How is this hope to be accounted for? Undoubtedly on the ground that the
person he had sinned against was his father. But the moment it arose it would be
confronted by a variety of opposing forces. The very thought of this filial rela-
tionship would summon before the memory the fact that it had been broken by an
unpardonable outrage on a father's love. Conscience, again, would discourage the
hope by urging the necessity of a now impossible reparation. And reason would
finally tend to crush it by representing the folly of return now that having had, and
having spent his portion, there was nothing to return for. It is well to remember
all this. God is indeed our Father, and in that fact lies the sinner's hope to-day.
Bat how much there is to hinder us from taking advantage of it I " God is my
Father, but I have disowned Him. He has lavished His gifts upon me, but I have
wasted them. What, then, can I expect but rejection if I return f " And yet the
hope survives. The sinner still clings, and clings desperately, to the fact that God
is hia Father. Where did he get it from f Not from Nature, not by intuition, not
through the deliverances of consciousness or the processes of deduction. From any
one or all of these sources man may get his idea of God, but not his idea of a
heavenly Father. No sinner ever said " My Father " until Christ taught him to do
■o. One voice, and one alone, has proclaimed this relationship, and thus formed
the basis for the sinner's hope — namely. His who said : " No man oometh to the
78 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xfv
Father but by Me." And to maintain this struggling hope against contending
forces is the Good Shepherd's work. (3) The prodigal returns — the last stage, and
the one without which all the others are traversed in vain. The strongest convic-
tion o£ our sinfulness, the deepest remorse for it, and the clearest knowledge of th»
•way out of it will avail nothing unless we arise and go to our Father. III. Found.
1. Notice the finding. The shepherd finds the sheep, the woman the piece ol
silver, the father and the son each other. Christ has found the sinner and dona
what He, as the Good Shepherd, alone could do, opened and revealed the way back
to God, encouraged the sinner to return, and provided the basis of reconciliation.
The Holy Spirit has found the sinner and done what He, as the careful and pains-
taking Seeker, alone could do, wrought conviction and repentance. The sinner
now does what neither Christ nor the Holy Spirit can do for him, but, with th»
help of both, finds the Father, to the peace and joy of his soul. The train of
evangelical thought is now complete, and this trinity of parables made to illustrate
the work of the Blessed Trinity in converting the sinner from the error of his way,
2. Notice the finding as it is regarded by heaven and earth. (1) The father receives
the son with every demonstration of love and joy. (2) There is joy in the presence
of the angels of God. And this joy is quite natural, for, first, the angels ar»
perfectly pure and unselfish beings, and therefore spontaneously rejoice in th&
felicity of others. Then, again, they move eternally within that sphere the centre
of which is the source of blessedness, and, therefore, dehght to see wretched men
brought into fellowship with the blessed God. And, lastly, much of their happiness
consists in doing God's will. (3) All this, however, is in marked contrast with the
conduct of the elder brother who "was angry and would not come in " to join in.
the general joy. He even repudiated the relationship of his brother, and con-
temptuously referred to him in his father's presence as " this thy ton." He
ventured to do what the father never did, threw the past in his teeth, and
begrudged the hospitality which the poor starveling received. Who is this elder
brother ? Without question the Pharisee, either Jew or Christian. The men who
stand aloof from their prodigal brethren, and who reproduce in onr day the old,
hard, sectarian, loveless spirit, are those who are here condemned. The man wha
revels in his father's bounty, who plumes himself on his own worthiness of it, who
will not share it, is the elder brother and the Pharisee. (J. W. Burn.) Lost
and found: — I. The cibcomstances. 1. The scene. 2. The classes that were
attracted by Jesus (ver. 1). 3. The classes that were not drawn to Jesus (ver. 2).
Eeputable and scrupulous, but fault-finding, narrow-minded, and bigoted. II. Thb
TWO PARABLES. 1. Characteristics common to both. (1) Lost souls. (2) A
seeking Saviour. (3) The great joy which the recovery brings both to the heart of
the Eedeemer, and of all who truly love Him. 2. Characteristics peculiar to each.
Lessons : 1. Character is tested by sentiment and sympathy. (1) The character
of our Lord by His gracious sentiments and sympathies for the outcast and the
most depraved. (2) The character of the Pharisees and scribes is seen in their
fault-finding at Jesus for His loving sympathies for those whom they despised.
2. The real condition of mankind is revealed in these parables — Lost. 3. The
nature of Christ's mission is here shown — To save. 4. The twofold method of
salvation is here seen. (1) Christ's personal care. (2) Christ's work through the
Church. 5. The uuiversal sympathy and gladness over the salvation of souls la
beautifully suggested. 6. How does our character stand this test ? (D. C. Hughes,
M.A.) Lost and found: — I. The sinneb lost. II. The sinner valdsd aniv
FiTiBD. III. The binneb sought. IV. The sinneb pound and hbscued. V. Thk
binnkb bestobed and saved. VI. The sinneb saved thb occasion op hbavsnlx
BEjoiciMo. Conclusion : 1. Let the restored and saved give thanks to their
Deliverer. 2. Let the spiritually lost accept, in penitence and faith, the tender
and proffered ministrations of Christ. {J. R. Thomson, M.A.) Third Sunday
after Trinity : — I. Notice the piotubk these pabables pbesent op thb obiginau
PLAN and estate OP THE uNivEBSE. There was once a time when God was pleased
with all that He had made, and when all His creatures were happy in Him. The
universe was once one blessed flock, with the Lord as their Shepherd, all blessed ia
those sequestered realms which knew no blight or tumult of sinful disorder, and
where everything was pervaded with innocence, tranquillity, and peace. A wilder-
ness is not necessarily a desolate and empty place. Any wide, grassy plain, hidden
away from the common world, and ondisturbed in its quiet, would satisfy the
Scriptural use of the word. Such were the favourite pasture-grounds of the
Orientals, and such was the universe of holy beings ere sin had made its disturbing
cauLP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 79
inroads upon it. The starry plains were peopled only with nnfallen creatures,
secure, tranquil, and joyous in the smiles of their Maker. All rational beings were
but one f ock, and their shepherd was God. And the condition of man answered to
this picture. He was as a new piece of silver, bright, precious, and bearing upon
him the image and superscription of the Almighty. There was no darkness in hia
understanding, no perverseness in his heart, no fears, no regrets, no sighs, no pains,
no dimness. II. But this beatttifcl scene was soon succeeded bt anothbb.
A cloud arose upon the sweet morning of our world. One of the happy flock dia-
(ippeared from its fellowship with its comrades. It was lost ; wide-wandering from
the Lord, in a world that smoked with curses and wretchedness. III. Noticb,
THEN, THE MOVEMENTS OF DiVINE COMPASSION FOB THE BECOVEBT OF THE LOST.
There was but one of a hundred gone. Ninety-and-nine remained. But preoions
in the eye of God is even one soul. It is a jewel capable of adding to the glory and
grandeur of heaven. It is a radiant and living ofishoot of Deity, capacitated to live
and shine though stars should languish and expire. Though abused, prostituted,
starved, and ruined by sin, it may still be made a part of the immortal intellect,
heart and life of the universe. And its calamities are not of such a sort but that
infinite Wisdom and Goodness has resources by which God can be just, and yet
receive it again into His favour, the more interesting for ever because of this
disaster. A plan of operation for its recovery has accordingly been instituted.
And wonderful are the steps of the heavenly expedient. The Shepherd Himself
goes after the lost sheep. He does not merely send servants to find it. He comes
Himself. In this going forth is] involved the incarnation and earthly life of the
Lord Jesus Christ, and His whole providence in the Church, and through His word
and sacraments. Or, to use the other figure. He lighteth a candle and personally
searches every dark comer that He may come upon the lost piece which cannot
help itself. This candle is the illuminating Word, which He causeth to shine
aroand and upon us ; and the sweeping which He does is the stir of His providence
and Spirit, moving to touch the hearts of the unfortunate lost. In paradise
already this candle was lit, when God gave promise of a coming Saviour ; and all
through and in His Church, in every age, this sweeping has been going on, and
always for the finding of souls, and the bringing of them to light and salvation.
With a thousand influences He phes men. He sends them the Word of His gospel.
He stirs about their dark resting-places. He disturbs their guilty repose. He
deprives them of their impure attachments. He makes them realize the evil and
bitterness of departing from God. He takes hold upon them by the powers of His
grace. He taketh up every willing one, to strengthen him with His help, and to
beautify him with the sanctification of His Spirit. IV. Notice also the bebult.
The lost sheep is restored. The piece of silver is recovered. Or, exchauging the
imagery of the parables for hteral terms, the sinner is completely changed — re-
turned from bis alienated and lost condition — made a true penitent. This is the
direct object of all the arrangements and ministrations of grace. V. And whebetbb
THIS oocubs thebe is jot. It is the end of gracious interference achieved. It la
the fruit of the travail of 'the Saviour's soul realized. It is the aim of God's most
wonderful works accomplished. And everything is full of gladness. " There is joy
in heaven " ; and the implication is that it is joy throughout heaven, from centre to
fliroumference — ^joy on the throne, and joy in those who serve under it — joy in the
heart of God, and among all the hosts of God — joy for Christ's sake, for the
Eenitent's sake, for heaven's sake — joy that a broken link has been repaired in the
oly creation of God — ^joy that another precious jewel has been added to the orown
of redeeming love — joy that there is born another teuant for the mansions of glory
— joy that another symtom has transpired of the ultimate recovery of all the down-
trodden fields of creation which sin has overrun. (cT'. A. Seiss, D.D.) The
parable of the lost sheep : — I. In the first place, I call attention to this observation :
IHB ONE subject OF THOUGHT to the man who had lost his sheep. This sets forth
to ns the one thought of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd, when He sees
a man lost to holiness and happiness by wandering into sin. The shepherd,
on looking over his little flock of one hundred, can only count ninety-nine.
This one idea possesses him : " a sheep is lost 1 " This agitates his mind more and
more — " a sheep is lost." It masters his every faculty. He cannot eat bread ; he
eannot return to bis home ; he cannot rest while one sheep is lost. To a tender
heart a lost sheep is a painful subject of thought. It is a sheep, and therefore
utterly defenceless now that it has left its defender. And a sheep is of all creatures
the most senseless, and the most shiftless. What iB it which makes the Great
80 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [<m». XT.
Shepherd lay bo mach to His heart the loss of one of His flook ? What is it th«t
makes Him agitated as He reflects upon that Bupposition — " if He lose one of
them "7 1. I think it is, first, because of His property in it. The parable does
not so much speak of a hired shepherd, but of a shepherd proprietor. " What man
of you having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them." The sheep are Christ's,
first, because He chose them from before the foundations of the world — " Ye have
not chosen Me, but I have chosen you." His, next, because the Father gave them
to Him. How He dwells upon that fact in His great prayer in John xvii. : " Thine
they were, and Thou gavest them Me"; "Father, I will that they also, whom
Thou hast given Me, be with Me where I am." We are the Lord's own flock,
furthermore, by His purchase of us ; He says, " I lay down My life for the shafip."
This thought, therefore, presses upon Him, " One of My sheep is lost." * 2.
Secondly, He has yet another reason for this all-absorbing thought — namely, His
great compassion for His lost sheep. The wandering of a soul causes Jesus deep
sorrow ; He cannot bear the thought of its perishing. Such is the love and ten-
derness of His heart that He cannot bear that one of His own should be in
jeopardy. 3. Moreover, the man in the parable had a third relation to the sheep,
which made him possessed with the one thought of its being lost — he was a shep-
herd to it. It was his own sheep, and he had therefore for that very reason become
its shepherd ; and he says to himi^elf, " If I lose one of them my shepherd- work
will be ill-done." What dishonour it would be to a shepherd to lose one of his
eheepl II. Now we come to the second point, and observe the onb object or
BBABCH. This sheep lies on the shepherd's heart, and he must at once set oat to
look for it. 1. Observe here that it is a definite search. The shepherd goes after
the sheep, and after nothing else ; and he has the one particular sheep in his
mind's eye. 2. An all-absorbing search. 3. An active search. 4. A persevering
search. III. Now, we must pass on very briefly to notice a third point. We have
had one subject of thought and one object of search ; now we have onb bdbdkn or
iiOTB. When the seeking is ended, then the saving appears — " When he hath found
it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing." Splendid action this ! How beauti-
fully the parable sets forth the whole of salvation. Some of the old writers delight
to put it thus : in His incarnation He came after the lost sheep ; in His life He
continued to seek it ; in His death He laid it upon His shoulders ; in His resurrec«
tion He bore it on its way, and in His ascension He brought it home rejoicing.
Our Lord's career is a course of soul- winning, a life laid out for His people ; and in
it yon may trace the whole process of salvation. But now, see, the shepherd finds
the sheep, and he layeth it on his shoulders. 1. It is an uplifting action, raising
the fallen one from the earth whereon he hath strayed. It is as though he took the
sheep just as it was, without a word of rebuke, without delay or hesitancy, and
lifted it out of the slough or the briars into a place of safety. 2. This laying on the
shoulders was an appropriating act. He seemed to say, '* You are my sheep, and
therefore I lay yon on my shoulders." 3. More condescending still is another view
of this act : it was a deed of service to the sheep. The sheep is uppermost, the
weight of the sheep is upon the shepherd. The sheep rides, the shepherd is the
burden-bearer. The sheep rests, the shepherd labours. " I am among you as he
that serreth," said our Lord long ago. 4. It was a rest-giving act, very likely
needful to the sheep which could go no further, and was faint and weary. It was
ft full rest to the poor creature if it could have understood it, to feel itself upon its
shepherd's shoulders, irresistibly carried back to safety. What a rest it is to yoa
and to me to know that we are borne along by the eternal power and Godhead of
the Lord Jesus Christ 1 IV. We close by noticing one more matter, which is — tm
ONB souBCB or JOT. This man who had lost his sheep is filled with joy, but his
sheep is the sole source of it. His sheep has so taken up all his thought, and so
commanded all his faculties, that as he found all his care centred upon it, so he
now finds all his joy flowing from it. I invite you to notice the first mention of joy
we get here : " When he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing."
"That is a great load for you, shepherd!" Joyfully he answers, "I am glad to
have it on my shoulders." The mother does not say when she has found her lost
ehild, <* Th's is a heavy load." No ; she presses it to her bosom. She does not
mind how heavy it is ; it is a dear burden to her. She is rejoiced to bear it ones
again. " He layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing." Bemember that text, " Who
for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame."
(G. II. Spurgeon.) Lost and found : — I. Thb sinneb's condition — "Lost." Ths
■tray sheep and the missing silver are the emblems of every unrenewed soul. But
CHAP. XT.] ST. LUKE. aft
men refuse to lie under this imputation. In what do we differ from those whosa
you call Christians ? they ask. We are as upright, honest, and generous as they.
How are we lost ? In what did the lost sheep of the parable differ from the ninety
and nine in the fold ? Not in appearance, but in condition. It was lost because it
had wandered away from the shepherd. The missing piece of silver was coin ot
the realm, as well as the nine safe in the purse ; but it was lost because it was
out of its owner's reach. Sinners are lost, not because they are unlike other men,
but because they are out of right relations to God. II. Thb sinneb's Fbibnd. The
fact that Ood makes any attempt to save lost men proves that He is the sinner's
Friend. What has He to gain by the reclamation of the missing ? He is not so
poor that our restoration will greatly enrich Him. In comparison with the infinite
expanse of His universe, this world is but a bubble of foam on the crest of an ocean
Burge. He has no lack of worshippers and servants. But these parables teach
that there is still more of Divine affection in this search after the lost. IIL Thb
sinner's bbsoub. God's plan of salvation is not a failure. It cost largely to make
the redemption of the soul possible. Before the shepherd could come within reach
of his wandering sheep, he must bruise and weary himself with his rough travel.
Before God could lay the hand of help and healing on any man, the God-man must
be despised and rejected, scourged, mocked, crucified. But none of these things
stop the way ; over them all and through them all the compassionate God presses
on after His lost world " until He find it." IV. The sinneb's bbtobn. " Bejoice
with me." "Joy in the presence," <feo. How happens it that there is such a
contrast between the indifference of earth and the ecstasy of heaven T We here see
things as they are in themselves; those yonder look at them in their relations.
The conversion of a soul is not an isolated matter. It inevitably affects the cha-
racter and condition of multitudes. {E. S. Attwood.) The lost sheep : — I. Thb
LOST SHEEP — THE BiNNEB. 1. Both act in the same manner. 2. Both share the
same fate. II. The Good Shepherd — Jesus Christ. 1. He possesses a numerous
flook, as Creator and as Bedeemer of mankind. 2. However numerous the flock
may be, He is aware of every loss He sustains. (1) His solicitude for every one of
His sheep knows no limits. (2) Being omniscient, He knows all the dangers that
may befall the flock and any of the sheep. 3. He leaves the ninety-nine in the
desert. (1) He does not leave them through carelessness, or without protection.
(2) Our Saviour displayed a greater solicitude for the welfare of the sinner, because
he is in peril of eternal ruin. 4. He goes after that which was lost until He finds
it. (1) Christ goes after the sinner, warning and exhorting him by the voice of
conscience, by inspirations, by the kindness with which He received sinners when
He dwelt visibly among them, by His whole hfe, passion, and death. (2) Christ
searches for the lost sinner, following him over the abysses, through thorns, over
mountains. He searches until He finds him, or until it has become impossible to
find him, because he is lost, because of final obduracy. 6. And when He has found
the sheep, when the sinner does not refuse to seize the hand extended towards him
(1) He lays it upon His shoulders, facilitating the beginning of conversion by impart-
ing abundant graces, so that the sinner is rather carried than proceeds himself. (2)
He carries the sheep home to partake again of the communion of saints. (3) Ho
rejoices, and makes His friends and neighbours rejoice with Him. (Repertorium
Oratoris Sacri.) Parable of the lost sheep : — I. The endangered wanderer.
Man has wandered — 1. From the authority of God. 2. From the family of God!
8. In the way of peril and death. 4. The sinner would wander endlessly, but foi
the intervention of Divine grace. II. The kindly Shepherd. 1. He compas-
sionated man in his fallen and ruined condition. 2. He actually came to seek th(
wanderer. 3. When found He restores him. IH. The joyous results. 1. The
Shepherd rejoices in the attainment of His gracious purposes. 2. Angels rejoice.
3. The restored wanderer rejoices. 4. All spiritual persons acquainted with the
sinner's restoration rejoice. (J. Burnt, D.D.) The lost sheep brought home :—I.
Thb binnbb's natural condition. 1. In want. 2. In danger. 3. Helpless. II, The
'jONDUOT of Christ towards thb sinnbb. 1. He misses him. 2. He seeks him. 3.
He finds him. 4. He bears him home. III. Thb feelinq with which the Great
Shbphbbd or thb Church carries on this blessed wore. Not pity, compas^sion
kindness, nor yet love ; but joy, and joy overflowing : joy so great that the Divine
mind cannot hold it, but must call upon the whole creation to come and share its
abundance. (<7. Bradley, M.A.) The lost sheep: — This is one of those parables
which, by its simplicity, presents the full tenderness of the gospel message to man-
kind, gatiiered, as it were, into a strong focus of emphasis. I. Thb hioh bstiuatb
vol.. m. 6
8S THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. xr.
ENTERTAINED, ON THE PAET OF Jehovah, OF THE SOUL OF MAN. In the narrative of
the sheep, the shepherd is represented as thinking with greater anxiety of the one
straying from his flock, than of the ninety-nine who are safe under his eye. He
feels sure of them, and quits them without apprehension, intent rather upon the
restoration of the one than upon the preservation of the many. We are not to
presume that Christ withdraws His care and His regard from His own people in
His anxiety to add more to His fold. He has never left His true disciples comfort-
less; bat "the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost," abides with them alway.
But the Saviour, when He spoke this parable, wanted to show that His heart was
large enough to love, and His fold was wide enough to hold, both the flock already
gathered and the sheep which had wandered away. H. Look, secondly, at an
expansion of the same idea in the tenberxess of the shepherd in bringing back
THE sheep that WAS LOST. It was passing kind to bring it back at all ; but what a
depth of kindness is there in the manner of that bringing back 1 " When he hath
found it, he layeth it on his shoulders." Oh, my friends, what touching tenderness
is here 1 a tenderness •' passing the love of woman." Have you not often seen a
mother chase a wayward child, and when she overtakes it, seize it with a petulant
clutch, and almost drag it back to the door of the cottage, chiding and sometimes
chastising it the whole way ? But there is no upbraiding here. The wanderer haa
no excuse. He has been ungrateful ; he has broken down the fences which love
had built for his security; he has despised the guardianship which would have
shielded him, he has been obdurate under the mildness which would have gently
governed him ; he has quarrelled with the fare which sovereign bounty had provided
him. But there are none of these things flung sternly in his teeth. There is no
anger in the Shepherd's eye. It is all pity. III. Now look at thb greatness and
COMPLETENESS OF THE RESTORATION. " I have/ouTid that which was lost." " Found"
and "lost," these are the two contrasting words, and their meaning is nnspeakable.
What a losing 1 What a finding 1 It is a rescue from perdition. Not a mere
human estimate of being lost, but God's estimate. And there is a difference between
the two ideas as vast and wide as the difference between the finite and the infinite.
We deem it no small thing to lose the valuable purchase of years of anxiety and
toU ; but what must be Christ's estimate of His own loss, when He feels that He
has lost the purchase of His blood. His pleading, and His prayers ; that human
infatuation has actually torn itself away from the embrace of Calvary ; and that
the coinage of the Cross — the wealth that poured, stamped with a Saviour's crown
of thorns, from Mercy's mint — is cast aside for nought ! And what mast be the
sinner's estimate of his own perdition, when from its darkest depths he feels its
cruellest curse, and has only light enough to see to count the priceless sum at which
his soul was bought, but which he has contemned, and scorned, and flung away !
rV. The REJOICINGS which greet the shepherd's return WITH HIS SHEEP. His
heart is too fall to keep the gladness to himself. There is such ohainless ecstasy
thrilling in his soul that he must have all his friends about him to help him in his
triumphant celebration. ' ' Bejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was
lost." What condescension is there in this sympathy! Oh could we but gauge the
satisfaction with which Jesus will look upon " the travail of His soul," then we
should know something of the depth of the love with which He loves as. Bat the
ocean is too wide for our gaze to see the further shore, it is too deep for oar poor
plummet to fathom. We cannot know the bitterness of the cup He drank to the
foal dregs ; we cannot feel the agony which the sleeping disciples might not watch,
when the drops of blood were sweat npon the ground ; we cannot tell the galling
stab of nail and thorn and spear, nor lift the weight of the rough, crashing cross.
No; we cannot nnderstand the huge encyclopsedia of Calvary, nor study to the
fall profundity of its melting lore the lexicon of dying love; and so we cannot
measure out the joy with which the purchase of that death will be received, and the
trophies of that tragedy be counted up. But we shall be allowed to share in it I
Not only shall we be rejoiced over, bat we shall rejoice over others. (A. Mursell.)
The lo»t theep : — ^Never forget that the whole drama of Bedemption — the Incarna-
tion, the Ministry, the Gross, the Resurrection, the Ascension — was all but one
long search for the lost sheep, and carrying it home rejoicing. The whole race of
man was the lost sheep until Christ found it. All we like sheep bad gone astiaj>
** All the Boals that are were forfeit once,
And He who might the vantage best have took,
Foand oat the remedy."
4nilF. XY.] ST. LUKE. 8a
other eheep were His — millions of spiritual creatures thronging the heaven of
heavens. Bat here was this atom-world, floating on the infinite bosom of th«
bright and boundless air, the ruined habitation of a fallen race. To this poor
ruined atom-world He came down all these steps of the infinite descent. "Why ?
Because God is love. L Let us aIjIi be pitiful. As for sin, indeed, we cannot
hate it too much. But for the sinner we should feel nothing but compassion. 11.
Let none despaib. None has sinned too deeply to be forgiven. Come to Christ
with your burden. There is heavenly medicine ; there is lustral water at the
wicket gate. III. Think koble thoughts of God. {Archdeacon Farrar.) The
lost sheep : — L There is, first, God's teaening oveb the sinneb. Usually, in de-
picting a lost sinner, we dwell on the miseries which he has brought upon himself, and
the blessings which he himself has forfeited. But this and the succeeding parables
differ from the ordinary representations of the subject, in that they set before us
the loss which God has sustained in the wandering and rebellion of His children.
This view of the matter may well give careless sinners food for serious reflection.
You are God's. By virtue of your very creaturehood you belong to Him. Your
hearts, your lives, your service, ought all to be given to Him ; but they are not,
and this is no mere thing of indiflereuce to Him. He misses you. He, on whom
the universe hangs, and who might well be excused if He had no concern for yon,
misses your love. He hungers for your affection. Yea, He has used means of the
most costly character to find you out, and to bring you back. Why will you con-
tinue to disregard Him ? II. But, in the second place, we have here set before us
THE sikneb's own HELPLESSNESS. He is like a lost sheep. Now, while, as we have
seen, this means that God has lost him, we must not forget that, on the other side
of it, the analogy also bears that the sinner has lost himself. There are few more
helpless creatures than a wandered sheep. It is, comparatively speaking, an easy
thing to convince the sinner of his guilt, bat it is a hard matter to get hun to own
bis helplessness. He will persist in attempting his own deliverance. He will seek
to satisfy God's law for himself, and to find his own way back to happiness. The
sheep will run to the shepherd when he appears, and welcome him as its helper,
looking up in dumb gratitude into his face. But the sinner, in this respect more
stupid even than the sheep, too often runs from the Shepherd and will have none
of His assistance. III. We have here, in the third place, the ueans used fob thb
sinneb's becovebt. All the way from heaven to Calvary Jesus came to seek lost
sinners. He was going after that which was lost when He sat by the well of
Bychar, and conversed with the woman of Samaria ; when He called Matthew in
His toll-booth, and when He summoned Zaccheus from the branch of the sycamore-
tree whereon he was perched. He was going after that which was lost when He
iBhed forth His Spirit upon Pentecost, and inspired His servants to proclaim His
truth with power ; and He is still going after that which is lost in the events of His
providence, whereby He rouses the careless to reflection ; in the searching words of
His earnest ministers, who statedly declare His love, and speak home to the hearts of
their fellow-men ; and in the strivings of His spirit, whereby, often when they can
give no account of the matter, men's minds are strangely turned in the direction of
salvation. But we must hasten on to describe the finding. When, it may be
asked, is a sinner found by Christ? The answer is, When, on his side, the sinner
finds Christ. What is seen in heaven is Christ laying His loving hand upon the
sinner, and the angels hear Him, saying — '* I have found that which was lost " ;
but what is seen on earth, is the sinner laying his beheving hand on Christ, and
men hear him crying — " I have found my Deliverer. I will go with Him, for
salvation is with Him." But these are not two distinct things — they are involved
the one in the other, so that you oannot take the one from the other without
destroying both. But there is yet another aspect of this finding which must in
nowise be lost sight of. I mean the tenderness of the shepherd. lY. Thb joi;
uANiFESTED BT GoD ovEB THB simmeb's betubn. The home-coming here ean
hardly be identical with the finding of the lost one. It mast rather, I think, be
onderstood of the introduction of the saved one into heaven, by Jesas, at the last.
Yet the joy over him is not delayed till then, though at that iroment it becomes
higher than before. Let me illustrate. You have lost your child, and one of the
most trusted members of your family has set out in search of her. He is long
away, and weary days and weeks yon wait for news. At length, however, the: e
comes from the great city a telegram from the seeker, saying that he has found Ixis
sister, and that he is making arrangements for bringing her home as soon aa
possible. Of coarse, the mere receipt of this message gives yoa joy ; but when at
64 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cHA». XT.
. — . .. *
length your loved one is brought home, that joy is inten^fied, ani you call
together your friends to celebrate with you her return. Now, your gladness at th«
receipt of the telegram corresponds to the joy in heaven over the sinner's repen-
tance, while your higher joy at the home-coming of your child is symbolical of the
gladness which will be caused by the entrance into heaven of each new ransomed
Bpirit. Nor need we wonder at this joy. It is over a successful enterprise. It ia
over the deliverance of another soul from ruin. {W. M. Taylor, D.D.) The
Good Shepherd in three positions : — ^Let us behold our great Shepherd — I. In thk
BEABCH. *• Until He find it." 1. No rejoicing is on His countenance. He ia
anxious for the lost. 2. No hesitation is in His mind. Despite roughness of way,
length of time, or darkness of night. He stiU pursues His lost one. 3. No anger is
in His heart. The many wanderings of the sheep cost Him dear, but He counta
them as nothing, so that He may but find it. 4. No pausing because of weariness.
Love makes Him forget Himself, and causes Him to renew His strength. 6. No
giving up the search. His varied non- successes do not compel Him to return
defeated. Such must our searches after others be. We must labour after each
Boul until we find it. II. At thb capture. " When He hath found it." Mark
the Shepherd when the sheep is at last within reach. 1. Wanderer held. How
firm the grip I How hearty 1 How entire 1 2. Weight borne. No chiding,
smiting, driving ; but a lift, a self-loading, an easing of the wanderer. 8. Distance
travelled. Every step is for the Shepherd. He must tread painfully all that
length of road over which the sheep had wandered so wantonly. The sheep ia
carried back with no suffering on its own part. 4. Shepherd rejoicing to bear the
burden. The sheep is so dear that its weight is a load of love. The Shepherd ia
BO good that He finds joy in His own toil. 5. Sheep rejoicing, too. Surely it ia
glad to be found of the Shepherd, and so to have its wanderings ended, its weari-
ness rested, its distance removed, its perfect restoration secured. III. In thb
HOME-BBiNGiNQ. "When He Cometh home." 1. Heaven is home to Christ. 2.
Jesus must carry us all the way there. 3. The Shepherd's mission for lost souls ii
known in glory, and watched with holy sympathy : in this all heavenly ones are
" his friends and neighbours." 4. Jesus loves others to rejoice with Him over the
accomplishment of His design. " He called together His friends." See how they
crowd around Him 1 What a meeting 1 5. Kepentance is also regarded as our
being brought home (see verse 7). 6. One sinner can make all heaven glad :
(see verses 7, 10). (C. H. Spurgeon.) Saving the lost : — The sinner is set forth
in the parable as a silly, wandering sheep. And it 8ugf?ests what is true — that sin
is not always a matter of premeditation. Sin is oftentimes an ignorance, a mis-
understanding, a darkness of mind. A young man does not at eighteen say, " Now
I will waste my time and squander my money, ruin my health, and hurt as many
by my influence as I can." That is not the way the thing is done. It would not
be true to so represent it, any more than it would have been true for Christ to have
represented the sheep as getting together in one corner of the fold, and saying,
"Now let us get out and run off into the woods, and get bitten by wolves, and be
killed." Neither sheep nor men act in that way. Men wander off — they get led
astray — they get farther away from virtue than they ever expected to be — they are
lost before they know it. Looking at him from one point of view, the sinner is to
be condemned ; looking at him from another, he is to be pitied. In this latter
light it is that the parable presents him to us. My friends, let us catch the spirit
of the Saviour, as we go in and out among men. Men are like ice. You can melt
them sooner by being warm toward them, by centring the rays of a great, earnest,
glowing love upon them, than by going at them with hammers of threat and warn-
ing, and trying to beat them down and pulverize them. Sandstone kind of men
can be treated in that way ; but when you hit a man in that style made of granite,
the hammer recoils, to the injury of the palm that held it. June is better than
December to quicken life and growth in the natural world ; and if you want people
to blossom and get fruitful spiritually, pour around them the warm, genial atmo-
sphere of God'a penetrative and stimulative love. My people, refresh your
memories to-day with the real object of Christ's incarnation. He did not come to
publish certain sublime truths. He did not come to found a Church, to build up a
religious hierarchy, to introduce habits of prayer, and peculiar views of God and
duty. He came absorbed, rather, with one thought-— devoted to one sublime,
unselfish mission. It was to go after His lost sheep. This yearning, this irre-
pressible desire, it was, which burned and glowed in Hia whole Ufe, as the pure fir«
glows in the diamond. This it was which gave fervour and intense beauty to Hia
our. XT.] ST. LUKE. 8fi
life. Before Christ oame, who oared for the lost t Who cares for the hieaehing
bone in the wilderness ? — it may be the bone of an ox, or a dog, or a man ; who
oares which ? It is a dry and lifeless bone, and nothing more. It has no connec-
tion with our beating flesh, no relation with our living thonght. Who cares for
the shell on the shore? The waves have heaved it up from the caverns of the
deep, and ground it into the sand : there let it lie. What hunter cares for the
scattered feathers which some fierce hawk has torn from the back and breast of its
prey ? Why mourn over a bunch of soiled plumage ? Had the hunter seen the
hawk pounce on it, he might, perchance, have shot the hawk, and spared the bird ;
but the bird is lost. Why look t why mourn ? why care ? So little man oared for
man before Christ oame. The life of Christ was wonderful, because it was full of
deeds nobody else had ever done. His very sympathies were a revelation. Ask
Him as He rises from His agonizing prayer in the garden, when a thicker darkness
than subsequently draped the earth lies on His soul ; and He says again, " I came
to save the lost." Ask Him as he sinks fainting beneath the cross ; and amid His
panting are shaped the selfsame words — " To save the lost." Ask Him as He
hangs on the cross itself, about to yield up the ghost ; and His quivering lips reply,
"I oame to save the lost; and here My task is finished." We are like vases of
rare tint and exquisite workmanship, which, shattered by some violent stroke, have
been regathered in all their fragments, and so carefully rejoined, and glued with
transparent cement, that no eye can detect where were the lines of rupture. The
seeking love of God found us in fragments, and made ns over into a perfect whole.
If any of you have children, or friends, or relatives, far away from God, widely
wandering from the truth of statement and life, I trust you will not be discouraged.
Hope and pray always. Die as you have lived, hoping and praying. Build your hope
on the seeking love of Christ. Ally your life with His in this work. Help reform
society ; help reform the Church, so that people shall not stare and look astonished
when a really bad man or wicked woman is saved — when a soul that has in very fact
been lost, and which was found in its sins as a lamb found in some dark, stony gorge,
nearly dead from exposure and wounds, is brought to the fold. {W. H. H. Murray.)
The danger of the soul astray : — One soul, gone astray, is in greater danger than
the rest. It has fallen, first from creation, and then from redemption. It has
fallen from its Divine acceptance, both in the first Adam and in the second. It is
" twice dead." "The last state of that man is worse than the first." "There
remaineth no more sacrifice for sin." " It is impossible for those who were once
enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the
Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to
come, if they shall fall away, to renew them again unto repentance." There is no
second "baptism for the remission of sins." That one lost soul is in the way
which leads beyond the boundaries of grace. Every day brings it nearer to the
fatal brink. Dangers are ever thickening ; temptation waxing mightier ; sins are
hourly multiplied ; the dye is daily blacker ; life is fast wearing away, eternity fast
coming on ; therefore the Good Shepherd speeds apace with a hasty step, to find
that one sheep which is lost. (H. E. Manning.) Search prompted by love: —
Following the law of love. He seems to leave the faithful, that He may seek for
sinners. As there is a fold in heaven, so there is a fold on earth, a visible fold —
the Church, in which He gathers His lost sheep. There is, besides, within that
visible fold, another fold unseen. His own encircling Presence, the circuit of His
own watchful care, within which the faithful and obedient are securely sheltered.
These are they who walk stedfast in baptismal purity. They keep close to tbe eye
and to the pathway of their Lord, going in and out by the gates of obedience.
These are the ninety and nine who keep close to the feet of the Good Shepherd.
For a while He passes them by, that He may seek sinners who, after baptism, fall
from grace. For many are they who go out of this inward fold. They go out into
ways of this world, the tangled masses of this wilderness, losing themselves by
losing sight of Him ; and, by losing sight of Him, losing their own souls. What
is this wilderness but sin ? Every several sin that man commits is a wilderness to
that man's soul, whether it be a sin of the flesh, as lust, gluttony, excess ; or a sin
of the spirit, as inward impurity, pride, anger, hardness of heart, sloth, or false-
hood— whatever it be, that sin is a wilderness in each man's soul, in which he is
lost. For sin raises a cloud between the soul and the gaze of the Good Shepherd's
face. The sinner closes the eye which guides him ; he loses the light of that
•oontenance which shone upon the track of life. His will breaks away from the
will of oar Divine Guide, by which will he was lanctified ; for so long aa His will
ae THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chat. it.
and oar will are united, we are drawn by a thread of gold, which leads as in the
way of life ; but when, by sin, we start back and snap asunder that guiding olae,
we are straightway lost, {Ibid. ) The sheep that was lost and found : — 1. Th«
NATDEALHEss OF God's seabch FOB THE 8INNEB. " What man of you," saith Christ,
with that touch of surprise that we so often trace when He found men blind to
truths that seemed to Him clear as day, " having a hundred sheep, if he lose one
of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness and go after that
which is lost ? " What else oould he do ? What could be more natural ? He
would be certain to go ; his duty, his thought of loss to himself, his affection for
iie animal he had so long taken care of, his thought of all the poor thing was
suffering, all would urge him forth. The inference followed, none could mistime it,
that God would do the same for His erring and lost children, that He could not do
otherwise, that to do otherwise would be unnatural. A similar relation to that
which the shepherd bore the sheep, God bears to men. Let one of them lose
himself, and it would be impossible for God to rest till He found the lost one.
Duty, if I may use the term, the inward, self-created imperative, by which God
must be true to Himself, would urge Him forth. II. The pebsevebance of God.
We are told a great deal about God being wearied out with as, and so offended with
our wrongdoing as to give up trying to make us better. That is not Christ's doctrine
about God. In His mind He saw the Father going after the lost sheep uuweariedly,
and never, never resting till He found it and brought it home. Only when it waa
laid to sleep in the fold could God's perseverance of love take any rest. There ia
no pause in God's work till He find us. It is God who will find us, and not we
Him, and He will never rest till we are laid on His strong shoulder, and understand
His love, and rest in His peace. No, not if it takes half an eternity to find us, will
He give up the search. The law of Gcd has made it plain that He will not find as
in this comforting way till we repent, and the greater part of His search consists
in so working on our Itves as to make us cry with the prodigal, " I will arise and
go to my Father." And that is severe and punishing work. III. The jot of God
IN bedemption. It is pleasant, when we think how easily we get tried, to consider
this unwearyingness of God, and that however long He persevere. His interest
cannot be exhausted by pursuit or by success. Pursuit is agreeable enough to us ,
for as long as a thing is unreached it charms, but our dangerous moment is th'j
moment of success. When we have laid our hand on the Qoal, if it be pleasure,
we too often give it a languid assent ; if it be the good of another, we are too often
so weary as not to be interested any longer. That is the weakness of our mortal
nature. It is nothing to be proud of, as some think. It is want of power, of
imagination, of capacity. Were we greater in heart and brain, victory of pleasure,
success in good would double our joy. An infinite nature has infinite delight and
interest. The joy of God in redeeming the lost is, then, the last truth the parable
teaches. It is frank, complete, ungrudging, unmixed. (Stopford A, Brooke,
M.A.) The sliepherd misses one when it has strayed from the flock: — The
Redeemer's knowledge is infinite ; He looks not only over the multitude generally,
but into each individual. When I stand on a hillock at the edge of a broad meadow,
and look across the sward, it may be said in a general way that I look on all the
grass of that field ; but the sun in the sky looks on it after another fashion — shines
on every down-spike that protrudes from every blade. It is thus that the Good
Shepherd knows the fiock. Knowing all. He misses any one that wanders. Ha
missed a world when it fell, although His worlds lie scattered like grains of golden
dust on the blue field of Heaven — the open infinite. (W, Amot.) God
mindful of the unit: — Next, much comfort may be gathered from this poiui;
in hand. Though the godly are but few, yet (we see) God will be neverthelesiH
mindful of them. If but one sheep go astray. He will fetch it home ; if bat one
groat lost, He will look it up ; if bat one sinner repents, there shall be joy in heaven
for him ; if but one prodigal come home, he shall be received. With man it is
otherwise ; who will bestow gathering of one apple upon some top bough, or send
a reaper into a field for one ear of wheat standing in some corner of it ? Or what
husbandman will beat over his straw again for one grain of com, or winnow over
all his chaff for a few grains of wheat ? But God will not lose an apple, not an
ear, not one kernel ; He will winnow a great heap for a few grains, as He did the
old world for eight (Gen. vii. 7 ; 1 Pet. iii. 20). And it is no rare thing, but often
■een that Ood sends man} of His servants to thresh or winnow in great assembUea
of chaff, and yet after divers years' pains and sore sweating labour, they get but
ooe grain of com. After all their toU they convert but one or two souls, whom
CHAP. XT.] 8T. LUKE. 87
God in His providence bath sent them, by all their paina to save. (N. Rogerg.)
Christ seeking the lost : — No place did He leave unsought to find His own ; in tha
wilderness we see here He seeks the sheep ; in the house, as we read in the next.
He seeks the groat ; in the world He seeks up the prodigal and lost son. He goea
to Samaria to seek the woman ; to Bethany to seek up Mary ; to Capernaum t<i
seek the centurion ; to Jericho to seek Zaccheus ; no place that He left unsonght or
onsanctifiied. (Ibid.) Christ's tympathy for sinners : — 1. A yearning sympathy.
2. An active sympathy. 8. A tender sympathy. 4. A joyful sympathy. (C. E.
Walker.) The tendency to wander: — There is in sin a centrifugal tendency, and
the wanderings of this wanderer could be only further and further away. If, there-
fore, it shall be found at all, this can only be by its Shepherd's going to seek it ;
else, being once lost, it is lost for ever. {Archbishop Trench.) No instinct to
return: — The sinner is like the strayed sheep, the most stupid of animals. The
oat, the dog, the horse, when lost, find their way home — who knows how? — but the
eheep has no such instinct. {J. Wells.) Tact in teaching : — How easily they all
understood Him I But how few Christian people there are who understand how to
fasten the truths of God and religion to the souls of men. Truman Osborne, one
of the evangelists who went through this country some years ago, had a wonderful
•rt in the right direction. He came to my father's house one day, and while we
were all seated in the room, he said, " Mr. Talmage, are all your ohildreu
Christians?" Father said, "Yes, all but De Witt." Then Truman Osborne
looked down into the fireplace, and began to tell a story of a storm that came on
the mountains, and all the sheep were in the fold ; but there was one lamb outside
that perished in the storm. Had he looked me in the eye, I should have been
angered when he told that story ; but he looked into the fireplace, and it was so
pathetically and beautifully done, that I never found any peace until I was sure I
was inside the fold, where the other sheep are. (De Witt Talmage, D.D.) Ood
seeking after men : — The distinction between Christianity and all other systems of
religion consists largely in this : that in these others men are found seeking after
Ood, while Christianity is God seeking after men. (T. Arnold, DJ).) Seeking a
lost sheep : — One evening in 1861, as General Garibaldi was going home, he met a
Sardinian shepherd lamenting the loss of a lamb out of his fiock. Garibaldi at
once turned to his staff, and announced his intention of scouring the mountain in
search of the lamb. A grand expedition was organized. Lanterns were brought,
and old officers of many a campaign started off full of zeal to hunt the fugitive.
But no lamb was found, and the soldiers were ordered to tbeir beds. The next
morning Garibaldi's attendant found him in bed fast asleep. The attendant waked
him. The general rubbed his eyes ; and so did his attendant when he saw the old
warrior take from under the covering the lost lamb, and bid him convey it to the
shepherd. The general had kept up the search through the night until he had
found it. Even so doth the Good Shepherd go in search of His lost sheep until
He finds them. {Sunday School Tim£8.) Tenderness of the Good Sheplterd :-^
Among the hills of our native land I have met a shepherd far from the flocks and
folds, driving home a lost sheep — one which had " gone astray," a creature panting
for breath, amazed, alarmed, footsore ; and when the rocks around rang loud to
the baying of the dogs, I have seen them, whenever it offered to turn from the path,
with open mouth dash fiercely at its sides, and so hound it home. How differently
Jesus brings back His lost ones 1 The lost sheep sought and found. He lifts it up
tenderly, lays it on His shoulder, and retracing His steps, returns homeward
with joy, inviting His neighbours to rejoice with Him. (T. Guthrie, D.D.)
Seeking the lost : — ^A lady, while passing along one of our public streets, in pulling
off her glove, pulled from her finger a very valuable jewelled ring, which, before
she could secure it, rolled into the gutter. She stood hesitatingly on the brink of
the filthy puddle for a few moments, as if considering what to do, when she bared
her fair arm, and plunging her hand into the gutter, secured her treasure. Ah 1
there is the treasure of the precious soul lost in many a vile sink of human poUu*
lion, and to save it we must be willing to follow the Saviour's example, and to go
to the vilest outoasts with the glad tidings of salvation. From the parable of tha
lost sheep we are impressed with the thought of the Saviour's deep personal interest
in every sinner. One sheep went astray, and this careful Shepherd missed even
that one. The sinner, in his wanderings, is apt to think that Christ does not
notice him ; that amid the vastness of the affairs of the universe which occupy the
Divine mind, he, if not overlooked, is but little attended to. But this is a dangerous
mistake. There is not a step which the siimer can take in his departuie from God
88 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTBATOR. [cfiAP. XT.
which the watchful eye of the Shepherd does not follow ; and the loved child is not
more eurely misBed from the affectionate family circle than is every sinner who
departs from the living God. (J. R. Boyd.) One $heep against ^'nimty and
nine " : — A traveller describes a scene which he once saw that strongly reminded
him of this parable : " On the Aletsch glacier I saw a strange, a beautiful sight —
the parable of our Lord reacted in the letter. One day we were making our way
with ice-axe and alpenstock down the glacier, when we observed a flock of sheep
following their shepherd over the intricate windings of the crevasses, and so passing
from the pastures on one side of the glacier to the pastures on the other. The
flock had numbered two hundred, all told. But on the way one sheep had got lost.
One of the shepherds, in his German patois, appealed to us if we had seen it.
Fortunately one of the party had a fleld-glass. With its aid we discovered the lost
sheep far up, amid a tangle of brushwood, on the rocky mountain side. It was
beautiful to see how the shepherd, without a word, left his hundred and ninety-nine
sheep on the glacier waste (knowing they would stand there perfectly still and safe),
and went clambering back after the lost sheep until he found it." In nearch of
stray sheep: — Uncle John Vassar, the celebrated colporteur of the American Tract
Society, who tramped the country over from Illinois to Florida, used to describe
himself as the "Shepherd's Dog." He did not claim to be a shepherd, for he put
great power upon an educated and ordained ministry. He regarded himself only
as a faithful dog, hunting after the stray sheep of the Master's flock, and en-
deavouring to bring into the fold those Christless souls who were wandering over
the devil's commons. A young clergyman says that he once overtook Uncle John
Vassar on the road (in Duchess county), and made some inquiry as to the residence
of a friend. Uncle John gave him the information, and then promptly inquired,
*' My young friend, are you a Christian? " The ministerial brother told him that
he hoped he was. A few words more passed, and Vassar pushed on, remarking that
"he was in a hurry to look up some sheep." When the clergyman reached his friend's
house, he told them that he had met a crazy man on the road, who was hunting after
sheep. The family laughed heartily, and said, *• Why, that was John Vassar, our
Duchess county missionary, and the sheep that he is in search of are the Lord's."
Anxietie* of pastoral care : — St. Francis, reflecting on a story he heard of a moun.
taineer in the Alps, who had risked his life to save a sheep, says, ** O God, if such
was the earnestness of this shepherd in seeking for a mean animal, which had
probably been frozen on the glacier, how is it that I am so indifferent in seeking my
sheep ? " Seeking the wanderer : — An American bishop, speaking of the personal
love and earnestness which in Christian work prove, with God's blessing, so success*
ful, related that a youth belonged to a Bible-class, but at last the time came when
he thought fit to discontinue his attendance, and to otherwise occupy his time.
The class assembled, but his place was empty, and the leader looked for the familiar
face in vain. He could not be content to conduct the Bible-reading as usual,
ignorant as to the condition and whereabouts of the missing one. " Friends," ha
said, " read, sing, and pray ; my work is to seek and find a stray sheep ; " and he
started off on the quest. ** The stray sheep is before you," said the bishop to bis
hearers. " My teacher found me, and I could not resist his pleading ; I could not
continue to wander and stray whilst I was sought so tenderly." {The Quiver.)
Until he find it : — The Saviour does not go after the wandering sheep for a
mile or so in the wilderness, and then, because the way is wet or weary, or
because the clouds of evening are gathering, say to Himself, " Well, I have
done as much as this ridiculous and stupid sheep deserves. There was no
occasion that the sheep should wander away from the fold. It is its own
folly. Let it reap the fruit of its own folly. I have done all I can ; I will go
home now." Not at all. He goes on and on and on. He does not consider how
tired He is. He has not done His business until He has found the sheep and
put it on His shoulder, and brought it back again rejoicing. {H. P. Hughes, M.A.)
Search for soul-jewels : — A jeweller received a very valuable diamond to be re-set.
He wrapped it up oarefully, and laid it away; bnt, when it was wanted, it
could not be found. Its loss would ruin the jeweller. He searched everywhere ;
day after day, doing nothing else till he found it. At last he discovered a bit of the
paper, in which the jewel had been wrapped, among the ashes of a fireplace. He
then sifted all the ashes made after reception of the jewel, and was overjoyed to
discover the lost treasure perfectly uninjured. What diligent search, then, should
be made for lost but immortal soul-jewels 1 Bejoldnr. — Christ's jcy %• saving
0intters : — L Chbist's amxibtt to uva XHa u>st. L He kscw tac atBmea'i
«KAP. XT.] ST. LUKE, 99
present eondition. (1) Destitution. (2) Peril. (3) Feebleness. No strength
apart from Christ. 2. He adopts active means for the sinner's recovery. (1) Ha
seeks. (2) He finds. II. His jot ovbb thbib salvation. 1. This joy is repre-
sented by the shepherd laying the lost sheep upon his shoulder, and carrying it
home rejoicing. We know why the shepherd acts thus. The sheep is wearied and
distressed by its wanderings. If let loose, it might again escape and wander
farther than ever from the fold. If it were allowed to walk by the shepherd's side,
it might be devoured by beasts, who are watching i:r their prey even in the shep>
herd's presence. You must all see from this representation how safe you, the
redeemed of Christ, are. 2. But Jesus not only rejoices Himself in your salvation.
He also calls upon the angels of heaven to participate in His joy. Application :
1. Warning to the indifferent, 2. Comfort to the penitent. {Canon Clayton.)
Christian joy at a sinner'g conversion : — About three hundred years after the time
of the apostles, Caius Marias Victorias, an old pagan, was converted from his
impiety, and brought over to the Christian faith ; and when the people of God
heard this, there was a wonderful rejoicing, and shouting, and leaping for gladness,
and psalms were sung in every church, while the people joyously said one to an-
other, *' Caius Marius Victorias is become a Christian 1 Caius Marius Victorius ia
become a Christian I " Dear reader, it may be that yon are an old offender. What
joy would be made among the best of people by yonr conversion I Some of your
dearest friends would be ready to dance with delight ; and hundreds, who know
what a hardened rebel you have been, would sing and shout for joy of heart, " Old
— — has become a Christian ! " Oh, that you might be led to cause this happiness
on earth ; and there is this at the back of it — the holy mirth would reach to tha
highest heaven ! (<7. H. Spurgeon.) Joy of a community in recovering the lost :~—
The following anecdote was told to Dr. J. Todd by an old hunter in the forests of
America : " I had been out all winter alone trapping for furs. It was in March,
when I was hunting beaver, just as the ice began to break up, and on one of the
farthest, wildest lakes I ever visited. I calculated there could be no human being
nearer than one hundred miles. I was pushing my canoe through the loose ice,
one cold day, when just around a point that projected into the lake, I heard some-
thing walking through the ice. It made so much noise, and stepped so regularly,
that I felt sure it must be a moose. I got my rifle ready, and held it cocked in one
band, while I pushed the canoe with the other. Slowly and carefully I rounded the
point, when, what was my astonishment to see, not a moose, but a man, wading in
the water — the ice water 1 He had nothing on his hands or feet, and his clothes
were torn almost from his limbs. He was walking, gesticulating with his hands,
and talking to himself. He seemed to be wasted to a skeleton. With great diffi-
culty I got him into my canoe, when I landed and made up a fire, and got him
some hot tea and food. He had a bone of some animal in his bosom, which he had
gnawed almost to nothing. He was nearly frozen, and quieted down, and soon fell
asleep. I nursed him like an infant. With great difficulty, and in a roundabout
way, I found out the name of the town from which he came. Slowly and carefully
I got him along, around falls, and over portages, keeping a resolute watch on him,
lest he should escape from me in the forest. At length, after nearly a week's
travel. I reached the village where I supposed he hved. I found the whole com-
munity under deep excitement, and more than a hundred men were scattered in the
woods and on the mountains, seeking for my crazy companion, for they had learned
that he had wandered into the woods. It had been agreed upon that if he was
found, the bells should be immediately rung and guns fired ; and as soon as I landed
a shout was raised, his friends rushed to him ; the bells broke oat in loud notes,
and guns were fired, and their reports echoed again and again in forest and on
mountain, till every seeker knew that the lost one was found. How many times I
had to tell the story over. I never saw people so crazy with joy ; for the man was
of the first and best families, and they hoped his insanity would be but temporary,
as I afterwards learned it was. How they feasted me, and when I came away,
loaded my canoe with provisions and clothing, and eve^hing for my comfort. It
was a time and place of wonderful joy. They seemed to forget everything else,
and think only of the poor man whom I had brought back." The old hunter
oeased, and said : " Don't this make yon think of the fifteenth chapter of Luke,
where the man who lost one sheep left all the rest and sought it, and brought it
home rejoicing ; and of the teaching of our Saviour, that there is joy in heaven
over one repenting, returning sinner 1 " " Oh yes ; I have often compared the two,
and though I don't suppose they ring bells and fire guns in that world, yet I haT*
90 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTBATOB. [chap. xr«
no doubt they have sjme way of making their joy kno-wn.** The joy occanoned
l>y the last sheep being found : — I. A fact acknowledged. 1. It reminds us of the
sheep's relation to the Saviour. He has an interest in it. " My sheep." His,
even before it was found. 2. It reminds us of the sheep's former state. " Lost."
(1) As to God. He derived no service or honour from it. (2) As to its fellow-
creatures. They derived no benefit from its prayers, example, exertions, influence.
{'i) As to itself. Destitute of all real peace, hope, joy. U. The satisfaction hebb
IMPLIED. This is the Saviour's own joy on the occasion. We see this implied,
and necessarily implied ; for how could He call upon others to rejoice with Him,
unless He was rejoicing Himself? How could you, unless you were walking, invite
others to walk with you ? But this satisfaction of the shepherd is not left at an
tmcertainty. It is here expressly affirmed. 1. The sheep was not conscious of the
shepherd's kindness. No. When he laid hold of it, it panted and trembled ; and
when he was laj ing it on his shoulder, it struggled, and endeavoured to free itself,
and as he carried it off, it wondered what he was going to do with it. It is the
same with us, when, to use the words of the apostle, we are "apprehended of
Christ Jesus." 2. We may view this joy of the Saviour in contrast with the con-
vert's own connections and friends. Some of these may be alarmed and distressed,
and imagine the man is going into distraction, or into despair. They know nothing
of "a wounded spirit;" they are ignorant of the methods of Divine grace — how
God wounds in order to heal ; how He humbles in order to exalt ; how He im-
poverishes in order to enrich ; how He empties in order to fill. Hence they often
send for the physician when they ought to send for the divine. You remember,
that when Christian left the city of destruction and was crossing the field, his
neighbours and friends, supposing he was deranged or disordered, cried out, " Stop 1
return ! " but he, putting his fingers in his ears, rushed forward, crying, *• Life,
Life I Eternal lile I " 3. We may review this joy as the restilt of success. How
delightful to the husbandman after months of ploughing and sowing, to go forth
and " see, first the blade, then the ear, and after that the full com in the ear " : and
then, to " reap with joy " and carry home his " sheaves with him " ! How pleasing
to the builder, after furnishing the materials, to see the edifice rising in lovely pro-
portion, till the topstone thereof is brought forth, with shoutings of " Grace, graoe,
unto it." And, oh, what joy did the Saviour experience when *• He ascended to
His Father and our Father ; to His God and our God " ; after saying, •' I have
finished the work Thou gavest me to do." 4. Then this joy may be viewed aa
indicative of His benevolence. 5. This joy of His should be the penitent's
encouragement. 6. If this joy be the sinner's hope, it shonld be the saint's
example. He was infinitely more than example, but nothing less. And " he who
says He abideth in him, ought himself, also, so to walk even as He walked." If
you depend upon Him, you must resemble Him. III. The disposition hebs
ENJOINED. Not willing to enjoy the pleasure alone, He calls on others to share it.
(W. Jay.) Joy enhanced by partnership: — Every man rejoices twice when he
lias a partner of his joy. A friend shares my sorrow, and makes it but a moiety ;
but he swells my joy, and makes it double. For so two channels divide the river,
and lessen it into rivulets, and make it fordable, and apt to be drunk up by the first
revels of the Syrian star ; but two torches do not divide, but increase the flame.
And though my tears are the sooner dried up when they run on my friend's cheeks
in the furrows of compassion, yet, when my flame hath kindled his lamp, we unite
the glories, and make them radiant, like the golden candlesticks that bum before
the throne of God, because they shine by numbers, by hght, and joy. (if. W, Beecher.)
A search that never fails : — The Bev. J. B. Macduff, D.D., tells of a gallant vessel,
manned with gallant hearts, which went forth amid the frowning icebergs of the
northern seas to search for a band of missing explorers. They sailed thither,
buoyed with the faint feeble hope that the objects of their search might still be
found, battling bravely with eternal winter. They went after the lost until they
found them ; but, alas 1 they found them with the stiffened snow and ice as their
vnnding-sheets. They brought not back the living, but only some sad mementoes
and memorials of the dead. Not so is the journey, not so the pursuits of the great
bnepherd of the sheep. Those whom He has marked for His own. He will, without
fail, bring home. Not one can elude His pursuit nor evade His loving scrutiny.
The lost found : — One week evening an old woman, very poor and very lame, heard
the church bell ring for service. She had never been to church before, but took it
into her head to go this once. The minister preached on the parable of the lost
febeep, and his words conveyed real news, and joyful news too, to the old woman.
roAi, XT j ST. LUKE. 91
She sat drinking it in as a traveller drinks at a well in the desert, to save his very
life. ** What," said she to herself, " be I then a sinner ? Tes, surely I be. What,
be I then just like a lo3t sheep ? Aye, for sure, I am just like that. And be there
a Shepherd searching about for me T Will He find me ? Bel worth His while ?
A Saviour for a poor thing like mel 'Tis wonderful loving." These were her self-
communings as she hobbled back on her crutches to her dark cellar. A short time
afterwards the clergyman received a message that the poor old woman was dying
and earnestly desirous of seeing him. The moment he made his appearance she
exclaimed : " That is the man who told me about the lost sheep. I want to know
more about it." So he sat down, saying, " I will gladly tell you more about it.
I will teU you also about the sheep that was found." "Yes," she exclaimed,
" found ! found 1 found ! " She did not live long after this interview, and she
passed away with the same words on her dying lips : •' Found I found I found 1 "
Bescue of lost : — Some years ago Southwark was divided into districts by the visitors
of the Auxiliary Bible Society. One district was found to contain such a depraved
neighbourhood that it was spoken >of as the " Forlorn Hope ; " and for some time
no individual would engage to visit it. At length three ladies, advanced in life,
andertook the hopeless task. On entering one house of the vilest description, they
fotmd, in the first room into which they went, a young female, of pleasing appear-
ance, mixing something in a cup, which she put into a closet when she saw them.
They conversed with her, and asked if she would accept a Testament, which she
gladly received. They found she was the daughter of a clergyman, but, vain of her
personal attractions, she had been betrayed into that wretched course of life. She
eagerly listened to all they said ; and finding her anxious to leave the paths of
wickedness, they procured her admission into an asylum, and the event proved that
she was indeed desirous to return to the paths of virtue. The mixture in the cup
when these ladies entered the house was poison. In a few short hours, in all
human probability, she would have departed to everlasting misery. She aftei-
wards fidled a situation of comfort, and was enabled to look forward with
hope to a blissful eternity. Joy sliall be In beaveo. — On the joy which
u in heaven at the repentance of a sinner: — I. How we are to dndebstand
THB JOY THAT IS IN HEAVEN AT THE KEPENTANCE OF A 8INNEB. As it refers
to God, it seems very inconsistent with the happiness and perfection of the
Divine nature to suppose Him really capable of joy, any more than of grief, or
any other passion. Because this would be to imagine some new accession to His
pleasure and happiness, which being always infinite, can never have anything
added to it. And, therefore, we are to understand this, as it relates to God, in the
same manner as we do infinite other passages of Scripture, where human passions
are ascribed to Him, to be spoken by way of condescension and after the language
and manner of the sons of men ; and to signify only thus much to us, that the
conversion of a sinner is a thing highly pleasing and acceptable to God. As it
refers to angels and other blessed spirits, I tee no inconvenience why it may not be
nnderstood more strictly and literally ; that they conceive a new joy at the news of
a sinner's repentance, and find a fresh pleasure and delight springing up in their
minds, whenever they hear the joyful tidings of a sinner rescued from the slavery
of the devil and the danger of eternal damnation ; of a new member added to the
kingdom of God, that shall be a companion and a sharer with them in that blessed-
ness which they enjoy. II, Who are here meant by the just persons that need
NO bepentance. Our Saviour plainly designs those who, being religiously educated,
and brought up in the fear of God, had never broke out into any extravagant and
vicious course of life, and so in some sense had no need of repentance, that is, of
changing the whole course of their lives, as the prodigal son had. IH. With what
BEASON IT IS HERE SAID, THAT THERE IS " MORS JOY IN HEAVEN OVER ONE SINNEB
THAT REPENTETH, THAN CTEB NINETY AND NINE JUST PERSONS WHO NEED NO REPENT-
ANCE." 1. That the same thing, considered in several respects, may in some
respects have the advantage of another thing, and for those reasons be preferred
before it, and yet not have the advantage of it absolutely and in all respects.
Moral comparisons are not to be exacted to a mathematical strictness and rigour.
(1) The greater the difficulty of virtue is, so much the greater is the praise and
commendation of it : and not only we ourselves take the more joy and comfort in
it, but it is more admirable and delightful to others. Now, it cannot be denied to
be much more difficult to break off a vicious habit, than to go on in a good way
which we have been trained up in, and always accnstomed to. (2) They who are
reflaimed from a wicked course are often more thoroughly and zealously good
98 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. laskt. it.
Bfterwards. Their remorse for sin quickens and spurs them on in the ways ol
virtue and goodness, 2. Our Saviour does not here compare repentance with
nbsolute innocence and perfect righteousness, but with the imperfect obedience of
good men, wno are guilty of many sins and infirmities ; but yet, upon account of the
general course and tenor of their lives, are, by the mercy and favour of the gospel,
esteemed just and righteous persona ; and, for the merits and perfect obedience of
Christ, so accepted by God. 3. This utterance of our Saviour is to be understood as
spoken very much after the manner of men, and suitably to the nature of human
passions, and the usual occasion of moving them. We are apt to be exceedingly
affected with the obtaining of what we did not hope for, and much more with regain-
ing of what we looked upon as lost and desperate. Concluding inferences : 1. The
blessed spirits above have some knowledge of the affairs of men here below. 2. H
God and the blessed spirits above rejoice at the conversion of a einner, so should
we too : and not fret and murmur as the Pharisees did. 3. The consideration ol
what hath been said should mightily inflame our zeal, and quicken our industry
and diligence for the conversion of sinners. 4. What an argument and encourage-
ment is here to repentance, even to the greatest of sinners. {Archbishop Tillotson.)
Angels' joy over penitence : — Why should these heavenly beingi rise into such an
excitement ? What have they to do with our repentance down here ? We look for
an explanation. I. We must bear in mind thb intense stmfatht which thxbb
AMOELS HAVE WITH Jehotah, WHO IS GoD ovEB ALL. They unocasingly catch their
inspiration and impulse from His face, before which they stand. If we were to
draw a picture of that shining host, we might represent a throng which no man
can number, with gaze all attracted one way towards the throne from which
emanates the whole bliss and beauty of that heavenly estate. A gleam of gladness
on the ineffable features is reproduced upon the countenances of all in that
assemblage, and the quick response beams from every eye, trembles in every voice
of eager utterance, and rings out joyously from every struck harp. Thus they
serve Him day and night in His temple. Hence, the view which God Himself has
of a repentant soul is immediately observed and transmitted. And what that view
is, is easily found out (see John i. 18). U. But again : In order to appreciate
the full meaning of a gladness so extraordinary as this in heaven, we uust
REUEMBEB THAT THESE AMOELS HAVE ALWATS MANIFESTED AM ABSOBBINO INTEBEST IN
MEN AS THB CBEATUEES OF GoD. They kuow, better than we know ourselves, we
bhall have to admit, what we once were, and what we now are, and in the end what
we may become by the manifold grace of God. 1. They saw our race at its beginning,
before it was defiled by sin. They sang together at the creation (see Job xxxviii.
7). It is needful for as to struggle up to gain an adequate idea of what perfect
holiness is ; they know by intuition ; and they saw man when the race was as holy
as their own, and they have not forgotten it. 2. They know what we are now
better than we know ourselves. We see as in enigma, darkly ; they see in the
sunshine of God's great love, out of which they know we have fallen. 8. They
know what we can become better than we know ourselves. They understand the
essential grandeur of grace as a process of renewal and restoration. To them a
soul is priceless because it can hold a palm-branch, it can wear a crown, it can
sing a song for the King. They measure the supreme height into which the
redeemed are advanced when by penitence and faith they are lifted into love. III.
Once more: In order to understand this great emotion of the angels, we kust
BECOLLECT THAT THBT HAVE ALWATS EXHIBITED AN BAGKB IMTEBEST IN THB FDBFOBB
AND woBD OF Chbist AS THE SoN OF GoD. 1. This was a matter of great difficulty
to them in the beginning. It is not revealed to us that there was any subject which
ever attracted their attention more than this scheme of redemption by Jesus.
That, we are told, " the angels desire to look into " (see 1 Peter i. 12). 2. The
steps of the wonderful disclosure were all under their observation. They saw the
Saviour pass by through their shining ranks out of heaven on His way to the world.
They marked how He laid aside His glory, and took the form of a servant. But
lest they should imagine they were to despise Him in His humiliation, there came
then a sudden command through heaven: "Let all the angels of God worship
Him J" Then He moved on. Bethlehem, Jerusalem, Capernaum, Calvary, ana
Bethany succeeded ; at last they saw what it all meant. 3. The risk now must
have been fully appreciated. Would this plan succeed 7 At first these angeli
seem to have indulged in one irrepressible acclamation of supreme delight ; they
Bang "Glory to God in the highest," over Bethlehem plains. But then they
■Attled back apon their " looking into " the rest. Peering over the battlements of
OBAP. XT.] ST. LUKE. OS
their celestial abode, they watched John the Baptist as he preaohed repentance;
they saw how the whole success or failure turned upon that. Would anybody
repent and oome back to God's love in answer to the invitation 1 Must Jesus have
died and pleaded in vain ? 4. Now think of the announcement of a sinner return-
ing unto purity. Imagine Simon Peter, or Nathauael, or Nicodemus, on bended
knees before Christ, the sinner's Friend. Bepentance had begun upon earth ; the
plan of redemption would answer ! With what abashed joy these angels must have
looked in each other's faces ; and then in an instant of delighted wonderment they
would seek the Divine Countenance in the throne. Now let our minds slowly
receive two or three reflections: 1. See the value of the conversion of just one soul.
" One sinner that repenteth." What is Zion's glory ? Read Psalm Ixxxvii. 5, 6.
2. When angels are bo excited, how strange seems our apathy I Just out of sight
is a world all alive with enthusiasm and zeal. 3. Is it possible that angels cara
more for sinners' salvation than some of the sinners seem to care for themselves to
be saved? (C. S. Robinson, D.D.) Joy in heaven: — 1. They rejoice because aa
heir of heaven has been led to claim his inheritance. Mark the words, " Joy in
heaven." Heaven belongs to the penitent soul, and he belongs to heaven. For
heaven is the dwelling-place of God and the home of His children. It is our homa
by a double title. Every member of the Church of Christ who is as the lost sheep,
or as the lost piece of money, or as the younger son, is one lost out of the family
of God, and when he returns, he is one restored to the place from which he was
missing. 2. And the joy at his repentance flnds its reason in the fact, that a man's
repentance is the removal of that one obstacle which prevents his restoration to his
place in the family of God. What is that obstacle ? Do I need to name it ? It is
sin. 3. And thus we are led to notice another element in those causes from which
the joy of the heavenly ones proceeds ; it is the value of the soul which is thus
emancipated by the mighty change which has passed upon it. " The redemption
of the soul is precious." We are in danger of forgetting the intrinsic worth and
dignity of the soul of man in consequence of the loss which it has sustained through
the FaU and by sin. (W. R. Clark, M.A.) Joy over penitents : — I. Who abb
THOSE THAT NEED NO BEPENTANCE ? There are two modes of solving this difficulty,
BO as perfectly to harmonize the doctrine of the text with the general system of
Divine truth. In the first place, there are those who have repented, and are no
longer denominated penitents. In the next place, there is no necessity for taking
the words in their absolute sense. Our Lord frequently speaks in an hypothetic^
or supposititious manner. II. Wht is thkbe mobe joy in heaven over one sinner
that repenteth than over ninety-nine just persons that need no repentance?
Whether we can fully understand the causes of their joy is uncertain. There may
be certain relations in which they exist that oar more limited nature cannot com-
prehend, and which powerfully aSect their minds with impressions of joy. We are
a great deal more affected by recent than by remote causes. Now it is probable
that all beings have a great similarity in this respect, and as repentance is a thing
of recent occurrence, as it is the essential fact in the history of man's feUcity, as it
is the very gate to the celestial country, angels may feel a peculiar delight in an
event so singular, and cormected with infinite results. Then, again, it is probable
that, like ourselves, angels are affected by contrast ; and what contrast can be more
striking than that exhibited by the impenitent and the penitent ? Lastly, I would
suggest a few hints which naturally arise out of the subject. In the first place,
what an infinite value is stamped upon this transformation of the heart — repent-
ance I The penitent becomes entitled to all the benefits which are comprehended
in the enjoyment of the presence and blessing of God. Secondly, we see the
importance of the gospel. This is the great instrument for producmg repentance.
Thirdly, it affords the most delighful encouragement to sinners to repent. (12.
HaU, M.A.) Celestial sympathy : — I. It is possible fob us to auquemt thx
HAPPINESS OF heaven. If you would this day repent and come to God, the news of
tout salvation would reach heaven, and then, hark to the shouts of the ransomed I
Your little child went away from you into the good land. While she was here yoa
brought her all kinds of beautiful presents. Sometimes you came home at nighUall
with your pockets full of gifts for her, and no sooner did you put your night-key
into the latch than she began at you, saying, " Father, what have you brou>iht
me f " She is now before tbe throne of God. Can you bring her a gift to-day f
Yon may. Coming to Christ and repenting of sin, the tidings will go np to the
throne of God, and your child will hear of iL Oh 1 what a gift for her soul to-
fUkj. 8be will skip with new gladness on the everlasting hills when she hears of
S4 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cait. Xt,
it. I was at Sharpsbnrg dnring the war, and one day I saw a sergeant dash part
on a lathered horse, the blood dripping from the spurs. I said : " That sergeant
most be going on a very important message — he must be carrying a very important
dispatch, or he wouldn't ride like that." Here are two angels of God flitting through
the house, flitting toward the throne on quick dispatch. What is the news 7 Carry-
ing np the story of souls repentant and forgiven, carrying the news to the throne oi
God, carrying the news to your kindred who are for ever saved. Oh 1 '• there is joy
in heaven among the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." And suppose
this whole audience should turn to the Lord this morning ? Heaven would be
filled with doxologies. I was reading of a king who, after gaining a great victory,
{i&id to his army: " Now, no shouting ; let everything be quiet, no shouting." But
if this morning your soul should come to God, nothing could stop the shouting of
the armies of God before the throne; for "there is joy in heaven among the
angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." II. Hbavbm and eabth abb in
CLOBB STMPATHT. People talk of heaven as though it were a great way off. They
say it is hundreds of thousands of miles before you reach the flrst star, and then
jon go hundreds of thousands of miles before you get to the second star, and then
it is millions of miles before yon reach heaven. They say heaven is the centre of
the aniverse, and we are on the rim of the universe. That is not the idea of my
text. I think the heart of heaven beats very close to onr world. We measure
distances by the time taken to traverse those distances. It used to be a long
distance to San Francisco. Many weeks and months were passed before you could
reach that city. Now it is seven days. It used to be six weeks before you could
voyage from here to Liverpool. Now yon can go that distance in eight or nine
days. And so I measure the distance between earth and heaven, and I find it is
only a flash. It is one instant here, and another instant there. It is very near
to-day. Christ says in one place it is not twenty-four hours' distance, when He
says to the penitent thief : " This day, this day, shalt thou be with Me in Paradise."
Ob ! how near heaven is to earth ! By oceanic cable you send a message. As it ia
expensive to send the message, you compress a great deal of meaning in a few
words. Sometimes in two words you can put vast meaning. And it seems to me
that the angels of God who carry news from earth to heaven need to take up this
morning, in regard to your soul, only two words in order to kindle with gladness
all the redeemed before the throne ; only two words : " Father saved," *• mother
saved," " son saved," " daughter saved." And •• there is joy in heaven among the
angels of God over one sinner that repenteth. " III. The salvation or the Bovit
X? OF vast impobtance. When the French Government passed from Thiers ta
MeMahon, I do not suppose it was reported in heaven. When, in the recent English
elections, the contest was between Conservatives and Liberals, the result, I do not
suppose, was reported in heaven. But there is one item that must go up — there is
one thing that must be told. Let the flying hoofs of God's courier clash through
the portals, and the news fly from gate to temple, and from temple to mansion, and
from mansion to throne, that one soul has been converted. Last summer, among
the White Mountains, a stage driver was very reckless. He had a large company of
passengers and drove six horses. Coming along a dangerous place, the leaders
shied off, and the stage was thrown over the rocks. A few men leaped out and
were saved, others went down and were bruised, and some were slain. When those
who were saved got home, how their friends must have congratulated them that
they got off from all that peril I Well ! the angels of God look down, and see men
driving along the edge of eternal disasters, drawn by leaping, foaming, uncontroll-
able perils : and when a man, just before he comes to the fatal capsize, leaps off
and comes away in safety, do you wonder that the angels of God clap their hands
and cry : " Good I Good 1 saved from hell 1 Saved for heaven ! Saved for ever ! "
The redemption of a soul must be a very wonderful thing, or heaven would not
make such a jubilation about it. It must be a great thing, or there would not be so
much excitement in that land where coronations are every -day occurrences, and the
stones of the field are amethysts and chrysoprases. {De Witt Talmage, D.D. ) Jay
over the saved : — We may illustrate this text by an incident which occurred in con-
nection with the wreck of the ill-fated steamer. Central America. A few days aftei
that startling event, which sent hundreds to a watery grave, and plunged the nation
in grief, a pilot boat was seen, on a fair breezy morning, standing up the bay of New
York. The very appearance of the vessel gave token that she was freighted with
tidings of no common interest. With every sail set, and streamers flying, sha
laaped along the waters as if buoyant with some great joy ; while the glad win(kt
e«AP. XT.] ST. LUKE. «S
that swelled her cscyas, and the sparkling waves that kissed her sides and urged
her on her way, •eemed to laugh with conscious delight. As she drew nearer, ara
unusual excitement was visible on her deck ; and her captain, running out to the
extreme point of the bowsprit and swinging his cap, appeared to be shouting some-
thing with intense earnestness and animation. At first the distance prevented hi8
being distinctly understood. But soon, as the vessel came farther into the harbour,
the words, "Three more saved I Three more saved! " reached the nearest listeners.
They were caught up by the crews of the multitudinous ships that lay anchored
around, and sailors sprang wildly into the rigging and shouted, " Three more saved ! '*
They were heard on the wharves ; and the porter threw down his load, and the
drayman stopped his noisy cart, and shouted, " Three more saved." The tidings
ran along the streets; and the news-boys left off crying the last murder, and
shouted, " Three more saved." Busy salesmen dropped their goods, book keepers
their pens, bankers their discounts, tellers their gold, and merchants, hurrying on
the stroke of the last hour of grace to pay their notes, paused in their headlong
haste, and shouted, •• Three more saved 1 " Louder and louder grew the cry — fast
and faster it spread — along the crowded piers of the Hudson and East River — up
by the graves of Trinity, the Hotels of Broadway, the marble palaces of the Fifth
Avenue — over the heights of Brooklyn — across to Hoboken and Jersey City — away,
away, beyond tower and pinnacle, beyond mansion and temple, beyond suburb and
hamlet — till a million hearts pulsated with its thrill, and above all the sounds of
the vast metropolis, mightier than all, hushing all, rose the great exultant shouts
" Three more saved I Three more saved I " If cold and selfish men will thus stop
short in the eager quest of gain or of pleasure, to let the voice of humanity speak,
out, and to express their joy that three fellow-beings have been rescued from the-
ocean depths, shall we deem it an incredible thing that the holy and loving denizens
of heaven should rejoice when a sinner repents, and is delivered from the abyss of
hell? (Dr. Ide.) Repentance not better than obedience : — And in truth we may
learn, from the working of human affection, that the rejoicing more of the lost
sheep than of the ninety and nine, proves not that the one is more beloved than<
the rest. If one member of his family be in sickness or danger, does not that.
one seem almost to engross the heart of the parent ? Are not the other members
comparatively forgotten, so completely, for a while, are the thoughts absorbed in the
suffering individual ? It is not — and the fathers and mothers amongst you know
that it is not — that the sick child is better loved than those which are in health.
It is not that your affections are more centred on the son who is far away amid
the perils of the deep than on those who are sitting safely at your fireside. It is
only that danger causes you to feel a special interest for the time in some one of
your offspring — an interest which for the most part ceases with the occasion, and
which would be immediately transferred to another of the family, if that other were
the subject of the peril. Oh, we quite believe that the mother, gazing on the child
who seems about to be taken from her by death, is conscious of a feeling of
Sassionate attachment which does not throb within her as she looks on her other
ttle ones sleeping in their unbroken healthfulness. And if disease be suddenly
arrested, and the child over whom she had wept in her agony smile on her again^
and again charm her with its prattle, why we are persuaded that she will rejoicet
more of that child than of its brothers and its sisters, over whose beds she has
never hung in anguish. Yet it is not that the one is dearer to her than the others^
The probability of losing the one, whilst the others were safe, has caused a concen-
tration of her sohcitudes and anxieties. But her heart is all the while as thoroughly
devoted to those who need not the same intenseness of her maternal care ; and you
have only to suppose the sickness from which one child has recovered seizing on
another, and presently yon will see her centring on this other the same eager
watchfulness; and for a time will there be again the same ftpparent absorption o£
the affections : and if again there be restoration to health, oh, again there will be-
the manifestations of an exuberant gladness, and the mother will rejoice more of
the boy or the girl who has been snatched back from the grave than of those mem-
bers of her household who have not approached its confines. But not, we agaii>
eay, because she loves one child better than the rest — not because the healthful
must become the sick in order to their being cherished and prized. Whatever her
rapture on being told " thy son liveth," the mother would far prefer the deep and'
unruffled tranquillity of a household not visited by danger and disease. And thaa
also with regard to moral peril, which brings the case nearer to that of the parabl»
ander reyiew. If one member of a family grow up ricious and dissolate, wmlst th*
S8 TUE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. XT.
others pursue stedfastly a course of obedience and virtue, it is not to be disputed
that the thoughts of the parents will almost be engrossed by tlieir profligate child,
and that the workings of anxious affection will be more evident in regard of this
prodigal than of the sons and the daughters who have given tbem no cause for
uneasiness. Is it that they love the reckless better than the obedient ? is it that
they would love the obedient better if they were turned into the reckless ? You
know that this is no true account of the matter. You know that the seeing what
we love in danger excites that interest on its behalf which we are scarcely conscious
of whilst we see it in security. The danger serves to bring out the affection, and to
show UB its depth ; but it rather affords occasion of manifestation than increases
the amount. And, beyond question, if the child whose perverseness and profligacy
have disquieted the father and the mother, causing them anxious days and sleep-
less nights, turn from the error of his ways, and seek their forgiveness and blessing
ere they die, there will be excited such emotions in their hearts as have never been
stirred by the rectitude and obedience of the rest of their offspring. And, in like
manner, so far as we may carry up the illustration from the earthly to the heavenly,
we deny that, in representing God as rejoicing more over the recovered tribe than
over those which never fell, we represent Him as better pleased with repentance
than with uniform obedience. We do but ascribe to Him human emotions, just in
order to show that there is a tenderness in Deity which makes Him solicitous, if
the word be allowable, for those who have brought themselves into danger and
difficulty, and which renders their deliverance an object of such mighty importance
that, when achieved, it may be said to minister more to His happiness than the
homage of the myriads who never moved His displeasure. And when, through the
energies of redemption, the human race was reinstated in the place whence it fell,
it was not that God prefers the penitent to those who never swerved from allegiance,
and has greater delight in men who have sinned than in angels who have always
obeyed ; it was not on these accounts that He was more gladdened, as we suppose
Him, by the recovery of what had wandered than by the steadfastness of what
remained. It was only because, where there has been ground of anxiety, and a
beloved object has been in peril, his restoration and safety open channels into
which, for a while, the sympathies of the heart seem to pour aU their fulness — it
was only on this account that. Divine things being illustrated by human, our
Creator might be likened to a man who, having found on the mountains the one
sheep he had. lost, " rejoiceth more of that sheep than of the ninety and nine
which went not astray." We judge from its context, as given by St. Matthew,
that Christ designed to indicate the carefulness of God in reference to the
erring members of the Church, which is specially His flock. He is there
speaking of the little ones, who are His disciples and followers; and the truth
which He declares illustrated by the parable is, that it is not the will of the
Father that "one of these little ones should perish. (£f. Melvill, B.D.)
Vers. 8-10. Either what woman having ten pieces of silver. — Man resembled to
silver coin : — 1. And that in regard of matter. No metal except gold (which indeed
is most solid and perfectly concocted with sufficient heat, so that it never corrupteth
by rust) is to be compared with it. So man is the excellentest of all God's
creatures except angels, and bat a Uttle inferior unto them (Psa. viii. 5). 2. In
regard of lustre. For albeit sUver in the ore be base and unsightly to look on, yet
<5oming out of the mint purified and fined, it is beautiful. Thus, though man,
while he was in the lump of clay, was without beauty ; yet being formed, God put
upon him great glory and majesty (Psa. viii.), so that in beauty and fairness he
excellea all other visible creatures, as by those relics yet remaining, and to be
found in sinful men, we may gather. As the complexion of David (1 Sam. xvi. 12).
The beauty of Absalom, in whom there was not a blemish from top to toe
(2 Sam. xiv.). The stature of Saul (1 Sam. x.) 8. In regard of stamp. Money hath
some impress and image on it, as the Jewish shekel, which on the one side had
Aaron's rod, and on the other side the pot of manna. So the Eomans had Caesar's
image upon their coin, whereby they acknowledged subjection ; and the coin which
Jacob paid unto the Shechemites was stamped with a lamb (Gen. xxxiii. 19). Thus
had man the image of his Maker, which God stamped on him as a mark of hit
possession. 4. Money hath its stamp and form from regal authority ; it must bo
refined and made (for it makes not itself) by the prince's royalty. Thu3 man waa
the work of God's hands (Psa. c), and His alone (Job x. 8). 5, Silver hath a
good sound above other metals. And hence it was that tmmpeti of silver wera
CHAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 97
eommanded by the Lord to be made (Numb. x. 1, 2) for shrillness and clearness.
Thus man above other creatures had a tongue given him to praise his Maker with,
which is therefore called the glory of man (Gen. xlix. 6 ; Psa. xvi. 9). 6. Silver
commands all things, and answers all things, as speaketh Solomon (Eccles. x. 19).
There is nothing (whether holy or profane) but are at the beck and command of it.
Such a commanding power had man by his creation over all creatures (Psa. viii. 6).
•• Thou hast made him to have dominion in the works of Thy hands " ; such authority
God gave him (Gen. i. 28), willing him to "rule over the fishes of the sea, over the
fowls of heaven, and over every beast that moveth upon the earth." Silver is not
all of a like worth ; there are different pieces and of different value. The Jews
had their gerah, and half shekel, and shekel (Exod. xxx. 13), with divers other
coins of silver. So all were not of a like degree in the creation, though all
excellent and good ; for God observed order from the beginning. Amongst the
»ngels some are superior, and some inferior; there are degrees amongst them
(Goloss. i. 16). {N. Eogert.) The lost coin: — I. Look at the thino lost, and
TOO WILL FIND SEVERAL POINTS OF IMPORTANCE THEREBY SUGGESTED. 1. It WaS a
coin. That is to say, it was not simply a piece of a precious metal, but that metal
moulded and minted into money, bearing on it the king's image and superscription,
and witnessing to his authority wherever it circulated. 2. But the coin was lost,
and this suggests that in sinful man the image of his Maker has gone out of sight,
and the great purpose of his being has been frustrated. His intellect does not like
to retain God in its knowledge ; his heart has estranged its love from God ; and his
life is devoted to another lord than his Creator. He is lost. 3. Yet he is not
absolutely worthless. The coin, though lost, has still a value. If it can be
recovered, it will be worth as much as ever. 4. But yet, again, this coin was lost
in the house. The woman did not let it fall as she was crossing the wild and
trackless moor, neither did she drop it into the unfathomed depths of ocean. Had
she done so, she would never have thought of seeking for it ; she would have given
it op as irrecoverable. Now, this points to the fact that the soul of the sinner is
recoverable. It is capable of being restored to its original dignity and honour. It
has in it still potentialities as great and glorious as those which ever belonged to
iL II. This brings me to the consideration of the seabch, wherein we have also
BOMB things suggested WHICH ARE PECULIAR TO THIS PARABLE. Eastcm hoUSeS,
unlike our own, are constructed in such a way as to keep out the light and heat of
the sun as much as possible. They have few windows, and even the few which
they have are shaded with such lattice-work as tends to exclude rather than admit
the sunbeam. Hence the rooms are generally dark ; and so, even if the coin were
lost at noonday, the light of a candle would be required to seek for it. Nor was
there, in Eastern dwellings, the same scrupulous cleanliness that we love to see in
BO many homes around us. The floors were often covered with rushes, which,
being changed only at rare intervals, collected a vast amount of dust and filth,
among which a piece of money might be most readily lost. Hence the lighting
of a candle and the sweeping of the house were the most natural things to be done
in such a case. But whom does this woman represent ? and what, spiritually, are
we to understand by the lighting of a candle and the sweeping of the house ? The
woman, in my judgment, symbolizes the Holy Spirit, and I look upon the means
which she employed in her search for the lost coin as denoting the efforts made by
the Holy Spirit for the recovery of a lost soul. Now let ns see what these were.
She lighted a candle, and swept the house, and searched diligently. The light
most evidently represents the truth ; but what are we to make of the sweeping ?
Some would take it to illustrate the purifying work of the Holy Ghost in the heart.
But that view cannot be maintained, since the purifying of the soul is not a work
in order to, but rather subsequent upon, its recovery. I take it rather, therefore,
to represent that disturbance of settled opinions and practices — that turning of the
Boal, as it were, upside down — which is frequently seen as a forerunner of con-
version ; that confusion and disorder occasioned by some providential dealing with
the man, such as personal illness, or business difficulties, or family bereavement,
or the like, and which frequently issues in the coming of the soul to Go^i ; for here
also chaos often precedes the new creation. Truth introduced into the heart, and
providential disturbances and unsettlements in order to its introduction — these are
the things symbolized by the lighting of the candle and the sweeping of the hoase.
The truth which the Holy Spirit employs for the purpose of conversion is the Word
of God, all of which has been given to men by His own inspiration; and the
•special portion of that Word which He uses for His saving work is the wondroot
TOL. in. 7
98 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [onAP. XT,
story of the Crosa. III. We oome now, in the third place, to look at thb jot oveb
THB BECOTEBED COIN ; and here, as before, we shall restriot ourselves to that which
is peculiar to this parable. In the story of the lost sheep, while the social .
character of the joy is certainly referred to, the speciality in the gladness of the
shepherd over its finding lay in the fact, to which prominence is given in the
appended note of interpretation, that it was greater than over the ninety and nine
which had never strayed. Here, however, the peculiarity is in the sociality of the
joy. God's joy, if I may dare to use the words, needs society to make it complete ;
and the fact that there are those beside Him to whom He can make known the
story of each recovered soul, redoubles His own gladness, and diffuses among them
His own Divine delight. Nor let it be supposed that this is a mere fanciful idea,
for which there is no foundation in Scripture apart from the teaching of this
parable. What says Paul ? " God hath created all things by Jesus Christ ; to the
intent that now, unto the principalities and powers in heavenly places, might be
known through the Church the manifold wisdom of God" (Eph. iii. 10). Now,
these words mean, if they mean anything at all, that through means of the Church,
God designed to show to principalities and powers in heavenly places His manifold
wisdom. In the manifestation of this wisdom God has His highest work, and, in its
appreciation by spiritual intelligences, through the Church of Christ, He has His
greatest joy. (W. M. Taylor, D.D.) The search of love: — Type of a soul
ignorant of its death, utterly unconcerned with the thought of sin. Yet a coin,
having image and superscription. It may be covered with dust, it may be half defaced
or hidden under heaps of rubbish ; but it has not returned, and caunot return, into
the uncoined state. Meet emblem of man's soul in its lowest estate. " I am God's
coin," said one of old ; " from His treasure-house I have wandered." And it ia
because we are God's, that He seeks. I. God'b love lights a i.amp of bqvelatioh
IN THE WORLD. Though you may care little about your lost soul, God cares for it
much. He has lit His candle — the candle of Divine revelation, and He is throwing
its illumination upon you. Hinder not, thwart not, His search for your soul.
Love herself might light the candle, and yet the lost coin not be found under the
long accumulation of dirt — of easily-besetting sins and long-indulged habits. So
the parable goes on to speak of a sweeping. II. The love of God sweeps thb
HOUSE, WHICH IS THE MAN. Is not this the real meaning of that sickness, that
bereavement, that disappointment which seemed to you so casual, or so
wanton, or so cruel? It was the love of God still. III. The seeeino is
UNTO FINDING. Lovo wiU not stay till she finds. Help her. Kick not
against the goad. IV. Tbbat the text as a pbbcbpt. Light a candle,
sweep the house, and seek diligently till you find. {Dean Vaughan.) The
loit groat: — I. The lost oboat. 1. It is a symbol of the human sonl.^ (1)
The soul seems to be of little value, if considered in its imperfections, in its
inability to perform supernatural acts, and even more so, if compared to the holy
angels, who are purer than gold, brighter than diamonds. (2) Nevertheless, the
groat, as a coin, has its value. So is the human soul of great valne, because it is
created according to the image and likeness of God, redeemed by His precious
blood, sealed by the Holy Spirit. Thus it is raised to a supernatural state, and
enabled to merit the glory and bliss of heaven. 2. How the groat, the human soul,
is lost. (1) By the deceitfulness of the devil, who, driven by envy and hatred,
«ndeavoarB to deprive the Divine Master of His coin, the coin of its splendour.
He buries the soul in the mire of sin. (2) Through the fault of man. Whilst he
is nnmindful of being God's own property, undervalues the worth of his soul, keeps
company with thieves, his soul is lost. 3. The consequences are most deplorable.
(1) The lost soul is covered with the filth of sin, from which it can never cleanse
itself by its own power. (2) The value of the soul diminishes. The merits of the
past are lost, the power of ignorance and concupiscence increases. (3) The coinage
disappears. Sin deforms the Divine image and likeness ; at its entrance grace leaves
the soul ; and man falls under the curse and displeasure of God. II. The seeking
wouAM. 1. This •• woman " is the Church, 2. The " candle " is Christ, the light
of the world. 3. The •♦ friends and neighbours " are the angels and saints. (W.
Reischl.) The parable of the hit tilver : — I. As the silveb was precious to thh
WOMAN, so ARE OUR SOULS IN THE SIGHT OF GoD OUR Savioub. We estimate a per
son's value for a thing by the price he gives, the sacrifice he makes, to obtain or
recover it. How dear, then, was man to God, who loved him when fallen ; yea,
who so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever
tteiieveth in Hisi, should not perish, bat have eternal life. II. As thb pieue o*
«■!», XT.] ST. LUKE. 99
MONZT WAS LOST TO THB WOMAM, SO IS EVERY ONB WHO CONTINUES IN SIN LOST TO GOD.
Ge is alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in him. III. As
THB WOMAN SEAKCHED FOB HEB LOST TBEA8URE, AND SPARED NO PAINS TO RECOVER IT ;
SO DOES Jesus Christ seek the soul that is lost by sin. IY. As the woman calls
HER FRIENDS AND NEIGHBOURS TO REJOICE WITH HER, FOB THE LOST PIECE FOUND ; SO
IS THERE JOT IN HEAVEN, IN THB PRESENCE OF THB ANGELS OF GoD, OVEB ONE BEPENT-
iNO 8INNEB. For this joy, Jesus endured the cross, despising the shame. Thus Ha
sees of the travail of His soul, and is satisfied. And His joy is shared hy the
Angels that surround His throne. 1. Let this parable, then, rebuke self-righteous-
ness ; let it teach humility. 2. Again — let this parable suggest the most powerful
motive to instant repentance. For what motive is there, like Christ's enduring and
seeking love? {E. Blencowe, M.A.) Man's fall GocTs loss : — This parable pictures
Ood as the Bedeemer of man in tnree different modes or attitudes — shall I say of
feeling ? I. The first division of the picture represents God as contemplating as
A loss to Himself the state of sin into which man has fallen. No one but God
could have ventured thus to represent God. God mourns the fall of man as a lost
treasure, as something in which He delighted, and of which sin has robbed Him.
God has a property of the heart in man's welfare. II. In the second part of the
picture, God is befresented as making an effort for the bbootert of max from
the sin and misebt into which he has fallen. The fact of atonement is here ; the
quickening work of the Holy Ghost is here, and the manifold ministry to man is
here ; by all which God is seeking to bring men to Himself and save them from sin ;
and the more one seeks to look at this, the more one feels how true it is that the
inflexible righteousness of God, that the infinite love of God, is full of a determina-
tion not to let His human treasure go without an effort to recover it. III. The
third point is that God and the good angels bejoice in heaven over the becovebt
OF men. (A. Hannay.) A -priceless gem : — I. The homely stoby. 1. It may
«eem like a little thing to you — this sixpence ; but what is great to a child is not
small to the father ; and that is nut little to God that is great to any man. He
who knows all about the homes, and the hearts that beat in London in such homes,
knows that sometimes the difference between sixpence and no sixpence may mean
All the difference between food and no food, shelter and no shelter for the night,
ease from pain, or no ease from pain. Oh, what magic that prosaic thing, the
piece of silver, can work 1 Look at our Nonconformist father, Lawrence. See him
seated under a hedgerow on the morning of the great Puritan exodus in 1662 ; see
kim looking as if fit to die, for he thinks about his hungry and homeless little ones.
What is it that suddenly makes the eye flash, and the face quiver, and the foot
spring ? Only the sight of a lost piece of silver. He had just found a sixpence in
the ditch before him, and it fairly seemed to him as if it had oome down into that
ditch from the very Throne of thrones that very moment. 2. The central person
in this story is a woman — not some stately Cleopatra, not some gay Herodias, not
some grand lady with face beautiful as a dream, and step graceful as a wave, who,
having possessed ten gems of rarest water, or ten pearls of great price, has lost one
of them ; but only a poor village woman, who, having saved up for the rent, or a
rainy day, ten pieces of silver, has lost one. She searches ; fin is ; calls her neigh-
bours together to rejoice with her. The event was not enough to electrify a cabinet
hut it was enough to lighten her heart, and to send a sensation all through her little
world. II. The Divine ueaniho. 1. Look at the coin, and then think of the value
of the soul. Souls look through those waiting, gazing eyes around me, souls look
out from those listening ears, souls thrill along those nerves. Souls I Why will
ye cleave to the dust f Awake, know yourselves, and try to think aboat your own
animaginable value. 3. Look at the coin lost, and think of the soul lost in the
house of this world. Some years ago the men working on the Thames Embankment
— ^laying its foundations — found a lost piece of silver, stamped with the image of %
Roman Emperor. Perhaps that piece of silver had been lost 1,800 years. My spirit
flashes back to that spot, and to that moment, and I see the scene just how it all
happened. I see a man coming down from the green solitudes of Camberwell, where
the Boman station is, coming down to the edge of the river. I see him cross from
what we now call the Surrey side, to what we now call the city side. I see him, as
he stepi out of the boat, take his purse out to pay the ferryman, and I see the piece
of silver slip from his fingers through the water, and there it stuck in the black slime
of the river. It was for ages lost to the purpose for which it was made. It might as
well not have been silver. Now I say there are souls lost like that coin. 8. look at
the coin lost, but not knowing that it is lost, and think of the soul lost in this housA
100 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap. kt.
and not knowing that it is lost. The frivolist. The sensualist. The formalist. These
no more know they are lost than does the; coin wh«n it has rippled along the floor
and slipped into a chink in the darkness ! But it is a fact all the same. Once, cer-
tain explorers on an Arctic expedition were working their way through the still, gray
air in the eternal silence, when they suddenly came upon an antique, spectral-look-
ing ship locked in blocks of ice. They boarded it, and one man took his lantern and
ran down the campan ion -ladder into the state-cabin. He held it up. He found all
the ship's company there. There sat the captain, with his hand upon the log-book;
and there sat the mate, and there sat the doctor, and there sat the others. " Cap-
tain 1 " There was no stir. He cried again, " Captain ! " But there was only tbo
silence that creeps and shudders. " Captain I " He held his light up again and
flashed it around — and what did that light reveal ? Dead hands ! dead lips 1 dead
eyes ! — dead men ! The cold that had been strong enough to steel them through,
and to freeze the life of their blood, had been strong enough to arrest the touch ol
Decay's hastening fingers, and to keep fixed in the form and attitude of life Deatli
itself, and to keep it thus — so it was said— for nearly half a century. Oh ! man do
but think of what it is of which I am speaking. Dead souls 1 Lost souls I 4. Look
at the search which this woman is making in the house, and think of the Holy
Spirit's part in searching for the lost soul. There was once heard in the Isle of
Wight a little girl say to her mother, when sweeping the cottage floor, " Mother,
mother, pull the blind down, the sunshine makes the room so dusty." And so it
is that the light in the house of the Interpreter may seem to make the room dusty,
but it seems to create what it only reveals : it makes us think that we are worse
than we are when we are only wiser than we were ; it make us see ourselves, see
our Saviour, and then, " there is joy in the presence of the angels of God." (C
Standford, D.D.) The lost silver piece : — I. First, the parable treats of man, the
object of Divine mercy, as lost. 1. Notice, first, the treasure was lost in the dust.
The woman had lost her piece of silver, and in order to find it she had to sweep for
it, which proves that it had fallen into a dusty place, fallen to the earth, where it
might be hidden and concealed amid rubbish and dirt. Every man of Adam bom
is as a piece of silver lost, fallen, dishonoured, and some are buried amid foulness
and dust. Thou art lost by nature, and thou must be found by grace, whoever thou
mayst be. 2. In this parable that which was lost was altogether ignorant of ita
being lost. The silver coin was not a living thing, and therefore had no conscious-
ness of its being lost or sought after. The piece of money lost was quite as content
to be on the floor or in the dust, as it was to be in the purse of its owner amongst
its like. It knew nothing about its being lost, and could not know. And it is just
so with the sinner who is spiritually dead in sin, he is unconscious of his state, nor
can we make him understand the danger and terror of his condition. The insensi-
bility of the piece of money fairly pictures the ntter indifference of souls
unquickened by Divine grace. 3. The silver piece was lost but not forgotten. The
woman knew that she had ten pieces of silver originally ; she counted them over
carefully, for they were all her little store, and she found only nine, but she well
remembered that one more was hers and ought to be in her hand. This is our
hope for the Lord's lost ones, they are lost but not forgotten, the heart of the
Saviour remembers them, and prays for them. 4. Next, the piece of silver was lost
but still claimed. Observe that the woman called the money, " my piece which was
lost." When she lost its possession she did not lose her right to it; it did not
become somebody else's when it slipped out of her hand and fell upon the floor.
Those for whom Christ hath died, whom He hath peculiarly redeemed, are not
Satan's even when they are dead in sin. They may come under the devil's usurped
dominion, but the monster shall be chased from his throne. 5. Further, observe
that the lost piece of money was not only remembered and claimed, but it was also
valued. In these three parables the value of the lost article steadily rises. Thia
is not very clear at first sight, because it inay be said that a sheep is of more value
than a piece of money ; but notice that the shepherd only lost one sheep out of •
hundred, but the woman lost one piece out of ten, and the father one eon out of
two. To the Lord of love a lost soul is very precious : it is not because of ita
intrinsic value, but it has a relative value which God sets at a high rate. 6. The
piece of money was lost, but it was not lost hopelessly. The woman had hopes of
recovering it, and therefore she did not despair, but set to work at once. I con-
gratulate the Christian Church too, that her piece of money has not fallen where
she cannot find it. I rejoice that the fallen around us are not past hope ; yea,
though they dwell in the worst dens of London, though they be thieves and harlota.
flBAi. XT.] ST. LUKE. 101
they are not beyond the reach of mercy. Up, 0 Church of God, while possibilities
of mercy remain ! 7. One other point is worthy of notice. The piece of silver was
lost, but it was lost in the house, and the woman knew it to be so. What thank-
fulness there ought to be in your minds that you are not lost as heathens, nor lost
amid Eomish or Mohammedan superstition, but lost where the gospel is faithfully
and plainly preached to you ; where you are lovingly told, that whosoever believeth
in Christ Jesus is not condemned. Lost, but lost where the Church's business is to
look after you, where it is the Spirit's work to seek and to find you. This is the con-
dition of the lost soul, depicted as a lost piece of silver. II. Secondly, we shall notice
the soul under another condition, we shall view it as sought. By whom was the piece
of silver sought? 1. It was sought by its owner personally. 2. This seeking became a
matter of chief concern with the woman. 3. Now note, that the woman having thus
set her heart to find her money, she used the most fit and proper means to accom-
plish her end. First, she lit a candle. So doth the Holy Spirit in the Church.
But she was not content with her candle, she fetched her broom, she swept the
house. If she could not find the silver as things were in the house, she brought
the broom to bear upon the accumulated dust. Oh, how a Christian Church, when
it is moved by the Holy Spirit, cleanses herself and purges all her work 1 4. Care-
fully note that this seeking after the lost piece of silver with fitting instruments,
the broom and the candle, was attended with no small stir. She swept the house —
there was dust for her eyes ; if any neighbours were in the house there was dust
for them. You cannot sweep a honse without causing some confusion and tem-
porary discomfort. It is to be remarked, also, that in the seeking of this piece of
silver the coin was sought in a most engrossing manner. 6. This woman sought
continuously — '• till she found it. " III. The piece of silver found. Found 1 1. In
the first place, this was the woman's ultimatum, and nothing short of it. She
never stopped until the coin was found. So it is the Holy Spirit's design, not that
the sinner should be brought into a hopeful state, but that he should be actually
saved : and this is the Church's great concern, not that people be made bearers,
not that they be made orthodox professors, but that they be really changed and
renewed, regenerated and born again. 2. The woman herself found the piece of
money. It did not turn up by accident, nor did some neighbour step in and find it.
The Spirit of God himself finds sinners, and the Church of God herself, as a rule, is
the instrument of their recovery. 3. Now notice when she had found it what she did
— phe rejoiced. The greater her trouble in searching, the higher her joy in finding.
What joy there is in the Church of God when sinners are converted I 4. Next, she
calls her friends and neighbours to share her joy. I am afraid we do not treat our
friends and neighbours with quite enough respect, or remember to invite them to
our joys. Who are they? I think the angels are here meant; not only the angels
in heaven, but those who are watching here below. The angels are wherever the
saints are, beholding our orders and rejoicing in our joy. The joy is a present joy;
it is a joy in the house, in the Church in her own sphere ; it is the joy of her
neighbours who are round about her here below. All other joy seems swallowed
up in this: as every other occupation was suspended to find the lost silver, so every
other joy is hushed when the precious thing is found. (C. H. Spurgeon.) The
lc$t piece of money : — I. What befkll this woman. She had ten pieces of silver,
and of these she lost one — only one. That lost piece is man's soul. We were not
always, not once, not at first, what we are now. II. What this woman did to
FiKD the monet. She did everything proper in the circumstances. She could not
have done more. Assuming that the woman symbolizes the Spirit of God, the
candle shining in her hand is the Bible, God's revealed Word, which He takes and
carries into the recesses of the sinner's soul, revealing its foulness and danger and
misery, and making him feel his need of a Saviour. As to the sweeping, which
disturbs the house and reveals a foulness that, so long as it lay unstirred, was per-
haps never suspected : that may indicate the convictions, the alarms, the dread
discoveries, the searchings and agitations of heart, which not unfrequently accom-
pany conversion. It is not till the glassy pool is stirred th^t the mud at the
bottom rises to light ; it is when storms sweep the sea that what it hides in its
depths is thrown up on the shore ; it is when brooms sweep walls and floor that
the sunbeams, struggling through a cloud of dust, reveal the foulness of the house ;
and it is agitations and perturbations of the heart which reveal its corruption, and
are preludes to the purity and peace that sooner or later follow on conversion.
III. The woman's jot at finding the piece of silver. There is a peculiar
pleasure felt in recovering what we have lost ; or in having anything placed beyond
102 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. XT,
the reach of danger which we are afraid of losing. No boat making the harboax
over a glassy sea, its snowj canvas filled by the gentle breeze, and shining on tha
blue waters like a sea bird's wing, is watched with such interest, or, as with sail
flapping on the mast, it grates on the shingle, is welcomed with such joy, as ono
which, leaving the wreck on the thundering reef, comes through the roaring
tempest, boldly breasts the billows, and bringing off the half-drowned, half-dead
Burvivors, shoots within the harbour amid flowing tears and cheers that, bursting
from the happy crowd, rise above the rage and din of elements. (T. Guthrie, D.D.)
The Bible a moveable light : — The candle is a moveable light, carried by the woman
from place to place. Wherever a lost piece of money is to be sought, there tha
candle mast be carried that the searching may be thorough. This carrying of the
caudle, first into one place and then into another, is the Church's part iu seeking
for lost souls. While the whole truth for man's salvation is presented in Holy
Scripture, and any man who would inquire as to the way of life may there find tha
light he needs to guide him aright, men do not readily search the Scriptures for
themselves, that their own souls may be saved. In recognition of this neglect,
illustrated in one way under the image of the wandering sheep, in another under
the image of the lost piece of money, the necessity for the active work of seeking ia
acknowledged by the Church, as it is here taught by the Saviour. (Calderwood.)
A woman's loss : — You will have noticed that whereas in the other two parables of
" the sheep," and " the prodigal," it is " a man " who is represented as rejoicing
over the returning one — here it is "a woman." This may, indeed, be only to show
that every kind of affection combines in the joy over the penitent — the man's
strength and the woman's tenderness. But there may be more. At least, almost
all the ancient divines have seen another sense in it. They consider that under
the female appellation is meant here, as in many other places, the Church ; and
that the thought intended to be conveyed is of the Church having sustained tha
loBS, and the Church, as a Church, seeking diligently for the lost one. And yet
not altogether the Church, as something distiuct and independent in itself — but
the Church as that in which the Holy Ghost dwells — the Holy Ghost acting through,
the means of grace which constitute a Church. So, in the three parables, they
would see the Trinity all combined in the same feeling of love and happiness — tha
Son, designated by the Shepherd ; the Holy Spirit in the Church, by the woman ;
and the Father, by the parent of the prodigal. A great thought and a true one,
even though the steps by which we here arrive at it may appear to some fanciful.
Certain it is, that every soul which is in a condition to perish, is lost, not only to
God, but to the Church. And well were it if the Church always so regarded it.
And well if every member of the Church so felt it a personal loss to himself that
any one single soul should die, that he could not help but stir up himself, and stir
up others, to seek that soul till it was found. Would that the Holy Ghost were
going forth in the one great Catholic Church, uniting in this feeling and in this
resolve — that she would give herself no rest so long as there was one precious soul
committed to her care which was lying undiscovered and unredeemed. For mark,
brethren, the woman — different in this from the shepherd and the prodigal's
father — seeks a thing which her own folly and her own carelessness had lost.
First, she " lights a candle " — the well-known emblem in the Bible of three
things — first, the Spirit of God in a man's soul ; secondly, the Word of God ;
thirdly, the consistent lives of ministers and other servants of God. And these
three together make the great detective force, and so ultimately the great resto-
rative power which God uses in this world. 0 that every Church had lighted their
candle I O that our candles were burning better ! 0 that the Holy Ghost — prayed
for and honoured, cherished and magnified in His o^vn office — were here to be a
great Illuminator in the midst of us ! 0 that every baptized person were shining
as he ought to be, in his daily walk, in good works, and kind acts, and witnesses of
God's truth in this world ! 0 think you, brethren, how then would the dark
places of our land begin to grow bright again t How would the whole house shine !
How would the poor lost ones be found 1 So, with the lighted candle, the woman
went to " sweep the house." It is a great commotion and disturbance to " sweep " ;
but then it leads to cleanliness and order. So God's sweepings are severe things t
But then it is only to brush away what had no right to be there. It is only to dis-
close precious things out of the rubbish. And there are precious things in our souls
so covered with dust that they need sweeping. Afflictions will come, and scatter to
the winds the incrnsted sediment that has been so long thickening upon a man's
mind. And for the time, while the sweeping ia going on, the confusion and th«
CHAP. XT.] ST. LUKE. 103
obscurity will seem only the greater. But you will not presently complain — yon
will not regret the turmoil — when the costly thing, that was almost hidden,
sparkles again in the hand of its great Proprietor. Sweep oar house, Lord, for we
need it — not with the besom of destruction, though we deserve it — but sweep
away, Lord, as thou knowest best, every •* refuge of lies " where our soul lies
buried I All the parables agree in the one, blessed, crowning thought — " till she
find it." It is not a light achievement. It was not a day's work — it was not a
week's work — or a year's work — the recovery of that soul of yours. Many an
enterprise was begun and laid down again, and never ended by men, in that veiy
interval which elapsed between the time when God — ^your faithful, untiring God —
begun to deal with your soul, and the time when He made yon go to Him.
{J. Vaughan, M.A.) The Church'$ neglect of stmU : — Sometimes, in visions of a
moumful fancy, I seem to see this Mother-Church of ours sitting within her
ancient and noble house, sitting as a woman exceeding fair, but very cold and still ;
and BO she sitteth with her hands folded before her, as though she said to herself,
" I shall be a lady for ever ; I shall not sit as a widow, neither shall I know the
loss of children." And year by year, century after century, the dust falls and
gathers, and falls in the silence around her, and all things are covered as with a
shroud, and the precious coins are lost to sight and buried deep beneath. And
then I seem to see her arousing herself at last from her long waking dream, and
looking about with dismay for her lost treasures — bestirring herself to find them,
sweeping the dust away here and there, bringing to light with busy toil many a
shining effigy of the great King. And then I seem to hear indignant voices of
those who clamour and storm against her for disturbing quiet things, and making
nnnecessary agitation, and raising an unpleasant dust ; all the rich people, and the
comfortable people, and the people that are well at ease, and all that have no care
for souls — all are angry with her, and cry out to her, " Why can you not sit still as
Jrou did before, and if the dust falls, let it fall, and if the coins of the Eing be lost,
et them be lost ? only trouble us not, only do not vex our souls with all this stir
and dust." Once again I seem to see her that sometime sat as a queen and was
not moved ; I seem to see hn disconcerted and perplexed, anxious to recover the
lost, yet anxious not to give offence ; I see her hesitate and quail, and lay aside
her search with sorrow, and sit down again, but not at ease ; I see the dust begin
to fall and settle again, and fall and gather around her thicker and thicker, until
every shining coin be lost beneath the growing litter of neglect. Last of all, I see
a day arise, black with wind and rain, against that ancient house wherein the
woman sits ; I see the tempest of God's anger loosed upon it, I see the lightning of
His indignation launched against it ; I see her crushed and buried beneath the
wreck, among the silver pieces which she lost and did not find. {R, Winterbotliam,
M.A.) The Oriental setting of this parable : — The touches about lighting the
candle (or better, lamp, or hght), sweeping the house, and seeking diligently, and
calling the friends and neighbours together, are not without some pertinent modem
Oriental illustrations. Most of the native houses are without glass windows, and
are very dark when shut up. Often the windows are small, and sometimes kept
shut, as a rule depending on the door for Ught. They are dark places. The floor,
too, is often earth, or perhaps mortar, and very dirty. Where animals dwell with
the family, as is very common, the dirt is such as is best left to the imagination.
In such cases the particulars mentioned in verse eight are by no means superfluous.
So, too, the calling of the friends and neighbours together. One of the difficulties
in picking up the Arabic language among the common people is the paucity of
subjects of conversation. Little is to be heard except bargaining among the men,
and accounts of the most ordinary household operations among the women — except
in the case of some rather public scolds, whose voices, without a particle of ex-
aggeration, sounds to the Occidental like the falling and rattling of boards. The
occasion of losing and finding a piece of money would be a piece of great good
fortune to the gossips, as the writer has actually witnessed. It would be an incident
for a nine days' talk. And such terrible busybodies as they are ! Every one knows,
at least, all hia or her neighbours' business, and more besides, to an extent not
readily defined. The woman wbo loses and finds a piece of money would not be
long in calliug her friends and neighbours together; nor would they be slow
to come even uninvited. The babel of telling the story and commenting and
congratulating is not to be imagined in our land. The talk could be heard
a long distance. (Professor Isaac H. Hall.) The ten pieces of silver: —
In the three parables recorded in this chapter there is so evidently a pro
104 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xV.
gress and ascent of thought, they mount so naturally to a climax in their
revelation of the redeeming love of God, that if at, any point we fail to
make that progress out, if we encounter anything in them which wears
the aspect of an anti-climax, we are checked, disappointed, perplexed. And yet in
the second of these parables there is at one point an apparent retrocession, where
all else implies a forward and upward movement of thought. Every one can see
how immense an interval there is between the one sheep lost out of a hundred, and
the one son out of two, and that the younger — and in the Bible commonly the
dearer — of the two. But where is the connecting link ? How should the lost piece
of money be dearer to the careful housewife than the lost sheep to the faithful
shepherd, who knows and cares for every one of his flock and calleth them each by
his name ? One out of ten marks a great advance upon one out of a hundred
indeed ; but would it not be less to lose even ten silver coins than a single sheep —
less in value, less in love? The answer to that question, the solution of the
difficulty, is to be found in an Eastern custom, the application of which to the
parable before us all commentators on it have, so far as I know, overlooked. The
women of Bethlehem, and of other parts of the Holy Land, still wear a row of
coins sewn upon their head-dress, and pendant over their brows. And the number
of the coins is very commonly ten, as I, in common with other travellers, have
ascertained by counting. The custom reaches back far beyond the Christian era.
In all probability, therefore, it was not simply a piece of silver which was lost out
of her purse by the woman of our parable, but one of the ten precious coins which
formed her most cherished ornament ; and this would be a loss even more vividly
felt than that of the shepherd when one out of his flock of a hundred went astray.
So that immense as is the advance from both the care of the shepherd for his
sheep, and of the pride of the woman in the burnished coins which gleamed apon
her forehead, to the yearning and pitiful love of the father for his prodigal and
self-banished son, we can nevertheless find a link between the first and last terms
of the climax, and trace an advance even between the grief of the shepherd over
his stray sheep, and that of the woman over her lost coin. A piece of money in
her purse might easily be stolen or spent; but a coin from the head-dress could not
be so much as touched by any stranger, nor even taken from its wearer by her
husband unless she cut it off of her own accord and placed it in his hands. It
was safe, sacred, dear. It was a strictly personal possession, and might very well
be an heirloom — like the " silvers " of the Swiss women — hallowed by many fond
and gracious memories. {A. G. Weld.) Broken harmony : — If, as has been
alleged, the ten pieces of silver form the bride's necklace, and constitute a marriage
token, like our wedding ring, the work of the whole is marred by the destruction of
its unity. And thus we can gauge more accurately God's loss by man's sin. The
oneness of the creative plan is broken. From those beings whom God made for
the harmonious unfolding of His purposes, for the manifestation of His glory, and
for the beautifying of His universe, one order has broken loose and impaired the
symmetry and perfect working of the whole. {J. W. Burn.) _ Lost to use : —
Whatever ornamental or symbolical uses this coin might serve, it was the Roman
denarius, and had, therefore, a money value. Stamped with the monarch's image
and superscription, it was a means of purchase, and was capable of self-multipli-
cation in the way of usury. So, made in the Divine likeness, man is the current
coin of the Lord's universe. He is so constituted in mind and body as to be o£ use
to God in executing His sovereign purposes, and iu multiplying himself in sought
and rescued souls. No agency for these ends is comparable to man, and men
failing in this high vocation are lost. And how many are thus lost ? lost as utterly
to usefulness as though they themselves, as well as their talent, were wrapped in a
napkin and buried in the earth 1 And amongst them are many who are painfully
anxious about their precious souls, but are lost because they act as though there
•were no precious sotds but their own. For the solemn admonition of the Saviour
holds good here : " Whosoever will seek to save his life shall lose it, and whosoever
shall lose his life for My sake and the gospel's, the same shall save it." {Ihid.)
Lost in the house : — What a meaning this parable has for those who are lost in a
Christian home, school, sanctuary, and who, while neither blasphemers, nor infidels,
nor libertines, and while maintaining a nominal connection with God and His
cause, are lost 1 Lost to duty, with all around them conducive to consecration;
lost to the love of God, while daiiy loaded with Divine benefits I {Ibid.) Th4
Spirit's work in the coul : — He is Christ's fan and Christ's fire. He thoroughly
purges His floor and throws a lurid light on the sinner's state. He sweeps away
our. XT.] 8T. LUKE. 105
the cobwebs of error by His powerful convictions, and pours the truth of sin and
righteousness and judgment into the mind. He overturns the temple of fovmalism
by the might of His power and lays bare the hollowness of those who worship God
with their lips while their hearts are far from Him. The dust of self-deception
flies as His sharp appeals to the conscience leave the self -deluded without excuse.
Some dire affliction clears the souJ of its worldUness, and the lovers of pleasure
more than lovers of God are confronted with their doom. He strips the sham of aU
his dissim alation by the manifestation of the stern realities of God and of eternity,
and demonstrates the futility of the profession of religion without the possession
of its power. Often His work has to be repeated. Encumbrances removed are
replaced and removed again. Hunted from one comer the sinner takes refuge in
another, and is still pursued. Nor does the Spirit cease to strive with man until
resistance becomes hopeless obduracy, and until the final quenching of His light
leaves tlie sinner in outer darkness. {Ibid.) The utility of disturharwe : — And
as mere habit and neglect hide souls from themselves, and from the just sympathy
and care of their fellows, God's Spirit sends its great disturbing agencies into the
society, the nation, the age, or into the nanower bounds of the family. The besom
does not really make the new dust ; but it only brings the old and long-gathering
deposit more, for a time, into the air and upon the lungs. The messengers of the
gospel are, for the time, regarded as " turning the world upside down." Or God's
providences in calamities, and wars, and social revolutions, show men the magni-
tude of past hereditary errors. The besom of judgment goes shaking society out
of its torpor and equanimity. It was so in Luther's day, and in Calvin's. It waa
BO in the Puritans of our ancestral Britain, and in their colonists who crossed to
this country. God, by them, broke up many a pile of quiet litter ; and brushed
aside many a film of long-settled green mould, picturesque in its verdure, or
venerable in its grey, hoar antiquity, which had gathered upon the national
conscience. But a Bunyan, and a Milton, and a Baxter, and an Owen, and a Howe
were precious medals brought out by the besoming ; and constitutional freedom and
national morality, and EngUsh literature, and Christian piety were greatly enriched
by the agitation. It was so in the revolution that made us a nation. It was so in
the agitations that went over Europe in the train of our first revolution. It was
BO in our last great struggle. It has been so in modern missions. Would you put
that shaking and besoming peremptorily and effectually down ? We hear, behind
the turmoil and the thick streaming clouds of dust, as God's great besoms sweep
along, the words of an august cry : " I will overturn, and overturn, and overturn
until He, whose right it is to reign, shall come." {W. R. Williams.) God's
search for tlie lost : — God is as incapable of being indifferent towards His lost man-
kind, as is a mother towards her lost child. Lost mankind are not only His lost,
but His lost children. His piece of money is money indeed, for originally it came
out of the mine of His eternal nature. Heathen poets. Christian apostles, and
modern philosophy are agreed that mankind " are His offspring." And does not
the Source of all hearts feel? And is He not concerned for His lost? In the
Divinity of indifference I cannot beheve. And yet I am strongly inclined to think
that, to many, one great offence of the gospel is, that it is too gracious, too tender
too womanly. They can conceive God to have Almighty power, infinite wisdom
and justice, but they cannot give Him credit for infinite affection. They know that
a woman will light a candle and go into every hole and comer, stooping and
searching, until she find that which she has missed ; but they have no idea that
this can be a true parable of God's concern for His lost children. They are not
surprised to find a heart in my Lady Franklin : they are not surprised at any
measures that she may set on foot to recover the lost one. They are not sui-prised
that the British and American Governments should be concerned to seek, and if
possible, to save Sir John and his crew. No one said, they are not worth the
expense and labour of seeking, because they are few. Not far from a million
pounds were sacrificed in this search. Besides money, good brothers were not
found backward to expose their own lives to danger, in the distant hope of finding
and relieving their missing brothers. Have the English Government and people
so great a concern to recover their lost, and has God none? Better say that a drop
contains more than the ocean, that a candle gives more light than the sun, that
there are higher virtues in a stream than in its source, and that the creature has
more heart than God. Otherwise confess, that the gospel is infinitely worthy of
the heart of God ; and never more imagine the great Father to fijid rest under the
loss of His human family, in the consolation : " They are nothing compared witb
106 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, tt.
My universe, they will never be miBsed." (J. Puhford.) Lost treasure : — In the
parable of the lost coin the first thing that strikes us is, that something considered
of value had been lost. The lighting of the candle, the sweeping of the house, the
diligent search, everything else being laid aside to attend to this matter, all showed
that the thing lost was regarded as quite important. So when the soul of man
becomes lost through sin, the most valuable object in the world is lost. Whether
we reflect upon the soul's vast power of endless progress ; its wonderful capacity
of investigating the universe, from the lowest depthe of earth to the highest star;
its ability to hold converse and communion vrith the great God Himself, and there
to find its highest delight ; its rapidity of thought by which it can move through
the universe in the tvrinkling of an eye ; or the great interest that has been
manifested in it by all heaven — we must see its amazing value. The exceeding
value of man's soul is seen in what Jesus has done for it. Men often put forth
great efforts for very insignificant objects. But when we see the Saviour leave His
bright throne in the heavens, and become a homeless wanderer upon the earth, that
He might save lost souls, we are able to form some estimate of the soul's value.
Oh, yes; in Calvary we see how much is lost when the soul is lostl This is the
precious thing that was lost. What a loss ! The loss of reputation, of wealth, ol
health, of property, of life — all are nothing to such • loss as this. And such is
man's position out of Christ. {J. B. Boyd.)
Ver. 10. Joy In the presence of the angels of God. — Joy among the angels over
repenting sinners : — I. The class eepkesented as being specially excited by the
EMOTION OF JOY ovEB A sinneb's bepentance. " The augels of God " — uncorporeal,
immaculately holy, composed of various orders, active messengers of God to men.
II. Why do the angels kejoice when a binnee bepents 7 1. Because true repent-
ance culminates in that holiness of heart and life which is the chief glory of the
angels. 2. Because the moral character of a sinner's influence is for ever changed
by his conversion. 3. By repentance and conversion a sinner escapes eternal retri-
bution for his sins, and secures moral fitness for eternal life. III. What lessons
DO WB LEAKN FBOM THESE EAOTB ? 1. That We manifest the spirit of the angelio
race when we labour to lead sinners to Christ and rejoice over their conversion.
2. That the preaching with which the angels sympathize is of that type best cal-
culated to bring sinners to repentance. 3. The appalling peril of a sinner over
whose repentance no angels have rejoiced. Sin has but one logical issue — eternal
death. Give the angels a chance to rejoice to-day over your repentance. {S. V.
Leach, L.D. ) Heaven's joy over the repenting sinner : — I. The tecth heee declabed.
1. The joy mentioned is special. 2. The joy is shared, originated by God Himself.
n. The cause of the angelic joy. 1. A sinner. 2. Not the sinner while engaged
in sin. 3. One sinner that repenteth. 4. Bepentance stands before us here
showing plainly two sides. (1) Produced by the grace of God. (2) A dehberate
«ct on the part of the sinner. It is the confluence of these two streams that issues
» true repentance. III. Why such gladness should be shown. 1. When a
sinner repents, God's purpose is effected. 2. Christ's kingdom is enlarged. 3. A
soul is saved. Conclusion : 1. Behold the value of a single soul. 2. Observe the
necessity of repentance. {W. S. Bruce, M.A.) Angels and men : — I. The natcbb
AND CHABACTEEisTics OF ANGELS. Spiritual beings of high dignity and capacities.
1 . Their might. They excel in strength. The army of God. 2. Their power.
Great mental endowments. 3. Their purity. IL Theib jot at the becoveby and coh-
VEESiON OF siNNEES. 1. It proceeds from their superior knowledge of what man's
place in the intelligent aniverse is : his Divine origin, and sublime destiny. 2.
The conversion of a sinner brings joy to the angelic hosts, because thereby their
liege Lor^ is honoured. His name exalted. His grace magnified. His rule acknow-
ledged, and His word found not to have returned to Him void. 3. Their happiness
is to see happiness, and conversion is the first step to a sinner's happiness. III.
The duty devolting upon oueselveb, to do that which may augment both theib
JOY AND 0X7ES. We must engage in good works, and endeavour, each in his own
vocation and ininistry, to lead sinners to repentance. (D. Moore, M.A.) Angel*
joyful over the repentance of a sinrur : — L View the scene on eabth which thb
TEXT SPEEADS BEFOBE US. What is its nature ? To the carnal eye it presents
nothing that is attractive or worthy of regard. It opens to our view, not an indi-
vidual in a state of hilarity and mirth, indulging himself in sensual delights; bat
a poor weary, heavy-laden sinner, repenting of his transgressions. 1. Bepentance
includes brokenness of heart. 2. Self- abhorrence enters into the spirit of tni«
eaxp. XT.] 8T. LUKE. 107
repentance. 8. Godly sorrow for sin is an essential ingredient of evangelical
repentance. 4. The spirit of prayer is always associated with repentance. 6. Faith
in the Lord Jesus Christ is connected with scriptural repentance. IL Let va
GiiANCE AT THB HEAVENLY SCENE. 1. Angcls are benevolent beings ; partaking largely
of the moral qualities of the Deity, of the beneficence and compassion of His
nature, they feel interested and delighted in whatever promotes the welfare and
happiness of Qod's intelligent creatures. 2. Angels are joyful at the repentance of
a sinner, because a splendid victory is achieved. 3. Angels are joyful at the event,
because an immortal being is saved. 4. There is joy among the angels at this
occurrence, because God is glorified in it — each person in the Trinity. {Essex
Remembrancer.) Angels rejoice over repenting sinners : — I would employ this
subject in order — L To bemind Christian believers of certain duties which they
OWE. We learn, then, from the words before us, that the repentance of sinners is,
to these holy beings, an occasion of rejoicing ; and this may be supposed to arise,
in the first place, from the reverence and love which they indulge for the character
and authority of God. In a kingdom where the sovereign, ruling in equity and in
mercy, dwells generally in the affections of his loyal subjects, when rebellion and
treason lay down their arms and sue for mercy, the circumstance is surely hailed
by every loyal subject as a matter of sincere rejoicing. 2. The joy indulged by
angels over the repentance of a sinner, may be considered as arising, secondly, from
that spirit of benevolence, that love to human nature, which forms, of course, one
principal feature in their character, as it is an attribute of that God, whom, in this
respect as well as in others, they must be considered to resemble. They, therefore,
rejoice over the repentance of a sinner, because it is the beginning of his own
salvation, and also, because it is the beginning of blessedness which is likely to
extend, in a greater or less degree, to all around him. 3. The joy indulged by
angels over the repentance of a sinner may be considered as arising, thirdly, from
the interest they take in the spread of the Bedeemer's kingdom. 4. Another
reason, probably, which has sometimes been referred to, why angels rejoice over the
repentance of a sinner is, that they may have been instrumental, though in a way
unknown to us, in bringing that sinner to repentance. For it has been said, there
is nothing extravagant in supposing that He who so frequently employs, in the
salvation of the souls of men, the instrumentality of human agents, should some-
times employ, though in a way unknown by us, the instrumentality of angels ;
and if so, we find in this circumstance another reason why angels indulge the
joy referred to in the text, over the repentance of a sinner. II. That while
these words supply admonition and instruction to Christian believers, they abb
ALSO DESIONED AND FITTED TO SUPPLY ENCOUEAQEUBNT TO PENITENTS. IIL By WAY OF
ADUONinON AND BEPBOOF, TO ADDBE8S A WOBD OB TWO TO THE IMPENITENT AND T7N-
CONTEBTED. First of all observe what a contrast there is between the joy that
angels express on the repentance of a sinner and your unconcern about your own
repentance. Once more I would observe, still addressing myself to persons of the
same description, if, according to the declaration of my text, there be " joy in the
presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth," then may we not
suppose that, if there be such a thing as joy in hell, there is joy there over every
one that goeth on in his iniquity ? (J. Crowther.) The joy of heaven over a
repentant sinTier : — I. In the first place, attend to the event itself thus ex-
pressed— " a sinner that repenteth." In the first part of this statement we are all
included, being all sinners. From the second part we may be excluded, for we
may not be all penitents. There are also stupid unconcerned sinners, who look no
farther than the body. There are light-minded, careless sinners, whom sorrow
never clouds, to whom pleasure in every form is welcome, and into whose hearts no
seriouB thought ever enters. And there are worldly-minded sinners, who have no
time, DO inclination, and no leisure, for religion. There are also procrastinating
sinners, who admit the necessity, but delay the duty, of repentance. Nay, there
are even, in some measure, convinced and awakened sinners, whose convictions
have not terminated in conversion. Like Cain, they complain, and they wander,
and they reckon somehow, that Ood is hard, and that they are suffering more than
they can bear. Like Esau, they weep, but it is for an earthly portion, and because
they succeed not according to what they reckon due to their talents, their skill, or
their industry. Or, like Ahab, they may clothe themselves in sackcloth, and sit in
ashes, and walk steadily for a season, but still their hearts are not right with God.
The repentance supposed is not a seeming but a real repentance, and is in com-
plete bknnony with the l*w and the goepeL The law is honoured by the terrot
108 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xt.
which it produces : the gospel is honoared by the peace which it maintains. Oo4
is obeyed, and the penitent himself praises God, and says, He hath delivered mint
eyes Irom tears, my feet from falling, and my soul from hell. II. Let us proceed
now, then, to meditate on the joytulness of the syxNT mentioned in the text.
" There is joy," says our Lord, *' in the presence of the angels of God over on«
sinner that repenteth." Think, then, in the first place, of the high character, of
the high rank of the order of beings now spoken of as rejoicing — Angels, who
occupy a higher place in the scale of creation than men. 2. In the second place,
we may consider the intensity, the universality of the feeling that is produced. It
might be true to say of the angels in heaveu, that they rejoice, though the joy waa
but slight or transient, although it pervaded only a part of the heavenly host.
The idea, however, conveyed to us here is the idea, not of a slight or of a transient,
but of a deep and of a permanent impression, and it is the idea, moreover, not of
joy only among a few, but of joy among all, of but one feeling and one expression
of feeling, through all the innumerable company of angels. 3. Again we may
think, in the third place, of the season at which suoh joy is stated as commencing,
not when the sinner enters heaven, not when his repentance issues in eternal life.
4. I have only to state in the last place that each case of conversion is supposei
here to be of sufficient magnitude to produce this joy. There is joy in the presence
of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth. Numbers are not necessary
in order to convey to us the idea of value or importance. No doubt there was
great joy on the day of Pentecost ; and when thousands were converted, no iSoubt
there was great joy afterwards, when 5,000 were added to the Church ; no doubt
there was great joy again, when a multitude of the priests and of the people
believed ; but still each individual as marked in heaven's book, may be considered
as a fit occasion for praising God, and as serving to minister to the delight of
angels. Or we shall even take it in another light — you may suppose that one
soul converted may, in special circumstances, or at particular seasons, or because
of the individual character, be of great importance, even as the conversion of Paul
included within itself the conversion of thousands — even as Paul was a chosen
vessel, and took many from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto
God. {J. Geddes, D.D.) The birth of a soul a cause of joy : — Let it admonish
us to beware that we repine not at the bringing in of any into the state of grace.
Shall heaven smile and earth frown ? Shall the angels be glad and we sad ? Shall
we mock, scorn, deride, yea persecute our brethren for no other cause but this,
that they have made heaven merry by their repentance and turning ? Wretched
creature, cursed caitiff, that dares thus do. Is there not joy in the whole family
upon the birth of a little infant 7 Is not the father glad that a child is born
unto him, the mother glad she is delivered, the servants glad that the family
is enlarged, the children glad that their number is increased? If any be dis-
contented it is some baseborn, an Ishmael — the son of the bondwoman not of
the free. (N, Rogers,) Joy in heaven over repenting tinners : — I. Who
BEjoicB ? 1. God the Father. 2. The Son of God. 3. The blessed angels. 11.
Why do thbt bejoice? 1. God the Father rejoices — (1) Because His
eternal purposes of grace, and His engagements to His Son, are then fulfilled.
(2) Because bringing sinners to repentance is His own work. (3) Because it^
affords Him an opportunity to exercise mercy, and show His love to Christ
by pardoning them for His sake. (4) Because it gratifies Him to see them
escape from the tyranny, and from the consequences of sin. 2. The Son
of God rejoices — (1) Because He has given them their life. (2) Because in
repenting they begin to return His love, and acknowledge the wisdom of His
dispensations. 8. The angels rejoice — (1) Because God rejoices. (2) Because it
is their disposition to rejoice in the happiness of others. (8) Because God ib
glorified and His perfections are displayed in giving repentance and remission of
sins. Inferences : 1. From this subject we infer the incalculable worth of the
human soul. 2. From this subject we infer that the consequence of dying in an
impenitent state will be unspeakably dreadfuL 3. From this subject we infer that
all who repent will certainly persevere and be saved. Suppose, for one moment,
that such may fall and perish? Would God, would Christ, would angels then
rejoice to see sinners repent ? 4. What an astonishing view does this subject give
us of the benevolence of angels. Though they are perfectly happy, and though our
character and conduct must to them appear inconceivably hateful,^ yet they forget
themselves to think of as ; they forget their own happiness to rejoice in ours. 5.
From tbia subject we may learn whether we are prepared for heaven. We presume
HEAP, XT.] ST. LUKE. lOS
none will deny that preparation for heaven implies something of a heavenly temper.
If, then, we are thus prepared we have something of such a temper. Like the
augels, we are pleased with God's sovereignty, and rejoice when sinners repent.
We desire and pray that the kingdom of God may come and His wiU be done on
earth as it is in heaven. (E. Payson, D.D.) Joy of the angels : — This assurance,
coming from the lips of Jesus Himself, exhibits Christianity, both in its spirit and
in its grandeur. I. The spibit of Chbistianitt. The fact which Jesus teaches
here 'S that gladness and surprise, that joy and grati&ed affection, with which love
welcomes at last its alienated but unsurrendered objects. In one word, my friends,
our Saviour, in the passage before us, shows the identity of the great sentiment
of love in heaven and upon earth, in the depths of Divine love and in the heart of
man. He appeals to those affections which are most profoundly interwoven in our
being. He exhibits the spirit and power of the gospel as not above or foreign to the
dements of our own consciousness, but intimately allied to it. He based this
appeal upon that which can be demonstrated from the most familiar and common
experience. But let me say further, under this head, that by the light of this
central love and compassion we should interpret the different parts as well as the
grand whole of the gospel. All the sayings of Jesus Christ are to be interpreted in
harmony with that spirit ; we must take the deep essence and substance of the
gospel. We are to receive what grows out of that — what most accords with its
general sentiment. And I say what most accords with the general sentiment of
the gospel, with the deep spirit and substance of the gospel, is this simple doctrine,
that God cares for the sinner, for the vilest and most abandoned sinner who is upon
earth. In a mother's heart there is a love that cannot be altered and exhausted,
and that will claim that abandoned sinner when he comes back. So in the Infinite
bosom, and in the bosoms of all heavenly beings, their exists the same love ; the
epirit that sent Jesus Christ on earth is that spirit ; the purpose of Christ's mission
is to declare that spirit. That is the peculiarity of the gospel over and above
everything else. Precisely where man's faith falls and man's hope falters, is it
that the gospel becomes clear and strong. II. The qbandeub or CHBiSTiAmTT.
Consider its grandeur as illustrated in the announcement of Jesus. The declara-
tion in the text reveals two things — the nature of man and his spiritual relations.
It exhibits man as a living soul, and as a member of the great family of souls. It
etrips away all conventionality from him. Christianity is primal democracy, lifted
far above anything that either pro or con bears that name in our day as a party
distinction. It is the great doctrine of man higher than his conditions, nobler than
any material good. Why ? Because he is a living soul ; because within him there
are deathless powers ; because he is allied to God by a nature that no other being
on this earth bears, and faculties that no other creature on this footstool
possesses. And this is the source of its great achievement in modern civiliza-
tion. Subtile theorists ask what Christianity has done for the progress of man.
Christianity has thus sown the seeds of all progress, laid the foundation of all
truth in government, and of all righteousness in society. It has been the master-
key to all the grand efforts that man has made to be delivered from bondage,
from oppression, from social wrong. It is the soul of liberty ; it is the oriflamme
that leads the hosts of humanity forward from effort to effort, to higher and
higher social attainments. This is what Christianity has contributed to civilization
»nd progress ; it is the spring of all the noble efforts of all time. I n the next place,
it reveals the relations of man to the whole spiritual universe — his relationship to
all spiritual beings. Christianity is the complement of scientiffo truth in the
epiritual facts it reveals to ns ; and nothing is more grand than man's relation to
spiritual beings — than the fact that the universe is fiUed up with blessed intel-
ligences. I do not need to see them, or hear them, to be convinced of this fact ; I
know by surer sight than the eye, by more certain hearing than the ear, that they
exist ; I know it by my vitsd consciousness of a God and of a heaven. And
Christianity interprets that fact. It shows man, poor, wretched, vile as he may be,
linked with these innumerable relations. And what else does it show? It shows
identity of nature in all spiritual things on earth and in heaven. Oh, if you could
tear all the Bible in strips, but leave this one saying of Christ, what mighty troth
and consolation there would be in it 1 " There is joy in heaven over one sinner
that repenteth." How much that reveals to us — lets in upon as. Joy in heaTen I
Then there are beings in heaven capable of joy, just like ourselves — beings in
sympathy with as. Joy in heaven 1 Oh, forlorn and wayward brother t yoo are
despised of men, and scorned, and perhaps feel that you oaght to be *. yoo have
110 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTRATOB. [chap, xn
Binned vilely and grossly; but do yon Irnow what you are ? There might be joy not.
only in that earthly home that nestles among tbe hills where your poor mother is-
praying for you to-day, but also great joy in heaven. What a revelation of an
identity of nature — of a celestial sympathy ! Moreover, there is not only sympathy,
but there is solicitude there. God is anxious for your return. (E. H. Chapin,
D.D.) Joy in heaven over a repentant nnner : — I. The object oveb which
ANGELS REJOICE. 1. A siuuer. Vile, apostate, rebellious man. 2. A sinner in a
particular state of mind. A sinner that repenteth. What is repentance ? It is a
Ftate of mind adapted to our condition : such a disposition as is suited to
our state. It is an affecting discovery of our situation, our wante, onr danger.
It is a bewailing of onr sad condition. With an almost broken heart the
einner comes to the Saviour's feet, crying, with emotions of heart never before
felt, with emotions which no language can fully express — " O save me I I
have sinned, I have sinned 1 0 save me, or I perish 1 " II. The oboitndb or
THIS STRANGE Joy. 1. We may trace it to love. Love, when fixed on a right
object, and exercised in a right manner, is a source of happiness. It is so
on earth ; and love makes heaven chiefly what it is as a world of joy. 2. Another
ground of this joy of angels over a repenting sinner is their delight in the Divine
glory. 8. They behold in the repentance of a sinner the advancement of the great
work of grace, and receive in him a new pledge of its final accomplishment. III.
The probable reasons for which our Lord has hasb us acquainted with it.
1. It was no doabt to vindicate His own conduct in calling and saving heinous-
transgressors. 2. It shows us that there is something in repentance which i»
pleasing to God — that there is something in repentance of an excellent character.
3. These things are recorded to comfort and encourage the broken heart. (<7.
Bradley, M. A.) Bepenting sinners, a source of joy in heaven: — I. In the first
place, then, we have the spectacle which is here presented, a sinner repenting.
Not the most noteworthy object, some of the wise ones of this world would be
tempted to say — not the most noteworthy object earth could present to the eye of
God. There are many fairer and brighter scenes upon earth to attract the regard
of her God and King, Man's vagrant gaze is always wandering hither and thither
in search of some scene of interest, or some form of beauty, on which for a moment
it may rest ; but who thinks of gazing with interest and hope, unless instructed out
of the goe^el of Christ, upon one sinner that repenteth? No; it is the halls of
science, and the temples of art, and the statesman's cabinet, and the battle-field of
nations, which centre all man's regard. Wherever the battle-cry of keenly con.
flicting interest is swelling on the ear, where brave words are being spoken, and
brave deeds being done, thither man's eye restlessly turns. It is the rising and the
Bettmg suns of empire, the waxing and the waning tide of greatness ; the rise,
culmination, and decline of those stars that lead man's social progress ; the chiefs
and the heroes who are set far on in the van of the world — these offer to man the
theme of his loftiest contemplations. And perhaps it is by the cradle of social
reforms — it is by the birthplace of political revolutions and reformations that man's
purest and holiest vigils are held. My brethren, I am not here to deny the interest
which may attach to any of these scenes or occasions. There is not one of these
elements, so pregnant with future results to society, which are at work now, seeth-
ing and surging in that great moral fermenting vat which we call society, that the
angels do not look upon. That great battle which is being fought in every age, and
perhaps never more earnestly fought than now — the battle which the ancients, for
want of a better name, called the battle of the Gods and Titans — what we know as
the battle of Chaos and Creation, Anarchy and Order, Might and Bight, Slavery
and Liberty — all these they look upon ; nothing of this is hidden from their gaze.
We do rightly to take deep interest in all these things, to let our hearts be stirred
by them all. All these, God's angels look upon ; nothing is hidden from their
sight. But one thing they see through all these — amidst all these great interests
of society — one thing they see, which for them has more momentous interest,
becaude they see that it has more pregnant consequences ; it is the spectacle of one
sinner that repenteth, one poor man, it may be. All that interest, remember, is
concentrated upon the individual. I say there is that man wrestling in the sweat
and agony of his soul with his spiritual tyrants and task-masters, he is bidding them
defiance, he is casting them forth ; but no trumpet-call summons the world to be
spectator of his conflicts. There is nothing to distinguish his battle, so as to
httract the eye of tbe man of this world. No, it will be in silence, silence that
sometimes give* no ouivard indications of what is passing — silence, perhaps, only
CBiP, XV.] ST. LUKE. Ill
Ibroben by these pleadings of a broken and contrite spirit, half uttered, half artica-
late, which God sees and answers as prayers — perhaps it may be thus that the
repentant sinner will carry on and complete the work. Kepentance is just the first
stage and the first sign of that new life of the Christian, that hfe of which the
Saviour said, " Ye must be born again " — that life which cannot come into a
human spirit save by the work of God's living Spirit within man's heart. No man
can work this transformation of himself, no man is strong enough to wrestle with
this great monster of evil by himself. I say repentance is just the first stage ol
;hat new Divine life of which the Saviour spoke, in which a man, being freed from
dn, has progressively his fruit unto holiness, and the end thereof life everlasting.
II. Direct your thoughts to the jottul watchers of the spectaclb here pre-
sented. The progress of a soul through the various stages of its redemption
excites, for the most part, very little interest upon earth. It connects itself with
no great human interests, and it ministers no aid to purely human designs. But
how differently is it regarded in heaven 1 Scribes and Pharisees, if they like, may
mock at repentance ; sophists and infidels, if they like, may jest at the penitent
tear, or the pleading and struggling groan of a broken and contrite spirit ; but I say
to you, Christ says to you by my lips — I am speaking His own words — that " there
is joy in the presence of the angels of God over even one repenting sinner."
Brethren, we should teach ourselves to believe this. We cannot see it ; nature does
not seem to care for us ; all we look upon seems to take little care for us in regard
to our spiritual experience, but God and His angels watch us earnestly, and no
sigh is breathed and no tear falls that is not caught and cherished by the spirits
that are before the throne. I say this repentance, the soul turning away from sin
by the power of the grace of Christ which it has received, awakens supreme interest,
is a matter of intense importance to all dwellers in the spiritual world. Aye 1 as
the sool thus rises from the dust to adorn herself with the only jewels that Christ
cares for — jewels of penitence, humility, and charity — methinks there are God'a
angels then harping with their harps, prepared to celebrate with vestal strains the
indissoluble union of a repenting and ransomed spirit with its Lord. Those are
the joyful watchers of the spectacle. III. Now, in the third and last place, in
bringing these remarks to a conclusion, I dwell upon the rising interest to which I
have already averted more fully. Let us inquire what is the secret of this
interest which they find in the spectacle of a repenting sinner, and of their
exulting joys. Of course we can only understand a portion of this matter, and only
a portion of that portion can be brought within the limits of a brief discourse.
1. But, first, I should say that the angels of God who look upon all that is passing
upon earth, all the scenes of interest that earth presents — scenes in which we are
bound to take an interest, in which certainly the Christian ought not to be behind-
hand in his interest as compared with his fellow-men — look upon a repenting sinner
as the directest and completest result of Christ's working upon earth, and, there<
fore, they abundantly rejoice. He who was with God, who was God, by whom all
things were made, became flesh and dwelt among us ; and here, in a sinner
repenting, you have the directest result of His Incarnation. 2. A second reason
is this. In a sinner repenting we must remember there is a rising up of
& fresh witness to God's righteousness, a fresh subject of God's kingdom
in the universe, and, therefore, do the angels rejoice. 3. Lastly, in a
sinner repenting, the angels see the widening of the kingdom of the
Bedeemer. They see that He sees increasingly of the travail of his soul, and
is satisfied, and, therefore, one thinks they rejoice. He ia their King as
well as ours ; their Master as well as ours. (J. B. Brown, B.A.) Joy
of the angels over even one repentant tinner: — How loving are the angels to
men ; for they rejoice over one sinner that repenteth. There she is, in that garret
where the stars look between the tiles. There is a mieerable bed in that room,
with but one bit of covering, and she lieth there to die 1 Poor creature ! many
a night she has walked the streets in the time of her merriment ; but now her
joys are over ; a foul disease, like a demon, is devouring her heart I She
is dying fast, and no one careth for her soul I But there, in that chamber, she
turns her face to the wall, and she cries, " O Thou that savedst Magdalene, save
me ; Lord, I repent ; have mercy upon me, I beseech thee." Did the bells ring
in the street? Was the trumpet blown? Ah! no. Did men rejoice? Was there
a sound of thanksgiving in the midst of the great congregation? No; no one
heard it ; for she died unseen. But stay. There was one standing at her bedside^
who noted well that tear ; an angel, who had come down from heaven to watck
112 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. it.
over this stray sheep, and mark its return ; and no Booner was her prayer uttered
than he clapped his wings, and there was seen flying up to the pearly gate*
a spirit like a star. The heavenly guards came crowding to the gate, crying,
"What news, 0 son of fire?" He said, »"Tis done." "And what is done?'
they said. " Why, she has repented." " What ! she who was once a chief of
sinners ? has she turned to Christ ? " " 'Tis even so," said he. And then they
told it through the streets, and the bells of heaven rang marriage peals, for
Magdalene was saved, and she who had been the chief of sinners was turned unto
the living God. It was in another place. A poor neglected httle boy in ragged
clothing had ran about the streets for many a day. Tutored in crime, he was
paving his path to the gallows ; but one morning he passed by a humble room,
where some men and women were sitting together teachin-g poor ragged children.
He stepped in there, a wild Bedouin of the streets ; they talked to him ; they told
him about a soul and about an eternity — things he had never heard before ; they
spoke of Jesus, and of good tidings of great joy to this poor friendless lad.
He went another Sabbath, and another ; his wild habits hanging about him, for
he could not get rid of them. At last it happened that his teacher said to him
one day, "Jesus Christ receiveth sinners." That little boy ran, but not home,
for it was but a mockery to call it so — where a drunken father and a lascivious
mother kept a hellish riot together. He ran, and under some dry arch, or in
some wild unfrequented comer, he bent his little knees, and there he cried, that
poor creature in his rags, " Lord, save me, or I perish " ; and the little Arab waa
on his knees — the little thief was saved I He said —
"Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to Thy bosom fly" ;
and ap from that old arch, from that forsaken hovel, there flew a spirit, glad to bear
the news to heaven that another heir of glory was bom to God. I might picture
many such scenes ; but will each of you try to picture your own ? You remember
the occasion when the Lord met with you. Ah i little did you think what a
commotion there was in heaven. If the Queen had ordered out all her soldiers,
the angels of heaven would not have stopped to notice them ; if all the princes
of earth had marched in pageant through the streets, with all their robes, and
jewellery, and crowns, and all their regalia, their chariots, and their horsemen
— if the pomps of ancient monarchies had risen from the tomb — if all the might
of Babylon and Tyre and Greece had been concentrated into one great parade, yet
not an angel would have stopped in his course to smile at those poor tawdry things ;
but over you the vilest of the vile, the poorest of the poor, the most obscure and
unknown— over you angelic wings were hovering, and concerning you it was said
on earth and sung in heaven, " Hallelujah, for a child is bom to God to-day."
{C. H. Spurgeon.) Why should angels r^oice in the success of redemption t —
To this question we reply generally, that redemption is the mightiest display
of the Divine attributes ; and that, wrapt as angels are in admiration and adoration
at their Maker, whatever sets forth His properties must be to them a fresh source
of praise and ecstasy. Without doubt we must add to this general account, the
affection which they entertain towards men as members of the family of creation,
their consequent desire for their happiness, and their knowledge that happiness
is secured by repentance towards God, and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. But
probably the joy in question results mainly from the glory accruing to God,
or from the manifestation which redemption puts forth of the attributes of Deity.
And therefore we shall chiefly labour to show you how the scheme of oar
salvation was a new discovery of God to heavenly beings, and why, therefore,
there should be joy in the presence of those beings whensoever a sinner taket
hold of the obedience proffered in the gospel. Now, the wisdom, the power,
and the goodness of God — under which all His other attributes are comprehended
— these constitute the glorious majesty of our Creator; and of these, we are
bold to affirm, our redemption is the noblest manifestation. If this be once
proved, you will readily understand why angels rejoice over penitent sinners.
Angels must be gladdened by every exhibition of the high prerogative of their
Maker; and if redemption be signally such an exhibition, then redemption —
as wrought out for all, or as applied to individuals — must signally ministei to their
joyousness. {H. Melvill, B.D.) In the heavenly empire : — A pious Armenian calling
on Mr. Hamlyn, a missionary at Constantinople, remarked, that he was astonished
to see how the people were waking ap to the trath; how even the most cultivated
CHAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 115
were seeking after it as for hidden treasure. "Yes," said he, " it is going forward ;
it will triumph ; but, alas ! I shall not live to see it, alas ! that I am born an age
too soon." " But," said Mr. Hamlyn, " do you remember what our Saviour said,
'There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth' ?
You may not live to see the truth triumphant in this empire; but should you,
by Divine grace, reach the kingdom of heaven, and be with the angels, your joy
over your whole nation, repentant and redeemed, will be infinitely greater than
it could be on earth." He seemed astonished at this thought ; but after examining
the various passages to which I referred him, he yielded to the evidence with the
mo'st lively expressions of delight. " 0 fool, and slow of heart," said he, '• to.
read the gospel so many times without perceiving such a glorious truth I If thi»
be 80, no matter in what age a Christian is born, nor when he dies." Tfie great-
ness of repentance: — Eepentanoe is a great thing, or the angels of God would
not rejoice over it. It is no insignificant matter. If we did not understand it,
and all the consequences that flow from it, and did not quite perceive all the
reasons why angels rejoice, yet we should naturally conclude that it must be great
from this fact. Suppose we entered a strange city and found the bells ringing
out a merry peal from every tower, the cannon roaring out their harsh joy from
every fort, the streets at night blazing with illuminations, every countenance
cheerful, the whole land vocal with joy, and all keeping jubilee together ; why,
we should say, " This great and intelligent people would not rejoice thus over
a trifle ; some great thing must have taken place " ; if we did not know what
it was. Oh I enter heaven when a sinner has repented, and find it all jubilee 1
Must it not be a great thing that would fill heaTen thus with bliss ? The repen-
tance of a sinner does it. And then mark, it is not the conversion of a nation
like China, with its three hundred millions of inhabitants, nor India with its
myriads of idolaters, nor blood-stained Madagascar, nor Tahiti, nor New Zealand :
not the conversion of an empire, but the conversion of a single soul. Not merely
the soul of some great persecutor, like Saul of Tarsus, whose conversion may
at once change the aspect of a country, and release it from intolerance and murder,
and introduce it to liberty and joy. Not the conversion of a mighty monarch,
who, once a despot, is now become through Christianity the father of his country.
Not the conversion of a philosopher, whose great name might be supposed to add
celebrity to Christianity. Not the conversion of a great poet, who had prostituted
his genius to celebrate vice, and now consecrates it to the glory of God who gave
him the intellect. No, but the conversion of " a sinner," apart from all the
personal circnmstances in which that sinner might be found: any sinner ; the
inhabitant of a workhouse — the pauper's child — or the pauper himself ; for it is
repentance, stript of all that is adventitious, all that might otherwise gather
around it. It is the dropping of all these, and it is the bowing down of any
human heart in the attitude of submission to God, and in the purpose of forsaking
dn : it is that, which angels rejoice over. {J. A. Jajnes.)
Vers. 11-S2. A certain man had two iona. The prodigal and hit brother:—
I. Ood's tbeatuent of the penitent. 1. The alienation of the heart from God.
(1) Homelessness. (2) Worldly happiness is unsatisfying. Husks are not food.
(8) Degradation. 2. The period of repentance. (1) The first fact of religious
ei^erience which this parable suggests to ns is that common truth — men desert
the world when the world deserts them. The renegade came to himself when
there were no more husks to eat. He would have remained away if he could have
got them, but it is written, " no man gave unto him." And this is the record
of oar shame. Invitation is not enough ; we must be driven to God. And the
famine comes not by chance. God sends the famine into the soul — the hunger,
and thirst, and the disappointment — to bring back his erring child again. (2)
There is another truth contained in this section of the parable. After a life of
wild sinfulness religion is servitude at first, not freedom. Observe, he went back
to duty with the feelings of a slave: "I am no more worthy to be called thy
son, make me as one of thy hired servants." Any one who has Hved in the
excitement of the world, and then tried to settle down at onoe to quiet duty,
knows how tme tiiat is. To borrow a metaphor from Israel's desert life, it is
a tasteless thing to live on manna after yon have been feasting npon quails. It
is a doll cold t&udgery to find pleasure in simple occupation when life has bem
a snccession of strong emotions. Sonship it is not ; it is slavery. A son obeys ia
love, entering heartily into his father's meaning. A serrant oblqrs iniwhanioHy»
VOL. in. 8
lU T/IE BIBLJCAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. XT.
rising early because he must ; doing, it may be, his duty well, bat feeling in all
its force the irksomeness of the service. Sonship does not come all at once.
3. The 'reception which a sinner meets with on his return to God. The banquet
represents to us two things. (1) It tells of the father's gladness on his son's
return. That represents God's joy on the reformation of a sinner. (2) It tells
of a banquet and a dance given to the long lost son. That represents the sinner'^
gladness when he first understood that God was reconciled to him in Christ.
There is a strange, almost wild, rapture, a strong gush of love and happiness in
those days which are called the days of first conversion. When a man who has
sinned much — a profligate — turns to God, and it becomes first clear to his
apprehension that there is love instead of spurning for him, there is a luxury
of emotion — a banquet of tumultuous blessedness in the moment of first love
to God, which stands alone in life, nothing before and nothing after like it. And,
brethren, let us observe — This forgiveness is a thing granted while a man is
yet afar off. U. God's expostulation with a saint. The true interpretation
seems to be that this elder brother represents a real Christian perplexed vrith
God's mysterious dealings. We have before us the description of one of those
happy persons who have been filled with the Holy Ghost from their mother's
womb, and on the whole (with imperfections of course) remained God's servant
all his life. For this is his own account of himself, which the father does not
contradict. "Lol these many years do I serve thee." We observe then : The
objection made to the reception of a notorious sinner — " Thou never gavest me a
kid." Now, in this we have a fact true to Christian experience. Joy seems to be
felt more vividly and more exuberantly by men who have sinned much, than by
men who have grown up consistently from childhood with religious education.
Bapture belongs to him whose sins, which are forgiven, are many. In the
perplexity which this fact occasions, there is a feeling which is partly right and
partly wrong. There ia a surprise which is natural. There is a resentful jealousy
which is to be rebuked. And now mark the father's answer. It does not
account for this strange dealing by God's sovereignty. It does not cut the
knot of the difficulty, instead of untying it, by saying, God has a right to do
what He will. He does not urge, God has a right to act on favouritism if Ha
please. But it assigns two reasons. The first reason is, " It was meet, right that
we should make merry." It is meet that God should be glad on the reclamation
of a sinner. It is meet that that sinner, looking down into the dreadful chasm
over which he had been tottering, should feel a shudder of delight through all his
frame on thinking of his escape. And it is meet that religious men should not
feel jealous of one another, but freely and generously join in thanking God that
others have got happiness, even if they have not. The spirit of religious exclusive -
ness, which looks down contemptuously instead of tenderly on worldly men, and
banishes a man for ever from the circle of its joys because he has sinned
notoriously, is a bad spirit. Lastly, the reason given for this dealing is, " Son,
thou art always with Me, and all that I have is thine." By which Christ seems
to tell us that the disproportion between man and man is much less than we
suppose. The profligate had had one hour of ecstasy — the other had had a whole
life of peace. A consistent Christian may not have rapture; but he has
that which is much better than rapture : calmness — God's serene and perpetual
presence. And after all, brethren, that is the best. (F. W. Robertton,^ M.A.)
A mirror of mercy : — 1. First, then, in that he is called a young man, there is noted
in him want of knowledge and experience as the ground and fountain of all hia
folly, he knew not as yet what his father was worth unto him. And, therefore, he
is not afraid to forsake him. This is to teach us that none forsakes the Lord, but
such as do know Him not, and understand not that in so doing they forsake their
own mercy. As beasts that know not the value of pearls care not to trample them
under their feet, or as young children laugh at the death of their parents, because
they know not for the present what they lose thereby, but afterwards remember it
with grief ; so blinded man without remorse runs away from God, not knowing
what he lost by departing from the Lord, for He is light, and they go into utter dark*
ness that go from Hirg. He is life, and they are but dead who abide not in fellow-
ship with Him. One example of this we have in the elect angels ; they are never
weary to behold His excellent Majesty ; they find ever new matter of joy in His face.
2. SeoondlT, in this prodigal child is noted here, that natural rebellion which is in
all men ; that they will not submit themselves to the will of God their Heavenly
Father, bat will follow their own wills. 8. The third evil noted here in this
CHAP. ZT.J
ST. LUKE. 11*
prodigal ie his hypocrisy ; he calls him in word father, but in deed did not so
sccoant of him ; he carried not toward him the heart of a child ; this is a part ol
that poison wherewith Satan hath infected our nature. Is there any comparison
between that which thou givest the Lord and that which thou gettest from Him ?
4. That he seeks a portion of his father's goods, but not his father's favour and
blessing, represents to us the earthly minds of naturalists, who prefer
the gifts of God to God Himself. (Bishop Cowper.) The parable of the
prodigal :—Cs.Tpt&in Sir W. E. Parry observes, "There is nothing even in
"the whole compass of Scripture more calculated to awaken contrition in
the hardest heart than the parable of the Prodigal Son. I knew a convict in New
South Wales, in whom there appeared no symptoms of repentance in other respects,
but who could never hear a sermon or comment on this parable without bursting
into an agony of tears, which I witnessed on several occasions. Truly He who
spoke it knew what was in man. " It is the prince of parables, a gospel within the
gospel, a mirror of man, an artless yet profound little drama of human ruin and
recovery. Wonderful, indeed, is its power to touch the sensibilities. " I have
wept but once these forty years," said a veteran military officer, "and that was
-when I heard Jesse Bushyhead, the Cherokee preacher, address his countrymen
from the parable of the Prodigal Son, the tears flowing faster than he could wipe
them away." {A. C. Thomson, D.D.) The parable of fatherhood:—!. Let us
FOUiOW THE siNNEB IN HIS KBBELLios. In this part of the picture we shall
perceive that sin is vicious in principle, ruinous in operation, and ever multiplying
its destructive issues. (I) Sra is vicious in principle. 1. What is the unex-
pressed but fundamental axiom of all sin ? A human being exists to pursue his ovm
gratification, without regard to the will of God. That is it. 2. The younger son
acts out the rule of life ascribed to him. For observe, the employment of the
resources of existence for self-indulgence he claims as a right. " Father, give me
the portion of goods that falleth to me." 3. Now definite plans for self-indulgence
follow. His notions of life and felicity are not a theory, but meant to be a
practice ; and he does his best to be ready for it. 4. Notice, next, the haste of sin.
*' Not many days after, the younger son gathered all together." It might have
been the most sublime and hallowed enterprise in the world. The rapidity of his
movements must not be attributed exclusively to the impetuosity of youth, but to
the precipitancy of all sinful passion. 5. Eemark, finally, here, the presence of
God is '• unfriendly to sin." " And took his journey into a far country." Banish-
ment from home would have been accounted a great hardship, if it had been
enjoined as a duty. The toils and perils of the road would have occasioned no
little murmuring, if his hard travail had contemplated any other end^ than self-
enjoyment. He is eager to swallow his indulgences, and equally anzions to be
beyond his father's eye and all the restraints of home. " Let me alone " is the
impatient cry of sin to all remonstrance. " A far country " is always the coveted
paradise of fools. (II) Sin is ruinous in operation. " And there wasted his
substance in riotous living." (HI) Sin is ever multiplyino its destbuctivb
issues. There is no standing still in good or evil. The wheels of human progress
never rest on theur axles. 1. Instead of attaining to happiness, he is overtaken by
poverty. S. Now Providence fights against him. Nature is in the universal league
against transgression. 3. He is already feeling the pinch of wrong-doing. *• And
he began to be in want." The fruit of evil deeds is revealing its poison. He finds
himself in the grasp of premonitory pangs. 4. Observe next, that the old principle
is to be worked in new ways. " And he went and joined himself to a citizen of
that country." You see that he has not become a citizen himself. He is still a
Btianger. He cannot absolutely settle down out there. No. A man cannot find
entire satisfaction in a life of self-enjoyment without God. With nothing but
worldly things he cannot attain to rest. 6. He now sinks to a lower level of
degradation. A swine-herd I 6. Take notice, further, that the swine-herd is
prepared to accept his shame. " And he would fain have filled his belly with the
husks which the swine did eat." Ever since he left his father's house his inclina-
tions have descended lower and lower. He tried to fill, to satisfy himself with
them, but he could not. They merely stayed his hunger. There was a bitterness
in their flavour which something in his palate nauseated. The pleasure of eating
was gone. The food of a beast cannot satisfy the soul of a man. 7. Last of all,
his schemes of fehcity and methods of relief are all overturned together. *' And
no man gave unto him." It does not mean, that no man gave him swine's food.
The swine-herd had the care of the husks, and ate plenty of them, but he coul<
116 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xv.
not enjoy them. " No man gave unto him " what could satisfy and bleas s hmnao
Boul. Man is the highest creature in the world ; but if you seek your happiness or
your deliverance from misery at his hands, you must end in failure. •' Citizens "
out in that country, " far " from God, could not surround a prodigal with the good
which a father's love at home can alone supply. " No man gave unto him,"
because no man had anything to give. II. Let us watch the sinner in his
BEPKNTANCE. There are four elements of repentance here requiring analysis. 1.
Eeflection. " And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants
of my father's have bread enough and to spare 1 " Sin creates a sort of moral
insanity. "While spurred by appetite aud in the race after indulgence, the mind is
actuated by a species of frenzy. " I perish ■«ith hunger 1 " There is the memory
of a better past in that exclamation. This same recalling of brighter hours bows
the spirit into the dust.
" This is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things."
Bygone years to a sinner, however ill his beginning, is a glance up an ascending
incline towards sunnier days. 2. Kesoltjtion. " I will arise and go to my
father." He no sooner discerns his hapless state, than he determines to leave it.
You are to imagine him prostrate, brooding in indecision or despair. But he will
lie no longer in inaction. He protests, " I will arise," and he rises. 3. Re-
cognition OF GUILT. His resolution, while unenfeebled by hesitation, was not
formed in insensibility to his evil. He sees most diatinctly the relation of sin
towards God and towards himself. (1) The relation of sin towards God. " I have
sinned against heaven." Evil insults the purity and despises the love of God. It
destroys His moral order, and spurns the felicity which He offers. (2) The relation
of sin towards himself. "And am no more worthy," &c. His sense of ill-desert
is real and deep, 4. Eetubn to God. His was no empty vow. III. Let oa
BEHOLD the SINNEK IN HIS BESTORATION. 1. NOTICE God'S BECOGNITION OF THB
EAKiiiEST BEGINNINGS OP PENITENCE. " When he was jet a great way off, his father
saw him." He had not seen his father, but " his father saw him." Unconsciously
to the son, tbe love of the father has been drawing him all the way. If he had
lost the image of his father from his memory, he would never have attempted to
return. 2. Observe God's welcome to the kepenting. (1) The tenderness of
God is wonderful. He " had compassion." Great reason had God to be angry
with that sinful creature, with me, with you ; but He " had compassion." (2)
How willing God is to succour I " His father saw him, and had compassion, and
ran " to welcome him. " Ban," — willingness is too feeble an epithet to denote the
impulse. There is eagerness in "ran." God is hasting to save and bless. (3)
Pray do not overlook God's readiness to accept and pardon just as you are.
" Saw," "had compassion," " ran," "and fell on his neck, and kissed him." 3.
Now turn to behold how God lavishes His affection on the accepted
PENITENT. The father is not going to treat his son as an " hired servant." God's
forgiveness must be God-like. God's love is always greater in experience than iji
our most sanguine wishes and brightest hopes. 4. Listen to God's exhortation
TO His universe to share His jot. " Bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it ;
and let us eat and be merry.*' " Merry " is an old Saxon word. Its meaning has
somewhat narrowed and lowered in our later tongue. " Be merry," here, in the
original is " rejoice." A feast betokens gladness among all nations. The occasion
is great, and great is to be the exultation. " Let us eat and rejoice." The father
does not ask his household to be glad and he himself remain only a spectator of
the universal delight. It is, " Let iw eat and rejoice." It is God's own joy that
He would have His creatures share and proclaim. (Bishop Alexander.) The
prodigal son: — I. An exhibition of the condition and the conduct of man in
his natural and sinful state. 1. Absence of gratitude, or any sense of obliga-
tion to his father. 2. Impatience of bis father's government. 3. Breaking away
from his father's control. 4. Squandering his father's property contrary to hia
father's intention. 6. But his schemes all failed to make him happy. II. When
lotN begin to feel their want, thet take erroneous courses to deliver
THEMSELVES. One flies to his worldly companions ; another to scepticism ; another
to business ; another to pleasure ; another to some external reformation ; another
determines to read his Bible a little more, and to pray a little more — not meaning
by prayer his heart really coming back to God, but the utterance of some words
and going more frequently on his knees. That is not prayer. Prayer is the child
CEA». IV.] ST. LUKE, 117
Doming back to his Father ; prayer is the heart meeting God ; prayer is the heart
delighting in God, pouring out its desires into the bosom of infinite Love, and
feeling that God is there. You must get back to God through the mediation, the
merit, and the sacrifice of the Lord our Kighteousness and our Bedeemor. All
other refuges will fail : all other processes will fail : you may have convictions, and
then you may do this, that, or the other that I have described ; still you are in
want. Husks, husks, husks are all you have received by staying away from your
Father's house. III. The nature of repentance and submission — the way to
get home to our Father. The young man is said to have com« ti) himself : that
means that he was beside himself before. Hence you find that the Word of God
denominates sinners "fools " : and because they are practically so foolish, they would
rather remain undisturbed in their sins for a few days, than go through the
bitterness of repentance and the self-denial of religion now, that they may wear
an eternal crown, and live in immortal peace. There is another proof of the
derangement of the human heart. It is the feeling which men have, that they
can be happy away from God, and that they know more about the secret of
happiness than the God who made them. So repentance is turning to our right
mind. Repentance is beginning to look at things aright — beginning to reason, and
feel, and purpose, and act aright. The young man determines to come home, to
confess his sin without any palliation. The willingness to humble ourselves, that
is coming home. Look for a moment at this young man, and see how difficult it
was for him to come home, and how impossible it would have been, if he had not
humbled his pride. In the first place he had to go back in his rags.
" There is not a child in the village but will see me ; and they will say,
That is the young man who went out in such splendid style; and they
will point the finger at me and mock me": and yet says he, "I will
arise and go." IV. God's reception of the returning sinner. {E. N. Kirk.)
The efficacy and joy of repentance : — I. The parable. It can stand the two tests
which Byron declared to be decisive upon the merit of literary creations. It pleases
immediately, and it pleases permanently. The rose needs no essay to prove that it
is a rose. This is fragrant with the breath of Christ, and coloured with the summer
of His touch. 1. The prodigal's sin. (1) In its origin it is selfishness. (2) In its
progress it is dissipation. (3) In its result, sin is famine and degradation : in action,
the life of the stye, which is sensuality ; in thought, the system of the stye, which
is materialism. One of the citizens of that country sends him " into the fields to
feed swine." (4) But the essence of his sin is the miserable determination to
remove as far as possible from his father's presence. 2. The prodigal's repentance.
" He came to Himself.' He had been outside his true self before. When a man
finds himself, he finds God. 3. The reception of the lost son. For every step the
sinner takes towards God, God takes ten towards him. We will not dwell upon the
particulars of that great reception. Enough to mention " the first stole " ; the ring
of honour ; the shoes forbidden to slaves ; the sacrificial feast ; the father's voice
passing into the chant of a wondrous liturgy ; and seen and heard across the
darkening fields by the elder brother as he unwillingly faces homeward the long line
of festal light, the symphony of instruments, and the choirs of dancers. II.
Chabaoteristios of repentance. 1. Its efficacy. Not in the nature of things ; not
inherent in it. The sinner is in an awful land, where every rock is literally a
" rock of ages " ; where the facts which some men call spiritual are bound by a
fatal succession quite as much as the facts which all men call material ; where God
is frozen into an icicle, and no tender touch of miracle can come from His law-
stiffened fingers ; where two and two always make four, and your sin always fiuda
you out. To remove this impotence and inefficacy of repentance, Jesus lived and
died. Bepentance is His indulgence, fiang down from the balcony by our great
High Priest. Bepentance is His gift ; the efficacy of repentance is His secret. 2.
Its joy. (1) There are two considerations which have always been urged by masters .
of the spiritual life, (a) To judge the inner life only by the joy of which it is con-
soious is a sort of spiritual epicureanism. " The tears of penitents are the wine of
angels " ; but they were not intended to intoxicate those who shed them, (b^ Past
sin, even when its guilt is pardoned, has penal consequences upon the iimer life. It
continues in the memory with its poisoned springs and in the imagination with ita
perilone snsceptibiUtieB. (2) Yet they know not the mind of Qod to whom penitence
U onlj bitter. There are
*' Tears that sweeter far
Than the world's mad laughter ar*.**
118 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip. tt.
There is a triumphant, a victorious delight, which leads the will along the narrow
way, and will not be gainsaid. It is a mutilated Miserere which omits the verse —
" Make me to hear joy and gladness, that the bones which Thou hast broken may
rejoice." By one of those apparent contradictions which lies at the root of the
Christian life, a perpetual yearning after pardon is consistent with a perpetual
serenity of hope. God would mould His penitents that they may combine sorrow
with joy ; that they may hear at once a sigh in the depths of their souls, and a
music far away. There must be in the renewed nature something of the iron that
has been moulded in His furnace, and somethhig of the rose which has been ex-
panded in His sunshine. The life of Frederick the Great, by a writer of transcen-
dent genius, contains incidentally a record of the death of an English general
defeated in Canada. Twice only did the unhappy officer rouse himself out of tha
mortal stupor into which he fell from a broken heart. Once he sighed heavily —
'« Who would have thought it ? " Many days after he said with more animation —
'• Another time we will do better." And then " the cataracts of soft, sweet sleep "
rushed down upon the weary man. Do not these two sentences give us this view
of the twofold aspect of repentance? — the first, the humiliation of the beaten soldier
as he comes to himself ; the second, his hope through Christ as he catches the
music of the march of victory, (Bishop TViu. Alexander^ The pearl of parables : —
I. We shall need to group togetheb at the outset the pakticulaks which show
THIS TOUNQ man's ALIENATED CONDITION AT THE UOMENT WHEN THK 8TOBY GIVES HIM
introduction (see vers. 11, 12). 1. He was estranged from all love for his father.
His affections had been soured and turned before he made this abrupt demand. He
addressed his father as to a division of his estate in a cool, technical way. 2. He
was away from his home (see ver. 13). His father's residence which he had left is
pictured in the parable, with the family life in it, by two or three strokes of a
master hand. Even the servants had enough and to spare. Feasts were not un-
known. Music and dancing were part of the entertainment. But it is plain that
the old father meant to be master there ; and that was precisely the condition of
life this impulsive youth resolved to escape. 3, He had fallen into poverty (see
ver. 14). Removed from influences which had hitherto kept him in check, he began
the career of a profligate and debauchee. A little time spent in this voluptuous
folly sufficed to run through his fortune. 4. At last he sank to the lowest, and
became a servant. He went and offered himself to a master. The citizen of that
country put him at the very worst business he had for any menial to do. 5. At this
moment the young man was actually hungering in the presence of his beasts (see
ver. 16). So far from having the right to despise the lowly creatures of his charge,
the prodigal began the rather to envy them. The picture must be turned now to
show just how it illustrates the condition of a sinner alienated from his Father in
heaven. His own pride of heart lies at the bottom of his departure ; he wants to
be master of himself. Gathering together all his resources of time, talent, energy
— all his powers of mind and body — he rushes away into the world of dissipation
and lust. Now he goes to the devil aiiectly and hires himself out, and Satan
accepts him at his own valuation, and puts him among the swine. H. Let us
NOW SEEK FOR THE PARTICULARS WHICH DISPLAY THIS PEODIOAL'S ENTIRE CHANGE IN
PURPOSE AND FEELING BY WHICH HE WAS AT LAST LED BACK TO HIS HOME IN PENITENCE
AND PEACE (see ver. 17). 1. First of all, he began to think. •' I thought upon my ways,
and turned my feet unto Thy testimonies. " The expression here is as singular as it ist
strong — "When he came to himself." A sort of madness was in his heart. He
sees where he is, and what he is, and what he has so long been doing. 2. Then he
began to remember. That is Scripture counsel for us in these later times — " Be-
member from whence thou art fallen." The prodigal recollected the kindness of
his home in the days gone by. 3. Then he began to regret. His grief over the
wickedness of his career is shown by the softness and gentleness of his forms of
meditation. We discover no demonstrations of spite. 4. Then he began to hate.
Abruptly, but for ever, he throws up his engagement with his cruel master. Ha
renounces absolutely all the associations of his life in this far country. 5. Then ha
began to resolve (see vers. 18, ly). So critical is this as a point in his experience,
that we must analyze it step by step to the end. (1) He resolved he would arise.
If he was actually bent on making a change, he must be up on the instant and out
of this. Nothing could be gained by delay. (2) He resolved he would go to hia
father. To whom else could he go ? Drudgery was here, freedom was yonder.
Shame was here, honour was yonder. Slavery was here, duty was yonder. Starving
was hete, plenty and to spare were yonder. (3) He resolved to speak to his father.
«HAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 113
Observe, in this little speeoh he Bays over and over again to himself there is not
one word about food or raiment, or future fortune. He is going to get the awful
past right before he begins on anything else. He decides that he will confess beford
he begins to plead ; what he wants is pardon. (4) He resolved to be obedient to
his father. Unworthy of Bonship, he will ask for a servant's place. Indeed, now
he has come to see that the lowest position in his father's house is higher than the
highest he ever discovered in aU these reckless, wicked days since he left it. Here,
again, we must pause to turn the story, so as to see in all plainness how it illus-
trates the process of mind and behaviour through which a contrite sinner returns
to his Father in heaven in the hour of his resolve. These steps are all homeward
steps. III. There remains for our study now only one more grouping of pai-ticulars
which show this peodigaIi's eeception when at the last he abbived in his own
COUNTRY, AND CAME TO HIS FATHER'S HOUSE. 1. He Carried out his purpose of arising
and going to his father (see ver. 20). It would have done no good just to resolve and
then sit still there among the swine. 2. He carried out his purpose of confessing
his sin to his father (see ver. 21). Perhaps he had been fainting with hunger ; but
hope would tell him of comfort by and by. Perhaps he would meet a train of
travellers, who would laugh at his sorry look and condition ; but he would think o£
help coming before long. Perhaps his heart whoUy sank at the moment when from
the last hill he saw his home ; but he would be sure to fall back on his sure faith
in his father's affection. 3. He carried out his purpose of full obedience of hia
father. To be sure, not a word was said about his being a servant any more. Ha
was a son now, and all the old honour had come with the robe and the ring. But
the unspoken resolve still remained in his heart (see Heb. v. 8). (C. S. Bobimon,
D.D.) The prodigal son : — I. The son's fortune, and his wat of spending ix.
What, then, was his fortune 7 Man is gifted with health, by which he is able to
enjoy Ufe — strength, to provide for its necessities — faculties (such as common
sense, reason, the anderetanding), to guide him to God as his true happiness —
affections, to endear him to others, and others to him. Appetites of various and
valuable sorts. The appetite of eating and drinking, which affords legitimate
pleasure and real advantage when moderately indulged ; the appetite for seeing,
which opens a door to much nsefal discovery and dehght, which enables us to
admire on every hand the infinite wisdom, power, and goodness of our Creator and
our God ; the appetite for hearing, by which Divine knowledge gets admittance into
the soul, by wMch the agreeable converse of our friends, and the delightful strains
of heavenly melody, may be enjoyed and indulged in. These, and many others,
are precious items in the portion which God bountifully bestows upon His children.
They should be enjoyed at His discretion, according to His command, and for His
glory. Not so, however, the sinner. Like the prodigal, he gathers his riches, and
takes his journey into a far country — that is to say, he wanders far from God and
heaven. The prodigal becomes a worldling ; he carries his portion into the un-
regenerate world, and there wastes his substance in riotous living. His gifts are
debauched and misused ; they are all made the servants of sin. Hunger caters to
gluttony ; thirst to drunkenness ; the eye administers to lust ; it reads wicked looks,
delights in wanton shows, in pomp, and vanity, and folly. The ear drinks in blas-
phemy, irreligion, and indecency. The heart is made the residence of evil affec-
tions ; the head and understanding, of wicked, ungodly, infidel principles. The
Bommer of life is spent in bringing to maturity the seeds of evil which were scattered
in its spring — the autumn, in the neglect of what is good, and in the ingathering of
what is bad, the poisoned fruits of a debauched manhood. The winter of life comea
on, and in its train sharp disease, racking pains — a bloated, enfeebled, disordered
earcase — a foolish head, an unregenerate heart, a guilty conscience. There is now
no more capacity for enjoying pleasure; the sight is gone, the hearing lost, the
appetite vanished, the strength decayed, the health squandered, the affections
debased, the faculties degraded — the whole substance wasted in riotous living. XL
His dbbtitution and bepentancb, " And when he had spent all there began to be
a mighty famine in that land." So it is with sinners. They derive their pleasure
from sensual enjoyments — the indulgences of the flesh ; but, when they spend their
strength, there is an end of these indulgences. The eye refuses to see, the ear to
hear, the members to stir, in obedience to the miserable slave of sin. " And he
would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat." It is among
the miserieB of sinners that the appetite for wicked indulgence increases as the
capacity for gratifying it decays. The longer the heart has been exercised in
iniyiity, the deeper wiU be the corruption with which it is tainted. " And no man
120 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap. xt.
gave unto him." Be assured, pinner, this is a true picture of the world. Whila
you can treat them — while you have anything that tht-y can devour, they will praise
and flatter you ; but, when your substance is gone, you will find it true that no
man will give unto you — none of your sinful companions. They have their own
devouring lusts, their filthy Insts, to gratify. Do you think that they will deny
themselves for your necessities ? " And when ho came to himself " — mark the
expression, as though he had been in a fit of madness. It is thus the sinner is here
spoken of ; yea, and elsewhere the Holy Ghost says, " Madness is in their hearts
while they live." " I will arise," Ac. Here, then, were no excuses, no palliations
— no saying others were in fault, I was led astray, I have not been as bad as some
— no promises of great things for the future — no saying, I will devote myself to thy
service, I will fight thy battles, I will do wonders for thy cause ; but a simple
declaration of guilt and wretchedness : " I have sinned, I am unworthy ; I do not
deserve tbe character of thy son; make me as one of tby servants ; regard me as
one of them." He resolves to plead, not his merit, but his misery, and he puts his
resolve into execution. For — III. " He akose and came to his father." " He
arose and came" : it is important that you should mark this — he did not rest con-
tent with mere resolutions of repentance. He did not say, " I will arise and
return," and all the while stay where he was, desiring still to feed on husks. This
too many do. "And while he was yet a great way off," &c. Oh, the melting
tenderness of our God and Saviour ! He watches the very first movements towards
repentance. {T. D. Gregg, M.A.) The reformed prodigal : — I. Let us inquibe
WHO THE ■soDNGER SON IS INTENDED TO EEPRE8ENT. The parable is addrcssed to the
scribes and Pharisees ; but there was nothing in their character which resembled
what is ascribed to the younger son, or that could admit a comparison with him.
But, as we are told, it was delivered in the presence of publicans and siimers,
who had assembled in crowds to hear Jesus, it cannot be doubted that it was
that class who are portrayed by the younger son. The publicans and sinners
are never represented in the Gospels as influenced by tbe religious opinions
which prevailed among the Jews, but rather as led by their feelings; just a a
the younger son is exhibited in the parable. They are, however, drawn as
more easily instructed, and more susceptible of repentance and reformation.
II. Let us next point out what tjsefdi. instkcction we mat derive from thb
CONDUCT of THE YOUNGER BEOTHEB. 1. We seo that oxtravagance and licentious-
ness are nsnally followed by want. Whoever, then, practices these vices, cannot
plead ignorance of their natural and unavoidable consequences. Nor do evil effects
belong to these vices alone ; for every other vice has its peculiar evil consequences
which accompany its train, as uniformly as a shadow goes along with a moving
substance when tbe sun shines. Thns, even truth from the mouth of a known
har is usually received with incredulity, and always with suspicion. Pride ie
incessantly exposed to imaginary affronts and real mortifications, which cause to
the unhappy victim many agonizing moments. The vain man is miserable when
he is doomed to negligence and contempt, instead of receiving the coveted and
expected praise. The gratification of revenge, in reality, consists of the pains of
the rack. 2. As the evil consequences of sin are thus so evident to all, we ought
to be convinced that this knowledge was intended to lead us to amendment. Such,
indeed, is represented as the effect produced on the young man in the parable. His
sufferings occasioned not only that repentance which consists in strong feelings,
but that reformation which consists in a change of conduct. This is exhibited as
genuine and sincere ; it was speedy, nor was it partial but universal. III. Our
ATTENTION IS NEXT CALLED TO THE ELDER BROTHER. We haVC COncludcd that the
younger brother was designed to represent the publicans and sinners. Nor can we
have any doubt that, under the similitude of the elder brother, the scribes and
Pharisees are intended. It is true the character given of the elder brother is good
— that he had served his father many years, and never transgressed his commands.
But we must not overlook the circumstance that this favourable character is given
by himself, while his conduct exhibits an opposite picture, bearing a close resem-
blance to the scribes and Pharisees ; for they deemed themselves not only faultless
bat meritorious, as they are represented by the Pharisee in the parable, who
thanked God for his superiority to others, and plumed himself because he fasted
twice in the week, and gave tithes of all his possessions. Like the great body of
the Pharisees, the elder brother is selfish and indifferent about others. He is
angry at the fond reception given to his penitent brother, envious of the marks
of favour conferred on him, and mortified at the supposed preference to himself
OBAP. XV.] 8T. LUKE. 121
hj his noble-mmded father. Had he possessed any natural affection he would hava
cordially testified his delight at the return of his long-lost brother. Had he f«lt aa
he ougLt to have done, he would have learned that bis own happiness was highly
enhanced ; for there is no joy bo elevated and refined as that which a good man
feels at the return of a bod, or a brother, or a friend, to Ood and duty. IV. Lastly,
THE CONDUCT OF THE FATHEB IN THE PABABLE IS EVIDENTLY INTENDED TO BEPBE-
BENT THE GOODNESS OF ouB Almighty Fathbb. {J. Tliomson, D.D.) The prodigal
son : — L This young man was laying his life-plans, and his first idea was to get
away from his father. 2. Freedom from restraint leads to recklessness. 3. Beok-
leseness leads to want. 4. Want leads to recollection. 5. BecoUection leads to
repentance. 6. Repentance leads to reformation. 7. Eeformation leads to
restoration. 8. Restoration leads to rejoicing. 9. Rejoicing over the returning
prodigal is well ; bat the conduct and character of the elder brother are im-
measurably better. {T. Kelly.) The parable of the prodigal son : — I. Self
WILL leads to pbodiqality. H. Pbodigality leads to want. III. Want awakens
MEMOBY. IV. Awakened memoby leads to bepentance and betuen. {Geo. Gerrard.'^
The prodigal : — Let us reg&rd it as giving a picture of man — I. In the dignity of
his obioin. This young man was the son of a father who could bestow on him a
large fortune, and surround his life with comfort and splendour. He was bom
to dignity. The destitution and misery to which he had reduced himself was not
his natural heritage. "We are also His offspring." U. In his desibk fob
INDEPENDENCE. All slns may be regarded as the unfolding of this single sin of
selfishnesd. Hence the necessity that we should enter the Kingdom of God, where
He asserts and maintains His dominion over us. III. In the libebty allowed
HIM, WITH the bisk OF ITS ABUSE. When a man feels that the service of God is
not perfect freedom, that he can better himself in some condition of his own seek-
ing, God allows him to make the trial. The foolish experiment discovers at length
to him that he is not really free by throwing off his former yoke. He has but
exchanged it for a far heavier one. 1. We learn from this that the apostasy of the
heart begins before the apostasy of the life. 2. Man abuses the liberty allowed
him, and abandons himself to the dreadful possibilities of sin. Liberty is indeed
a noble endowment, yet it is terrible to have the power to ruin ourselves. We can
guin nothing by contending with our Maker, IV. In the manneb of his spibitual
BEcovEBY. This rccovery is possible. Such is the glad sound of the gospel. Let
as trace the steps by which the prodigal gained the favour he had forfeited. 1. He
was made to feel his utmost need. 2. His reformation commenced in thought.
8. He was sensible of the honour he had rejected. 4. He resolves to cast himself
upon the mercy of his father, 5. He frames the design of his confession. Sin is
acknowledged in its root — " before Thee." 6. Still remaining as a son, he desired
to be reckoned a servant. V. In the merciful kindness with which heaven
FOBorvBS THE EVIL OF HIS LIFE. God draws nigh unto those who draw nigh unto
Him. When the face is turned towards God, the long journey is relieved by the
arrival of mercy before we have trodden every weary step. 1. The penitent is
raised to a position of honour. 2. There was sympathy awakened for him in the
father's household. 3. The joy was suited to the time — " it was meet." But this
intensity of joy could not, in the nature of things, long continue. He, too, must
shortly settle down to the sober tasks of duty. The excitement of a great crisis
must not be the permanent condition of the soul, or her energies would be con-
sumed at too high a rate ; and, instead of the glow of health, there would be the
burning of a fever. Excessive joy must subside into the patience of faith, and the
labour of love. {The Lay Preacher.) The parable of the prodigal son : — I. The
PBODiGAL SON LEAVF,8 HIS fatheb's HOUSE. 1. Why did he leave? (1) Youth is
the time of imaginations. The prodigal son promised to himself a joyful life out
side of his father's house. (2) Youth is desirous of sensual pleasures. (3) Youth
desires to be independent, and will not obey. 2. How did he leave ? (1) The
ungrateful demand. (2) The going astray. II. The pbodigal son in a fobeioh
coDNTBY. 1. He wastes his substance. 2. He begins to be in want. Poverty is
the condition of the soul that seeks happiness in the world. By losing his GK)d,
the sinner loses everything. 3, His degradation. He who would not perform the
daily work in the house of his father, is now obliged to labour as m hired servant.
4. He envies the brute beasts. III. His bbtubn and beception. 1. The causes
of his return. (1) It was caused bv his misery. The famine calls him back whom
satiety had- led away. God visits with grace him whom He visits with affliction.
(2) Forsaken by all the world, he returned to himself. The first condition of con-
122 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. X¥.
verBion is knowledge of one's self, and the knowledge of the condition of our soul.
(3) He saw the misery of his condition. 2. The steps he takes in order to return.
(1) He makes a firm resolution, not deferring his return to a later time, nor being
deterred by diflBculties. (2) He still remembers the kindness of his father. (3) He
acknowledges the enormity of his sin. 3. His reception. {Repertorium Oratoris
Sacri.) The prodigal son: — Look at the prodigal son — I. In his oeiginal cir-
cumstances OF honour and happiness. Upright. Innocent. Happy. God his
Father. Eden his home. The earth his domain. Angels his companions. All
that Divine wisdom and love could provide, he poaeessed. An ample portion was
his inheritance. II. In the arrogance of his presumptuous claim. What did
he really want ? Where could he be more dignified or happy? But he seeks to
have his portion to himself. He desires to do with it as he pleases. He seeks to
throw off parental restraints and control. III. In his dissipated wanderings.
1. This wandering is very gradual and insidious. 2. Increasingly rapid. 3.
Awfully dangerous. IV. In bis wretchedness and misery. Profligacy is followed
by want ; extravagance by misery. V. In his unalleviated distress. {J. Burns,
D.D.) The prodigaVB return: — I. Beason besdmes heb dominion. II. The
besolution he adopts. 1. He determines on an immediate return to his forsaken
home. 2. He resolves freely to confess his sins. 3. He resolves to be content
with any place in his father's dwelling. III. The course which he promptly
carries out. 1. Immediately ; without delay. 2. And he perseveres in his home-
ward course. {Ibid.) The sequel: — I. The happt mbetino. II, The hearty
keception. III. The distinguished banquet. IV. The cold-hearted envy of
the eldeb brother. Lessons : 1. How generous and pure is the benevolence of
the gospel. It is of God, and from Him, and resembles His tender and infinite
love. 2. How hateful is an envious self-righteous spirit. It is the sprit of the evil
Dne, and therefore from beneath. 3. Happy they who have repented of sin, and
who have been received into the Saviour's family of love. {Ibid.) The prodigal
son: — I. The pbodiqal'b departure. He disliked all parental restraint. He broke
the principle involved in the " first commandment with promise." In his father's
house vice was out of place. He made the world his servant, little thinking how
soon he should be nnder its most cruel tyranny. He wae sadly deceived. We
must never forget that all wasting of our gifts is a sin. Man is made for a noble
purpose ; his duties touch eternity, and are given for use in time. Shall we, for
even a moment, dare assume that it is no concern of ours how we employ onr
powers? IL The prodigal's despaib. His situation is portrayed by the one
graphic description of Christ : " There arose a mighty famine in that land." We
are pointed to the darkest word in human history, precursor of the pestilence and
death. It tells of the stony bed where the brook once ran. It tells of the fmitless
trees, with branches prematurely stripped of their foliage. It tells of the grass of
Bummer all bnmed away. His property was all wasted, and despair was settling
down apou his soul. His life was a failure in such a land ; his "riotous living"
was beginning its curse. No want of the human heart, good or bad, is ever satis*
tied here. Even the disciple's anticipation is of a time when he shall awake in
Christ's likeness. Just so, the nobler desires turned earthward are more insatiate
still. Epicure was never satisfied. The sustenance of vicious desires only awakens
new ones. The drunkard drinks deeper week by week, his thirst deepened with every
draught of the mocking cup. The miser's lust burns fiercer as the gold in his chest
becomes heavier. III. The prodigal's resolution. We are told of an English soldier,
wounded and faint, left by the retreating army to die. Helpless and motionless ha
lay, expecting his death, screened from the burning sun by an overhanging cliff.
While his strength was ebbing fast there alighted just before his face a greedy,
ravenous bird, waiting for the end to come. Thoughts of himself becoming the prey
of that loathsome bird gave him a new energy, and he slowly arose and at last was
saved. In almost a .like helpless state the prodigal " came to himself." Two
thoughts convinced him of his insane course — the abjectnessof his misery, perishing
with hunger ; and the remembrance of the joys in the father's house. It was thus
the dissolute John Newton became himself again. But for a like critical resolve
John Bunyan would ever have remained the same worthless profligate as in hif
youth. A moral coward may face the cannon's month, but only a hero will tarn
from his sin. There is a splendour in such a moral conflict. Caesar's political fate
depended upon his passing the Bubicon ; and yet the same resolution is demanded
in the case of every sinner. IV. The prodigal's welcome. Words are powerless
in declaring the richness of soch a reception. The prodigal loved ms fathet
OEAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 123
because his father had first loved him. Day after day the hired serrants had asked
in vain, When will his love grow less? But it never ceased. (D. 0. Hears.)
The prodigal ton : — I. Thb spibit o» thb son at thk beoinmiko. His underlying
aim is to lock out for himself. He wanted his father's goods, bat not his presence.
This is the germ of sin — an independent, proud, unloving spirit toward God. H.
The departoee. Not many days after he found that he could be independent, he
started off on his journey. He who does not pray and obey God, rapidly withdraws
from Him. God is not in his thoughts, and therefore he soon ceases to appreciate
the character which God loves. The true generosity, which is love to men for their
good, is lost. He loves men for what they are worth to please himself. Beverence
is lost. The courage of gentleness is lost. Abhorrence of wickedness is lost. He
sees wit in the rejection of Divine authority, courage in anger, manliness in vice.
IIL Tbe upb of uNHAiiLowED PLEASURE. He chose the company that fitted his
spirit. He sought others for what he could get out of them ; they sought him for
what they could get out of him. He had plenty of company as long as he had
substance to waste on them. What he spent on them was wasted. What they gave
him was wasted. The whole traffic was utter loss on both sides. They had not
only outward possessions, but a wealth of intellect, affection, beauty, genius. They
wasted it all. This the seeker for self and not God always does. He uses his
talents to cover up his real aims and passions. Art has been made the handmaid
of Sin. Music is called in to adorn the hideous nakedness of Vice, IV. The coiiLAPss.
The famine began when he had used up all he had. When all is gone. Nature
herself turns against the prodigal. The world is a desert to a sinner who has run
through the gifts of God, and he is absolutely certain to run them through in a
little while. Alas for him when his own treasures are squandered, and the famino
smites the far country 1 His one friend he has cast off to win the admiration of
ihe friends he had chosen ; and they have cast him off as soon as his goods are
gone. Y. Tee new business. No extreme of degradation conld be greater than this
to the mind of the Jew. He became the servant of a foreigner, whom the Jew
despised. He tended swine, which were hateful to the Jew. He was hungry for
the food which the swine fed on, and couldn't get it. Yet even this degradation was
his own choice. VI. The awakening. "He came to himself." Awakening to his
wretchedness, he remembers one friend. Oh, if God were not a friend, the prodigal
would sink into despair and hell when he comes to himself. He sees now where he
is, that he has brought himself into this poverty. Many call God cruel after they
have wasted the abundance of gifts from him. They have received all they ask for,
have made no acknowledgment, have wasted all, and then, finding themselves
wretched, they say that God has done it. But not so this prodigal. He said, "I
have sinned." VII. The besolve. He is awakened to a hope of pardon and
gracious reception. But this does not hinder the full confession of his sin. He
accepts the deepest humiliation. He seeks now not to maintain his pride, but to
confess the truth. VIII. The betubn. He acted at once. Honest repentance
always does. Besolves postponed are lies. Men befool themselves with them. He
did not wait to cleanse himself and get a more becoming dress. He was not earning
enough to keep himself alive, far less could he save enough to better his appear-
ance. Besides, there was nothing in the far country which money could buy that
would make him in the least degree presentable at home. The gay and costly attire
which he wore when he was spending his living with harlots was as repulsive to his
father as his rags. He was not to become better in order that he might go to his
father, but he was to go to his father in order that he might be made better. Yet he
went back, not to claim anything. His father had given him once all he had asked
for, and he had taken it as if it had belonged to him, had wasted it, and ruined
himself by it. He went back to make confession. IX. The meeting. He was yet
a great way off when the father saw him. Love is quicker than youth, loftier than
pride, mightier than Satan. The love of God is compassion. It suffers with the
penitent. It would even spare the recital of the sad history. (A, E. Dunning. )
The prodigal $on: — Six touching scenes. I. A sinful life. 1. A yonng man
chafing under the restraints of home. This chafing arose — (1) From a false view
of true liberty. (2) From a false view of true happiness. (3) From a false view of
self-guidance. 2. A young man demanding his portion of tltie inheritance. This
demand arose — (1) From a desire to be independent of his father. (2) From a
desire to lay out his life and means according to his own plan. 3. The young man
receiving *' tbe portion which befell him." (1) The father recognized his son's free
agency. (2) The father saw that his son's heart was already estranged from him.
124 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. XT.
(3) The father felt that the bitter experienoeB of life alone, if anything, would
undeceive his self-deluded and wilful son. II. Thb departure kroii home. 1. Tha
departure was not loug delayed. 2. The young man took all he could claim. III.
His mode of life when once released from the restraints of home. 1. His Ufa
riotous. 2. His substance wasted. IV. The besolt op his self-elected life.
1. Famine. 2. Want. 3. Degrading service. 4. Hunger. V. The reaction.
1. Situation realized. 2. Beflection commenced. 3. Decision resolved on. 4. A
plea constructed. 5, Decision executed. YL The father's love. 1, Love's long
range ol vision. 2. Love's teuderness. 3. Love's generosity. 4. Love's joy.
Lessons: 1. The infinite contrast — man's selfishness and God's love. 2. The
infinite folly — man breaking away from God. 3. The infinite grace — God embracing,
forgiving, and honouring the returning prodigal. (D, C, Hughes, M.A.) The
prodigal son: — I. The prodigal's sin. 1. Discontent. 2. Departure. 3. Wilful
waste. II. His destitution. 1. Extreme poverty. 2. Deep degradation. 3.
Woful want. III. His repentance. 1. Awakening. 2. Penitence. 3. Besolution.
IV. His restoration. 1. Return. 2. Confession. 3. Welcome. Applications :
1. Too many imitate the prodigal in his sin, but not in his repentance. 2. The
Father is ever ready to meet and receive, with a kiss of affection, the returning
prodigal. 3. God is exalted to have mercy. There is grace for the chief of
sinners. Whosoever will, may return. Come home, prodigal 1 (L. O. Thompson.)
The prodigal : — I. Wilful. II. Wandering. III. Wasteful. IV. Wanting.
V. Wretched. VI. Walking home again. VII. Welcome. (J. Sanderson, D.D.)
The prodigal's wandering, return, and reception : — I. A sinner's aversion and
alienation from God. 1. A sinful state is a state of departure from God.
2. An extravagant or spendthrift. 3. A wretched or destitute state. 4. A
servile and slavish state. 5. A state of perpetual dissatisfaction. 6. A
state of deadness or death. U. The sinner's return to God, and the manner
thereof. The first demonstration of his return is — 1. Consideration of his father's
kindness. 2. By comparison, he saw his misery. 3. The view he got of the
superiority of his father's house. 4. Determination. 5. Confession. 6. Self-
condemnation. 7. Humble submission. 8. Filial confidence. 9. His obedience.
III. The sinner's apprehensive reception. 1. The father's affection to his
returning child. 2. Eyes of mercy : be saw him as from a mountain. 3. Bowels
of mercy : he feels compassion. 4. Feet of mercy : " he ran," while his son
••came" only. 6. Arms of mercy: •• he fell on his neck." 6. Lips of mercy :" he
kissed him." The provision presented. 1. He came in rags. •' He put the best
robe upon him, a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet " (see also Isa. Ixi. 10).
2. He came hnngiy. " Bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it ; and let us eat, and
be meny " (see also John vi. 54). 3. Great joy. "Let ms be merry " (see Luke
XV. 10) ; " Let them also that love Thy name, be joyful in Thee (Psa. v. 11). 4.
The conduct of the elder brother (25-30) serves as a reproof to the Pharisees, who
were displeased at the conversion of the Gentiles. (T. B. Baker.) Parable of
the prodigal son : — I. Sinners regard God no farther than to gain from Him what-
ever they can. II. Sinners waste the blessings which they receive from His handa^
and reduce themselves to absolute want. HI. AfiQlctions are very often the first
means of bringing them to a sense of their condition. IV. When they first acquire
this sense they usually betake themselves to false measures for relief. V. This
situation of a sinner is eminently unhappy. VI. The repentance of the gospel ia
the resumption of a right mind. Among the things which the sinner realizes,
when he first comes to himself, are the following. 1. His own miserable condition.
2. That in the house of his heavenly Father there is an abundance of good. 3. A
hope that this good may be his. I shall now proceed in the consideration of the
progress of a siimer towards his final acceptance with God as it is exhibited in the
text. With this design, I observe — I. True repentance is a voluntary exercise of
the mind. IL True repentance is a filial temper, disposing us to regard God as our
parent, and ourselves as His children. IIL True repentance is followed, of course,
by a confession of sin. IV. A real penitent feels that all his sins are committed
against God. V. A real penitent is, of course, humble. VI. A real penitent brings
nothing to God, but his want, shame, and sorrow. VII. A true penitent executea
his resolutions of obedience. VIIL God is entirely disposed to receive the sincere
penitent. IX. The richest provision is made for the enjoyment of the sincere
penitent. X. There is a peculiar joy in heaven over the repentance of returning
sinners. (T. Dwight, D.D.) Bitterness of prodigal sin : — I. The prodigal'! sin.
Dissatisfaction. Alienation. Estrangement. II. The prodigal's misery. Sooner oi
CHAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 125
later every sinner must be taught that to be estranged from God is to be estranged
from happiness. III. The pbodiqal's repentance and keturn, 1. Sanity returns.
2. Comparison of the present with the past. 3. Eesolution to return. His condition
has conquered his pride. 4. Confession. 5. Action. IV. The returning prodigal's
KECEPTioN. 1. The Father's advance. 2. Acknowledgment of sin and unworthiness.
8. Honour and dignity. 4. Festivity and rejoicing. (•/. R. Thomson, M.A.)
Sin and its consequences: — I. The prodigal's sin. 1. Alienation of affection.
There was the root of his rebellion. His heart had wandered from its early tender-
ness, and had become warped, by yielding to a sinful lust of freedom, from its filial
love. From this alienated heart, in natural sequence, flowed his after disobedience
and sin. With the heart thus alienated, you can the more readily explain the
prodigal's impatience of restraint, hankering after present licence of enjoyment,
and departure from the house of his father. All these followed as the natural
consequences of estranged affection. A yoke that is felt must always be galling ;
an enforced servitude stirs up within the man all latent feelings of rebellion.
Hence, when the principle of filial love was gone, the restraint of the home became
irksome, the desire for independence grew into a passion, and then followed the
project of the journey into a far country, and of the uncontrolled rioting in the
portion of goods. II. The consequences of sin. It were to defeat our own purpose
to afiBrm that there are no pleasures in sin. The world would never continue in its
ways if it reaped no gratification. There is, doubtless, something congenial to the
wayward heart in the objects of its fond pursuit, and there is often thrown a blind-
ing charm about the man, beneath whose spell unholy he fancies every Hecate a
Ganymede, and dallies with deformity which he mistakes for beauty; but our point
is this, that in every course of transgression, in every departure of the human spirit
from God, there is debasement in the process, and there is ruin in the inevitable
end. 1. Homelessness. 2. Waste and degradation. 3. Abandonment and famine .
(IT. M. Punshon, LL.D.) The prodigal son : — 1. The fact that we are sinners ia
no reason why we should stay away from our God. 2. We do not require to work
eome good thing in us before God can love us. The sinner may come to God just
as he is, through Jesus Christ. The parable firsts represents man in his departure
from God. The son was at home, surrounded with all the comforts of home, and
secure in the affection of his father ; but he became dissatisfied, and wished to
depart and be independent. How like to man's conduct towards his God 1 There
have been vast efforts of learning and of metaphysical skill put forth to account for
the origin of evil, but we will find nowhere a better explanation than that furnished
by God Himself : " God made man upright, but he hath sought out many inven-
tions." When the prodigal had apostatized in heart from his father, he then went
and demanded his portion of goods. He is going to set up for himself, and demands
his rights. As has been observed, his demand sounds as if he had been consulting
his lawyer, and was particularly anxious to put his claim into strictly legal phrase-
ology. The father made no opposition, but let him have his portion of goods. He
saw that his heart was gone, and why should he retain his body ? God has giveu
to ns a portion of goods. It is those things which men possess in common, irre-
spective of their character. When, however, man takes these gifts and seeks to
employ them independent of God, and even against God, he plunges into fearful
guilt and misery. What is meant by the prodigal son going into a far country ?
It is doubtless intended to represent the spiritual distance of the soul from God
while in a state of unbelief. Our consciousness of sin makes as dread to think of
God, and that dread ripens into absolute enmity — " The carnal mind is enmity
against God." When in this state of mind men put all thought of God as far away
from them as they can. As you have seen a man bow a disagreeable visitor out of
his house, so men put God far from them, saying, •' Depart from us, we desire not
a knowledge of Thy ways." Oh ! into what a far country has the sinner wandered
when he has reached this state 1 And the longer he continues in it the wider
becomes the distance between him and God, till at last he drifts into the dark sea
of eternal death. When the prodigal got into the far country we are told that he
began to be in want. This was a sad termination to his high prospects of enjoy-
ment. Doubtless he thought that if he could only be once independent, and get
away from all parental control, his wants would all be supphed. But now his
trouble is only beginning. He has reached the far-off land of hope and promise,
where all his desires were to be gratified, but he finds instead that there is a
•'mighty famine in that land." Thus end all men's attempts to be happy away
from God. And the sooner we become convinced of this the better, (hat we may
126 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. x».
no longer fill our souls with disappointment and grief, by seeking happiness where
it cannot possibly be found ; for except those who have found peace in Christ, the
whole race in the scramble after the world may be classed under two heads — thos&
who have been disappointed with the world, and those who are going to be. In
this state of famine and distress the prodigal " joined himself to a citizen of the
country." We would have supposed that his sufferings, his bitter disappointments,,
his pinching wants, would have sent him home at once. But no — man's last
resource is to go to God. When he fails in one worldly project, he turns tO'
another; and as each new plan fails to give him the satisfaction he expected, he
concludes that the reason is that he has not yet got enough of the world, and so
with new vigour he takes a fresh start. Man thinks that his happiness is to be
found tPitTimit, when it is only to be found within. There can no more be happi-
ness in a foul heart, than there can be ease and comfort in a diseased body. Thifr
last change of the prodigal, accordingly, did not mend his condition at all ; on the
contrary, it sank him into a deeper degradation. At last the prodigal begins to
think. " He came to himself." Before this he had been acting like one whose
wild imagination has broken the bridle of reason, and dashes furiously on to
destruction. It was such a display of headlong passion as reminds one of " moody
madness laughing wild and severer woe." The expressions " self-possessed,"
" beside one's self," " losing one's self," are all very common and significant, anfl
Bhadow forth the great truth that man's nature, made by God harmonious and
united, has been rent in two. His soul has become a battle-field where two eter-
nities conflict. Conscience pulls one way — passion another. The symptom of
man coming to his right mind is when he begins to reflect. " In my father's house
there is bread enough and to spare." He thought of one heart that once loved him
tenderly, of a loving home that once sheltered him, and as he reflected upon the
past and contrasted it with the present, his soul broke down in contrition, and then
came the resolve, " I will arise and go to myfather." A great point is gained when
the sinner is led to think of eternal things. Whatever it may be that leads to this,
whether it be under the faithful preaching of the word or the aflaictions of Provi.
dence, if he is only led to reflect upon his lost condition it will surely do him good.
No man can honestly and earnestly take up the claims of God upon him and hi»
prospects for eternity, and look them fairly in the face, without being led to feel bis
need of a Saviour. Sinners rush down to destruction because they will not con-
sider. The prodigal had now come to the resolution of going to his father, but his
mind was full of dark misconceptions about that father's character and his feelinge
towards him. He knew that his father once loved him ; but that he loved him
now, that he had loved him all along in his wicked wanderings, was something of
which he could form no conception. He knew that he had wasted his all, and that
he had therefore no price to bring in his hand with which to purchase his father's
love ; but still he felt as if something must be done to turn away the anger which
he thought burned in his father's bosom against him. How hard it is to lead the
sinner to think of the gospel as God's free, full welcome to him to come just as he is
and be saved 1 Oh how little did the prodigal know of the depth of that love he
had so long despised and grieved 1 In the meantime the father sees his long-lost
Bon, while he is yet afar off. The eye of affection is quick to detect its object under
any and every disguise, and love is quick in its motions. He runs to meet the
long-lost one. Oh, how different is this from what he expected ! How all his-
unbelieving doubts and his misconceptions of his father's true character are dis-
pelled by the gracious reception he now receives 1 and how vile his former conduct
now appears in the light of his fatiier's love I The very love that gives him such a
hearty reception at the same time produces true repentance on account of the past,
and plants in his soul the principle of a true obedience in the future. Sinner, this
is a picture of the God with whom you have to do. He has followed you in your
wanderings with ten thousand proofs of His love, though you have not heeded them.
And even now He loves you still. (J. R. Boyd.) A moving story ; — When in
England, on one occasion, I heard of s city missionary in London who always waa
in the habit of reading this scriptural story, if at any time he gained access to the
roughs of the metropolis — " A certain man had two sons ! " By this interesting
exordium their attention was inmaediately aroused. On one occasion he was
interrupted by the running remarks of an impulsive youth, one of the reckless
London thieves, who had evidently never heard the story before. When he read
the younger son's request " for the portion of goods that fell to him," his astonished
hearer interpolated, " Cool that— rather cool I " When he came to the story of his
«BAP. xv.] ST. LUKE. 127
Bubseqnent degradation and want, •' Served him right," was the ejacnlation. But
■when he heard the account of the prodigal's reception by his father, the impressed
and delighted listener exclaimed, as the tears rolled down his cheeks, " Oh, what a
good old cove I " — and even before the missionary had time to explain the parable,
that " chief of sinners " seemed to have applied it in his own mind to the forgiving
mercy of God. At the close of the service he waited on the missionary, and pre-
ferred to him this strange request : ♦* Will you come and read that ere account o'
the kind old cove to some fellows I know, that would get sunamat o' good from it
like me ? " When the missionary expressed his readiness to go, the only stipulation
added was, that " he would bring no bobbies (policemen), for the bobbies knew
them all." Down in a den in the depths of London that missionary read that
parable ; and of a truth its Divine Author smiled upon him as he did so, for he
recognized that, as of old, " publicans and sinners " had drawn near " to hear him."^
When Dr. Chalmers first preached the annual missionary sermon in Surrey Chapel^
London, Bowland Hill sat in the front of the gallery, all anxiety and expectation ;
for it was he who had spread his fame in the metropolis, and had persuaded the
immense array of ministers to come together to hear the celebrated North-man.
Similar was the relation which subsisted between the thief and the missionary in
this instance, although otherwise the circumstances were very different. *' This is
the gemman wot has come to read us the story of the bad lad and the kind old cove
wot I were telling ye off. It's a regular stunner. Jim, assume the perpendicular,
and give the gemman the seat " (for there was only one chair, or rather stool, in
the dreary apartment). Thus introduced and recommended, the missionary began:
" A certain man had two sons," &e. As the narrative proceeded, verse by verse, he
who had raised the expectations of the company so high, kept exclaiming, " Did ye
e\ier hear the like o' that ? Bill, wasn't I right ? Isn't it a regular stunner ? " Bui
when the reader reached the account of the embrace and the kiss, the marks of appro-
bation from all the auditors, to whom also it was quite new, weie so loud that he-
was compelled to stop. " But wait till ye hear what the old fellow did for him ! "
was the last whetting exclamation of his patron. And when they heard of the robe
and the ring, and the rejoicing, they all rejoiced together ; for they seemed by a
kind of Pentecostal intuition to conclude that even so would the God of the Bible
treat them. (F. Ferguson, D.D.) The Fatherland : — Of all God's cords the
£nest, and perhaps the strongest, is the cord of love. Quitting his native chimney,
amftng the canals and grassy fields of Holland, the stork pursues the retiring
summer, and soon overtakes it in Nubia or Morocco. There, quite unconscious of
the ieiter beneath his wing, he revels on the snakes of Taurus or the frogs of Nile :
till at Inst, on a brilliant May morning, there is a sharp tug, and then a long steady
pull, aiiA high overhead float the broad pinions, and presently in the streets of
Haarleba the boys look up, and shout their welcome, as, with eager haste and noisy
outcry, (kQ old acquaintance drops down upon the gable, and, drawn back to the old
anchorage by a hawser of a thousand miles, the feathery sails are once more furled.
Like instiiMSt over a generation's interval brings back the exile to his Highland glen.
It matters not that in the soft Bermudas Ufe is luxury ; it is of no avail that in this
Canadian el«iaring a rosy household has sprung up and in proud affection clings
around him ; towards the haunts of his childhood there is a strange deep-hidden
yearning, wh^h often sends absent looks towards northern stars, and ends at last in
the actual pilgrimage. And although by the time of his return he finds that no
money can bujr back the ancestral abode ; although, as he crosses the familiar hill
and opens the mnny strath, strange solitude meets him ; although when he comes
up, the hamlet ^ roofless and silent, and the bonny beild, the nest of his boyhood,
a ruin ; although behind the cold hearth rank nettles wave, and from the cairn
covering the spot where in the mornings of another world he waked up so cosily,
young weasels p^p forth ; although the plane is cut down, or the bonrtree, under
whose sabbatic shadow his father used at eventide to meditate ; although where the
vision dissolves a pang must remain, there is no need that he should go back, bleak
and smbittered, as to a disenchanted world. This glut of reality was wanted to
quench a long fever : but even here, if his own heart is true, he will find that God'a
cord is not broken. Cottages dissolve and family circles scatter, but piety and love
eannot perish. The cord is not broken ; it is only the mooring-post which a friendly
hand has moved farther inland, and fixed sure and steadfast within the veil; and
«s the strain which used to pull along the level is now drawing upward, the home
irhioh memory ased to picture in the Highlands, faith learns to seek in heaven. The
true home of humanity is God — God trusted, communed with, beloved, obeyed ; and,
THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR.' [chap. rr.
" Not in entire forgetfnlness,
And not in utter nakedness,"
do we come " from God, who is our home," but " trailing clouds of glory with us."
Alloyed and interrupted by much that is base and wicked, there are in human
nature still touches of tenderness, gleams of good feeling, noble impulses, momen-
tary visitations of a natural piety, brought away from that better time and its blest
abode, and which may be regarded as electric thrills along the line which connects
with its Creator a fallen but redeemed humanity : as so many gentle checks of that
golden chain which will one day bring back God's banished, and see the world " all
righteous." The head of the great household is God, and the earthly home He h
constituted so as to be an image of His own paternity. That home is founded iu
love, and in administering it love is called forth every day — often a pitying, for-
bearing, forgiving love — a love sometimes severe and frowning, often self-denying,
it may chance self-sacrificing. As the world now is — a ruin, with a remedial
scheme in the midst of it — that home is the nearest image of the Church, and
should be the most efficient fellow-worker with it. " In the family the first man
himself would receive lessons on self-government such as even the garden of Eden
did not supply, and perpetual occasion for its exercise. In what a variety of ways
would he learn to repeat to his children the substance of the Divine prohibition to
himself — • Thou shalt not eat of it.' How soon would he who had had Paradise
for a home discover that if he would convert home into a paradise he must guard
his offspring at this point, subordinating their lower propensities to their superior
powers." If presided over by those who themselves fear God — and otherwise no house
is a home — ^there will be something sacred in its atmosphere, and alike enforced by
affection and authority the lessons of heavenly wisdom will sink deep ; and with a
sufficient probation superadded to a careful protection, it is to be hoped that,
before transplantation into the world's rough weather, good dispositions may have
been so far confirmed as only to strengthen by further trial. In order to mak*^
Srour home the preparation for heaven, the first thing is to strengthen that cord of
ove by which you ought to hold your child, even as our heavenly Father holds His
children. That love is yours already — an up-leaping.uplooking affection, if you donot
destroy its tenderness by perpetual rebuffs, if you do not forfeit reverence by being
yourself unworthy of it. "Ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath"; be
not always scolding, reproving, punishing ; " but bring them up in the nurture
and admonition of the Lord." Take advantage of their affection for yourself, and
use it as the appointed medium for drawing them into the love of God. Train up
the child in the way he should go. If he is not to go in the way of low pastime
and coarse indulgence, point him to higher joys ; open to him the well-spring of
knowledge; try to ascertain and develop a turn for some ennobUng pursuit, or
create a taste for the treasures bequeathed by genius. After all, however, there is
another influence which goes farther in creating the home. It is mother-love
'Which endears the fatherland, and it is to the cradle that the fairy-line is fastened
^hich even in the far country holds so mysteriously the heart of the wanderer.
"When Napoleon, with his army of invasion, lay at Boulogne, an English sailor who
had been captured tried to escape in a little raft or skiff which he had patched
together with bits of wood and the bark of trees. Hearing of his attempt, the First
Consul ordered him to be brought into his presence, and asked if he really meant
to cross the channel in such a crazy contrivance. " Yes, and if you will let ine, I
am still willing to try." •' You must have a sweetheart whom you are so anxious
to revisit." " No," said the young man, "I only wish to see my mother, who is
old and infirm." ** And you shall see her," was the reply, " and take to her this
money from me; for she must be a good mother who has such an affectionate son."
And orders were given to send the sailor with a flag of truce on board the first
British omiser which came near enough. Napoleon was always eager to declare
his own obligations to his high-spirited and courageous mother, the beautiful
Letizia Bamolini ; but the difficulty would be to find any man of mark who has
not made the same avowal. {Jamts Hamilton, D.D.) Give me the portion of
^oods that faJleth to ma — Impiety urging unjust demands : — Here was — 1. A dis-
regard of most sacred obligations. This young man was bound by the most sacred
obligations to manifest ever a spirit of gratitude to his father— ever practically
show that he recognized the immense obhgation under which he was laid by the
never-ending kindnesses of that father. But instead thereof, we find rebellion
•gainst home restraints, and discontent with a father's rule and with home
emir.iy.-] ST. LUKE. 125
blessings. He resolved to leave the weary monotony of home for the variety and
pleasure of distant scenes ; and not caring for the injustice of the demand, he
■would plead for his portion of the family estate. He would be his own master ; he
would be free and unfettered ; he would wander away as he pleased, and do what-
ever he listed ; and gathering np his ingratitude, his selfishness, and his rebeliioik
in one act of shameless courage, he said to his father, " Give me the portion ol
goods that falleth to me." Ask yourselves whether you do not act thus with God.
Is it a fact that you are happy in the smiles of God, or is it true that you try to
shun Him and His laws ? Is it a fact that you have placed yourself in His hands,
and are trusting to His Fatherly love to guide you aright ; or, is it true that you
place no sincere dependence in God to guide you, but are trusting to yourself —
your own energy and wisdom — for all you want ? By these simple rules you may
easily know your state; and I pray you, as you value your soul's interest, know the
truth at once. Here was — 2. A wrong standard of manhood. He imagined that
whilst at home he was in leading strings, was a child, and would never be a man.
To be a man, he thought he must break loose from the trammels of home, and
walk out freed from all restraint. To be a man, he thought he must be his own
master, and be responsible to no one. To be a man, he thought he must command
his time and his purse, and satisfy the inquisitivenesa of none. We know he was
a fool, and knew nothing rightly : that he would have been a thousand times more
of a man if he had ordered his life by a just and righteous law, if he had respected
Divine and social obligations, and if he had paid deference to the wisdom and
experience of those who knew the world and would have given him sound and
wholesome advice. Licence is not liberty. Eioting is not happiness. Extrava-
gance, carelessness, and sensuality are not manliness. To be a man, you must
he a gentleman ; and every true gentleman pays respect to law ; to the laws of
social life as well as to the laws of the State ; to the laws of God as well as to the
laws of man. Here was — 3. A manifestation of the most intense selfishness. He well
knew the grief and pain which he caused his father. He knew also the difference it
would make to home comforts if he took away a share of the family estate. But,
he cared not for that. He would do as he pleased, regardless of all others* claims
and feelings. Selfishness is the most unfeeling passion in the human breast. This
is just the spirit of the world. Its unceasing cry is, " Give me." No matter what
it costs ; no matter what hearts break ; no matter what misery is caused ; no
matter who lacks — " Give me." In the temple of Mammon from every shrine there
ascends the ceaseless litany, not •• Grant me in mercy Thy favours," but " Give
me my claims." From every unhumbled heart there ascends the constant petition,
^arpened in the intensity of its appeal by the very benevolence of God's character,
"Give me." {W. O. Pascoe.) The younger ton and hi* demand: — The young
man brought before ns in this story is just the sort of person whom the world
would describe as a thoroughly sensible fellow. I feel sure that such a man in our
own day would be thus described by his companions. He showed his sense just in
the way in which men of the world show theirs now. Let us regard him for a few
moments from this point of view. The first thing that this sensible man does is
to feel dissatisfied within himself at the condition of dependence in which he is
introduced to ua. The father seems to have been in conafortable circumstances —
perhaps in affluence. The young man has never been begrudged anything ; all hia
wants have been supplied as fast as they have arisen. But then his position was
one of dependence, and it was that that made things so far from agreeable. It was
not his father's way to bestow his wealth upon his children, so that they might
possess an independent property, but to supply their reasonable wants as fast as
they occurred, and it was against this state of things that the young man's
will began to rebel. "Why should not I be like other fellows? What a
humiliating thing it is that I should be treated like a grown up child ! If I had
my own fortune to do what I liked with, I should very soon be able to Ehow this
father of mine what the use of money is, and how it should be spent." The father
does not refuse : he will not keep his son in a state of compulsory dependence upon
him. 'There and then " he divides unto them his living." Observe, he " divides
his living" between both his sons. It does not say that he gave half to the younger
Bon and kept tiie other half himself, but •• he divided unto Qiem his living." What
became of the elder son's portion ? Where did he invest it ? How did he emplo»'
it ? We find that long years afterwards his elder son says, " Thou never gavest
me a kid that I might make merry with my friends." Ah ! the elder brother had
the wisdom to give back what was his. No sooner was his portion of goods
130 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [oha». xt.
assigned to him than he put it back again in safe keeping. I can fancy him saying
to his father, "I do not want my portion, I am quite happy, I have all I want."
In a moment of discontent, at a later period, he allows himself to speak hardly oE
his father's treatment, but this eldest son understood his father on the whole,
although for a moment he might be unfaithful to the consciousness of the benefiti
of his position : and so he had the wisdom to give back what his father had given
to him. But the younger son was a far more sensible fellow than that. So soon
as he gets his money, he makes up his mind to spend it according to his own heart's
desire. So the second thing this particularly sensible young man does is to make
up his mind that the restraints of home are positively intolerable. He cannot go
on in this droning way any longer ; he must see something of the world ; life ia
hardly worth having under such conditions ; he must break away from the
restraints of the paternal roof, turn his back upon old associations, and go forth
and enjoy himself : he has had enough of this hum-drum, tedious life ; so, like a
very sensible young man, he leaves his father's home, and goes forth into a distant
land. I can fancy it cost him something at the moment. Nobody ever goes to
hell without meeting with difficulties in the way. As he looked into his father's
face and saw the tear rising in the old man's eye — as he took a long last look at
the dear old home where he had spent so many happy and innocent years, I can fancy
it cost him something. A better instinct would sometimes assert itself within his
nature. " Have you not been happy ? Those sunny hours of childhood, what
could have been more pleasant ? If you have been unhappy it has been your own
fault. Tour brother is a happy man ; why should not you have been ? " But the
lower instinct prevailed ; his downright good common-sense was stronger than
anything else : so that this thoroughly sensible man makes up his mind to turn
his back upon his father's house, aud into a distant land he goes. Now what waa
the next step that this " sensible fellow " took ? When he had asserted his inde-
pendence and had got away from his father, and the restraints of home, he began
to enjoy himself. Surely he showed his sense in that I How does he enjoy him-
self? He "wasted his substance in riotous living." That does not sound very
aensible just at first ; but there are plenty of young men who show their good sense
by pursuing the same course. "Oh," you say, "we do not approve of fellows being
spendthrifts : " yet you approve of men spending something that is far more
precious than money. How have you been spending your time 7 What have you
to show for it ? How have you been spending your influence? Every one of you
might have been using it for eternity, and already there might have been a crown
of glory laid up as the result of well-used influence. What has become of it *
How have you been spending your money ? for we may as well speak of that too.
■Some of you have been scattering it to the winds ; others hoarding it up in the
bank ; some, laying it out in business speculations, and the very gold which you
might have so used as to " lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven " has become
the curse of your life. How does it appear in God's sight? Wasted I — that
substance of yours squandered, because it has never been turned to any really
good purpose. What was the next thing that this " sensible " young man did?
He formed a great many gay acquaintances. I do not think there is a young man
in this congregation that lives for the world, but wiU agree that he was on the
•whole a " sensible man " in doing that. It is just what you do. How many a
young man there is who is kept back from doing what he knows is right because
ne has formed so many acquaintances, and is surrounded by the influence of his
companions. He would like to be different, but then he cannot shake off their
influence ; they keep him spell-bound. How sensible you are to let those friends
of yours do the very worst that your worst enemy could desire to do for you ! Do
jou think that is " sensible " ? What was the next thing that this " sensible "
young man did? When his pleasures had all failed him, when his roses had
oecome thorns, then he began to be sober, and like many sober people, he began to
look about for employment. He finds it rather difficult to obtain any employment
that suits him, but employment he must have. Oh ! how like many of our worldly
prodigals 1 When they have spent their youth in following one wild excitement
after another — in poor, empty, idle hilarity and futile mirth — when manhood
comes on with all its grave cares, they begin to occupy their minds with business.
The mighty famine has begun to assert itself ; the man is beginning to find tha
emptiness of the pleasures which he has lived for ; he can no longer enjoy them ;
the capacity of enjoyment is beginning to pass away from him ; and now ha
planges into basineas ; he becomes a slave of daily routine, it may be ; his mind
«HAP. XV.] 8T. LUKE. 131
is taken np with a thousand occupations; he begins to work hard, and all to satisfy
the moral hunger of his nature. He gives himself up to money-making, yet that
4oes not satisfy, but he thinks it will. He flies to speculation : that excites, but
does not satisfy — he hopes it will. He betakes himself to domestic occupation,
the joys or the cares of family life, and he hopes to find satisfaction there, yet ha
does not. Is not the man a sensible being ? The mighty famine becomes more
and more insupportable, and the want becomes more and more appalling. Our
young friend sits solitary in the field ; cannot you see him? His clothes are torn
into rags, his eyes are sunken in their sockets, his cheeks are hollow, his lips are
parched and cracked ; he looks like the very effigy of famine itself. The swine are
feeding around him ; he is gnawing at the very husks which the swine eat. " And
no man gave unto him." What, no man? No man. Of all his former friends,
of those who had stood by him so faithfully as long as he had money to spend and
luxuries to offer, what ! no man ? Not that boon companion, not that friend who
only a few weeks ago swore that he would stand by him through thick and thin ?
No man ? Nay, the last crust has been devoured. There he sits famine-stricken,
flolitary, the preying of hunger in his body, far more the prey of remorse in hia
«oal 1 There he sits. Poor " sensible " man I That is what his common-sense
iias brought him to. At this moment a change takes place. Holy Scripture
describes it as a change from insanity to sanity. He ceases to be a lunatic, and ha
begins to be himself. " He came to himself." It passes from him like a horrible
dream, that strange delirium of the life which he had been leading since he left
his father's home, with all its transient circumstances, its fleeting joys, its gaudy
decorations, the poor, empty bubbles that have broken in his grasp — it has all
passed from him like a horrible dream. He starts, as from a night-mare. Cannot
you see him as he springs from the ground, with a sudden light beaming upon his
<jountenance, his face turned toward the home of his infancy ? " What a fool I
have been I My whole life has been one great mistake. From beginning to end,
I have just been adding error to error as well as sin to sin. I have thrown away
health, and affluence, and comfort, and respectability, and peace of mind, and
innocency, and reputation, everything worth having — I have lost it all 1 And
here I am, a wreck of a man ; all real pleasure gone out of my life ; strickea
down by the fatal pestilence of sin, shrivelled up by the miserable famine
which reigns within my nature. What a fool I am I " Oh, happy they who
«ome to this conclusion before it is too late! (W, M. Hay Aitketit M.A.)
The younger and elder tons ; or, differences of character in the tame family : —
Those who belong to the same family, and have enjoyed the same opportamties,
often turn out very differently. One proves a comfort, another a grief, to his
parents ; for " a wise son maketh a glad father, but a foolish son is the heaviness
of bis mother." Grace runs not in families ; for, in this respect, a house is often
divided. God takes " one of a city, and two of a family, and brings them to
Zion." Jacob and Esau were twin brothers ; yet Jacob was a man of prayer, and,
fts a prince, had power with God and men, and prevailed ; while Esau was a pro-
fane man, and sold his birthright for a mess of pottage. Some children become
-even exceedingly profligate, while others are quite steady ; and among those who
•re steady there is much diversity, some being merely decent and inoffensive, while
others are eminently dutiful and kind. So, in the case supposed in this parable,
th« two sons are represented as being of very opposite habits. {J times Footer M..A.)
Eastern law of inheritance : — There are some who consider this demand so strange,
and the father's compliance with it, abused as the compliance was likely to be, so
<nnch stranger still, that the supposition can only appear natural when there is
taken into view the custom which prevailed in Eastern countries of children
claiming their share of their father's property during his lifetime, which, it
■appears, they were legally entitled to do, and with which demand, of course,
the father could not refuse to comply. The intention of this law was to protect
children against harsh usage from their parents ; but it was certainly very liable to
•buse. The son might be unreasonable in his demand, " yet the demand must
first be acceded to before the matter could be legally inquired into ; and then, if it
was found that the father was irreproachable in his character, and had given no
just cause for the son to separate from him, in that case the civil magistrate fined
the son." Others, however, are of opinion that, though the Mosaic law provided
Against improper partialities and dislikes on the part of a father when disposing of
hiB property, there is not sufficient ground for affirming that it vested any such
right in children during the life of their parents ; and they therefore look on tha
138 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. Icaap. xf,
compliance of the fathfr, here supposed, as an instance of singular generosity,
•which rendered the undutiful departure and conduct of his son peculiarly base.
When the father assigned his portion to the younger son, he, at the same time,
assigned his portion to the elder, who, according to the Jewish law, would receive
a double portion. The words of the parable are, " He divided unto them his sub-
stance." In doing so he may be supposed to have reserved what was merely
sufficient for himself. {Ibid.) Give me my portion : — " Give me the portion of
goods that falleth to me." The young man seems to say, " My youth is my own,
and all that it brings within my reach. Why should you fetter me with restraints,
or impose upon me an unfriendly yoke? It is enjoyment that makes life worth
having, and self-gratification means enjoyment. Let me have my liberty, and do
exactly what I please. Why have to weigh each particular action, and turn away
from pleasures that attract me because they are supposed to be wrong? Eeligion
means giving up everything I like, and submitting to things that I don't like ; it
means all that is tedious and irksome. I prefer to be my own. Give me my portion
of goods — the surmy hours of youth ; they are mine, and I will do with them as I
please." " Give me my portion of goods," says that child of fashion. " Youth and
beauty, and attractive manners, and wit and popularity, and the faculty of winning
admiration and even affection — they are all alike mine, and I intend to get all I
can oat of them. Why shouldn't I ? If I were to listen to the claims of religion,
I should have to stop and think before I allowed myself to enjoy anything ; and
conscience might be troublesome, and I might be checked and worried by all sorta
of straight-laced notions, and thus I might leave the flowers of life unplucked and
the fruit of the garden ungathered. Give me the portion of goods that falleth to
me." And it is not only the young and the heedless that urge the request.
Would that we grew wiser as we grow older ! " Give me my portion," the man of
the world seems to say. " Money, and all that it will buy — power and popularity,
and success and social position, the excitements of commerce, the gratification o(
political or social ambition — these are my portion. If I were to become religious,
who knows how my course of life might have to be changed and modified ?
Indeed, I might have to alter its whole aim and purpose, and impose upon myself
all sorts of obligations which I pay no heed to now. My money is mine ; why
shouldn't I nee it as I please ? My time is mine ; why should I not spend it as I
like ? My faculties and talents are my own ; why should I not employ them for
my own gratification ? " " Give me my portion of goods," exclaims the woman ol
the world. " My children are my own, and I will train them up in the way wherein
I wish they should go. I will, if I please, educate them in vanity, and train them
to • shine in society,' so that my motherly pride may be gratified. My house is my
own ; it shall be the home of luxury and the temple of domestic pleasure. I will
order it as I will, but there shaU be no place there for Him who was welcomed of
old at Bethany. Jesus Christ might prove a troublesome guest, and dispute my
Bupreme authority, if He once were welcomed there. It is my own home, and I will do
■with it as I please." Thus it is that men and women still claim their portion of goods.
And God looks on, and sees them take His gifts without even the word of thanks
which no doubt fell from the lips of the prodigal, and find in these His gifts a
reason for turning their backs upon the Giver ; and yet He does not interfere any
more than this father did. Wilful man must have his own way, until at last, in
bitter grief and anguish, either here or hereafter, he reaps the fruit of it, and finds
that " there is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the
ways of death." (W. M. Hay Aitken, M.A.) God allows man to tue his ind^-
pendtTice : — It is surely worthy of notice that the father makes no sort of difficulty
of compliance with his reqnest. We do not even hear of a word of expostulation
on his part. And this may teach us that when we elect to break away from our
proper relations with God, and to assert our own independence, or fancied indepen-
dence, of Him, we are free to do so. God does not constrain our will by the
assertion of His superior power. If we are determined to turn our backs on Him,
and break away from His control, we can do it, and He won't hinder us, however
much it may cut Him to the heart that we should wish to adopt such a course. I
eee a look of sadness pass over that venerable face, but that is the only outward
eign of the sorrow and disappointment that fiill the father's heart. He calls both
his sons into his presence, and there and then he divides his whole fortune between
them, and the discontented boy finds himself possessed of all he desired, and of
more than all that he had dared to hope for. At last he is his own master, and can
take his own course, and do just as he pleases. His eyes glisten, his heart bounds;
CBAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 133
but in the midst of his wild, hilarious excitement that sorrowful look on hia
father's face must ever and again, methinks, have risen on his memory. Do you
think, after all, he was really happy ? Was there not already a bitter drop in hia
cup ? He had gained his fortune, but how much had it cost ! (Ibid, ) The
discontented son gets his wish : — The father might have refused. It was a grave
step, but he sees that it springs from no sudden impulse. He had marked witli
anxious looks the unmistakable dissatisfaction of his younger son. The warmth of
that once loving heart has gradually died away into a spirit of cold, sullen, settled
discontent. This had not escaped the father's eyes. Even the flimsy appearance
of propriety, he foresees, must soon give way to some outbreak of avowed rebellion ;
60 that now it is no use remonstrating — the time for that is gone by. Things are
come to such a crisis that he has all but thrown o2 the yoke. " Well," thought he,
*' be it so, since it must be. Better let him have his own way ; better to let him
follow out his own plans. He little thinks what this step will lead him to.
Experience, perhaps, may teach him, by some bitter fruits, the sin, and folly, and
ingratitude of all this." " He divided to them his living." This is God's method
with sinners. If they do not like to retain God in their knowledge, and set their
heart upon their iniquities, bursting the bonds of conscience, and trampling on the
warnings and precepts of His Word — if they have loved idols, and after idols they
will go — be it so. God will not contend for ever. He gives them up to their own
hearts' desire, and leaves them to be filled with their own devices. But it is
a tremendous chastisement. It is the scourging with scorpions, and not with
whips. Oh, better to hear any of those terrible threatenings tbat God thunders
against sin and sinners, whereby, peradventure, they may be warned and turn.
But no sentence is so terrible as that which silently leaves the sinner to himself.
{W. B. Mackenzie, M.A.) God does not deny Joolish, inexperienced num his
wish :— The latter is a free agent, and must needs be treated as such. If he
.will have the management of his own affairs, why he must just have it. Doubt-
less there would be many unreported conversations between the father and the
youth before he consented to give him his portion. He would often lay his hand
affectionately on his son's shoulder and remonstrate with him. He would beseech
him to remain at home and keep him company. Perhaps he would say, " Now that
your mother is dead and gone, my heart doats upon you ; for you resemble her
much." But no; the selfish youth would have his own portion, and set up a
separate establishment. In like manner, if men will set up and set off for them-
selves, the Lord does not absolutely deny them their wish, although He yields
reluctantly and after long expostulation. And the Divine Spiiit still mournfully
hovers near, saying, •' Turn ye, turn ye; for why will ye die ?" [F. Ferguson, D.D.)
The divided living : — '• He divided unto them his living " — literally "his life. " That
is what the heavenly Father has done. He has given His darling — the apple of
of His eye — His only begotten Son — His life. He has put Him down into the
midst between the two classes of characters. The one thief rails, the other adores ;
the one son loves, the other rejects. But let us beware, for " this Child is set for
the fall and rising again of many in Israel." The great question of the judgment
day will be, "How did you treat My life, whom I gave you as yoxir portion ? " Yes,
ever,5- man has a portion from God. The humblest artizan has a portion. The
poorest factory-girl has a rich dowry. Jesus is her portion. Your birthright, my
reader, is eternal life in Him. But see that you sell it not, like Esau, for a mess of
pottage. See that the intoxicating cup, or the pleasures of the world, do not rob
you of immortal bliss. {Ibid.) Took his journey into a far country. —
Departure from home : — Momentous is the occurrence, if not always sad, of a
young man first leaving home. He launches his barque on Ufe's rough sea,
and will he safely ride over the waters ? will he avoid the quicksands of tempta-
tion ? will he steer clear of the rocks of vicious indulgence ? will he, guided by
the heavenly Pilot, reach the port of heaven in safety ? These are problems
that the future alone will solve. Observe here — I. Impiety obtaining unjust
DEMANDS. We are not aware that the father made any great opposition to those
demands. Perhaps he had reasoned with him so many times before, with no
success, that he had grown tired. Perhaps he plainly siw that his son's heart was
gone from home, and he felt by no means anxious to retain a heartless boy. And
with a heaving breast, though but few words, proceeded to divide unto each his
living. The young man thus obtained his desire. 1. Man can generally get what
be strives for. If a diligent, persevering, careful man sets his heart upon establish-
ing a business, he can generally succeed. In such cases the prizes are far more
134 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. «t.
common than the blanks. More than that ; if a man sets his heart in obtaining
any particular object, that object can generally be had. Energy, whether in a bad
or 'a good cause, will mostly be crowncil with success. This is a terrible view to
take of those who live only for the things of time. One of the most terrifio
sentences that ever dropped from the Saviour's lips illustrates this sentiment.
Speaking of the Pharisees and their motives for fasting, praying, and giving alma:
♦' Verily," He says, '* I say unto you, they have their reward." Not " they shall
have," but " they have." They do tliese things to be seen of men, and to have
applause of men. That is the height of their ambition, and to that they attain.
2, A tremendous power this is in man. He can choose his own path, and walk in
the way that he has marked out. Like the father of the prodigal, God will not
hinder him from doing as he pleases. He did not in paradise; He left Adam free
and unfettered in action. In like manner, when the Israelites cried out for flesh,
aiid mourned for the flesh-pots of Egypt, God heard their cry, and brought them
quails in abundance ; but the object of their desire became the rod of their punish-
ment. And God through all the ages has acted in like manner. 3. This power ol
choice in man will at once suggest his responsibility. Be assured that " Whatso-
ever a man soweth that shall he also reap," I have read of a man who, wandering
along a rocky shore at ebb of the tide, saw a lobster under a rock, and thinking ha
could gain a prize for his supper, put in his hand to lay hold of its claw. Instead
of laying hold of the lobster, the lobster laid hold of him, and he was shortly
horrified at finding that what he meant to be his captive was his too sure captor.
All the strength that he could exert could not draw away his hand from the
lobster's pinch. Above him from rock and ledge hung shells and seaweed, sure
signs that if he remained there long the waves, risiug inch by inch, would sweep
completely over his head. The waters began to rise ; they reached his hand. In
the agony of despair he summoned every particle of remaining strength to get the
imprisoned limb free, but all in vain. Higher and yet higher rose the waves, and
his last dying shriek was lost in the roar of a breaker that spent its fury on tha
rocks around him. You pity him, do you not ? But what would you say if told that ha
had deliberately fastened himself to a rock at ebb of the tide, and then waited for
the waves to wash his life away ? If you pity the one, you would be horrified at
the other. But it is only a too true representation of the man who lives without
God. II. Impiety breaking loose fbom home kestbaints. " And not many days
after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far
country." When the Emperor Decimus desired to place the crown upon the head
of Decius his son, the young prince refused in the most strenuous manner, saying,
" I am afraid lest, being an emperor, I should forget that I am a son ; I had rather
be no emperor and a dutiful son than an emperor and such a son as hath forgotten
his true obedience." What a contrast was that to the case of the prodigal! Not
only did he demand his share of the goods, but he added insult to injury by
refusing any longer to be bound by the ties of home. This was the natural result
of his unnatural demand. As to locality, we cannot depart from God. He fills
heaven and earth. Yet morally and spiritually man may forsake God. If God ia
banished from the thoughts. Ha is forsaken. You may be surrounded with the
light of the sun, but although it is noonday, if you persist in closing your eyes, it ia
the same to you as though there were no sun. And if you persist in banishing God from
your thoughts, it is the same to you as though there were no God. (If. G. Pascoe.)
The prodigal's departure : — There is a picture of Vernet's which brings out with
extraordinary power his character of selfish unconcern for the feelings of his father.
It represents the courtyard of an Eastern house, in which he is taking leave. The
mother is leaning, in the depths of distress, against the side of the door, the father
is bending towards him with a countenance full of yearning affection and grief, aa
if his heart would break ; a leading domestic, perhaps " the steward of the house,"
clenches his hands aa unable to restrain his feelings of indignation, astonishment,
and shame at his cool indifference as he turns away from his father's embrace to
a groom who is holding a high-mettled and richly-caparisoned steed, bo that he
may mount it at once and take his departure. Altogether it is a dreadful picture ;
but it may have been, and no doubt was, far below the reality of a multitude ol
Buch scenes, vividly present to the all-comprehending mind of the Divine Speaker.
(M. F. Sadler.) Moral declension .-—These words have had infinite applications ;
every one, perhaps, who has heard them, has applied them in many different ways.
No one need contradict the other ; those who have learnt the meaning from their
own experience have understood it best. How the sense of an eternal home, of s
OT4». XV.] ST. LUES. 135
father's house, ia awake in childhood ; how it dies out as the youth begins to gather
all together — to make a world for himself ; bow he travels further and further from
the remembrance of home ; how the Divine treasures of affection, hope, intellect,
health, become dissipated ; how he loses himself in the intoxications of the senses ;
here you have a story which is repeated again and again, and always finds mournful
facts in as and in our fellows to illustrate and enforce it. And so the records
of Gentile mythology and Gentile history explain themselves to ua. We see what
the cause of moral declension in the nations of the old world was ; how the feeling
of the invisible lost itself ia visible worship ; how the sense of unity broke into a
number of objects of terror or of beauty ; how the fear of a destroyer struggled with
the hope of a deliverer ; how the first overpowered the second ; how the belief in
justice contended with the dread of a Power which could overpower justice ; how
the lusts of the man darkened the images of the gods whom he adored ; how he
sought, by vile expedients, to avert the wrath before which he trembled; how
superstitions grew to be more fearful ; how moral oorruptioDS always gained
strength along with them ; how protests against both mixed with an unbelief in
those truths which the superstitions counterfeited, in the righteousness which the
corruptions defied. {F. D. Maurice, M.A.) An ignoble departure : — In old daya
the young knight rode forth to do justice and redress wrong — and that was a noble
and a hopeful starting. But this young prodigal's riding forth — it was all meanness
and sadness and misery. Look for nothing brave or manly there. From innocence
to sin, from sin to sorrow— there was no beauty in that path. To be the slave of
Satan, to follow the whisper of temptation in the black and dark night — there was
nothing but abomination in that errand. A bird hasting to the snare, an ox led
to destruction, are the fit emblems of that pilgrimage. The roads are different, but
all deadly; one leads to madness, one to suicide, one to sudden destruction, one to
open shame ; but they all sweep through the valley of the shadow, they all end in
the chambers of death and hell. (Archdeacon Farrar.) Leaving home : — Seldom
it may be hoped, does a youth leave home simply because he has tired of it ; still
more rarely, we trust, because he wishes to lead a life of mere self-indulgence.
More frequently it is on an honourable errand that the youthful pilgrim sets forth.
A subsistence must be earned, an education must be obtained, a profession has
been chosen, a Divine call is obeyed ; and so the student goes to college, the recrui6
seeks his regiment, the sailor joins his ship, the aspirant after an honourable inde-
pendence starts for the city or the distant colony ; and there is on both sides true
tenderness — on the one side the best intention, on the other many an earnest
prayer. For character there is a twofold security — the first commandment and the
fifth — love to God and hallowed domestic affections : nor is that character likely to
drift where both anchors are out, and where the heart is well moored both to the
home on earth and the home on high. If yon wish to have a happy and honour-
able career, you must choose the best companions. Tour fellow-clerks, your neigh-
bours in the shop or factory, yon cannot choose : they are chosen for yoo ; but it
is left in your own option to select your friends ; and yon may find it a great dif-
ficulty. If you were a dry, disagreeable fellow, people would let you alone ; but if
you are worth cultivating ; if instead of being a proser or a pedant, you have
pleasant dispositions and a frank, popular way, instead of being a silent, solemn
automaton, or the next thing to it, a man of one idea — a wooden centaur who has
grown into the same substance with his hobby; if you have a rich and varied
nature ; if you have humour ; if you are musical ; if you are fond of athletic sports ;
if you read ; if you row — every separate liking is just a several hook, a distinct
affinity to which a kindred spirit will be apt to attach itself, and ere ever you are
aware you may find yourself complicated with an acquaintanceship which, although
at some point or other agreeable, is on the whole cumbrous or uncongenial. It is
pleasant to feel that you are liked, and it is painful to keep at arm's length those
who take to you and would evidently value your society. Nor would it be fair to
call them by hard names. They are not seducers or systematic assassins, lying ia
wait for the precious soul ; and the harm they do is not so much from having any
evil purpose as from their having no right principle. Nevertheless, if a man carry-
ing contagion proposes a visit or offers you his arm, although he intends no injury,
you stand aloof, and you are not to be denounced as a churl for declining a danger
which he does not realize. Two are better than one, and yon will find it both pro-
tection and incentive if you can secure a faithful friend ; and in some respects
better than two are the many ; therefore you cannot do more wisely than seek out
in the Toung Men's Society a wider companionship ; and whilst instructed by th«
138 THE BIBLICAL ILLU&TRATOR. [cha». «▼.
information of some, and strengthened by the firmer faith or larger experience o '
others, there are important themes on which you will learn to think with precision,
and in the exercise of public speaking you will either acquire a useful talent or will
turn it to good account. You are a young man away from home. We have said,
choose good companions ; we must add, beware of bad habits. It is of vast
moment to be " just right " when starting. At Preston, at Malines, at many such
places, the lines go gently asunder ; so fine is the angle that at first the paths
are almost parallel, and it seems of small moment which you select. But a little
farther on one of them turns a comer or dives into a tunnel, and now that the
speed is full the angle opens up, and at the rate of a mile a minute the divided
convoy flies asunder : one passenger is on the way to Italy, another to the swamps
of Holland ; one will step out in London, the other in the Irish Chaimel. It is not
enough that you book for the better country : you must keep the way, and a small
deviation may send you entirely wrong. A slight deflection from honesty, a slight
divergence from perfect truthfulness, from perfect sobriety, may threw you on a
wrong track altogether, and make a failure of that life which should have proved a
comfort to your family, a credit to your country, a blessing to mankind. Beware
of the bad habit. It makes its first appearance as a tiny fay, and is so innocent, so
playful, so minute, that none save a precisian would denounce it, and it seems
hardly worth while to whisk it away. The trick is a good joke, the lie is white, the
glass is harmless, the theft is only a few apples from a farmer's orchard, the bet is
only sixpence, the debt is only half-a-crown. But the tiny fay is capable of becom-
ing a tremendous giant ; and if you connive and harbour him, he will nourish him-
self at your expense, and then, springing on you as an armed man, will drag you
down to destruction. {James Hamilton, D.I),) Life abroad : — I. It was a life
OF UNBOUNDED LICENCE. My tcxt says, " He spent his substance in riotous living."
His elder brother unveils some of that rioting by telling his father that he had
" devoured his living with harlots." What a picture 1 He had been trained by
godly parents. How soon did he forget the guides of his youth ! Not all at once,
however, did he fall from a pure-minded youth to a degraded debauchee. One
principle, smitten by the hand of pleasure, fell, then another, and at last there was
nothing in common between him and his pious father. Let us look in upon this
young man in the midst of his rioting. He has been for some time now in the far
country, and has tolerably well established himself as a dissolute liver. See him
ifi one of his midnight orgies. A numerous company is present. The profane and the
eceptical, the abandoned and the unfortunate are there. But where is the prodigal?
Surely that is not he at the end of the room, with bloated face, and cold, grey,
glassy, loveless eye ; with person unclean, and garments barely fastened ; with one
arm resting on the shoulders of a dissolute companion, and with the other lifting
high the goblet in which the wine is red and sparkling ; who, with the frequent
faltering of a drunken hiccup, now swears bitter oaths, and now sings a lascivious
song. Can this be he ? II. It ended in abject miseky and want. " And when he
had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land, and he began to be in
want." His fortune, enough for ordinary demands, was soon run through at the
rate he lived, and at last, in the midst of famine, he came to absolute need. He
had spent all ; and as he had never cultivated any branch of industry, and his
life of vicious indulgence had most likely incapacitated him for labour, he was
reduced to dire extremities. " He began to be in want." Lord Chesterfield, than
•whom no nobleman has been more celebrated for " all the elegancies of a courtly,
and all the accomplishments of a social, life, said, " I am now at the age of sixty
years ; I have been as wicked as Solomon ; I have not been so vdse ; hnt this I
know, I am wise enough to test the truth of his reflection, that all is vanity and
vexation of spirit." He began to be in want I The reason of this felt want, both
in the prodigal's and in every sinner's heart, is simply that man has a soul ! You
might as well try to feed your body on ashes as satisfy your soul with sinful
indulgences. Reduced to such dire extremity he sought help. "He went and
joined himself to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed
Bwine." He who once scorned to be his father's son now became a stranger's slave.
He had sought liberty and found a prison. Servants waited on him at home ;
he was the lowest of all servants abroad. Trapp truly says, '• Euin follows riot at
tht\ heels." And now he comes to his Lowest state. " And no man gave unto him."
We can hardly suppose that all his former companions were unaware of his sad
Bondition ; bat not one of them will lend him a helping hand, or give him a morsel
«f bread. There is not one of the whole number that will render him assistance.
OSAP. XV.] 8T. LUKE, 137
or even afford him recognition. "Know him, did you say? Oh dear no, we da
not know him. Know that swineherd 7 Oh, no ; the society in which we move wa
hope is different from that. Know that man in rags, did you say ? Do yon mean
to insult ns by insinuating that our companions are ragged 7 See that wretched
starveling before ? Certainly not ; we know nothing of him or of his history ! " If
he is sick, they will not visit him. K he is dying, they will not minister to him. If
he dies, they will not drop a tear over his grave, or abate their revels for a moment.
How striking the contrast between the Christian and the sinner in these respects !
IW. O. Pascoe.) The nature and consequences of sin: — I. Here is, first, the
NATURE OF BIN. It is a departure from our Heavenly Father — a determination to
be independent of God — a taking of the ordering of our hves into our own handa—
a chafing under the restraints ahke of the Divine law and the Divine love, and a
setting up of ourselves as our own gods. Cunningly did Satan say to our common
parents at the first—" Ye shall be as God, knowing good and evil " ; and Ktill
this self-assertion lies at the root of our alienation of heart from God, and rebellion
of life against Him. But yet more, this alienation of heart is from a Father ; this
rebellion is against One who has done more for us than ever mother did for the son
of her love. We condemn, as the most culpable of all things, the cruelty of a son
to his venerable parent ; and we have scarcely language strong enough to express
our detestation of such conduct as that of Absalom to his father. Yet, in God's
sight, we have been doing the very same thing, and we have given Him occa-
sion to say concerning us, as Israel of old, " Hear, 0 heavens, and give ear, O
earth ; for the Lord hath spoken. I have nourished and brought up children, and
they have rebelled against me." II. But, secondly, we have here brought before
ns THE CONSEQUENCES OF SIN. The first stage of iniquity is riotous joy. We must
not keen that out of view. There is a pleasure in it, of a sort ; for if this were not
so, men would not be found indulging in it at all. There must be some kind ot
exhilaration in the flowing bowl, or in the wild thrill of sensual gratification, or in
the gains of dishonesty. In every sin there is something of riot. " Stolen waters
are sweet," just, perhaps, because they are stolen ; but the sweetness does not last
long. It turns to bitterness in the belly ; for, see, as the next result, the waste
which it occasions. It wastes money, it wastes health, it wears the body to
decay ; but that is not the worst. These things here are set forth as but the out-
ward indications of the waste of the soul. And, in truth, what a blasting thing sin
is on the human spirit I How many who, in their youth, gave high promise of
mental greatness, are now reduced to the merest drivellers, unable either to speak
KT write save under the influence of opium or alcohol I There is nothing in
Iniquity that can give contentment to the spirit. "God has made us for Himself,
and our souls are restless till they rest themselves in Him." We could call into
court nearly as many witnesses as there have been hunters of happiness, mighty
Nimrods in the chase of pleasure and fame and favour. We might ask the states-
man, and as we wished him a happy new year. Lord Dundas would answer, " It
had need to be a happier than the last, for I never knew one happy day in it." We
might ask the successful lawyer, and the wariest, luckiest, most self-complacent of
them all would answer, as Lord Eldon was privately recording when the whole
Bar envied the Chancellor, " A few weeks will send me to dear Encombe, as a short
resting-place betwixt vexation and the grave." We might ask the golden million-
aire, " You must be a happy man, Mr. Eothschild." " Happy I me happy 1 What 1
happy I when just as you are going to dine you have a letter placed in your hand,
saying, 'If you don't send me £600, I will blow your brains out ! ' Happy 1 when
you have to sleep with pistols at your pillows." We might ask the world-famed
warrior, and get for answer the "Miserere" of the Emperor-Monk (Charles V.), or
the sigh of a broken heart from St. Helena. Oh ! shall we never become wise ?
Shall we never learn that there is nothing but misery while we are away from God ?
Ye who are seeking after happiness in earthly things, forbear. Ye are pursuing a
qnest more visionary than that of the child, who sets out to catch the pillars of tbe
many -coloured rainbow in the far horizon. Never, never can you obtain what you
are seeking, save in God. Turn, then, and beseech Him to give you that which
yon desire. {W. M. Taylor, D.D.) The far country: — A far country!
Yes, indeed, it is a long and weary journey that the soul takes when it turns
its back upon God. Shall we compare it to an ill-starred voyage from the
tropics to the Polar Sea? I see yon gallant bark, as she pursues her north-
ward course, gaily gliding over summer seas. She coasts along the shores of
A vast continent, rich in tropical luxuriance and bathed in perennial Buuhine ;
138 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTRATOR. [chap. XT,
but Btill aB she passes on the gorgeous vision keeps fading from her view. She
is northward bound. By and by things begin to wear a different aspect. She
is sailing past lands of the Temperate Zone ; vegetation ia less luxurious, the sun is
ever and again obscured, and when it shines lacks its old power. A few weeks more
and there is another change ; sombre pine forests clothe the mountain-shoulder now,
and snowy summits begin to appear above them, and the air grows chill, and the
sun seems wan and powerless. A little further, and soon the pine woods are left
behind, and ever and again huge, towering icebergs begin to appear. But still the
cry is "Northward! " and the day grows shorter and the long nights colder, and
the pitiless blast whistles through the frosted shrouds, and in the next scene there
is the ship in " thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice," hemmed in by frozen seas,
and far as the eye can reach, one weary waste of desolation, a region of perpetual
winter, bereft of almost every sign of life, a place of the shadow of death. Such,
as it seems to me, is a picture of the fatal progress of the human soul along the
way of Cain, as he drifts further and further from the Divine influence, and hia
nobler impulses are checked, and his wanner affections chilled, and his holier
energies paralyzed, while the heart is hardened with the deceitfulness of sin. Thus
it is that men turn their backs on the true summer land, of the soul in God, and
drift into the perpetual winter of godlessness. Yes, there is the chill of a perpetual
winter in that tragic word godless. A godless heart 1 a heart whose highest honour
it should have been to be the very dwelling-place of God ; a heart that might have
been warmed and brightened with the sunshine of His love, but now cold and indif-
ferent to all His influences ; a lonesome, desolate, orphaned heart, robbed of its
highest honour and denied its holiest privileges ; a desecrated shrine, a deserted
temple, and yet an empty, weary, disappointed heart, that nothing else can satisfy.
A godless home I where human love is never sanctified by the higher love of heaven,
where all the purest and truest earthly pleasures that the great Father gives are
received as mere matters of course without any recognition of the Giver, where Hia
smile never adds lustre to human joys, and His sympathizing comfort is never
sought in moments of anxiety and sorrow ; a home where cares weigh heavily because
there is no heavenly Friend to bear them, where strifes and dissensions are never
stilled by the Prince of Peace, where " the daily round, the common task," carry no
blessing along with them because God is not recognized there. A godless life-work I
" It is but lost labour that ye haste to rise up early, and so late take rest, and eat
the bread of carefulness." " Labour not for the bread that perisheth, but for that
which endureth onto eternal life " ; but this perishing bread is all that we have left
to labour for when once we have broken away from God. And so men scheme, and
plan, and speculate, and toil, a'^d fret, and hurry, and push and sacrifice much of
ease and comfort that they mignt enjoy ; and all for what ? What does commercial
success mean but sooner or later the loss of all thai we nave been spending our
lives in trying to gain, just because God is excluded from our busy lives? Worst of
all, a godless religion ! for religion may be adopted and its observances respected,
not as a means of bringing us nearer to God, but rather as a means of making ua
the better contented to dispense with Him. Our conscience is deadened by the
thought that we come up to the conventional standard in religion, and we may be
less likely to be alarmed at the thought of our spiritual danger than if we had no
religion at all ; and yet our religion may never have brought ns into any actual
personal and spiritual contact with God. Oh, my brethren, with whatever other
curse we may be cursed, God save us from the curse of a godless rehgion I A god-
less end 1 Ah ! this seems too terrible to contemplate, and yet we must contem-
plate it ; for it is set before as that we may take warning by contemplating it. My
friends, I would have you remember that this far country of which I have been
speaking is but the frontier, so to speak, of the far realms of death. This going
forth from the presence of God, what is it bat incipient death ? Already the wan-
dering soul is drifting away from the one life-centre of the universe — the heart of
God ; and every day's journey he takes is a journey deathward, until at length the
terrible word "Depart," falling from the Judge's lips, sets the seal of doom upon
the inexorable Nemesis of a lifelong sin. (W. M. Hay Aitken, M.A.) Man going
into the far country : — As it is less labour to stay a stone before it be moved, than
turn it back again when it is in the tumbling ; thus, then, goeth a man away further
find further from the Lord by multiplication of his sins, as a man by multiplication
cf his steps goeth further away from the place wherein he was. It should therefore
le our first care to beware of iLe beginnings of sin ; and the next to beware w»
multiply not our sin, lest by so doing we go far from the Lord. {Bithop Cotoper.)
CHIT, xv.] fir. LUKE. 189
The far country : — This Us oonntry, then, is to be estimate by the distance of man's
Trill and affections from the Lord, that is, Longinqua regio dissmilitudini$, for
then is a man farthest from God, when he is most unlike nnto God. So the Lord
Himself expounds it ; " What iniquity have your fathers found in Me, that they are
gone far from Me, walking after vanity, and are become vain ? " And the_ apostle
to the Ephesians, comparing their former estate by nature, with that which now
they were renewed to by grace, he saith, •' Ye which once were far off, are now made
near by the blood of Jesus Christ." 'WTiereof we see it is sins that makes to be far
from the Lord, grace again that brings us near unto Him. Things that are far off
were they never so precious and excellent, either else we see them not at all, or then
they seem far less to us than they are. The sun is many times more than the earth,
yet do we account it less than ourselves. The reason is, that it is far from us when
men travel so far to the south, that the north pole in their sight comes near to the
earth, and at length the sight thereof is intercepted from them by the earth, it is a
Bure argument they are far from it ; even so, when men esteem the incomprehensible
majesty of God, who by infinite degrees surmounts the beauty of the sun to be but
small in their eyes, or when in their imagination they draw down the Lord to as-
similate or compare Him to anything in earth, or when in their affections the
earth comes in between their souls and the sight of the Lord, and the love of the
earth prevails; it is an argument such miserable souls are far from the Lord.
{Ibid.) Wasted his substance with riotous living. — Wasted tubxtance: — ^The
English word "substance" is ambiguous. It may mean the pith and marrow
of a man's body, or the contents of his purse. It may be taken both ways at
once; for these two kinds of substance generally melt away together, in the
bitter experience of the prodigal. His fortune is lost; his health has failed;
and his pleasures, such us they were, have fled. The pleasures, when they flee,
leave behind them stings and terrors in the conscience. The youth begins to be in
want — in want of food, and clothing, and home; in want of friends, in want of
peace— in want of all things. A waif drifting towards the eternal shore — a lost
soul. Such is the track of a prodigal. (W. Arnot, D.D.) TToste ;— One tragic
word seems to describe this young man's career of fatuous folly and sin in that far
country, and oh, my brethren, it describes the lives of many more besides him 1 and
that word is waste. " He wasted his substance in riotous living." Yes, I say it
describes the lives of many more beside him. Shall I be wrong in saying it describes
the lives of all who do not according to the measure of their light and knowledge
live to God ? The man who has turned his back on God, and who regards himself
as his own, has already entered upon a course of waste, even though he do not, like
the prodigal, waste his substance in riotous living. In the case of those who
emulate the prodigal in leading dissipated and profligate lives, the waste is as
obvious as it was in his case, and unhappily such cases are by no means rare. It
is astonishing how some men will waste things that we all value, and none, you
would think, would willingly be stripped of. Take, for example, money, or social
position, or health, or natural affection. No sane man doubts that each of these
has a value of its own ; indeed the general tendency of men is perhaps to value
them too highly ; yet what multitudes of men ruthlessly waste these precious pos-
sessions, as if they were not of the slightest value, and as if it were an object with
them to get rid of them. And if you notice carefully, it is just the spirit pf inde-
pendence that leads them to do this. They conceive that liberty consists in doing
whatever passing impulse may dispose them to do ; but they feel that were they
under the Divine control they would be continually subjected to checks and restraints
which would interfere with their impulses, and prevent them from doing what at
the moment they might wish. So the language of their hearts is, •* Let us break
His bands asunder, and cast away His cords from us." And they do exactly aa
they please, and the result is — waste. It is indeed surprising what exploits of
waste some men contrive to perform under the influence of this habit of wilful self-
pleasing. I heard of a Bussian nobleman not long ago who was heir to a fortune
of some £400;000 a year, yet it had not been in his hands very long before he was
actually a bankrupt. It surely requires some ingenuity to get through such a for-
tune, and yet somehow he managed it. A friend of mine was called to the bedside
of a poor miserable wretch who was dying of delirium tremens. I used the word
bedside, but, strictly, bed there was none in the room where the dying man lay in
his last lucid interval before the terrible end. There he lay, bloated, poverty-
stricken, filthy, scarcely covered with the rags which were his only apology for «
bed; there he lay dying in stony despair ; yet he told my friend that he had ono«
140 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xv.
been a prosperous London man of business, anci had been worth his fifty thousand
pounds. I visited a large seaside town a few years ago, and it was thought desir-
able, as multitudes thronged the esplanade, to send men with boards aloug it. I
was told that one of the men, who carried the boards for a slender pittance of a few
pence a day, was the son and heir of a man who had been once, and I believe con-
tinued to be up to his death, one of the richest shopkeepers in that large town ; yet
here was his son in absolute destitution, and he had brought it all upon himself by
waste. But why should I multiply instances? Alas ! there are few of us that have
not had cases brought under our notice of the almost incredible folly exhibited by
those who think themselves sensible men in this respect. I want to lay stress upon
the fact that the folly arises from our taking a false view of what money is, and of
what our relations to it are. If a man looks upon money as simply a means of pur-
chasing self-gratification in whatever form it seems most attractive, it is not sur-
prising that he should squander it lightly under the influence of a passing impulse.
Considerations of prudence and forecast do not weigh against the claims of self-
indulgence. The object of money seems to the spendthrift to be to procure
enjoyment, and this is to be gained, it seems to him, rather by spending it than by
keeping it, and therefore he proceeds to spend it. Aud so he wastes his substance,
not because he spends, but because he regards that which he spends as his own to
do exactly what he likes with. Oh, how many men are aU the poorer for their
fortunes 1 But money is not the only thing we waste when we turn our backs upon
God, and we can trace the operation of the same law in every case. God has given
to all of us faculties, and to some of us special gifts and talents. If we put these
in His hands, as the elder brother gave back to the father his portion of goods, they
must all contribute to our true wealth. If, on the other hand, we claim them for
ourselves, and, regarding them as our own, turn our backs upon the l%ther, that
which should have been our gain begins to be moral loss, and we are all the poorer
for our natural endowments. Well used wealth contributes to the formation of a
generous and godlike character, it helps to enrich your moral nature ; and thus it
is actually true that the hand of the liberal maketh rich. The material substance,
which we can under no circumstances keep, passes from us, but it leaves us morally
and spiritually the richer for its use. On the other hand, when we regard our sub-
stance merely as a meanS for self-gratification, our gain becomes positive moral
Xoss. The abuse or unholy use of our substance means selfishness increased and
developed, self-control weakened, the love of luxury, the passion for self-indulgence
rendered more insatiable than ever ; while our benevolence is diminished, and our
sympathies are curtailed, the heart hardened, and the gain in the capacity to help
and enlighten others; gain in the enjoyment of ever-enlarging visions of truth;
gain in tlie acquisition of that spiritual knowledge which in the moral world must
always as truly be power as is secular knowledge in the physical world. A conse-
crated intellect is wealth to the Church, wealth to the world, wealth to its possessor.
But if you take your intellect out of God's hands and regard it as your own, the
process of waste at once begins. Your very gifts become snares. Intellectual pride
breeds doubt, and doubt develops into crude, hasty unbelief. Or intellectual success
induces self-conceit, which is one of the worst moral diseases that man's nature can
be afHicted with. Or intellectual gratification becomes the object for which the
man lives, only to find, with Solomon, that in much knowledge is much sorrow ;
and that, while the head may be filled, the heart remains empty. For we cannot
live for knowledge without finding out more and more how little we know, and how
little we can know. And this tends to render life one long, bitter disappointment ;
while, as the swiftly-flying years bring the end nearer, we have the melancholy con-
viction forcing itself upon us, that even that little can only be retained for a short
time. " Whether there be knowledge," says St. Paul, " it shall vanish away." It
is only waste after all. Or has God given you personal influence, springing either
from your natural character and gifts, or from your social position? Mere or less,
I believe, He has given this to each of us ; a great deal to some. What are you
doing with it? Consecrate it to God, and use it for the good of man, and then your
portion of goods in the father's hands shall ever go on increasing, and your satis-
faction shall ever become deeper and truer as you use this gift for its proper object.
Who shall describe the blessedness which flows back, to him who so exercises^ it,
from a well-used influence ? and who shall say where its efifects will end, in time
and in eternity? But if this influence is used merely for self-gratification, to
minister to our love of popularity or of power, once again oar gift becomes our bane,
and exercises a most injarious eiSeot upon oar moral nature, ministering to oai
OHA». XT.] ST. LUKE. 141
pride, and promoting our selfishness, and thus defeating the very purpose for tha
sake ol which the gift was originally bestowed. So here again we have nothing but
waste — the good that might have been done left undone for ever, and actual harm
done both to ourselves and others through that very gift which should have beeu
for the benefit of all — and, as a result, instead of a heart full of true gratification
And satisfaction, the terrible awakening by and by to find that all this influence has
been cast into the wrong scale. Oh, think of the anguish of remorse that must fill
the heart at the discovery that we have helped to drag others down by the abuse of
the very gift that should have raised them, and that we are perishing not alone in
our iniquity 1 {W. M. Hay Aitken, M.A.) The late restraining a prodigal: — The
Evening Standard, Friday, Feb. 26, 1886, contained the following : (From our cor-
respondent. ) — Paris, Thursday Night. —Considerable sensation has been caused in
French social and financial circles by the appointment of a curator or Conseil judi-
ciaire to M. Raymond SeilliSre, a member of the well-known family of bankers and
army contractors. This appointment of a Conseil judiciaire in restraint of prodi-
gality is a peculiarity of French law adopted or inherited from the Eoman law.
Supposing A squanders his money and the inheritance of his children, his next of
kin are empowered to apply to the law courts to deprive him of the administration
of his fortune, and transfer it to an advocate or solicitor. No matter what his age
may be, the person thus dealt with is reduced to a state of legal infancy, and no
debt he may contract is recoverable unless his curator has sanctioned it. In the
case of M. Baymond SeilliSre, the application, which was made at the suit of his
brother, was grounded on the fact that within twelve years he had run through a
fortune of twelve millions of francs (£480,000 sterling), and had in addition con-
tracted loans to the amount of five millions (£200,000 sterling). One of the
creditors opposed on the plea that the suit was instituted solely to enable M. Seil-
liSre to evade the payment of his debts. The court, however, granted the applica-
tion. M. Eaymond Seilli^re was thirty-nine years of age. Wasted substance : —
He had not been gone long before his •' gathering " comes to be " scattering." No
doubt, he had his pleasure in all this wasting. There is a revelling and a merri-
ment in these riotous passions. It is soon gone ; but stiU there is pleasure, though
it is short-lived, in sin and squandering. The passions soon grow dull — the gilding
wears ofi — the music and the dance grow insipid and wearitt>me, the dronkard'a
caps, in time, deaden, but don't intoxicate. Even Byron, belore his life was half
•pent, WM forced to acknowledge —
*• My days are in the yellow leaf.
The flowers, the fruits of love are gona;
The worm, the canker, and the grief.
Are mine alone."
There is the sinner, worn, weary, wasted ; he has wasted his time — ^wasted hia
precioas season for preparing for eternity — wasted hia own energies and power —
wasted his parent's care, and labour, and no shudder felt now when words of
fonl meaning pollute another's lips, or the name of Ood is uttered in blas-
pheming rage. Oh, how altered! But all this, very significant as it is, the
parable passes by. It is not so much what he saw or heard in that strange
land as what he wasted, and how he wasted it, that is here marked down —
" He wasted his substance with riotous living." {W. B. 2lackemie, M.A.)
Riotous living: — Nothing can be nobler than a true and thorough manhood, where,
amid the seductions of sense, the soul still retains the mastery of itself by
retaining its loyalty to God. On the other hand, it is deeply distressing to find tha
higher nature dethroned or in thraldom. Wild stories circulate in many lands. In
Northern Europe they tell how a child has been carried off by wolves, and brought
up amongst them — taught to live in wolfish fashion, sleeping in the forest, joining
in the hunt of the reindeer or aurochs, and drinking with savage delight the blood
of the palpitating prey. And in Africa the like story is told — how the man has
been kidnapped by the baboon, and, hurried up the mountain, has spent amidst
these hideous monsters a horrible captivity. The risk is real. The climate may
be good, the settlement may promise all that heart can wish, and the vicinity may
be BO far cleared as to make the immediate homestead tolerably secure ; but it is
folly to deny all danger. A wise man will be cautious ; and if cautions he need
not be nerroas. It is only right and kind to give warning ; and pleasant as is the
lot of your inheritance, it is well to remember that the thickets and steep places
143 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xt..
are hatmted. Frightful ogres frequent them, and they are sure to Bally forth oa
the heedless wanderer. There are even instances on record where they have vaulted
over the enclosure and carried off from the threshold some hapless victim. The
names of three of the hest known and most mischievous are — the Lust of the Eye^
the Lust of the Flesh, and the Pride of Life ; or, as they are sometimes called,
"Vanity, or the Love of Display ; Sensuality, or the Love of Low Pleasure ; and the
Affectation of Fashion, or the Keeping-up of Appearances. For a hundred years
England has yielded no scholar comparable to Bichard Porson. With a memory
in which words and things were alike imperishable, and with that marvellous
intuition which enabled him to personate any author, Greek or Boman, and in the
broken parchment or faded manuscript at once perceive what ^schylus or Tacitus
had meant to say, he had withal a wit which made him welcome at the board of
rich and clever men ; and to feed the wit they phed the wine, till in floods of liquor
wit and wisdom both were drowned, and, the remains of the scholar buried in
mere beastliness, the sot disappeared from society. For a hundred years Ireland-
has yielded no dramatist, no orator, equal to Bichard Brinsley Sheridan ; but even
for that brilliant genius, whose versatile talents brought London to his feet, and
carried captive the senate, strong drink was too powerful, and, in place of bouquets
and ribbons, with writs and executions showering around him, he lay on his
desolate couch bankrupt in character as well as in fortune, and would have been
carried off in his blankets to the debtor's gaol had not the apparitor of a mightier
tribunal stepped in before the sheriff's officer and claimed the prisoner. For a.
hundred years — nay, through all the years — Scotland has yielded no poet who could
seize the heart of tiie nation as it was seized by Bobert Burns — master alike of its
pathos, humour, chivalry. Alas 1 that pinions capable of such a flight as " Bruc&
at Bannockbum " and " Mary in Heaven," should have come down to get smeared
and bird-limed on the tapster's bough ; alas ! that from the Cottar's Saturday
Evening he shonld have passed away to the companionship of drunken ploughboy»
and coarse bullies in their night-long carousals in low taverns. Like the spear,
some ten or twelve fathoms long, with which the Yancouver Indian ploughs the
river-bed, and the barbed point comes off in the first great sturgeon which it
pierces, ihe tenacious fibre uncoiling as he flies ; so, paddling over the surface of
society, it is with a long shaft that the demon of Drunkenness explores for his
victims; but when one of his barbs gets fairly through the mail it usually fixes and
is fast. The line is a long one, and will hold for years. It marks the victim ; and
the first time he rises another dart strikes through his liver, and then another, and
at last a great many — the social glass leading on to the glass suggestive or the
glass inspiring, and the glass restorative leading on to the glass strength-giving,
and that again to glasses fast and frequent — glasses care-drowning, conscience-
coaxing, grief- dispelling — till, gasping and dying, the hulk is towed ashore, and
pierced through with many sins, weak, wasted, worthless, the victim gives up the
ghost, leaving in the tainted air a disastrous memory. Whether coarse or refined^
riot speedily wastes the reveller's " substance." Not only does it aap the constitu-
tion, and soften the brain, and shatter the nerves, and enfeeble the mind, but it
exhausts the estate, and soon brings the spendthrift to poverty. And if the passion
still urge and the fear of God has departed, wild methods will be tried to meet the
demand and assuage the frantic craving. Keepsakes will be sold or pledged, ta
part with which would once on a time have looked like sacrilege. Money will b»
borrowed as long as any one will lend it, and then it will be taken from the till, or
intercepted on the way from a customer or correspondent ; and thus — it is a tale a
thousand times told — dissipation leads on to dishonesty ; and in keeping up the
jovial life, nay, in merely keeping up appearances, character will be vilely cast
away. Our hearts are weak, and we have continual need to pray, '* Deliver us from
evil" ; for temptations are sometimes terrible. When in front of his own cathedral
Bishop Hooper was fastened to the stake and the fire was slowly burning, they held
np a pardon, and told him that he had only to say the word and walk at liberty.
•• If you love my soul, away with it 1 " was the exclamation of the martyr as every^
tortured fibre called for pity, but the loyal spirit revolted from the wickedness. So
there may come a fiery trial where the adversary has got in pledge your income,
your earthly prospects, your parents or your children, and asks if you will be so
infatuated as to cast them away when the stroke of a pen, the pronouncing of a
word, a nod or sign would suffice and save the whole. When the furnace is thua
■even-times heated it will need much grace, in view of the proffered bribe, to cry,
*' Away with it ! " and yet, through His timely suocoor, who, in the days of Hi»
CB^. XV.] ST. LUKE. 143
flesh and in view of an awful alternative, poured forth strong crying and tears,
such ordeals have been encountered by men of like passions with oorselves, and
from this lesser Gethsemane they have emerged with spirit softened and character
confirmed, enriched by the loss, perfected by the suffering. However, it was not
by a roaring lion, but by a plausible tempter that man was first led into evil ; aod
our greatest danger arises from the subtlety of Satan and the pleasures of sin. If
you would pass innocently through a difficult world, keep within the rules. Let
your hfe be open, your eye single, your walk in the broad Ught of day. If a
mistake is committed, lose no time in acknowledging it ; and beware of getting
complicated with unprincipled or low-minded companions. They will be sure to
use you as the cloak or the oatspaw of their own designs, and dien, when their
purpose is served, or when the day of disclosure arrives, they will sacrifice you and
save themselves. Keep within the homestead. If compelled to quit the parental
roof, cast yourself aU the rather on your heavenly Father's grace and guidance.
And do not forsake the sanctuary. {James Hamilton, D.D.) The temptations to
expense : — The great temptations to expense are the lust of the eye, the lust of the
fiesh, and the pride of life ; and to these the great antidote is, not a limited income
BO much as a large self-denial. It is the lust of the flesh when the little boy spends
all his halfpence on sugar-plums. It is the lust of the eye when the peer cannot
resist the porcelain of Sevres or the mosaic of Borne, but exhausts his estate in
adorning his palace. It is the pride of Ufe when the servant flaunts in finery and
lets her parents starve ; when the merchant spends on his mansion or his equipage
all by which his neighbour or the world might be profited. But just as people can
be profuse who are not earning a penny, so there are rich men who do not riot, and
who in the generous use of their income enjoy a continual feast. If self-denying,
you, too, will be rich. From personal expenditure saving all that yoa can, you wUl
find it available for the most blessed of all bestowments ; and in paying the school-
fees of a younger brother, in a thoughtful gift to a sister, in lightening the burden
of a toil-worn father, in promoting the comfort of a faithful old servant who can
work no longer, in a subscription to the missionary society or the Sunday-school
excursion, in contributing to the happiness or welfare of others, you will reap the
Divine reward of self-denial. {Ibid.) Wasted lives: — Of five rich young men
whom the Bev. A. Wylie knew, one, he tells us, shot himself, another died of
delirium tremens, another was drowned in the midst of dissipation, a fourth was
stabbed in a gambling-house, and the fifth, assisted home by a policeman at two
o'clock in the morning, was found dead on his father's hall floor. Carlyle and the
crust: — It is related of Carlyle, that as he one day approached a street crossing, he
suddenly stopped, and stooping down picked something out of the mud, at the risk
of being run over by one of the many carriages in the street. With his bare hands
he brushed the mud ofl, and placed the substance on a clean spot on the kerb-stone.
" That," said he, in a tone as sweet and in words as beautiful as I ever heard, " is
only a crust of bread. Yet I was taught by my mother never to waste, and above
all, bread, more precious than gold, the substance that is the same to the body that
the mind is to the soul. I am sure that the little sparrows, or a hungry dog, will
get nourishment from that bit of bread." Folly of leading a gay life : — A
practical illustration of the folly of leading a gay life came under the notice of the
surgical staff of Charing Cross Hospital in August, 1880. John WallberoS, about
fifty-five years of age, residing at a common lodging-house in Westminster, asked
the surgeons to attend to an injury which he had received to his chest, which, he
said, had been caused by the police whUe he was under their charge that morning.
The man had a military appearance, but was in a shockingly tattered and neglected
condition, with scarcely any shoes to his feet. While his chest was being attended
to he gave the doctor a brief history of himself. He said he had graduated as a
B.A. at Trinity College, Cambridge, and as a proof of his classical education he
gave quotations from Virgil and Homer, and challenged the doctor to a competition
in mathematics. He said his grandfather was once a governor-general of the forces
in India, and he himself had held a commission in the army. His mother was a
handsome and, he regretted to say, gay woman, and, following the example of his
parent, her son had led a life of pleasure, and now, instead of being, as he once
was, m receipt of a yearly income of £1,500, he was in the pitiable plight of being
without home, money, or friends. A fast young man : — A fast young man ! He
is a lovely picture to some eyes. He leads the fashion. If anything is stirring in
the neighbourhood where mirth and laughter, songs and revelling can be found, he
is conspicQCQS amongst those who attend. If anything is carried on that needs a
144 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha». XT,
greater stock of impadence than is common with men he can always command it.
He is a fast young man. He is fast in acquiring habits that old debauchees tak*
years in arriving at. He is fast in learning slang phrases with which his speech ia
spiced. He is fast in breaking loose from home restraints at an age when every
sensible young man values a father's counsels and a mother's prayers. He is fast
in leading others, not so far advanced as himself, into mischief, debauchery, and
vice. He is fast in polluting virtuous hearts, and in bringing desolation into once
happy homes. But there are other things in which he is fast. He is fast in sowing
the seeds of disease in his constitution, and inducing premature old age.
He is fast in driving out the forms of virtue from his soul, and in filling up
their places with the filthiest forms of sin. He is fast in getting ready for the
condemnation of God, and is fast in going to perdition ! (W. O. Pascoe.)
When he had spent all there arose a mighty famine. — The fruits of sin : — What
are the fruits of sin ? We see in this parable, and we know from our experience of
human life, what the sinner himself thinks of it. He looks upon it as au assertion
of liberty. Now, we are called upon in these parables to contemplate our Lord's
view of the same subject. He shows us in all three of them that sin has a kind of
liberty which does not belong to the life of holiness ; but He shows us also that
this so-called liberty is no true liberty, and He reminds us that it leads to misery,
destitution, and the most degrading bondage. I. The wastefulness of sin. Wa
can easily see bow extravagance, heedlessness, and idleness waste men's temporal
possessions. We cannot so easily discern the wasting of our spiritual possessions.
Take first the effects of sin in the bodies of men. This frame of ours is a thing
far more sensitive and delicate than most of us imagine, and sin often leaves traces
upon it which can never be effaced. The sins of the flesh do visibly waste a portion
of that substance which God divides to man. But there are ravages committed by
sin which, however naked and open they may be to the eye of Him with whom w«(
have to do, are not easily discerned by the eye of man, especially by the eye which
is itself clouded and discoloured by sin. Sin, in all its forms, is a waster. In its
more decent and respectable forms it may produce less apparent desolation, and
yet the work of destruction may be as surely carried on. There are many things
lost from a man's soul of which he has little knowledge until some startling revela/-
tion is made unexpectedly, or the light of God's truth and Spirit shines in ani
illumines the inner darkness. The corrupting and blighting of the affections, the
hardening of the heart, the destraction of that tenderness of conscience which is
one of man's strongest safeguards, the weakening of the will, so that it loses its
power of resistance to evil, the lost appreciation and enjoyment of the innocent
pleasures of life, the utter inability to find any satisfaction in higher and better
things — this is a fearful enumeration, and yet it is but a portion of the loss which
is sustained through the ravages of sin. No tongue or pen can describe it, for no
heart of man can know it. II. The sbbvitdds of sin. One should suppose that
the sense of misery, arising from the destitution of sin, would drive the suffering
sinner to the place of penitence and to the throne of grace. And so it sometimes
does. But frequently the reverse happens. Such is often the awful deceitfulness
of sin. Nay, such is oftentimes the awful deceitfulness of sin, that those who have
reaped its bitter fruits have turned from one evil to another, in the hope of effacing
the results or the remembrance of previous transgression ; or else, and perhaps tbni
is commoner, they have descended to deeper depths of sin, have gone the whole way
that it was possible for them to go, have drunk to the very dregs the cup of misery
and death, in the mad hope that liJfe and happiness might after all be found within
it. And thus have men sunk down into that awful condition in which, instead of
using their passions as instruments for self-gratification, they have been governed
and controlled by them. For a time they were their servants, but now they have
become their masters. It is a bondage which is only too common, although some-
times its chains are unseen. In some cases, it is plain and clear and undeniable ;
in others it is disguised and often invisible. Take the case of the man vrho is
addicted to excessive drinking. I have seen men who were amiable, accomplished,
fascinating, fall under the power of this demon. I have seen men, the superior of
their fellows in intellect and energy, who seemed to be made to rule over men,
become themselves the slaves of intemperance. And slavery and bondage are tha
right expressions to apply to their condition. I have seen the most frantic efforts
made to escape from this tyranny. The shame, the misery, the ruin which flowed
from it had been pressed on the mind of its victim by a friend. " Be a man," ha
wud to the poor oronching slave. *' Be a man. Stand up. Assert joor freedoaii«
CHAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 145
as a child of God. Seek His grace, which will not be withheld from you, and by
the power of that grace you will arise and beat down this enemy under your feet."
And courage returned to the trembling heart ; and the man who had lain prostrate
under the throne of this idol summoned up new strength, collected his energies,
and resolved to fight the battle over again, and win it by the help of God. And
sometimes it has been done. And sometimes, alas ! it has not bee> done. III.
The deqbaj>ation of sin. It was enough, one might think, that the free son
should become a bond slave. No I He must be taught all that was involved in
slavery. He was sent into the fields to feed swine, unclean beasts, which it was a
degradation for a son of Abraham to have anything to do with ; and there he was
"fain to fill his belly with the basks which the swine did eat" ; for no man gave
him better food. It is the lowest depth reached at last. It is a picture of men
" serving divers lusts and pleasures " ; and, awful as it is, it does not exceed the
truth. Many of us play with sin, trifle with it, not knowing what it is. Like the
playful tiger's cub, it has not gained all its fearful strength, and manifests but little
of all its latent savage character. If we could follow it in its fearful descent, and
Bee how it sinks deeper and deeper in the mire of shame and infamy, we should
realize more clearly what is meant by the degradation of sin. " What fruit had ye
in those things of which ye are now ashamed? " asks St. Paul, well knowing what
the answer must be. Sin is the parent of shame. {W. R. Clark, M.A.) The
tinning soul a sufferer: — The soul was made for God, and for delight in God. Sin
prevents this end, and therefore there must be suffering and loss. I. It must be a
euFFEBEB. It caries within a torment which the poet has pictured under the figure
of twin serpents. Sin may be awhile alone, but it is sure to bring forth suffering.
1. Because God is what He is. He cannot deny Himself. \Yarmth excludes its
opposite, cold ; light its opposite, darkness ; and Hfe, death. God, beiug holy,
must be an active opponent to sin. 2. Because man is what he is. Conscience
only applauds right-doing, but bites back in remorse for sin committed. A
chaplain was preaching in India, when a deadly cobra crawled into the aisle. It
was despatched without interrupting the service. Passing out after meeting, a
native struck his foot against the head of the dead reptile. Instantly he cried
aloud in agony, for an envenomed fang had pierced his flesh. Bemedies were
unavailing, and he soon died. So the memory of sin is like a poisoned fang in the
breast. 3. Because of the necessity of law. Stanley never could have led his band
of barbarians across the dark continent had he not subjected them all to stern,
rigid law. One of them murdered his fellow. It was right that he should receive
two hundred lashes, and be chained till delivered into the hands of proper
authorities. God's righteous law has its penalties. Penalty is suffering. 4.
Experience teaches that a sinning soul is a sufferer. It is always so in the long
run. Byron. H. The kind of suffeeinq. 1. It is want. Sin must starve
the soul, as the plant pines for sunshine and cannot live on candle-light. 2,
r'riendlessness. 3. Slavery. The dominion of habit was illustrated in Bobert
Burns, who said that he would go for a jug of whisky, though it were guarded by
one who would surely shoot him in the act — " for," said he, " I could not help it."
4. Degradation and utter loneliness. In the Sistine Chapel is a picture by Angelo,
which paints a victim in the grasp of a fiend. Yet the fangs in his flesh are not so
tormenting as is the mental anguish which the loss of heaven occasions. This
absorbs his whole thought. (W. Hoyt, D.D.) A mighty famine: — Extravagance
soon " brings the noble to ninepence," and in the far country it is not far that nine-
pence will go. But there may be so mighty a famine and so great, that even the
noble will not buy the loaf of bread. One of the most pitiful incidents in the
history of British genius is the death of Ghatterton. We by no means quote it as
a case of riotous living; but it will illustrate the "want" which comes over the
spirit when other resources fail, and the Father's house is far away. When a mere
boy of seventeen he had passed off, in the name of an ancient English monk, poems
of his own, with the archaic style so admirably simulated, and the historical
allusions so adroitly managed, that for a time many clever men were taken La, and
enrmised no forgery. Elated by the success of this imposture, and conscious of no
common powers, from Bristol he came up to London. There he promised himself
a career of fame and fortune ; and as he visited the theatres, and watched the
grand equipages floating past, he saw in no distant vision the day when his verses
should be in the mouths of men, and when the doors of the lordliest saloons woold
open to the poet. But the fame was slow in coming, and meanwhile the money
failed. Hampered by no restraints of conscience, he made up his mind to pasa
VOL. m. 10
146 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. xt.
himself off for a surgeon, and get appointed to a ship ; bat before he could carry
his unprincipled scheme into execution, he found himself quite penniless. " Heavea
Bend you the comforts of Christianity," he wrote to a correspondent ; " I request
them not, for I am no Christian." Bitterly boasting his disdain of Christianity,
and his independence of it, he fell back on his own resources, and a fortnight after,
a jury brought in a verdict otfelo de se on a strange self-willed youth found dead ia
his little room in Brook Street, Holbom. He cared not for " the comforts of Chria-
tianity," and so when the mighty famine arose — when editors no longer cared for
his effusions, and when the frauds and figments of years began to collapse — with
hunger in the cupboard, and with heartless Muses staring at him so hard and stony
— the trials which in a Christian bring out the mettle and make the man, in tha
case of poor Chatterton left no resource save arsenic and impotent anathemas oq
human kind. Reverting to the riotous living : not only does it exhaust the worldly
substance, but by exhausting health and spirits, it destroys the power of enjoy-
ment. Poor as are the joys of sense, it is a stupid policy which would distil into a
single cup every pleasure, and in one frantic moment drain it dry. Where life and
reason have survived the wild experiment, the zest of existence is gone, and waking
up to a flat and colourless world, fastidious and fretful, blasted and blase, in a
frequent loathing of life and a general contempt of mankind, the voluptuary carries
to the grave the sins of his youth. The Most High has so constituted the mind of
man that the indulgence of the malevolent affections itself is misery ; and of all
the paths which at life's outset invite the inexperienced traveller, the surest to
pierce through with many sorrows is the path of sensual indulgence. It is a vain
attempt —
*♦ With things of earthly sort, with aught but God,
With aught but moral excellence, and truth, and love.
To fill and satisfy the immortal soul."
But yon are not mocked by your Maker. Those great and glorions objects exist
for which He has given you an affinity, and towards which, in their most exalted
intervals, the highest powers in your nature aspire. There is truth, there is good-
ness, there is God. There is the life of Jesus recorded in the Book ; there is the
spirit of God now working in the world. Ponder that life till, associated with a
living Redeemer, it shines around your path a purifying protecting presence. And
pray for that spirit, till under His kindly teaching you "taste and see that the Lord
is good " — till expanded affections find an infinite object — till He who has thus
strengthened your heart is become your portion for ever. {James Hamilton, DJD.)
The degradation : — Snow quickly melts when the thaw comes ; and " a fool and his
money are soon parted." I have heard of people who had suddenly succeeded to a
legacy which they had not sense to keep ; and who, indeed, were not sober till all
their money was exhausted. Such a rapid race did this young rake of the parable
run. I. The famine. " Ills," the proverb says, "never come singly." That he
had reached the bottom of his purse was bad enough I but, to make matters worse,
at the same time " there arose a mighty famine in the land." In ancient days a
failure of the harvest spread dearth and death all around, even as, a few years ago,
the famine of Orissa, where the eame Oriental mode of life continues, left milliona
of corpses on the arid plains of India. Thanks to our commercial connection with
the ends of the earth, and the abolition of our Com Laws, it is not likely that such
a lack of " the staff of life " will ever be felt within our borders again, as our fore-
fathers have experienced in their day. The effect produced upon our young
master's circumstances was immediate — he began to be in want. What a transi-
tion from fulness to emptiness —from wasteful extravagance to absolute inability to
obtain the necessaries of life I Now he would begin to wish that he had some of
the golden guineas back again which he had so recklessly thrown away, and that
he had husbanded the large resources which had been so unsparingly placed
at his command. The prodigal hungered; but he did not at this stage think
of returning to his father. Some transgressors take less of chastisement and
grief to melt them down, and others more. He seems to have been specially
hardened. He was too proud to go back yet. So "he went and joined
himself to a citizen of that country." II. This is the second point to which
we call attention in this chapter: Thb Fee. A few days ago, in this city
of my habitation, a larger number than asaal of agricultural people wera
4o be seen in our streets, for it was the hiring market for the next half-year.
«HAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 147
Hnndreds who came into Glasgow in the morning, not knowing who their master
was to be, or where their residence might be situated throughout the summer,
daring the course of the day oame to know these important facts — important,
because their destiny for good or evil might be largely influenced by the event. Poor
things ! as I saw many of them the worse for liquor, I thought they did not seem
to be in a very fit state for forming a cool judgment, or for departing to their new
homes. Doubtless some of them met with good masters, and some of them with
bad ones. Some of them will rejoice in the decisions of the day, and bless their
good fortune ; whilst others will bitterly regret the same, aud call their lot mis-
fortune. " Which things are an allegory." Christ is the good master ; and Satan
is the bad master. Christ may be called the Illustrious Stranger, who has coma
into our world to rectify its wrongs; while Satan is " the citizen of that country,"
who has been in it from the first and has done it much evil. III. The rEEDiNO.
Feeding I that's good news. He will be reconciled to his servitude, if only hia
wants may be supplied. But, alas 1 the feeding is not of himself but of others —
and these others he would rather not have fed — " He sent him into his fields to
feed swine." This is another dexterons touch of the painter. No occupation could
possibly have been more degrading than this in the eyes of Jews, since they
regarded swine as ceremonially unclean. It is written in Lev. xi. 7, "And the
swine, though he divide the hoof, and be cloven-footed, yet he cheweth not the
«ud; he is unclean unto yon." Nor was this feeling of aversion towards these
animals peculiar to the Jews ; for Herodotus teUs us that in Egypt swineherds
-were not permitted to mingle with civil society, nor to appear in the worship of the
gods, nor would the very dregs of the people have any matrimonial connection with
them. Truly now our young master would be stripped of his pride. A poor, ragged,
outcast, hungry swineherd 1 Satan's nobility sit on bad emiuences. His peers are
known by their deeper degradation. IV. The fasting. " He would fain have
filled his belly with the husks the swine did eat; and no man gave unto him,"
The word in the original {keratia) does not mean, properly speaking, what we
understand by husks, which are the outer integuments of fruit, but designates a
leguminous fruit called in modem language the charub tree, which still grows in
the South of Europe, the islands of the Mediterranean, and the North of Aiiica. It
is sometimes called "John's Bread," from the tradition that it was the food used by
John the Baptist during his wilderness life. On the beans of this tree the horses
of the British cavalry were fed during the Peninsular war. It would appear that
the famine which is referred to in the parable raged so severely that both man and
beast were put upon short and spare allowance. In the fields, and when watching
fais unclean flock, the poor outcast would willingly have supplemented his own
scanty meal by eating the raw, coarse fruits which the swine consumed ; but " no
man gave unto him." He was not allowed to appropriate their portion. {F.
Ferguson, D.D.) Touch iron : — A minister from a distance was preaching one
Sabbath, in the parish church of St. Monan's, in the last century, who did not
know the strange superstitions of a fishing village. He was discoursing with
tolerable fluency on the parable of the Prodigal Son. When he came to the words,
♦' and he sent him into the fields to feed swine," he thought that he heard a sudden
and simultaneous murmur over his congregation, accompanied by an equally
sudden and simultaneous movement. The explanation was that the sow is an
anlucky animal among the fishermen, as it was unclean among Jews; and the
murmur, which the astonished preacher heard proceeding from every lip, was
" Touch iron " — for iron they regard as a charm against the harmful word ; whUe
the movement he observed was the effort of each individual to put his finger on the
nearest nail in the wood-work of the old church — a murmur and a movement which,
were repeated much to his consternation, as in the sequel of his exposition he, all
onconscious of his mistake, used the dreaded word. A good story, doubtless, to be
told at a tea-table, or at a bright fire on a winter evening — and ministers, it is to be
feared, by their frailties and mistakes, afford amusement now and than to curious
•nd critical neighbourhoods. But whether the tale be an exaggeration or not, I
wish to turn the table upon the story-tellers, and consecrate it to the service of
Christ. Yes ; ye who have sunk so low in the service of Satan, that he has sent
you into the fields to feed swine — " Touch iron " ; extend the finger of faith to the
blessed nails of the cross, and, more potent than fabled talismanio charm, they will
raise you to the dignity of the sons of God. Do you complain that your nature is
bad — that as soon a lion might be expected to become • lamb, or a swine — " Toach
iron " ; yea, " reach hither your hands and thrust them into his side," and Qod'a
1^ TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [oha». xt.
Spirit will give you clean hearts and right spirits. (Ibid.) Dearth; or pain tht
end of sinful pleasure : — The end of sinful pleasure is pain, the wealth of world-
lings ends in fearful want. As the image which Nebuchadnezzar saw in his dreau
had an head of gold, but feet of clay ; so the glorious show of this miserable lif-^
of sinful men concludes with shame. The plenty which Egypt had in seven
years was eaten up by the seven years of famine following it. The pleasant river
of Jordan is at length swallowed up by the salt sea, or loach of Sodom. (Bishop
Cowper.) Famine makers : — Such men help to bring about famines, men who eat
all and produce nothing, men who are consumers and non-producers. These are
the men that make famines. {J. Parker, D.D.) Sin costly : — The service of sin
is a costly service; all the portion of goods thou hast is not suflGicient for it.
{Bishop Cowper.) Religion no waste : — Wilt thou abide with the Lord, and serve
Him ? He shall teach thee to use His gifts to His glory and thy good ; for the
service of the Lord is easy, honourable, profitable, nothing is wasted, nothing is
lost, that thou ependest in it. {Ibid.) The folly of extravagance : — To how much
the portion of goods amounted which the younger son took with him we are not
told ; nor are we told how long it lasted. But once it is in the hands of a spend-
thrift, wonderful is the speed with which money disappears. As paragons of
senseless profusion, Dante has handed down the names of Stricca and his com-
panions, who sold their estates and bought a princely mansion where they might
tpend their days in revelry. Their horses' shoes were silver, and, if one came off,
the servants were forbidden to pick it up ; and, with like disdain of mean economy
throughout, the united fortunes lasted only twenty months, and they finished off in
the utmost misery. The Sienese spendthrifts have been often distanced in our
living day ; and the low taverns along the Thames, where our sailors waste their
hard-won earnings— the hotels of Melbourne and San Francisco, where successful
diggers fool away in a flash of riot the gold for which they have toiled so long, after
a coarse and vulgar fashion could parallel the wildest waste of Heliogabalus or
Lucullus. More remarkable than the speed with which the money disappears is
the small satisfaction which it yields. If, like George Heriot with the king's
acknowledgment, you had put the bank-notes on the hearth, and sent them
fiaming up the chimney, they would have left you far richer than those you have
ppent on reckless companions and riotous living. If, like Cleopatra, you had dis-
solved a pearl — if you had put together the income of years — all that has been
spent on self-indulgence — perhaps in enticing others into sin — could you have put
it all together, and, like the queenly jewel, dissipated it in dust and air, we might
have been sorry for the idle sacrifice, but the wasted money would not have wasted
you. Cleopatra had another pearl, the gift of peerless beauty. That gift was
perverted and it hatched a serpent ; it came back into her bosom — the asp which
stung her. So with the possessions of the prodigal. Talents laid up in a napkin,
pearls melted in vinegar, will benefit no one ; but rank, fortune, health, high spirits,
laid out in the service of sin, are scorpion-eggs, and fostered and fully grown, the
forthcoming furies will seize on the con.-cience, and with stings of fire will torment
it evermore. {James Hamilton, D.D.) Monexj all gone : — It takes a great deal
longer to make money than to spend it. Although it is only a little while since
this young man got one-third of his father's property, it is all gone — every cent of
it. So you have known men toiling for twenty, thirty, forty years in commercial or
mechanical life, have acquired large property, to lie down and die, leaving a great
estate ; and in five years the boys have got all through ^vith it. So this young man
of the text and his money was soon parted. I do not know just how it went, but
there, in the first place, were his travelling expenses. A man who had been brought
up as luxuriantly as he evidently was, from the surroundings of that home, could
not lodge just anywhere, nor be contented with plain fare. He had been used to
see things on a large scale, and I do not suppose he closely calculated the expense.
I do not suppose he always stopped to take change. I suppose that sometimes he
bought things without any regard to what they cost. Then, besides that, there
came in the bill for his personal apparel, and a young man who had a third of
his father's property in his pocket could not afford to go shabbily dressed, and so he
must have clothes of the best pattern and of the finest material. Besides that, the
young man of the text had to meet the bill for social entertainment. He must
treat, and it must be with the costliest wines and the rarest viands. Besides that,
the sharpers found out that this young man had plenty of money, and they volun-
teer their services. They will show him the sights. They can tell him things h«
never imagined away off on that father's homestead. Well, they undertake to show
CWAP. XT.] ST. LUKE. 149
thiB man the sights, and after a while he wakes up one day and he ^ays, " I think
I will count my money." And he counted his money. It was half gone ; but as
his habits were thoroughly fastened upon him he could not stop. After awhile he
counted his money again, and it was three-fourths gone ; but he was on the down
grade, going swifter and swifter and swifter, until, when he comes to look for his
money, it is all gone. Now, these associates, who stuck to him as long as he had
plenty of money, are gone. Morning-glories bloom when the sun is coming up, not
when the sun is going down. There is no money with which to meet his expenses.
Besides that, the crops have failed, and there is famine in the land, and at a time
when affluent men are straitened about getting their daily bread, what is to become
of this poor fellow, with an empty pocket and a discouraged heart ? *' Oh 1 " you
Bay, "let him work." He cannot work. His hands, soft and tender, would be
dreadfully blistered with toil. Perhaps he comes then to some place where he can
get occupation, he thinks, appropriate for an educated young man. He comes to a
commercial establishment and asks for work. " No," says the head man of the
business firm, " we can't have you. Why, you are nothing but a tramp of the
street." Perhaps he comes to the oflBce of some official of the government, and
Beeks employment by which he can support himself. " No," says that officer, " a
man clad as you are cannot find any employment in my office." What is he to do ?
In a strange land. Money all gone. No friends. Bagged. Wretched. Undone.
My text with one stroke gives the awful full-length photograph : " He began to be
in want." Now, what does all that mean ? It means you and me. Our race had
a good starting ; but we ail went away from God, our home, and we have found sin
to be an expensive luxury. It despoiled us. It hungered us. It robbed us. It
made us hopeless and godless. We had a fine spiritual fortune to start with, and
we spent it, and we " began to be in want." I care not how fine our worldly estate
may be, or how much bank stock we may possess, or how elegant our social position.
Bin has pauperized the whole race, and until we go back to God, our home, we are in
an awful state of beggary and want. There is no exception to it. {Dr. Talmage.)
The beginning of starvation: — There is something very ominous in that expression,
" He began to be in want." It was only a beginning of want, but it was the pres-
Eage of starvation, and brought along with it the forecast of an agonizing death.
Let me ask you to put side by side this expression and another, in which the same
word occurs just at the end of the parable — " They began to be merry." Surely
both the parallelism and the contrast are alike instructive. Want begins when we
wander into the far country, and joy begins when we find ourselves restored to the
Father's bouse; but the want is only the beginning of want, and the joy is only
the beginning of joy. The want must go on, becoming more and more cruel and
tormenting as the mighty famine increases, while the " merriment," the spiritual
mirth of that " happy day " which fixes our choice upon our Saviour and our God,
develops into the quiet and calm but deeper and fuller happiness of a life in which
the soul feeds on Christ, rejoices in the Lord, and joys in the God of his salvation.
Indeed, do not these contrasted sentences suggest to our minds the thought that
heaven and hell have their commencements here on earth, to whatever each may
develop hereafter ? For heaven is that condition of existence that is induced by
the satisfying of the soul in God. As yet our heaven is incomplete, for the satis-
faction is not yet full. Only when we wake up in God's likeness shall we be satis-
fied fully ; but even here we are possessed of the secret of satisfaction, and when
the sense of want arises we know where to turn to find what our spirits need. And
while our joy in this satisfaction comes very far short now of what it will be, yet is
it in kind, though not in degree, identical with the very joy of heaven. We have
begun to be merry. The chief cause of the joy is the same, whether it be felt in
heaven or on earth ; its source is the same, and its character is the same. It is
the very joy of God in the heart of man. And hell has its commencement here on
•arth in the restlessness and inanity of the godless life, and in the weariness and
dissatisfaction of the godless heart. As fleeting pleasures and visionary acquisitions
pass away, as one broken cistern after another falls to pieces, as sorrow casts its
shadow on the home, as failure embitters our experience or success disappoints us,
the want increases ; and the pain and sorrow of that want are the same in kind,
though not in degree, as that which falls to the lot of the lost under the sentence
of doom ; for hell is a want that cannot be satisfied, and a loss that cannot be
repaired. {W. M. Hay Aitkin, M.A.) In want: — ^I have seen, sitting shoeless
and shirtless on a cab, "joining himself to " the driver, if haply he might get any>
thing out of him, a young man who had inherited a large fortune, who had been in
150 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, ^r^
the same classes with me at school, and had sat as a student for the ministry on
the same benches with me at college. I have visited in yonder prison, where h«
was under sentence of six months' imprisonment for stealing a watch, which ha
had pawned for drink, a man who was an M.A. of a Scottish University, and who
had been Principal of a college in a foreign land. I have had, as a beggar at my
door, a man of my own age, brought up in the same street with me, who had
squandered a large patrimony in such courses as I have described ; and as I saw
the grey hair of his premature old age streaming in the wind, and heard him call
me by the old familiar name of my boyhood, as he besought me for assistance, I
could not but think of these words, " And when he had spent all, there arose a
mighty famine in the land, and he began to be in want." (W. M. Taylor, D,D.)
Feeding swine : — In the days of the Regency there was a man much envied, and in
the ranks of fashion his influence was paramount. It was not that he was a states-
man or a hero, a thinker or a speaker ; but, as far as an outsider can make it, ha
was a gentleman. His bow, his gait, his dress, were perfection : the Eegent took
lessons at his toilette ; when peeresses brought out their daughters they awaited
with anxiety his verdict, and no party was distinguished from which he withheld
his presence. Very poor padding within, heartless and soulless, the usual sawdust
which goes for a dandy, by infinite painstaking and equal impudence he scrambled
into his much envied ascendancy, the arbiter of taste, the director of the drawing-
room, the leader of the great army of beaux and butterflies. Then came a cloud.
The prince withdrew his favour, and, of course, the prince's friends. His mysterious
wealth suddenly took wing, and means which he took to recover it sent him into
life-long exile at Calais and Caen. He had no God. His God was the sunshine —
court-favour, the smiles of the great and the gay. The instant these were with-
drawn the poor Apollo butterfly came fluttering down, down into the dust, and
never soared again. It was all in vain that old acquaintances tried to keep him
out of debt and discredit. With no gratitude, and with little conscience, and with
only that amoimt of pride which makes the misanthrope, he begged and borrowed
on all Bides, at the table d'hSte glad to get a bottle of wine from some casual tourist
by telling stories of old times, and unable to cross the threshold when his only suit
of clothes was in process of repair. The broken-down exquisite began to be in
want, and, when borrowing a biscuit from a grocer, or a cup of coffee from a kindly
hostess, he may have remembered the days when he lavished thousands on folly,
the days when he was the favourite guest at the palace. Truly, it was a mighty
famine, but it did not bring him to himself. It only alienated from mankind a
heart which had aU along been estranged from the hving God, and gave frightful
force to his cynicism. " Madame de St. Ursain," as he said to his landlady, " were
I to see a man and a dog drowning together in the same pond, and no one was
looking on, I would prefer saving the dog." And whether it be Richard Savage,
whose riotous living at last imbrued his hands in another's blood, and then landing
him in the debtor's prison, left him to be buried at the cost of the kind-hearted
gaoler ; or Emma, Lady Hamilton, passing like a meteor through foreign courts,
and making wise men mad with brilliancy and beauty, then cast off by society, and
from a sordid lodging carried in a deal box to a nameless grave ; or men like Beck-
ford, who, spending prodigious wealth in self-idolatry, have lived to find that the
idol was not worth the worship ; by cases which it would weary you to quote, we
might show how invariably, if there be but time to work out the legitimate sequel,
separation from God ends in desolation and sorrow. We might show how often
the wayward child, who would not sit contented at the Father's board and eat the
children's bread, has ended at the stye, and been fain to clutch at husks which the
swine do eat. And from the nature of the case, as well as the Word of God, we
might show how inevitably the far country becomes a waste and howling wilderness,
and how, soon or late, the soul which there abides must die of hunger. {James
Hamilton, D.D.) Husks: — The ''husks that the swine did eat" are familiarly
known as the pods of the Ceratonia siliqtM of Linnaeus. It is a noble tree, stretching
all along the southern points of the shores of the Mediterranean, and sometimes
farther northward, from Spain to Palestine. Greece and Cyprus are the most
favoured places, but southern Italy is beautiful with these trees. The foliage ii
dark green — evergreen ; the pod is thick, and filled with a viscous, sweetish sab-
stance, from which is obtained a very useful dibs or molasses, which is often made
to ta^e the place of a similar product from the grape. These pods are to be Been
now and then for sale in New Tork and Philadelphia. The smaller merchant*
often ridiculously call them " locusts and wild honey," with about as much reason.
CHAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 151
and with just the same mistake, as those who call them " St. John's bread." The
pod is thickish, and generally breaks up when dry, the pieces still holding the
beans ; not dropping them out as peas are dropped. The khartib bean can scarcely
be shelled — except when fresh, and then not easily. Not only the beans, but the
pods themselves, are an article of food for both beast and man. They are exported
to Europe and America, and ground up to serve many purposes of food, and
perhaps adulteration. One may look over the newspaper lists of arrivals of vessels
at Constantinople, and often see that by far the greater number of vessels were
loaded with khariib beans or pods, and most of them from Limassol in Cyprus. To
be sure these vessels are very small, and one large steamer has the capacity of a
hundred of them ; but in numbers these kharub cargoes appear to lead the list in
Constantinople. The identity of the fruit of the kharub-tree with these " husks "
does not depend upon the Greek alone of the New Testament, but in the Peshitto
Syriac rendering, the Syriac and Arabic names of both tree and fruit, and the
tradition of the country which has kept the name. In Spain the same Arabio
name is still retained, together with the article attached. In Italy the same name
exists, though the writer oftener heard it pronounced carro'ba than carru'ba. In
Arabic the accent is on the last syllable. As given in the English dictionaries, ita
pronunciation has departed about as widely from the original as the information
they give has departed from completeness. They lay it down as car'ob. That, how-
ever, is more pardonable than the manner in which most English-speaking
Hebraists abandon English coincidences with the true Shemitic pronunciation to
ftdopt the mistakes of Germans, or the substitutes which Germans adopted for
tetters in cases where they " could not frame to pronounce it right." Linneeus
doubtless named the tree Ceratonia siliqua in order to combine both the original
Greek and the Latin Vulgate translation. The former is keratian and the latter
tiliquis. With regard to this food as characteristic of the prodigal's present or
former condition, no great stress can be laid. Poor people eat it now ; in Phila-
delphia it is sold as a sweatmeat to the little boys. It is not likely that the young
man found such fare at his father's table. The talmudio proverb, however, says,
" When the Israelite must eat rejected food, then he comes to himself." But they
have two other proverbs of great beauty in this connection. The first is : ** The doora
of prayer are sometimes open, sometimes shut ; but the doors of repentance are ever
open." The other is : " No sin resists sorrow and penitence." (Prof. Isaac H. Hall.)
Pretty near to the hutks : — Vice-ChanceUor Blake, of Toronto, in an address at the
Mildmay Conference, Jane 21, 1882, said : — A young man came to our city some six
or seven years ago, the son of a clergyman. He had been a ne'er-do-weel, and bad
been sent, as so many are sent, abroad, because yon can do nothing with them here.
He was taken up by the Association ; one of the members took him, and kept him
at his house for six months. To-day that young man stands as the head of a prin-
cipal undertaking in our Dominion. I don't wonder that his mother wrote a letter
from Italy, where she was living, to say that if the broad Atlantic did not separate
as, she would come to thank us for what our Association had done for her son.
Another instance. A yonng man went to the Southern States, a distance of two
thonsand miles from our city, and the secretary of onr Association wrote and said,
" You will find so-and-so in your city ; look him up, and see if anything can be
done for him." He was so low down that, although the son of wealthy parents, he
was found in one of the fish-markets cleaning fish. " Young man," said the delegate
who found him, "you have got pretty near to the husks." "Yes," said he, "I
have ; it was painted very bright as I entered, but I find it a very dark and miser-
able place where I have got to." "Do you want to leave it?" "I do." "Are
you determined to make a struggle?" "Yes." •'Then come to my warehouse,
and I will give you a place. I will expect you at my Bible-meeting every afternoon,
and yon will come and take a seat in my pew at church." " I will," he said. At
our great Sunday-school Convention last year in the city, where we had delegates
by the hundred, that young man came as one of the delegates sent up from that
town in the United States. Eating the huskt : — How often do young men break
away from the wholesome restraints of home and of religious society, promising
themselves peculiar enjoyment in pursuing their wajrward fancies, dreaming of
wealth, of fame, or flattering themselves with the delusive idea of a good time in
some vague adventure ! In the journal of a soldier belonging to the 72nd Begiment
of the English army, published at the close of the last general continental war, an
instance of this occurs. The writer of the journal had been induced, in hopes of %
life of pleasure, to enliat, and to forsake his quiet and respectable home, greatl/
162 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chat. x?.
to the grief of his parents. A few years afterwards, he was, when serving in th«
Peninsula, glad to be allowed to eat of the biscuits which he was employed to break
for the bounds of the commander-in-chief, at a time when provisions were scarce,
'• I ate them with tears," he said, " and thought of the prodigal." {A. C. TJiomson,
D.D.) Vain efforts of the soul to find satisfaction : — The soul of man is a clasp-
ing, clinging soul, seeking to something over which it can spread itself, and by
means of which it can support itself. Aid just as in a neglected garden you may
see the poor creepers making shift to sustain themselves as best they can ; one con-
volvulus twisting round another, and both draggling on the ground ; a clematis
leaning on the door, which will by-and-by open and let the whole mass fall down ;
a vine or a passion-flower wreathing round a prop which all the while chafes and
cuts it ; so in this fallen world it is mournful to see the efforts which human souls
are making to get some sufficient object to lean upon and twine around. (James
Hamilton, D.D.) The world's treatment of its votaries in time of need: — The
prodigal of whom we are speaking sought the companionship of the world. He
courted the pleasures of the world ; he lived for the world, and he spent his all
upon the world. Is he singular in this ? Have you not done the same 7 I speak
not now of the world of business, of commerce and trade ; I speak not now of this
moving panorama of daily life that surrounds us ; I believe even in that respect I
might also speak of the unsatisfying nature even of the world of business, but I
speak not of that now : I speak of the world of sin — the world, as alluded to in that
text, *' Love not the world, neither the things of the world ; for if any man love the
world, the love of the Father is not in him." The world very cunningly allures
you by its pleasures ; is that an inducement sufficient to lead you from your Father's
home? Then I ask you, I catechise you to-day. What means that aching of the
head, and that aching of the heart, and that surfeit and disappointment, which are
so generally the accompaniments of those who follow after the so-called pleasures
of the world f Do those pleasures satisfy you ? Or will they ever compensate you
for the loss of a Father's favour and of a Father's countenance ? The world calls
off the allegiance of many from the King of kings ; the world lives on your sub-
stance while it lasts, and it sucks out no small advantage from many a prodigal.
But then, when yon, poor sinner, have spent, or rather misspent, all your golden
opportunities, when you have lavished all your hopes of heaven, when you have
bartered your heavenly birthright for an earthly mess of pottage, what next?
Having cast your precious pearls before swine, be sure they will turn and rend yon;
and the world that once flattered you is now the first to forsake and forget you.
Tell me, is that a reward worth living for ? Is that a fate worth leaving your home
to purchase ? Is that a destiny worth putting yourself to so much trouble to attain ?
How much better the choice of Moses — " choosing rather to suffer affliction with
the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season " ; or the experience
of David — " A day in Thy courts is better than a thousand " — spent in the world
and in the things of the world, and in sin and in the pleasures of the world : " I
had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of
wickedness." And oh 1 prodigal, let it never be said of you, that you have subsided
to the lowest level of sin, that you prefer to abide in the tents of wickedness, as did
the prodigal. (R. Maguire, D.D.) Unsatisfied desires : — "Who will give to the
hungry heart of man, whose appetite will not, cannot, be put off with husks, whose
desires are so infinite, whose yearning is so unutterable ? Where shall we look to
satisfy the craving of that spirit made to be filled with all the fulness of God ? Who
will give to him ? Shall we appeal to the gaudy, painted world, with its brief
pageant, its short-lived joys, its aimless tumult and hubbub ? What has Fashion
to give her votaries and her victims ? A deUrious dream, a momentary intoxication,
a giddy whirl of social and animal excitement, and then the bitterness and the
heartache as this unsubstantial feast of Tantalus passes from us, and leaves us as
empty as ever. But the heart wants something more than a masquerade, something
more than toys and gewgaws, with which for a Uttle season grown-up children may
disport themselves — something more than the sights and sounds that please the eye
and ear for the moment, only to leave the real man still unpleased, as he asks im-
patiently, " Is this all ? Is this all? " And still the dismal record remains, " And
no man gave unto him." To whom shall we appeal ? Can Mammon do nothing
for UB? Surely never was deity served with greater devotion by his devotees than
day by day is lavished on him. Will he do nothing for our spiritual hunger f Ah,
my brethren, the value of money is what it will fetch, and if it won't fetch as tm«
satisfaction, or peace, or hope, or moral dignity, what the richer are we t Can the
CHA*. XT.] ST. LUKE. 151
homan spirit digest gold, or assimilate it to its mysterious substance ? The rich
fool in the parable seemed to indulge some such delusion, but he only proved hia
folly by doing so. So little can Mammon do for our real happiness, that we are in
the habit of distinguishing the most devoted of his worshippers, the very high
priests of Lis shrine, with the title of *' misers," implying that they are of all men the
most miserable. The indignant heart declines this mockery of its desire, and still
the mournful sentence remains true, " And no man gave unto him." Where shall
we look ? Shall we fall back upon the charms of literature and art, and satiate our
Benses in the hope of ministering to our spirits ? Here we meet with some encourage-
ment from some of our modern teachers, who will have us believe in no heaven save
a picture-gallery or a concert-room, and in no Deity save high art. And some would
have us think that Nature is our true foster-mother, and that the satisfaction
denied elsewhere is to be found in prying into her secrets and examining her hidden
mysteries. These are noble dreamers, these hierophants of art and science ; and
perhaps they come the nearest of answering our demands. Yet even here we only
lind disappointment. The wise man was right when he said, " All things are full
of weariness ; man cannot utter it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the
ear with hearing." These things please us most in early days, when first with
youthful enthusiasm we begin to worship the beautiful or to investigate the curious ;
bat there is something in man more divine than taste and more profound than
curiosity, and this higher element in man neither art nor science can reach. " I
don't know how it is," said a distinguished art critic, a man of the hii,'hest culture
and refinement, and one who had possessed for the greater part of his life every
facility for testhetic enjoyment in his circumstances and training — " I don't know
how it is, but now, in middle life, art no longer affects me as it once did. There
was once a keen joy that I would be conscious of in perusing a beautiful poem, or
in looking at a really good picture, which I can't get up now, however much I may
try. I can't work myself by any effort of my will into anything at all like the
enthusiasm that once seemed quite spontaneous. I can't say I get much enjoyment
out of art now ; it's more a business than a pleasure." Still even in these higher
regions, visited only by the few, and where we might expect that the mighty famine
would be less keenly felt, it remains true, "And no man gave unto him." (W. M.
Hay Aitken, M.A.) When he came to hlmsell — The prodigal repenting : — I. Thb
PBODiOAL COMES TO HIMSELF. He had, as it were, been all abroad ; he had not been
really at home in any sense ; he had not been looking at himself, nor studying him-
self, nor thinking of his real condition and his real want. Those interests which
were really his highest, and which he should have felt to be his highest, he had
never for a moment set his thoughts upon. All that he should have cared about he
was quite careless of ; unobservant, ignorant of that which was really his good. We
speak of a man being out of his mind ; we speak of a man coming again into his
right mind ; and these familiar expressions of ours may very well serve to help us
to see something of the depth of meaning here — " He came to himself." The mind
which, as it were, should have been at home, roams abroad. So it was with this
man : his mind, fiirst in wild enjoyment, and then in despairing expedient ; himself
first clad in all sorts of gaiety and gaudy robes, and then clad again in rags ; at one
time in the hannts of sensual pleasure, at another time in the gloomy caves of woe:
now intoxicated with the very delights on which his soul was set, now again obsti-
nate and morose. The mind of his at last came home — "He came to himself";
and then it was, when he came to himself, that the great reality broke upon him,
and he saw what was the truth at the time, and what had been the truth before.
Then his real condition was apparent to him, and all his sadness stood up before
him, firm, and stark, and stern, so as to terrify him. And then ho could not bat
contrast the state of things in which he was, and the condition of things which he
well knew existed at home — " How many hired servants of my father's have bread
enough and to spare 1 " II. The pbodioaii besolves. Of all the ways in which he
had hitherto gone, he now finds that none is the right way, particularly that way
of all others which he first chose for himself, the way which led him from hik
father's home, the first way in which he ever put his feet. But now he sees that
there is only one certain way of peace and hope ; that there is no way like this — th«
way that brings him back to his father. Therefore he determines to go and to con-
fess the whole — to make a clean breast of the whole — to cast himself upon hia
father's mercy, to be taken back upon his father's terms, and apon no terms of hia
own — " Make me as one of thy hired servants " : give me even the very lowest
plaee at thy feet ; only receive me home. It is impossible, I think, to agree with
154 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xt
the opinion of some, that in this expreesion, •' Make me as one of thy hired ser-
vants,'' there is a lurking pride. Some suppose that in this expression he purposes
to work out his restoration. It is quite clear, however, that this explanation is
quite contrary to the spirit of the gospel, and therefore cannot satisfy the words ol
the parable. The force of the passage is not in the words, " Make me as one of
thy hired servants " ; that is only thrown in to heighten the effect. The force of
the petition lies in the words. " I am no more worthy to be called thy son." Only
take me home ; only let me find my place near thee, in thy service, and I am con-
tent to have any terms whatever, even though I be " as one of thy hired servants."
And it is even thus that the Spirit of God leads an awakened sinner to his Father's
home on high ; it is even thus that He pursues His work, when, having convinced
the man of sin, He goes on to convince him of righteousness. The sinner is brought
to the first real state of true awakening of heart and conscience ; the sinner is made
to see what he is ; he comes to himself ; and then, by the gracious teaching of the
Spirit of God, there pass over him similar feelings to those which filled this younger
son's mind, and then he says, ♦' I vrill arise, and go to my Father, and will say unto
Him, I have sinned against heaven, and before Thee " ; and so he feels that there is
no need now for him to abide where he is. There may be, indeed, fears ; there may
be doubts ; again and again these will arise ; but there is an ever-urging impulse of
the Spirit of all grace upon his conscience and upon his heart to take up the words
80 often, but, alas I so vainly repeated by hundreds of ns — " I will arise, and go to
my Father." III. There is yet a third stage — the stage of action. It is of the
first consequence that action should follow resolution. In any case, if a man makes
a resolution that is worth anything, the sooner he puts it into action the better ;
and, of all the characteristics which call out admiration, this is above all others —
decision ; and the man who knows not only how to decide, but how to act upon his
decision, is the man whom others most approve ; that is the man to deserve our
confidence, and the man to get it. And therefore the Lord draws a perfect picture,
not simply of an awakened man, but of a man that feels pressure ; not only of a
man who resolves that something must be done to relieve this pressure, but one
who gets up and does it ; a man who acts ; a man who knows how to do that which
he has resolved to do—" He arose and came to his father." Yes, there was hope
for him. He felt that of all places where he was likely to find peace, his father's
heart and his father's bosom was the place where he would find most. (C. D.
Martton, M.A.) The prodigal'$ convention : — ^L Thb causes of thk fbodioal's
coMvxBsioN. First, affliction, bodily and mental. He suffered from hunger, from
hard treatment, from base ingratitude of former companions, and from a deep con-
Bciousness of his most degraded condition. How naturally true is all this. How it
perfectly accords with the experience of all without exception who sell themselves
to the world I We do not say, that many profligate and worldly-minded men do
not for a season prosper in their career. No, on the contrary, for a season their
path lies undisturbed by any piercing sorrow or harrowing disappointment ; but,
notvnthstanding this, a time does really come when the most reckless and the most
indifferent feel the bitterness of the vanity they have courted, and taste with loath-
ing the dregs of an existence they have worn out, wasted, and exhausted in the
service of " the prince of darkness." Secondly, a return to reason, and to a con-
sciousness of his real state and condition, was another cause in operation with the
prodigal. " When he came to himself," it is said ; so that before this time he was
not himself. He was the slave of others, the slave of his own passions and pursuits,
and thus he was not himself in the freedom of one who is impelled and influenced
by the best and noblest feelings and faculties of our human nature. He was like
one in a dream, apparently acting as a sane and wakeful man, but in reality not
BO. Or he might be justly considered as acting the part of a maniac — that part
specially which throws up health, Ufe, home, and all the dearest bonds of en-
lightened intelligence and parental fondness, for a passing shadow, for a bubble
glittering momentarily on the very stream which breaks it, for false hopes which
rise only to bewilder, mislead, and destroy, and, in short, for a small section of
time at the cost of a bright immortality. Thirdly, another cause is found in the
exercise and influence of memory. The poor prodigal goes back in thought to the
home of his father. He said, " How many hired servants of my father's have bread
enough, and to spare." He remembers the days long past, when be was surrounded
with every comfort, and when every association of his earlier days was hallowed
by a father's love and a father's care. What a contrast does his present miser*
able state offer to that of a former period 1 Well, and it is still by the power
CBAP. XV. J ST. LUKE. 1m
of memory that men turn their thoughts and affectionB towards God. n.
The besultb. 1. Here we discover, in the first place, decision of purpose.
The young man does not halt or waver in his opinions. He is fully alive to the
folly and sin of his former course of life, and now he is determined upon a change.
And observe, this decision is absolutely necessary in the case of all who would
become members of the household of Christ. There must be a steady and fixed
determination to withstand every inducement to return, and to pursue the object
Bet before the mind through every difficulty. The journey may be long and dreary;
its pathways may be rugged and steep, full of pressing dangers on the right hand
and on the left. Storms may await you in your passage, and many a lurking foe
may dodge your footsteps on their weary march ; but the purpose to return to God
must remain unchanged ; firm as the mountain-summit, which still points heaven-
wards, whether the sunlight robes it in reflected grandeur, or whether the thunder-
cloud clothes it with darkness, and the lightning scorches it with flame. 2. We
observe another result in deep contrition of heart. The review of a past dissolute
and thoughtless career produces in the awakening mind a humiliating sense of
wrong and insult offered to the kind and tender father of an ungrateful child. And
who so kind, and merciful, and loving as the Father of heaven and earth ? And
who 80 ungrateful and rebellious as the children of men ? These are great truths
recognized, acknowledged, and felt with the deepest humility by every sincere and
honest-hearted disciple of the Saviour. (W. D. Eorwood.) The madiiess oj
tinners: — It is re'ated in the hfe of Colonel Gardiner, that, after his remarkable
conversion from a course of irreligion and debauchery to the fear and love of God,
and a conduct agreeable to the gospel, it was reported among his gay companions
that he was stark mad, a report at which none who know the wisdom of the world
in these matters will be surprised. He therefore took the first opportunity of
meeting a number of them together ; and after having defended a righteous, sober,
and godly life, and challenged them to prove that a life of irreligion and sensuality
was preferable to it, one of the company cut short the debate, and said, " Come,
let DB call another cause : we thought thia man mad, and he is in good earnest
proving that we are so." Perhaps there are few among the irreligious and licen-
tious part of mankind who would make so frank a confession ; yet if we take onr
notions of things from the dictates of unprejudiced reason and the Word of God,
we shall be sensible that this sentiment is true, that religions men are the only
persons in their right minds, and that all the rest are in a state of miserable
distraction. I. Evert unconvebted sinneb is a madman, ob beside himself. 1.
He does not use his understanding as he ought. 2. Further, he acts contrary to
the nature of things, his own professed judgment and true interest (Eccl. ix. 3).
" Madness in general," as one observes, " means such an extravagant deviation
from the common apprehensions and actions of men, as discovers either the want
or total disorder of some of the principal faculties which men daily exercise in
common life. Now vice is the same deviation from the established constitution of
nature, and the same violation of its laws, as madness is of the ordinary practice
of mankind." As in a natural lunacy, there are oftentimes intervals in which
the unhappy creature is himself, and seems for a time well, so it is in this moral
disorder. Sinners are sometimes under strong convictions of the misery of their
Btate ; are sensible of the necessity and excellency of true religion, and accuse and
condemn themselves for neglecting it ; and for a while they act rationally, but
Boon return to folly. The distraction appears again ; they grow worse than before,
and forget their wise acknowledgments and good resolutions. 3. He is averse to
the proper methods of cure. In many cases of lunacy persons will speak and act
rationally except upon one particular subject. So it is here. Though with regard
to the concerns of this world and his temporal interest he may act wisely and
rationally, yet to that which is " the one thing needful," " the whole of man,''
and the main concern of an immortal being, he pays little attention. But there is
this difference, and it shows the prodigious foUy and madness of sinners, that their
distraction is voluntary ; they bring it upon themselves ; they choose it, and love
to have it so. Such is the deceitfulness of sin, that when once a man hath devoted
himself to it, he generally persists in it against the clearest dictates of conscience,
and will call it happiness, though he feels it to be misery, whereas a natural mad-
ness is a calamity, not a crime, and the unhappy persons who are affected with it
deserve our tenderest sympathy. I observe — II. When a sinneb bspentb and
BSTCBN8 UNTO GoD HB COMES TO HiMBEiiT. So the prodigal lu the text. His
necessities brought him to himself. He thought and considered, resolved and
156 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha». xr.
returned to his father. And his father received him " safe and Bonnd," as it it
expressed (ver. 27). («/". Orton.) The resolution: — I. In the first place, we hare
brought before us the trdb condition of the sinneb bo long as he is awat fbou
God. " When he came to himself " : that implies that in some very real sense ha
had not been perfectly himself. Generally, commentators have supposed that the
reference here is to insanity, and they tell us, with perfect truth, that the sinner ia
m some respects like a madman. He follows delusions as if they were realities,
and he treats reaUtiea as if they were delusions. His moral nature is perverted,
just as the lunatic's intellect is beclouded ; and, in regard to duty, he makes mis-
takes similar to those which the maniac makes in ordinary matters. So he may
well be styled mad ; but there is this solemn difference between him and the
ordinary lunatic, that while insanity cancels responsibility, the sinner is not only
blameworthy for his moral perversity, but his responsibility continues in spite of
it. Although, however, there are thus many interesting and striking points of
resemblance between the condition of the maniac and that of the sinner, I am not
sure that the " coming to himself," in the verse before me, suggests the being
" beside himself," as the condition out of which he came. Equally it may imply
that he was " beneath himself," or that there was in him a certain unconscious-
ness, out of which he required to be roused before he could be thoroughly himself.
When, for example, one has fainted away and recovers, we say that " he has come .
to himself again," implying that his consciousness has returned. Now, in my
view, this is the preferable way of looking at the analogy of my text. The moral
nature of this poor youth was virtually dead. His conscience had become seared,
so that he was, in a manner, unconscious that there was such a faculty within
him. It was there, but it was asleep. It was there, but it was so precisely as the
intellectual nature is in a man when he is in a faint : it was inoperative, it was not
consciously possessed by him. At length, however, roused by a sense of his
degradation, it awoke, and then he came to himself. Very much in the same way
the sinner's higher nature is dormant in him. II. But we have here, secondly,
the change of this coNDiTioN — *'he came to himself." A new light broke upon
this youth in the midst of his darkness. He saw things as he had never before
perceived them. Not till now did he discover the guilt and issue of the course
which he had been pursuing ; and never in his past experience had his father's
house seemed to him so precious. For the first time since he left his home, ha
awoke from " the dream his life-long fever gave him," and things as they were
stood unveiled before him. Now, so it is with the sinner. His conversion, too, ia
an awakening. New thoughts stir within his soul ; new feelings vibrate in his
bosom. He begins to see what before had been to him almost like a landscape to a
man born blind. It is not that new things are called into existence outside of
him, for all things are there as they were before. It is rather that his eyes have
been opened to see them, and the wonder of his whole subsequent life is that he
never saw them till then. He perceives now the danger in which he stands, and
recognizing the ability and willingness of God to help him, he cries, like Peter,
sinking in the waters, "Lord, save me; I perish." III. But it is time now that
we should consider the prodigal's beflections on coming to himself. They
were twofold — having regard, first, to himself, and, second, to his father's house.
In reference to himself, he said, " I perish with hunger." Now, as I said in the
outset, there was distinct progress here. Never before had this youth allowed hhn-
self to think that death by starvation was to be the issue if he remained in the far
land, but so soon as that shaped itself to him clearly, he took his resolution to
arise. It is the same with men and their return to God. I believe that if we
conld narrow down the choice of the sinner to one or other of these two alterna-
tives— everlasting destruction, as the consequence of guilt, or eternal salvation,
through faith in Jesus Christ — we should have no difficulty in impelling him to
decide in the right direction ; but because he persists in believing that there ia
some loophole left him through which he may escape, even if he should not accept
salvation through Christ, he continues indifferent to the statements of the gospel.
Awake, O sinner I to the danger in which yon stand. If you continue as you
are, there is nothing but destruction before you. But the prodigal's reflections had
reference also to his father's house. He said, " How many hired servants of my
father's have bread enough and to spare ! " Bread ! — once he thought of greatness
and wealth, now, however, he will be content with bread — yea, if he could only
have what many a time he had seen his father's servants lay aside as not required
by them, he would be content. There was enough at home, if he were only there.
CHAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. im
Now, similarly, the sinner, in conversion, comes to the persuasion that there is
plenty for him in God. If you ask how this is brought about in him, 1 answer, by
his belief of the statements of the gospel, for it is here that we must bring in the
doctrine of the Cross. IV. I dare not conclude without noticing, however briefly,
THE BEsoLUTioN TO WHICH THOSE BEFLECTI0N3 LED. "I wiU arise and go to my
father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before
thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. Make me as one of thy
hired servants." This youth determined, there and then, to go back to his home,
not, however, in a dogged, sullen spirit, but in a thoroughly penitent disposition.
He blames no one but himself ; he resolves to make a full and frank acknowledg-
ment of his folly ; and now, instead of claiming anything as a rightful portion, he
13 willing to be treated as a servant. Now, taking this as representing the sinner's
repentance, one or two things need to be noted, as suggested by it. In the first
place, there is an unreserved confession of sin : " Father, I have sinned against
heaven and before thee." He does not soften matters, and speak of his "faults"
or his "failings." He does not say, in a self -extenuating way, "I have been a
little wild " ; but he puts the plain truth forth in all its hideousness, " I have
ginned I " Neither, again, does he cast the blame on others. His language is,
** I have sinned ; the guilt is mine. I have no wish to evade it, or explain it away.
I am ashamed of myself." Yet, once more, the enormity of his wickedness before
heaven is that which most distresses him. He had brought many evils on him-
self. He had inflicted great injuries upon others ; but that which most burdens
him now is that he has sinned against God — the Father who has done so much
for him, and has even, after all and above all, sent His Son into the world to make
atonement for his guilt. This is painful to him in the extreme, and he can do
nothing but weep over it, but his tears, in the estimation of God, are of more
value than the gUttering diamond, for they tell Him that He has found at last Hia
long-lost child. This is true penitence. This is the contrite heart which the Lord
will not despise. But, looking again at the resolution before us, we find in it a
determination to personal exertion — " I will arise 1 " The prodigal did not wait till
some one else should come and lift him and carry him to his home. Finally, here,
this resolution was promptly acted upon — "He arose and went to his father."
Just as he was, all tattered and filthy, he went back. He did not say, looking at
his garments the while, " I cannot go this way ; I must wash myself, and shange
my raiment, and then set out." Had he mused in that fashion, he would probably
never have returned ; but he went as he was. So, in conversion, the sinner gives
himself back to God just as he is. He does not seek to make himself better.
He delays not to work out for himself a robe of righteousness. He waits
not even for deeper feelings, or for more intense conviction. He puts
himself into God's hands, sure that, for Christ's sake, He will make him
all that he should be. "Such as I am," he says, "take me and make
me such as Thou wouldst have me to be." {W. M. Taylor, D.D.) The
madne$s of sin: — "He came to himself." This implies Ins former mad and
insane state. The sinner's condition is one of madness. I. Madness is thb
DERANGEMENT OF THE INTELLECT DAL P0WEB3. II. In MADNESS PASSIOS BDLE8
INSTEAD OF BEA80N. III. MaDNESS IS CONNECTED WITH STBANGB DELUSIONS. IV.
Madness will be pboved bv the objects of choice akd bejectiom. ^ A sane
person prefers good to evil, safety to danger, Ac. A madman has no just idea
of things. He trifles with peril, sports with danger, rejects the good, and^ chooseg
the evU. V. Madness will be manifest from the conversation. It is either
violent, incoherent, or insipid. VI. Madmen abb uninfluenced bt counsel.
How true of sinners I Parents have counselled — " My son, if thy heart," &o.
Friends have counselled — " Come thou with us," &c. Ministers have counselled ;
the Holy Spirit has counselled, &c. Yet sinners will not hear. VII. Madmek
IHINK ALL OTHERS MAD, SAVE THEMSELVES. Mad infidel, says all believers are
mad ; mad drunkard, thinks the sober are mad, <S:c. Worldling thinks the
faeavenly-minded Christian is mad. Festus, Paul. Even of Jesus they said,
"He has a devil, and is mad." VIII. Madmen are dangerous to others. IX.
Madness u often fatal in its results. Application : 1. Spiritual madness is
self -procured, therefore wilful and altogether inexcusable. 2. Spiritual madneas
tends to the death of the soul. Eternal woe. 3. For spiritual madness there is
one grand efficient remedy, and one only, the glorious gospel of the blessed Ood,
salvation by faith in the merits of the Iiord Jesus Christ. 4. The application of
this remedy invariably brings sinners to a right state of mind. (J. Bunu, D.D.)
158 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xr.
Sin at insanity : — It is said of the lost son that after he had sank into the lowest
depths of misery and wretchedness " he came to himself." These words tell us of
the madness of sin. I am snre it is not without reason that we dwell upon the
thought. I. And, in doing bo, I am not forgetting the objection, not altogether an
unreasonable one, that it is often danoebous to likoeb oteb btil akd the
THOUGHT of EVIL. There are morbid, diseased, scrupulous consciences, we may
be told, which will never be rendered healthy by brooding over sin ; and, beside8>
it is better for us to be gazing up into the clear blue sky of God's holiness and love
than to be bending over the foul, seething, poisonous cesspool of sin. And yet, on
the other hand, we shall never escape from the power of sin ontil we obtain true
views of it. And then, with regard to the other suggestion, it is indeed far better,
in all ways, that men should raise up their heads into the pure atmosphere of
God's presence, and gaze upon the light of His holiness, rather than hang over the
fumes of evil and corruption ; but, alas ! men do hang over these, do keep looking
down into the fermenting, putrefying mass of evil without knowing its true
character, and are continually inhaling its noxious, deadly vapours. It is only
when they are thoroughly convinced of their pestilential character that they will
withdraw from their influence and seek to breathe a purer atmosphere. II. Now,
let us ask this question seriously : Abe wb all of us, ob even many of us,
DEEPLY, solemnly IMPEESSED WITH THE FEABFDL, DBSTKUCIIVE, DEADLY CHABACTEB
OF SIN ? In order to answer the question, let us for one moment glance at those
general features of moral evil which have already been brought before us in this
parable, and then ask what evidence is found among us of that hatred and loathing
of sin which its real character should produce. III. Sin is madness, from what-
ever POINT OF view we beoabd THE SUBJECT. There are different phases of insanity.
There is raving madness, there is melaneholy madness, there is the insanity of
mental imbecility, there is monomania, the madness which is excited by one parti-
cular subject, whilst on all other points the mind is calm and rational. The mere
mention of these forms of insanity will bring to your recollection corresponding
forms of sin. You will think of the raving madness of unrestrained anger and
violence of temper, or the frenzy of the drunkard ; you will think of the solitary
brooding over secret sin ; of the foolish, irrational, inexplicable sins into which
men allow themselves to be led ; of the one besetting sin which oftentimes mar&
a character which were otherwise of exceptional and surprising excellence. Or,
again, let us ask what are the signs by which we satisfy ourselves that the mind
has lost its balance, and we shall find that these have their antitypes in the lives of
sinful men. We say, for example, that a man is insane when he has a weakened
or perverted judgment, so weakened and perverted that he is unable to discern
between truth and falsehood, between right and wrong. Another sign of insanity
is found in the subjection of the will to uncontrollable impulses — when its free
action is so impaired that a sudden gust of passion, of anger, or of fear, or of any
other passion, carries the whole man before it as a feather is carried by a blast of
wind. Or, again, among the signs of insanity we reckon a liability to illusions
respecting one's own condition and circumstances, or regarding those by whom we are
surrounded. Once more, not to draw out the subject too tediously, we say that a
man is mad when, in the conduct of his life or in the management of his affairs, he
neglects the known and ordinary principles of human action. Every one of these
signs is to be found among those who are subject to the dominion of sin ; not every
one in all of them, but one sign in one and another in another, just as it is among
those who are the victims of insanity. IV. If any think that the language of exag-
geration has been employed, or if any would desire to see still more clearly the true
character of sin, I will ask them to consider the remedy which God in His
WISDOM AND LOVE PROVIDED FOR THE DELIVERANCE OF MANKIND. It WBS nothing
less than the incarnation and sacrifice of the eternal Son of God. God spared not
His own Son, but gave Him up freely for as alL How sore, then, must have been
man's need, how terrible his malady, when no less remedy was thought suiEcient
by our Father in heaven 1 Let those who think lightly of sin, of its true character
and of its effects, turn their eyes to Calvary, contemplate the Son of God agonizing
&nd dying, and then let them consider the explanation of that which He endures :
" He was wounded for our transgressions. He was bruised for oar iniquities : the
chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed." I
think, my brethren, that no one who duly considers what is involved in words like
these will ever think or speak lightly on the subject of sin. Y. And here it i« my
Anty, as it is my privilege, to offer ah bibnbst behohstbanob with tbo«* — usv
CHAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 159
THBT ABE NOT A FEW — WHO REEU TO THIKK BUT LITTLE 0» THAT AWPTTEi HALAOT
^ITH WHICH ALL UEN ABE MOBE OB LESS AFFLICTED, AND UNDEB WHICH MANY ABE
NOW BDFFEBiNO AND DTiNQ. And let me remind yoa that there is no real care for
the madness of sin, there is no true remedy for this monster evil but that which
tows in our hearts the seeds of holiness, as well as sheds upon our conscience the
sense of pardon. The mere repression of evil, even if it were by itself possible,
would be altogether insuflBcient. It is not enough to " cease to do evil " ; we must
" learn to do well." We mast not only forsake the service of the world and the
devil; we most become the servants of God and of Christ. {W. R. Clark, M.A.)
Coming to himself: — History tells os that during the reign of Queen Elizabeth the
Spaniards once unjustly imprisoned some English subjects. No reasoning or expos-
tulation could induce the Spanish authorities to release them ; when our queen,
finding all other means had failed, lost all patience, and sent a peremptory
message declaring that if the imprisoned English were not immediately liberated
her fleets and armies should know the reason why. The threat accomplished more
than all the previous remonstrances, for at the mention of " fleets and armies "
the captives were inunediately released. It is often found that one stroke of the
rod will bring men to their senses sooner than all the reasoning which can be
urged. They can afford to be stubborn and perverse so long as their persons are
secure ; but the first smart of a reversed fortune will make them yield to all your
arguments. So it was with the prodigal. By the swine troughs he came to him-
self. I. The pbodigal's madness. Strange as it may seem to some, it may be
proved to a demonstration that every unsaved sinner under heaven is a madman !
If you saw a river bursting its banks, and while the flood rushes over meadow and
lawn, bearing everything before its fury, also saw a man, who, perceiving its
approach, begins to clap his hands and laughs in high glee, making no effort to
escape from the impending destruction, would you not deem that man mad ? If
you saw a snake coiling round the body of a man, and although he well knows
that it will crush him in a short time, strokes the glittering thing, and, absorbed in
admiring its speckled scales, makes no effort to extricate himself, would you not
think him mad ? If you saw a beggar sitting on a dunghill, with rags covering his
body, some broken pottery on his head, and a thorn-stick in his hand, and shouting
to aJl who passed that he is a king, his rags imperial purple, the broken pottery his
diadem, and the thorn-stick his sceptre, would you not also deem him mad ? Or
if you saw men seeking with all the ardour of their nature certain ends by such
means as in the nature of things could not possibly ensure success, or wasting their
time on the most trivial matters, while their most important concerns are unattended
to, would yon not deem these men beside themselves * And how do sinners act ?
In common with all mankind they want peace and safety, and they seek them in
the things that are passing away. They want an sbidmg refuge, and they take
shelter in a world that every day is drawing nearer to its doom. II. The pbodioai.
r.ETDBNiNG TO HiB SENSES. " He Came to himself." He went away that he might
tind himself ; but the farther he went from home the farther he went from himself.
Self was only found when hs resolved on finding his father. 1. The first evidence
of the prodigal's returning to his senses is his stopping calmly to consider. Tba
great want of sinners is reflection. But blinded by drink, or lust, or avarice, or
deceived by pride or imaginary goodness, they heed not the cry of the charmer,
charm he never so wisely. In their devotion to the pursnit of their glittering baubles
they are deaf to the solicitations of wisdom ; they will not consider. Beflection is
the window which lets the light of truth in upon the soul, that its real wants may
be discovered ; is the friendly hand that plucks the child from danger when the
hoQse is on fire ; is the voice of wisdom that checks the power of passion, and
points to the path of peace. " Thus saith the Lord of hosts. Consider your
ways." There is hope of a man as soon as he begins to consider. 2.
Another evidence of the prodigal's returning to his senses is, his forming
a right resolution. " I will arise, and go to my father." {W. O. Pateoe.)
A mind'g transition : — So rooted is the heart's enmity to Ood, that man must often
be driven, as by the blast of a tempest, to submission and to duty. The prodigal
moBt suffer beneath want, and shame, and abandonment before he thinks on his
ways, and turns longingly to the honse of his Father. How often is it that the
oonseqnences of crime — the disease, the misery, the remorsefulness which wait
upon the track of sin, though in themselves sequences of a purely natural law, are
nsed of Ood as means to impression and salvation ! You must not suppose that
the mind of the prodigal came at once, in sudden revulsion, from heedlessness ta>
160 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chaj. xt.
serious thought, and from obduracy to tender and softened feeling. There would
be, in all probability, in accordance with the laws of mental working, several pre-
liminary stages. The earliest feelings would still partake of the character of resis-
tance and rebellion. An awakened conscience, that is not pacified, only exasperates
into more audacious rebellion. Many a man, whom shame has only maddened into
more frantic resistance, walks the earth to-day a moral Laocoon, stung in a hving
martyrdom by the serpents which in his bosom lodge. It is hardly credible how
much, not only of human sadness, but of human sin, has sprung from the soul's
first passionate recoil against detected criminality, or blasted reputation, or enforced
penalty, or stained honour. When remorse scourges, it is not, like Solomon, with
whips, but, like Hehoboam, with scorpions ; and the intolerable anguish of a
wounded spirit has prompted to many ^a deed of violence, from which, before his
passions were hounded into madness by a guilty conscience, the man would have
shrunk with loathing and with horror. Oh, when evil passions and an evil con-
science seethe in the same caldron, who can imagine or create a deeper heU f The
sullen despondency with which the prodigal would strive to reconcile himself to hia
fate would mingle with oft-repeated curses pronounced upon his adverse destiny,
rather than his own folly. But all this was but the swathing grave-cloth out of
whose folds the new man was to rise — the gathering of the dark and angry cloud
which was soon to be dissolved in showers, and on whose bosom the triumphant
sun would paint the iris by and by. That ever-present Spirit who strives with men
to bring them to the knowledge of the truth was doubtless all the while at work
upon the prodigal's heart ; and when He works, out of the brooding storm come the
calm and the zephyr of the summer-tide — out of the death of enjoyment the rare
blessedness which is the highest good — out of the death-working sorrow of the
world the repentance which is unto life eternal. We know not precisely how the
change was effected from the hardness of heart, and contempt of God's word and
commandment, to the softening of thought and contrition. Perhaps the Divine
Spirit, wrought by the power of memory, thawed the ice away from the frosted
spirit by sunny pictures of the past — by the vision of the ancestral home — of the
guileless childhood — of the father's ceaseless strength of tenderness — of the spell of
a living mother's love, or of the holier spell of a dead one. I. A teansition from mad-
ness TO REASON. All the habits in which the sinner is wont to indulge answer to the
habits and delusions of those who have been bereft of reason, or in whom it has been
deposed from its rightful government of the man. Madness is rash and inconsiderate
action — action without thought of consequences. The madman's hand is sudden
in jlp violence ; the madman's tongue shoots out its barbed arrows ; he is reckless
of ue slain reputation, or of the murdered life ; and is not like rashness a charac-
teristic of the sinner ? Little recks he of his own dishonour, or of the life that he
has wasted in excess of riot. He goes heedlessly on, though his every step were up
the crater's steep, and mid the crackling ashes. Madness is mistake of the great
purposes of life ; the employment of the faculties upon objects that are contemp-
tible and unworthy. Hence you see the lunatic intently gazing into vacancy, or
spending hours in the eager chase of insects on the wing, or scribbling, in strange
medley of the ribald and the sacred, scraps of verse upon the torn-out pages of a
Bible. And are there not greater degradations in the pursuits which engross such
multitudes of the unconverted? When a sinner comes to himself he blushes for his
former frenzy ; he feels himself a child of the Divine ; he feels himself an heir of
the eternal ; and, looking with a strange disdain upon the things which formerly
trammelled him, he lifts heavenward his flashing eye, and says, "There is my
portion and my home." H. There is a transition, again, from pride to submission
AND ACKNOWLEDGMENT. In his former mood of mind he only intensified his own
rebellion, and was ready, doubtless, to blame circumstances, or companions, or
destiny, or anything rather than his own wickedness and folly. " AU things have
conspired against me ; never, surely, had any one so hard a lot as I. I might not
nave been exactly prudent now and then, but I have done nothing to merit such
punishment as this. I will never confess that I have done wrong ; if I were to
return to my father, I would not abate a hair's-breadth of my privileges ; I would
insist — and it is right, for am I not his son T — upon being treated precisely as I was
before." So might have thought the prodigal in his pride. But in his penitence
no humiliation is too low for him — no concealment nor extenuation is for a moment
entertained ; with the expectation, not of sonship, but of servitude, and with the
frank and sorrowful acknowledgment of sin, he purposes to travel, and to cast him-
self at the feet of his father. lU. A tbanbition raou dsspondbnoy to aotivb anb
CBAP.XT.] 8T. LUKE. 1«
bopefuIj endeavodb. There :s not only the mental process, bat the oorrespcnding
action — ihe rousing of the soul from its indolent and tormenting despair. This ia
one main difference between the godly sorrow and that consuming sadness which
preys upon the heart of the worldling : the one disinclines, the other prompts to
action ; the one broods over its own haplessness until it wastes and dies, the other
cries piteously for help, and then exults in deliverance and blessing. There was
something more than fable in the old mythology which told of Pandora's box — a
very receptacle of ills made tolerable only because there was hope at the bottom.
In every true contrition there is hope. (W. M. Punslwn, LL.D.) Coming to one's
telf : — We may interpret this as we use the term familiarly, as where a man is out
of his head, out of his mind, and we say when his reason is restored that he has
" eome to himself " again. Or, when a man comes out of a swoon, he is said to
"come to himself," by which is meant, simply, that he comes to the possession and
use of faculties that for a time were clouded, :r hindered in their tperaiicn. Yea
may also use it in a broader sense ; and it is thus that I propose to use it. It may
be made to throw much light on the course which men are pursuing at large — even
those who do not indulge in passionate excesses, and in the wallow of the appetites.
It is proper that we should determine what a man's manhood is ; what it is that is
man, in man. Not everything. There is a difference between men and the animated
creation, a part of which they are. And it is not fair to attempt to determine our
manhood by the things which we have in common with the ass, with the ox, with
the lion, or with the serpent. We must rise higher than the things which are
possessed by these creatures, in order to find out what manhood is in man. 1.
Looking at it in this light, the first thing that I will mention, as discriminating
men from every other part of creation, and as constituting a portion of their true
manhood, is their reason — and that in two aspects. (1) First, let us consider it as
a governing light and power. I believe the superior animals have the germs or
rudiments of reason. There is no question that the dog does, in a very limited
way, reason, and that the elephant does, and that the horse does. And that reason
in these animals is of the same general kind as the human reason, I do not doubt.
But it is very limited, very low, and only occasional. (2) The other view which we
are to take of reason, is that by its force we are able to prophecy. That is to say,
experience does lay a foundation by which a man may judge from the results of
certain causes to-day what will be the results of those causes to-morrow. For
instance, if last year, sowing, we derived such and such results, we prophecy that
if we sow this year, we shall derive the same results. And this it is which distin-
guishes between the human and brute reason more significantly than anything else.
2. The next constituent element of a true manhood is moral sense, or a constitution
by which the soul recognizes moral obligations, from which, by a comparison of
the performance of our life, measured by obligation, we come to understand the
qualities of right and wrong ; to accept a higher standard of obligation than mere
self-will, or than mere self-indulgence and pleasure. There is no evidence that
animals ever have a conception of right and wrong. 3. Then we have one more
characteristic — a spiritual nature — an endowment of sentiments which inspire the
idea of purity, of self-denial, of holy love, of supersensuousness. It is in this higher
range of faculties, thus very briefly, compendiously defined, that a man is to look
for his manhood. You are a man by as much as yon have this particular part
developed. You are less than a man just in the proportion in which you recede
and shrink from this kind of measuring. Since one's manhood, or his true self, is
to be found in his nobler attributes, and in his true spiritual relations, he who
leaves these unused, and lives in the lower range of faculties, may be truly said to
have forsaken himself. He has gone down out of himself into that which was a
supplementary nature, an auxiliary part. He has left that nature of reason, and
that nature of moral sense, and that nature of spirituality, which constitute hit
manhood, and has given himself up to the range of the senses. And that is the
way the bird lives. That is the way the brute creation lives. He and they alike
live for the gratification of the appetites and the passions. It does not require that
• man should become an assassin, or a mighty criminal, before it can be said that
he is unnaturaL Every man that teaches himself to find the chief employments
and enjoyments of his manhood lower than in his reason and moral sentiments and
spiritual nature, has forsaken himself. Every man whose business is manual and
physical, and who contents himself with that business, and feeds himself by nothing
oi^er than that, is a creature that is spending his life forces lower than the lev^
of tne manhood. Take a step higher. Do you live habitually, in your ordinary
■VOL. nt. 3 1
16 J THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [oha*. xr.
affairs, in joar social intercourse, in the things that you seek And the things thai
yoa avoid, according to the dictates of your moral sense ? Are you conscious tha(
you bring to bear upon your conduct the great moral measurements, the rights and
the wrongs, that have been determined by the holiest experiences of the best mea
of the world, and have come down to os in the records of God's Word, as God's best
judgments expressed through such experiences through thousands of years t Do
you live in accord with them ? Are you uniformly generous, uniformly unselfish,
uniformly true ? Is your life straight ? Is your path from day to day
a line drawn as true as a rule could draw it ? Are you ri^^t-eous, or are you
unright-eouB ? Measure your life by this higher moral sentiment. Is there a man
who does not know that his life will not bear any such measurement as that?
Every man says, " There is not a faculty that, when it acts, does not act crookedly."
Take any single one of your feelings and watch it for a single day, and you will
find it to be so. You are living below your true manhood. It is only once in a
while that you come to yourself. You do once in a while. When a truly eminent
Christian man dies, and the soimd of life is for a short time hushed, all your better
feelings lay down their warlike feathers, and there rises up in your soul a conscious-
ness, an ideal, of what you ought to be, and how you ought to live, for a single
moment, it may be, or a single hour. I have seen men come over from their
business in New York, to attend the funeral of a brother — of some eminent
Christian — and shed tears in this house. When, for instance, Brother Coming
was buried, I saw hard-faced men cry. And I know what we should hear
such men say if we could listen to their conversation as they walk away on such
occasions. "Dear brother," says one, "we have been working for money ; bat that
is not the main thing. It is only a little while that it can do us any good." " That
is true," says another. " We must die soon. It will not be long before there will
be just such a funeral for us. And are we ready ? " And so these two men, grey-
haired, it may be, very simple and very much in earnest, give expression to their
feelings as they go down to Fulton Ferry. And as they cross over they say to
themselves, " I mil think of these things, and try to carry the impression of them
with me." But when they go up the street on the other side they meet this man
and that man, and their minds are distracted from these serious thoughts ; and
when they get back into their counting-room they forget all about them. They did
think they would tell their wives all about it when they got home at night ; but
when, at the supper- table, they were asked, "Husband, did you go to the funeral
to-day?" they said, "Yes." "Was it a good funeral?" "Very, very." That
was all they had to say about it ! And yet they had had a revelation. They had
come to themselves, though it was but for an hour. (H. W, Beecher.) The dawn
of better thingt: — " He came to himself." He never had come anywhere to so good
a pnxpose. He had come to a far country and gained much knowledge at a very,
very dear rate. He had come to strange doings,^ and seen strange characters, whose
face it had been a mercy never to have seen. He has seen the world, and some of
its mysteries of iniquity, and paid dearly for it ; but now, at length, he comes to
himself. He had always been a stranger there, unwilling to converse seriously
with his own proud, flattering, deceived heart. Sometimes, in such cases as this,
a young man cannot communicate with his friends ; letters are intercepted, oom-
mumcation cut off. One of Satan's plans is this, to put a barrier to prevent the
prodigal coming to himself. No prisoner was ever so vigilantly watched — none so
guarded with high walls, and gates, and bars, and spikes, as the sinner, to keep
him from coming to himself. He is worked hard, he is deceived, he is blinded and
led astray ; he is kept from church ; his Sundays are desecrated ; his Bible taken
away, or left nnread ; while bad books are laid on his table, and greedily devoured.
Every avenue seems blocked up by which the prodigal might come to himself.
Come now to himself, let us hear what he thinks and speaks to himself about.
" How many hired servants of my father have bread enough and to spare, and I
here perish with hanger." The first thing that now stands, like a spectre, in the
chamber of his dark and troubled mind, is the long-excluded image of his father.
"There," thought he, "far, far away, there is my father; his house, once my
home, enriched with every comfort; and the servants, hirelings as they are, yet not
a want have they that is unsupplied ; and his own son, in this place, perishing
with hanger I " The recollection comes home fresh and vivid to his mind's eye ;
he sees them all again. And then, looking roond on the sad reality of his drtHff
desolation, his strength failing from hunger, he is touched and humbled by tna
•onttMt — ^I here, in this wretched ooontry, perish with hunger. There is um
«Hi». XT.] 5r. LUKE. 163
picture of an awakened sinner. God be thanked for Ibis. He is at length oome
•to himself. The dream is broken. " Why," says he — •' why should I sit here to
starve ? I will arise and go to my father." Do yon ask me whence came that
godly purpose ? I answer, from the Friend of publicans and sinners. It was no
spontaneoas resolution that sprung np of itself, among the better purposes of that
young man's nature. No, no. Sinners do not repent and turn to God in that
fashion of themselves. Let us give the praise to whom the praise is due. " No
man can oome to Me, except the Father, which hath sent Me, draw him. " The
sense of his wretchedness drew him — his dread of perishing — the tender recol-
lections of his father's love, and his well-known mercy — the desire springing up
in his heart, and the hope of pardon springing up in his breast — these are
the drawings of the Father's grace, and these prevailed to bring his godly
purposes to good effect. (IF. B. Mackenzie, M.A.) The prodigal's mad-
ness : — He had been under a hallucination. No doubt, if one had charged him
Mrith insanity, he would have denied the charge ; and if a physician's certificate
had been required to prove his soundness of mind, he could easily have got it from
one of the "far country" doctors, who possibly had sat at his table while hia
money lasted, and freely quaffed his mixed wine ; but it would not have been so
easy for him to get such a certificate from his own father, or his God. And had
not his actions been like the actions of a madman T If you saw a man flinging
sovereigns in handfuls into the sea, would you not be disposed to look into his eyes
-to satisfy yourself as to whether or not the ray of reason had altogether fled away
from these expressive orbs ? Now, had not this youth virtually done so? And do
not multitudes, in our own day and land, at race-courses and in taverns, do the
eame ? " But they are amused," you say, " and excited at these places of resort."
And so is the madman who heaves away the sovereigns. In truth, he pats
the shining coins to a much more harmless use than these other maniacs.
^J''. Ferguson, D.D.) Sadness of a lapse after recovery ;-^I heard Thackeray in
this city lecture on "The Four Georges." With his own peculiar eloquence, he
described the sad insanity of George III. I recollect especially his account of the
poor king's transient recovery. Mr. Pitt was sent for. It was a great event. The
king had " oome to himself." The Regency Bill was preparing ; but even yet it
might not be required. Alas 1 his sanity was short-lived. For, sitting down at his
iavonrite organ, he played a few notes — stopped — covered his face with his hands —
horst into tMurs — and tiien reason fled for ever I
** m hear what God the Lord will speak ;
To His folk He'll speak peace,
And to His saints ; but let them not
Betum to foohshness."
It lies with them to say whether they will return to it or not. The poor king eoold
not help returning to his foolishness, but Christians can. As spiritual insanity,
from the first, is voluntary and culpable, so is the relapse into it. Besist the devil,
and he and his hallucinations will flee from you. This youth in the parable did
not return to his folly again, but to his father. {Ibid.) A young man come to
himself: — " And when he came to himself." Then he had ran away from himself.
Precisely. He had not only ran away from his father, and his family, and hia
home ; bat he bad run away from himself, made escape ftrom the voice of reason
«nd of conscience, from his better nature, from all that constituted him a man.
No doubt he thought it a very jolly Ufe. Every desire was gratified ; every passion
iiad its festival of pleasure. But, of course, this could not last long. If yoa
unhook the pendulum of a clock, the works will go fast and merrily, but they will
soon run down. Presently his money was spent ; his capacity for pleasure blunted ;
his character gone ; and then the reaction came. The man was famishing. It
was not only food he wanted, but the hunger of home was upon him, the yearning
for sympathy, and respect, and love ; and this brought him to his senses ; the
prodigal •' came to himself." What is it for a young man to come to himself ? In
common everyday life the expression is variously used, but always denotes that the
person has come to better judgment, or to a fuller use of his faculties, than before.
I need not say, however, that the expression on the lips of our Divine Lord has a
broader and mo^e serious meaning. A man may be perfectly calm in temper, clear
in head, and vigorous in body, and yet never have really " come to himself." Ha
may never have apprehended where hia real manhood lies. There is a great deal
164 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha*„ xt.
that we have in common with the lower animals : and, whilst yon keep to that
?)lane — so long as you live merely for your baser appetites and passions — so
ong as all you do is simply to sleep, and walk, and eat, and drink, and toil
because you roust toil, you have not yet come to yourselves, as reasonable,
moral, and spiritual beings. For there are mainly three things in which man
is distinguished from the brutes; and it is by these, and not by what he has
in common with them, that his life should be inspired and his actions
governed. I say that a man truly comes to himself only when the grand
motors of his conduct are reason, conscience, and the indwelling Spirit of God,
When is it generally that a man comes to himself ? Ah I let this story tell. When
he gets into trouble. When he "has spent all," and begins to be in want, and
" no man gives unto him." I don't mean to say that it is only under such condi-
tions. Thank God, no. There have been men sitting here, with every earthly
thing to make them contented, and God has made this pulpit a bow from which
He has shot an arrow straight to the centre of their heart, and the arrow was never
pulled out till they could call Christ their own. Your sister wrote you a serious
letter, and dropped it into yon village post-office far away ; it was moistened with
tears, and perfumed with prayers ; and when you read it you clean broke down and
fell on your knees ; and since that hour you have been another man. The delicious
memory of those Sabbath evenings in your country home, ay, maybe twenty years
ago, when in the gloaming (for the candles were scarcely needed) you all gathered
round, and old father put on his spectacles, and opened the big well-worn Bible,
and mother had the youngest on her knee, and you all read verse by verse, and
said your catechism, and then sung a psalm together ; I. say, the memory of this
has chastened you amid the follies of this great city, and made you thirst for purer
streams than the giddy world can yield. But, as a rule, it is by some trouble or
sorrow that God brings a man to himself. Many a man has " come to himself "
under the blow of some crushing bereavement. Yes ; all the sermons in the world
would not move him ; all our arguments failed to make an impression. But one
day there came to him a stealthy preacher without notes, and that pale preacher
was Death ; and when he saw his bonnie little sister lying cold in her coflSn, or the
turf laid smoothly over the grave that contained his precious mother, he could stand
it no longer ; he said, " From this hour my treasure and my heart shall be in
heaven," And we have had young men here who, like this youth in the parable,
never came to themselves till they were in want. You were out of a situation ; you
could find nothing to do ; all your testimonials failed to get you an opening. Some
of your friends treated you, as you thought, shabbily. You had letters blowing you
up for being unfortunate. You had spent all, and no one gave unto you. Men who
used to shake your hand so tightly that your knuckles ached, now gave you but the
coldest nod. How next week's lodging was to be paid you could not see. And then,
only then, in the bitterness of your extremity, you flung yourself upon God, and
found that you had a Father and a Friend above. Oh, how many never find this
out till the day of sorrow comes 1 A good, pious man met a poor ragged urchin in
the street, and, putting his hand on his head, said, " My little man, when your father
and your mother forsake you, who will take you up ? " And what, think you, waa
the wee laddie's answer ? " The perlice, sir." {J. T. Davidson, D.D.) A sinner
brought to his right mind: — 1. This young man first "came to himself" with
regard to the past. He had thought previously that he was acting *• sensibly " :
now he sees that he has been playing the fool. He has been trying all along to
persuade himself that he has really been enjoying himself ; now he suddenly cornea
to the conclusion that all the while he has been a stranger to real happiness. Ha
looks at those four, or five, or six years : before, he had plumed himself upon the
life he had been leading ; now, he scarcely dares to think about it ; he hides hia
face with shame; he buries it in his hands, as he sits there in the field, the hot
tears streaming through his fingers. " What a fool I have been 1 What a wretch
I have been ! What a base ingrate I have been ! Good God I wcrt Thou to strike
me down with a thunderbolt of displeasure to the very depths of hell, it is only
what I deserve." 2. And he " comes to himself " with regard to the present. He
finds himself face to face with death. Nearer and nearer the grim spectre draws ;
the bow seems already bent, and the arrow seems already fixed, and in a moment the
fatal shaft may fly, and his mortal career may end in doom. Face to face with death
— it is an awfnl thing I He feels it in his own body. That strange numbness that
is creeping over him, that sense of mortal weakness, that stupor which has already
been paralyzing the senees — what is it ? Incipient death. His strength has passed
tWAP. xT.j ST. LUKE. 165
into weakness ; he can scarcely totter across the field ; his haggard form seema
more fit for a sepulchre than for human society. What can he do ? Whatever he
can do he must do quickly. The tide of life is ebbing fast ; a few more hours, and
his opportunity will be gone. It is a long way to the country he has left — a long
way to his father's house ; if anything is to be done, not so much as a moment is
to be lost. 8. And thus it is that he also " comes to himself " with regard to the
future. The future 1 What can he do ? W^hat hope is there for him ? Has he
not lost every chance, and thrown away every possibility ? Nay, it strikes him
that there is just one faint ray of hope : it seems a very faint one. Is there a
possibUity that he may get some relief from his friends in this distant land ? No,
he has given that up altogether. Can he not find a better master somewhere. No,
he has tried all through the famine-stricken country, and this man that has " sent
him into the fields to feed swine " is the best that he can find. What can he do ?
Can he work any harder ? No, he has no strength left to work. Where is hope to
be found ? Where is that ray of dim, uncertain light coming from ? There rises
up within his recollection the memory of a peaceful home, of calm, happy days.
The bright sunlight of his childhood returns to his memory like a pleasant dream
amidst the frightful horrors of his present experience. Could he regain it ; could
he retrace his steps, and get one more look at that dear old place ; could he but sit
down amongst the " hired servants " of his father's house ! 4, My friends, he not
only " comes to himself " with regard to himself, but also with regard to his father:
he had taken a wrong view of his father — a distorted view : he had painted him in
the most repulsive colours ; now he takes a different view of the case, and comes to
the conclusion that, after all, he was wrong. He had wronged those hoary hairs.
The thought rises in his mind, " He loved me ; yes, he loved me after all ; I saw
the tear start into his eye when I left home ; he wrung my haud when I went away
from him, and his lip was quivering ; though I have given him so much trouble, I
know he loved me ; he was never hard on me : when, as a child, I wanted anything
reasonable, it was always within my reach ; if I had childish troubles, those kind,
fatherly hands were laid upon my brow, and fatherly words of tenderness were
spoken in my ear — yes, he did love me ; I have wronged him, I had no right to
think him hard ; he was not hard : I wonder if he is changed ; years have passed over
him, years have passed over me ; I left him with a smiling countenance ; I put on
my best appearance, and tried to seem as though I did not care a straw for leaving
hioi : perhaps he has hardened his heart against me, and will never look at me
again ; yet, perhaps — perhaps there is something like love in his heart towards me
still ; surely he cannot have altogether ceased to love his poor wandering boy." So
he starts to his feet, and in another moment the word of resolution has sped forth
from his lips, " I will arise and go to my father." It is even so with thee, dear
awakened sinner. So soon as God begins to awaken thee. He awakens thee first of
all with regard to the past. Are there not some of you that are awakened with
regard to the past ? You used to look upon it with complacency, now you look
upon it with horror. You used to think well of yourself, now you cannot speak of
yourself too hardly. There was a time when you flattered yourself that, at any
rate, you were no worse than other people; now it seems as if you could not invent
any epithet sufficiently strong to indicate your horror and disgust at your past life.
How is it 7 You are beginning to " come to yourself," too, with regard to your
present. Yon find yourself face to face with death. Spiritual death has already
grasped you ; its iron clutch is on you ; that dread spectre is looking yon in the
face ; you are beginning to realize, in your own terrible experience, the force of
those words, •• Dying, thou shalt die t " Do what you will, you cannot writhe out
of the grasp of that terrible spiritual arrest. " 0 wretched man that I am 1 who
shall deliver me from the body of this death ? " And you come to yourself with
respect to the future. •• Is there a possibiUty that I can be otherwise 7 May I turn
my back upon the past 7 Is it possible that a sinner like me can lead a new life ?
May even I become a new creature ? " Then it is that the soul begins to " come
to itself " with respect to the character of the Father. Ah, my dear friends, you
may have maligned Him, you may have slandered Him, you may have allowed
Satan to misrepresent Him to your own fancy ; you may have conceived of Him
" as an austere man, reaping where He had not sown, and gathering where He had
not strawed." It seemed as though you could not speak too harshly of Him. But
•11 that has changed, and you are beginning to come to the conclusion that after
all He is your Father, that He has a Father's tenderness, pity and love ; that
ftlthoogh yon have misrepresented Him so long, tmd sinned against Him bo groaaly.
166 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xf.
yet there must be something in that heart of His that goes oat towards your misery.
Ah! my friend, you are only just beginning to "oome to yourself " about that
Father : but if you will go a little nearer to that Father's house, bare your bosom
to that Father's influence — if you will expose yourself to that Father's eye, it will
not be long before you will have a different estimate from what you have even at
jbia moment of what that Father's love really is. Think not of God the Father as
ii He were unsympathetic. Believe what Christ Himself has taught of His Father's
love (Oh that I could write it on your heart of hearts at this moment 1) : " God so
loved the world that He gave His Son." {W. M. Hay Aitken, M.A.) A sinner
brought to his right mind : — A Christian father had a son whose condact had nearly
broken his heart. He had prayed for him, instructed him in the things of God,
and done all that his deep love for his soul and for his future welfare dictated, but
all to no avail. He grew up a vile, hardened sinner, and left his father's home,
young in years but old in sin. At length that father was thrown upon a bed of
death. Before breathing his last he sent for his prodigal son, and asked him to
promise, after his father was laid in the grave, that he would spend one hour alone
each day in that room, for three months. The son readily gave the promise. The
death of his father made but little impression on him, and again he rushed on in
his mad career of sin. That hour alone, however, was a great burden to him. He
greatly dreaded it, yet did not dare to break his promise, made under such solemn
circumstances. At last one day the hour dragged along slower than usual. Ha
had an engagement with some boon companions, and was in haste to go and enjoy
their society. He often consulted his watch to see how the time passed. At last
the thought came into his mind, " Why did my father lay upon me this strange
obligation? " Then quick as lightning the thought flashed over his mind, " My
father was a good man, he loved my soul, and it must have been for my soul's
good he did this," This led him to reflect upon his father's love, his past life in
all its vileness, his lost and desperate state as a sinner against God's holy law, till
he fell upon his knees, and cried, " God be merciful to me a sinner 1 " He spent
not only the hour but tbe whole day alone with God, nor did he leave the room till
it could be said of him, that he " had come to himself." He came oat of that
room a converted man. The madness of sinners : — A few months ago, I was
conducting a Mission in the north of England, and the clergyman in whose church
I was preaching, receiving from an anonymous correspondent one of the handbills
which had been circulated in preparation for the Mission, with two words added
after the words "A Mission" — viz., "for lunatics"; so that it read, "A Mission
for lunatics I " I do not suppose that the man who wrote those words had any
particular intention of telling the troth, but it is startling to think how near the
truth he came. Perhaps, if we could see things as those bright intelligences see
them, who are permitted to hover round this world of ours, and to be witnesses of
human action, we shoold be disposed to regard (is it not possible that they do
regard ?) this world of ours as one great lunatic asylum. It must seem strange to
them that to men and women there should be made such glorious offers, that
before their eyes there should be spread such magnificent possibilities, and that, in
the folly of their onbelief, they should turn their back upon their own traest
interest, and sin against their own sonls. Lunatics indeed I There are dangerous
lunatics, frenzied by passion or goaded by ambition, ao dangerous that some-
times their fellow lunatics have to put a kind of restraint upon them, for fear
that the paroxysms of their mortal disease should carry them too far. Then
there are harmless lunatics, men and women whose lives are simply insipid,
who seem to be jast as void of any object in life as the butterfly that flits
from flower to flower, drifted about by every influence that happens to be for
the moment affecting them, without any stability of purpose, without any recog-
nition of the dignity of their own being. Then, again, there are the self-oom-
placent lunatics, the men and women who are so particularly self-satisfied that
they can afford to look down upon everybody else, and persuade themselves that
they are models of good sense, and that those who are possessed of that spiritual
" wisdom which comes from above," are themselves in a state of insanity. Is it
not so ? Is not that just the way in which self-complacent men of the world speak
about those who know something of the realities of eternity ? Have we not heard
it again and again, till we are almost tired of hearing it, e^er since the days when
Festus charged Paul with being "beside himself"? Indeed, this is one of the
features of lunacy. You go into a lunatic asylum, and you will always find a large
number of patients who regard themselves as injured persons, who are suffering not
nir. XT.] ST. LUKE. 167
from their own disease of insanity, but from the insanity of other people. Thera
are some who fancy themselves kings upon their throne, and their sabjecta too
insane to render them the honour which is their due. Others, who imagine them-
selves men of vast wealth and possessions, and those who ought to be their servants,
too insane to render them the service they have a rightful claim to. So, while they
persuade themselves that they indeed are in the full possession of their senses, they
also contrive to please themselves by thinking that other persons who are actually
sane are afflicted with the very disease from which they are suffering. Friends,
it is even so in the spiritual world. The men and women whom Satan has deluded
most completely are just tbose who are the least conscious of their own insanity.
The disease has taken bo firm a hold upon their moral system that they believe that
they are much more sane than those who are living in the light of Divine wisdom.
There view of the case is an exact inversion of the truth ; and as long as this moral
«tupor continues, the efforts which are made by those (who see things as they are;,
to awaken them from their fatal slumber, are regarded by these spiritual lunatioa
«s simply the indication of moral infatuation, and they themselves, in their pro-
ioand stupor, flatter themselves that they indeed alone are reasonable beings.
{W. M. Hay Aitken, M.A.) He came to himself: — The word may be appUed
to one waking out of a deep swoon. He had been unconscious of his
true condition, and he had lost all power to dehver himself from ^ it ;
bnt now he was coming round again, returning to consciousness and action.
Betuming, then, to true reason and sound judgment, the prodigal came to himself.
Another illustration of the word may be found in the old-world fables of enchant-
ment : when a man was disenthralled from the magician's spell he " came to him-
eelf." Classic story has its legend of Circe, the enchantress, who transformed men
into swine. Surely this young man in our parable had been degraded in the same
manner. He had lowered his manhood to the level of the brutes. It should be
the property of man to have love to his kindred, to have respect for right, to have
some care for his own interest ; this young man had lost all these proper attributes
of humanity, and so had become as the beast that perisheth. But as the poet
sings of Ulysses, that he compelled the enchantress to restore his companions to
their original form, so here we see the prodigal returning to manhood, looking away
from his sensual pleasures, and commencing a course of conduct more consistent
with his birth and parentage. {<7. H. Spurgeon.) Beneficial results of affiistion: —
In bringing sinners to their right mind, the sobering influence which God most
frequently employs in affliction. A man who had a praying wife was himself a
drunkard. He was a gambler, and went to all the races within his reach, usually
returning tipsy. Fond of fighting, he was withal a brutal husband, and often
struck his wife. Beyond all this, as he wished that there was no God, he tried to
persuade himself that there is none. There never was a bolder blasphemer. One
night, when he was swearing dreadfully, his wife begged him to desist. " Tom,"
she said, " the Lord will strike you dead." " Who is the Lord ? " he shouted, and
then started off in oath after oath with the wildest imprecations, defying the Lord
to touch him, vociferating and gesticulating till the perspiration stood upon hia
brow, and he sank down exhausted by his paroxysm of frantic impiety. For
capturing a leviathan Uke this you would have thought of an iron cable ; you would
have been for putting a tremendous hook in his nose. But the Lord had hold of
him already. How ? Through his excellent wife, you reply. Well, she lost her
lather, and on the Sabbath after the funeral she prevailed on her husband to
accompany her to church. The sermon was on the depravity of man. He gnashed
his teeth as he heard it, and with all his own corruption stirred to fury he turned
on hia poor helpmate as she came home, and, in her new mourning, kicked her
downstairs. But a silken cord, if it be God's, will draw out leviathan — nay, with
such a cord in the hand of a httle child He can lead the lion. This brutal father
had a daughter two years of age, and out of the mouth of this babe the Lord often
stilled the enemy and avenger. When coming home in a savage humour, and
knocking about his helpless partner, the little Maria would scramble into her
mother's lap, and with her pinafore wiping the tears, would gently bid ber " Don't
cry, mamma," and turning on him a reproving face, would say, " Ah ! naughty
papa, to make poor mamma cry." This little one he really loved, and this Uttla
one tiie Lord took. Soon after returning from her grave, the father was once more
persuaded to enter a place of worship ; and this time the word of the Lord found
him. The parable of '* The wise and foolish virgins " opened his eyes, and feeling
(hat if he continued in his wickedness he must perish eternally, with all the
168 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTHATOR. [chap. «▼.
earnestness of an awakened conscience he began to seek salvation. Night and day
he sought it, often with crying and tears; and when at last the Saviour stood
revealed before him, he consecrated life to ELis service, and has ever since proved •
faithful follower and a valiant soldier of the Lord Jesus Christ. (James Hamiliont
D.D.) Revulsion after excess : — Where there is any nobleness in the nature, it
occasionally happens, that the very excess of riot leads to a revulsion. *' I was
converted by six weeks' debauchery," says a somewhat paradoxical character in
fiction ; and when the good minister remonstrates against his speaking thug lightly
of the Divine operations, he replies, " I am not speaking lightly. If I had not seen
that I was making a hog of myself very fast, and that pig-wash, even if I oould get
plenty of it, was a poor sort of thing, I should never have looked life fairly in the
face to see what was to be done with it." And when the Spirit of God enkindles
or keeps smouldering on from better days any of the finer feelings, in the very sight
of the swine-trough there is enough to sober and startle. Greek writers tell of a
creature which combined every element of hideousness, and was capable of much
mischief as well ; but if by any chance it got a glimpse of itself, the face in the
mirror was fatal — the sight of the monster slew the miscreant. The perfection of
ugliness is evil, and if, like the basilisk, the sinner could only view his own
deformity, it is a sight which self-complacency could never survive. {Ihid.) Ths
pain of self-awakening : — The process of awakening and coming to ourselves is
usually painful, sometimes appalling, always humiliating, and hence men shrink
from it, choosing rather to sleep on, even if it be in the sleep of death, than to face
all the pain, and distress, and trouble, and conflict which must accompany an
awakening. I remember when I was a boy a poor waggoner in our parish met with
an accident that came within a little of costing him his life. He was bringing a
load np a very steep incline when the horse jibed, and man and cart and horse all
went over into a reservoir. The unfortunate man was held under water by the shaft
of the cart, which had fallen on the top of him, and when at last he was extricated
it was supposed that life was extinct. Happily there was a doctor within call —
restoratives were applied, and the poor man's life was saved ; but when, after he
had been onder treatment for about an hour, he began to give signs of returning
animation, the first exclamation that he uttered was, "Oh, let me die 1 let me diel
Do, do, do let me die ! " So cruel was the pain of awakening to one who was half
dead. I have often thought that the cry of that poor man at pain of his physical
restoration illustrates and explains the apparent perversity of some who seem to
run away from conviction, and so endeavour to escape from the blessing they so
sorely need. They shrink from coming to themselves because of the pain and
anguish that this must need induce. The cry of their coward spirit seems to be not
nnhke that of that poor half-drowned wretch — " Oh, let me die ! Do, do let me die ! "
But surely, brethren, life is worth having even at such a cost. Surely these sorrows
and humiliations of returning vitality, these birth-throes of a new and higher life, are
better than " the bitter pains of eternal death," where the anguish and distress are
only part of a process of destruction. (W. M. Hay Aitken, M.A.) Brought to
himself: — A very interesting incident has recently been published in one of the
London serials, concerning the conversion of an " Ethiopian Serenader," through
the faithfulness and holy guile of a pious bookseller, in an English country town.
As it is guaranteed to be authentic by the Eev. Mr. Maguire, Vicar of Clerkenwell, and
illustrates strikingly the portion of the parable already considered, I will insert it
here : — " A band or ' troupe ' of young men, with hands and faces blackened, and
dressed in very grotesque costumes, arranged themselves before a publisher's door
one day for an exhibition of their peculiar ' performances.' These people used to
be called ' Ethiopian Serenaders.' After they had. sung some comic and some
plaintive melodies, with their own peculiar accompaniments of gestures and
grimaces, one of the party, a tall and interesting young man, who had the * look '
of one wiao was beneath his proper station, stepped up to the door, tambourine in
hand, to ask for a few ' dropping pennies ' of the people. Mr. Garr, taking one of
the Bibles out of his window, addressed the youth — ' See here, young man, he said,
* I will give you a shilhng, and this book besides, if you wiU read a portion of it
among your comrades there, and in the hearing of the bystanders.' 'Here's a
Bhilliug for an easy job 1 ' he chuckled out to his mates — ' I'm going to give yon a
" pubUo reading 1 " ' Mr, Carr opened at the fifteenth chapter of St. Luke's Gospel,
and, pointing to tbe eleventh verse, requested the young man to commence reading
at ih&t verse. ' Now, Jem, speak up 1 * said one of the party, ' and earn youx
•hilling Like a manl' And Jem took the Book, and read— '"And He said, A
CHAP. XT.] ST. LUKE. 168
certain man had two sons : and the younger of them said to his father, Father,
give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them hia
Uving.'" There was something in the voice of the reader, as well as in the
strangeness of the circumstances, that lulled all to silence ; while an air of serious-
ness took possession of the youth, and still further commanded the rapt attention
of the crowd. He read on — ' " And not many days after the younger son gathered
all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance
with riotous living." ' ' That's thee, Jem ! ' ejaculated one of his comrades ; * it's
just like what you told me of yourself and your father ! ' The reader continued —
♦ " And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land ; and be
began to be in want." ' * Why, that's thee again, Jem ! ' said the voice — • Go on 1 '
• " And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country ; and he sent him
into his fields to feed swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks
that the swine did eat : and no man gave unto him." ' ' That's like us all 1 ' said
the voice, once more interrupting ; ' we're all beggars, and might be better than we
are 1 Go on ; let's hear what came of it.' And the young man read on, and as be
read his voice trembled — ' " And when he came to himself, he said. How many
hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with
hunger 1 I will arise and go to my father " ' At this point he fairly broke
down, and could read no more. All were impressed and moved. The whole reality
of the past rose up to view, and in the clear story of the gospel a ray of hope
dawned upon him for his future. His father — his father's house — and his mother's
too; and the plenty and the love ever bestowed upon him there; and the hired
servants, all having enough ; and then himself, his father's son ; and his present
state, his companionships, his habits, his sins, his poverty, his outcast condition,
his absurdly questionable mode of living, — all these came climbing like an in-
vading force of thoughts and refiections into the citadel of his mind, and fairly
overcame him. That day — that scene — proved the turning-point of that young
prodigal's life. He sought the advice of the Christian friend who had thus pro-
videntially interposed for his deliverance. Communications were made to his
parents, which resulted in a long-lost and dearly-loved child returning to the
familiar earthly home ; and, still better, in his return to his heavenly Father !
He found, as I trust my readers will, how true are the promises of the parable of
the * Prodigal Son ' both for time and for eternity.
** * Tes, there is One who will not chide nor scoff,
But beckons us to homes of heavenly bliss ;
Beholds the prodigal a great way off,
And flies to meet him with a Father's kiss I * "
(F. Ferguson, D.D.) Trouble draws the $oul to God: — When I was sixteen years
of age, a youth very dear to me, two years older than myself, was seized with
paralysis of the limbs. He was handsome and amiable and well-conducted — no
prodigal, but the delight of the family circle, and a favourite throughout a wider
sphere. The ailment advanced by very slow degrees ; but it advanced, and he died
before he was twenty-two years of age. In the earliest stages he was pleasant, but
reserved. Afterwards, for a while, he became sad. At the next stage he opened
like a flower in spring, and blossomed into the most attractive beauty, both of
person and spirit. He manifested peace and joy in believing. His society was sought
even by aged and experienced Christians. Mter his soiU's burden was reinoved,
his face lighted up and his lips opened ; he told me fully the history of his spiritual
course, which he had kept secret at the time. It was this : When he found himself
a cripple, although otherwise enjoying a considerable measure of health, he saw
that the world had for him lost its charm. The happiness he had promised him-
self was blasted. His former portion was gone, and he had none other. After the
first sadness passed, he thought of turning towards Christ for comfort ; but he was
met and precipitously stopped at the very entrance on this path by the reflection :
" Christ knows that as long as I had other pleasures I did not care for Him ; He
knows that if I come to Him now, it is because I have nothing else — that I am
making a do-no-better of Him. He will spurn me away. If I had chosen Him
while &e world was bright before me, He might, perhaps, have received me ; but as
I never tamed to Him till I had lost the portion I preferred, I can expect nothing
bat opbraiding." This thought kept him long back. It was like a barrier reared
across the path — the path that leadeth onto life — and he oonld not svirmount it. By
170 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. " [chap. o.
degreee, however, as he studied the ScriptarcB in his enforced leisure, he began to
perceive that, althoagh he deserved to be so treated, Christ would not treat him so.
He discovered that " this Man receiveth sinners " when they come, without asking
what it was that brought them. Further, he learned that whether one come when
the world is smiling, or when it is shrouded in darkness — whether he come in health
or in disease — it is in every case the love of Christ that draws him ; and that no
sinner saved will have any credit in the end. All and all alike wiU attribute their
salvation to the free mercy of God. At first his thought was, " If I had the
recommendation of having come when my fortune was at the full, I could have
entertained a hope." But at last he learned that whosoever will may come,
and that he who cometh will in no wise be cast out. On these grounds
he came at Christ's command, was accepted, and redeemed. {W. Amot, D.D.)
Bread enough and to spare. — Abundance in the Fat}ier'$ home: — I. First, let
us consider for a short time the mobb than abundakce of aix good things in
TEE Father's house. Of all that thoo needest, there is with God an all-sufficient,
a Buperabounding supply — " bread enough and to spare." Let us prove this to
thee. 1. First, consider the Father Himself ; and whosoever shall rightly consider
the Father will at once perceive that there can be no stint to mercy, no bound to the
possibilities of grace. If thou starve, thou starvest because thou wilt starve ; for in
the Father's house there is " bread enough and to spare." 2. But now consider a
second matter which may set this more clearly before us. Think of the Son of God,
who is indeed the true Bread of Life for sinners. In the atonement of Christ Jesus
there is " bread enough and to spare " ; even as Paul wrote to Timothy, " He is the
Saviour of all men, specially of those that beUeve." 8. But now let me lead you
to another point of solemnly joyful consideration, and that is the Holy Spirit.
Kow, sinner, thou needest a new life and thou needest holiness, for both of tbese
>ire necessary to make thee fit for heaven. Is there a provision for this ? The
Holy Spirit is provided and given in the covenant of grace; and surely in Him there
is " enough and to spare." What cannot the Holy Spirit do? Being Divine,
r.othing can be beyond His power. I must leave this point, but I cannot do so
■u'ithout adding that I think " Bread enough and to spare " might be taken for the
motto of the gospel. II. According to the text there was not only bread enough in
the house, but the lowest in the Father's house enjoyed enough and to
SPARE. "We can never make a parable run on all fours, therefore we cannot find
the exact counterpart of the " hired servants." I understand the prodigal to have
meant this, that the very lowest menial servant employed by his father had bread
to eat, and had " bread enough and to spare." Now, how should we translate this?
Why, sinner, the very lowest creature that God has made, that has not sinned
against Him, is well supplied and has abounding happiness. There are adaptations
for pleasure in the organizations of the lowest animals. See how the gnats dance
in the summer's sunbeam ; hear the swallows as they scream with delight when on
the wing. He who cares for birds and insects will surely care for men. God who
hears the ravens when they cry, will He not hear the returning penitent? He gives
these insects happiness ; did He mean me to be wretched? Surely He who opens
His hand and supphes the lack of every living thing, will not refuse to open His
hand and supply my needs if I seek His face. Tet I must not make these lowest
creatures to be the hired servants. Whom shall I then select among men ? I will
put it thus. The very worst of sinners that have come to Christ have found grace
*' enough and to spare," and the very least of saints who dwell in the house of the
Lord find love " enough and to spare." Take then the most guilty of sinners, and
eee how bountifully the Lord treats them when they turn unto Him. Did the blood
of Cbrist avail to cleanse them ? Oh, yes ; and more than cleanse, for it added to
them beauty not their own. Kow, if the chief of sinners bear this witness, so do
the most obscure of saints. You have many afflictions, doubts, and fears, but have
yon any complaints against your Lord ? When you have waited upon Him for daily
grace, has He denied you ? III. Notice in the third place, that the text dwells
upon the multitude or those who have " bread xnodoh and to spare." The
prodigal lays an empbasis upon that word, " How many hired servants of my
father's ! " He was thinking of their great number, and counting them over. Ha
thought of those that tended the cattle, of those that went out with the camels,
of those that watched the sheep, and those that minded the com, and those that
waited in the house ; he ran them over in his mind : his father was great in the
land, and had many servants ; yet he knew that they all had of the best food
" enough and to spare." Now, 0 thou awakened sinner, thou who dost feel thia
rv.] ST. LUKE. 171
morning thy sin and misery, think of the numbers upon whom God has bestowed
His grace already. Think of the countless hosts in heaven : if thou wert introduced
there to-day, thou wouldst find it as easy to tell the stars, or the sands of the sea,
as to count the multitudes that are before the throne even now. {C. U. Spurgeon.)
1 perish with hunger. — The hunger of the soul : — What I propose for our meditation
is the truth here expressed, that a life separated from God is a life of bitter hunger,
or even of spiritual starvation. I. To exhibit thk tbub grounds op the fact
BXfcTED ; for, as we discover how and for what reasons the hfe of sin must be a life
of hunger, we shall see the more readily and clearly the force of those illustrations
by which the fact is exhibited. The great principle that underlies the whole subject
and all the facts pertaining to it is, that the soul is a creature that wants food, in
order to its satisfaction, as truly as the body. No principle is more certain, and
yet there is none so generally overlooked or hidden from the sight of men. Job
brings it forward, by a direct and simple comparison, when he says, ' ' For the ear
trieth words, as the month tasteth meat " ; where he means by the ear, you per-
ceive, not the outward but the inward ear of the understanding. So the psalmist
says, " My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness." And so also the
prophet, beholding his apostate countrymen dying for hunger and thirst in their
sins, calls to them, saying, " Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters ;
and he that hath no money, come ye, buy, and eat. Wherefore do ye spend money
for that which is not bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearken
diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself
in fatness." In the same way, an apostle speaks of them that have tasted the good
Word of God, and the powers of the world to come ; and another, of them that have
tasted that the Lord is gracious, and therefore desire the sincere milk of the Word,
that they may grow thereby. True, these are all figures of speech, transferred from
the feeding of the body to that of the soul. But they are transferred because they
have a fitness to be transferred. The analogy of the soul is so close to that of the
body that it speaks of its hunger, its food, its fulness, and growth, and fatness,
under the images it derives from the body. Hence you will observe that our blessed
Lord appears to have always the feeling that He has come down into a realm of
hungry, famishing sools. Apart from God, the soul is an incomplete creature, a
poor, blank fragment of existence, hungry, dry, and cold. And still, alas I it cannot
think so. Therefore Christ comes into the vrorld to incarnate the Divine nature,
otherwise unrecognized, before it ; so to reveal God to its knowledge, enter Him
into its faith and feeling, make Him its living bread, the food of its eternity.
Therefore of His fulness we are called to feed, receiving of Him freely grace for
grace. When He is received, He restores the consciousness of God, fills the soul
with the Divine light, and sets it in that connection with God which is life — eternal
life. Holding this view of the inherent relation between created souls and God as
their nourishing principle, we pass — U. To a consideration of the NECESSABt
VDNOEB or A STATB OF SIN, AKB THE TOKENS BT WHICH IT IS INDICATED. A hungry
herd of animals, waiting for the time of their feeding, do not show their hunger
mot« convincingly by their impatient cries, and eager looks and motions, than the
human race do theirs in the works, and ways, and tempers of their selfish life. I
can only point you to a few of these demonstrations. And a very impressive and
remarkable one you have in this — viz., the common endeavour to make the body
receive double, so as to satisfy both itself and the soul, too, with its pleasures. The
effort is, how continually, to stimulate the body by delicacies, and condiments, and
eparkling bowls, and licentious pleasures of all kinds, and so to make the body do
cbnble service. Hence, too, the drunkenness, and high feasting, and other vices
of excess. The animals have no such vices, because they have no hunger save
amply that of the body ; bat man has a hunger also of the mind or soul when
separated from God by his sin, and therefore he must somehow try to pacify that.
And he does it by a work of dooble feeding pat upon the body. We call it
Bensaality. Bat the body asks not for it. The body is satisfied by simply that
which allows it to grow and maintain its vigour. It is the nnsatisfied, hungry
znind that flies to the body for some stimidus of sensation, compelling it to
devoar so many more of the hnsks, or carobs, as will feed the hungry prodigal within.
There is no end to the diverse acts men practise to get some food for their soal;
and to whatever coarse they tarn themselves yoa will see as clearly as possible
«hat they are hungry. Nay, they say it themselves. What sad bewailings do
yoa hear from them, calling the world ashes, wondering at the poverty of
existence, fretting at the courses of Providence, and blaming their harshneaa.
178 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cmr. Xf.
raging profanely against God's appointments, and venting their impatience with
life in curses on its emptiness. All this, you understand, is the hunger they art
in. Feeding on carobs only, as they do, what shall we expect but to see them
feed impatiently? This also you will notice as a striking evidence that, how-
ever well they succeed in the providing of earthly things, they are never satis-
fied. They say they are not, have it for a proverb that no man is, or can be.
How can they be satisfied with lands, or money, or honour, or any finite good,
when their hunger is infinite, reaching after God and the fulness of His infinite
life — God, who is the object of their intelligence, their 'love, their hope, theii
worship ; the complement of their weakness, the crown of their glory, the sub-
limity of their rest for ever. Such kind of hunger manifestly could not be
satisfied with any finite good, and therefore it never is, (H. Bushnell, ?)>D.)
Deceived by pleasure : — "Worldly pleasure, like the rose, is sweet, bat it has its
thorn. Like the bee it gives some honey, but it carries its sting. Like Judas, it
gives the kiss, but it is that of the betrayer. Pleasure is good for sauce but not
for food ; it may do for digestion, but not for a dinner. Those who get most of it
are most deceived. (C, Leach.) Hunger felt: — If a man is dying of hunger^
he feels it, or of thirst, he feels it ; but the misery of a sinner is not to know
his misery. Here the type of the prodigal fails. I offer a man the bread of life,
and he tells me he is not hungry ; living water, and he puts aside the cup, saying,
" I am not thirsty " ; I find him stricken down with a mortal disease, but, on
bringing a physician to his bedside, he bids us go, and not disturb him, but leave
him to sleep, for he feels no pain. Insensibility to pain is his worst symptom,
fatal proof that mortification has begun, and that, unless it can be arrested, all is
over — you may go, make his coffin, and dig him a grave. But let sensibility
return, bo that on pressure being applied to the seat of disease, he shrinks and
shrieks out with pain; alarmed and ignorant, his attendants may imagine that
now his last hour is come, but the man of skill knows better. There is life in
that cry — it proves that the tide has turned, that he shall live. Sign as
blessed, when brought to a sense of his sins, a man feels himself perishing ;
cries with Peter, sinking among the waves of Galilee, " I perish " ; with the
prodigal, sitting by the swine-troughs, ♦• I perish " ; with the jailer, at midnight
in the prison, " What shall I do to be saved ? " (T. Guthrie, D.D.) I will arise
and go to my father. — Homesicknest : — There is nothing like hunger to take the
energy out of a man. A hungry man can toil neither with pen nor hand nor
foot. There has been many an army defeated not so much for lack of ammu-
nition as for lack of bread. It was that lack that took the fire out of this young
man of the text. Storm and exposure will wear out any man's life in time, but
hunger makes quick work. The most awful cry ever heard on earth is the cry for
bread. I know there are a great many people who try to throw a fascination, a
romance, a halo, about sin ; but notwithstanding all that Lord Byron and George
Sand have said in regard to it, it is a mean, low, contemptible business, and
putting food and fodder into the troughs of a herd of iniquities that root and
wallow in the soul of man, is a very poor business for men and women intended
to be sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty ; and when this young man
resolved to go home, it was a very wise thing for him to do, and the only question
is, whether we will follow him. I. Tbis besolution was fobued in ▲ disgust at
HIS ciBOUHSTANcss. If this youug man had been by his employer set to
culturing fiowers, or training vines over an arbour, or keeping account of the
pork market, or overseeing other labourers, he would not have thought of going
home. If he had his pockets full of money, if he had been able to say, " I
have a thousand dollars now of my own; what's the use of my going back to
my father's house? Do you think I am going back to apologize to the old
man?" Ah ! it was his pauperism, it was his beggary. A man never wants the
gospel untU he realizes he is in a famine-struck state. II. This resolution of
THE TOUNO MAN OF THE TEXT WAS FOUNDED IN BORROW AT HIS MISBEHAVIOUR. It WaS
not mere physical plight. It was grief that he had so maltreated his father.
It is a sad thing after a father has done eveiything for a child to have that
child be ungrateful.
*' How sharper than • serpent's tooth it ii^
To have a thankless child."
That ii Shakespeare. ** A foolish son is the heaviness of his mother.*
CHA». XT.] ST. LUKE. 173
That is the Bible. Well, my friends, have not some of as been orael
prodigals 7 Have we not maltreated our Father ? And such a Father I
III. This resolution op the text was founded in jl feelino of homesickness.
I do not know how long this young man had been away from his father's house,
but there is something about the reading of my text that makes me think he was
homesick. Some of you know what that feeling is. Far away from home some-
times, surrounded by everything bright and pleasant — aplenty of friends — you hava
said, ••! would give the world to be home to-night." Well, this young man
was homesick for his father's house. Are there any here to-day homesick for
God, homesick for heaven ? IV. The besolotion was immediatelt put ihto
execution. The context says, "He arose and came to his father." There is a
man who had the typhoid fever, he said :" Oh I if I could get over this terrible
distress ; if this fever should depart ; if I could be restored to health, I would
all the rest of my life serve God." The fever departed. He got well enough to
go over to New York and attend to business. He is well to-day — as well as ha
ever was. Where is the broken vow ? (De W. Talmage, D.D.) Two prodigalt ;— I
will tell you of two prodigals — the one that got back, and the other that did not get
back. In Richmond there is a very prosperous and beautiful home in many
respects. A young man wandered off from that home. He wandered very far
into sin. They heard of him after, but he was always on the wrong track.
He would not go home. At the door of that beautiful home one night there was
a great outcry. The young man of the house ran down and opened the door to sea
what was the matter. It was midnight. The rest of the family were asleep.
There were the wife and the chUdren of this prodigal young man. The fact was
he had come home and driven them out. He said, " Out of this house. Away
with these children ; I will dash their brains out. Out into the storm 1 " The
mother gathered them up and fled. The next morning the brother, the young man
who had stayed at home, went out to find this prodigal brother and son, and ha
came where he was, and saw the young man wandering up and down in front of
the place where he had been staying, and the young man who had kept hia
integrity said to the older brother : " Here, what does all this mean ? What is the
matterwith you ? Why do you act in this way ? " The prodigal looked at him
and sam : •' Who am 1? Who do you take me to be ? " He said : " You are my
brother? " " No, I am not. lam a brute. Have you seen anything of my wife
and children? Are they deadf I drove them out last night in the storm. I am
a brute, John, do you think there is any help for me ? Do you think I will ever
get over this life of dissipation J " He said : "John, there is just one thing that
will stop this." The prodigal ran his fingers across his throat and said: "That
will stop it, and I'll stop it before night. Oh ! my brain ; I can stand it no
longer." That prodigal never got nome. But I will tell you of a prodigal that
did get home. In Eugland two young men started from their fathers' house and
went down to Portsmouth — I have been there — a beautiful seaport. Some of you
have been there. The father could not pursue his children — for some reason he
could not leave home — and so he wrote a letter down to Mr. Griflin, saying: — " Mr.
Griffin, — I wish you would go and see my two sons. They have arrived in Ports-
mouth, and there they are going to take ship, and going away from home. I wish
you would persuade them back." Mr. Griffin went and tried to persuade them
back. He persuaded one to go ; he went with very easy persuasion, because he
was very homesick already. The other young man said : " I will not go. I hava
had enough of home ; I'll never go home." " Well," said Mr. Griffin, •' then, if
you won't go home, I'll get you a respectable position on a respectable ship." "No,
you won't," said the prodigal; ** no, you won't. I am going as a private sailor, as
a common sailor — that will plague my father most ; and what will do most to
tantalize and worry him will please me best." Years passed on, and Mr. Griffin
was seated in his study one day, when a messenger came to him saying there was
a young man in irons on a ship at the dock — a young man condemned to deaths
who wished to see this clergyman. Mr. Griffin ivent down to the dock and went
on shipboard. The young man said to him, " You don't know me, do yon 7 "
" No," he said, " I don't know you." " Why, don't you remember that young
man you tried to persuade to go home, and he wouldn't go t " " Oh, yes 1 " said
Mr. Griffin ; " are you that man t " " Yes, I am that man," said the other. " I
would like to have you pray for me. I have committed murder, and I must di«;
but I don't want to go out of this world until some one prays for me. You are my
father's friend, and I would like to have you pray for me." Mr. Griffin went froia
174 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xt»
judicial authority to judicial anthority to get that young man's pardon. He slepi
not night nor day. He went from influential person to influential person, until ia
Bome way he got that young man's pardon. He came down on the dock, and as
he arrived on the dock with the pardon, the father came. He had heard that his-
son, under a disguised name, had been committing crime, and was going to be put
to death. So Mr. Griffin and the father went on the ship's deck, and at the very
moment Mr. Griffin offered the pardon to the young man, the old father threw his
arms around the son's neck, and the son said, ••Father, I have done very wrong,
and I am very sorry. I wish I had never broken your heart. I am very sorry."
" Ohl " said the father, '• don't mention it. It won't make any difference now. It
is all over. I forgive yon, my son," and he kissed him and kissed him and kissed
him. To-day I offer you the pardon of the gospel — full pardon, free pardon. I do
not care what your crime has been. Though you say you have committed a crim»
against God, against your own soul, against your feUow-man, against your family,,
against the day of judgment, against the Cross ol Christ — whatever your
crime has been here is pardon, full pardon, and the very moment yon take that
pardon your heavenly Father throws His arms around about you and says,
" My son, I forgive you. It is all right. You are as much in my favour now as
if you had never sinned." Oh 1 there is joy on earth and joy in heaven. {Ibid.y
Good retolutiom to be cherished : — The good motions of God's blessed Spirit, at
any time, in any measure, though never so weak, begun, are not to be choked, but
to be cherished. When the Lord shall put any good motion into our hearts, we
are to nourish and cherish the same ; to one good motion we must add a second,,
and to that a third, and to them a many, and so fall to blowing, and give not over
nntil at length they break forth into a comfortable flame of godly practice. •• Quench
not the Spirit," saith the apostle ; that is, quell not, choke not the gifts and motions
of the Holy Ghost. He useth a metaphor borrowed from fire, whose heat and light
■when it is put out, is said to be quenched. Thus also he exhorts Timothy to stir
up the graces of God which be in him. And therefore, in the next place, let it-
serve for admonition to thee, and me, and to us all, that we beware how we suffer
that blessed heat to slake, which by God's grace begins to be enkindled in our
hearts. Suffer not that coal, that holy motion which the Lord hath cast into thy
bosom, to die within thee, but blow it up, lay on more fuel, add daily more and
more matter to it, and tremble to lose the least measure of God's gracious gifts.
Be frequent in spiritual exercises, as in hearing, reading, meditation. Christian
conference, prayer, and the like. Let no means be neglected that God hath ordained
for the working of establishment. (N. Rogers.) Resolution lasting : — Make not
thyself ridiculous both to God and man. We all love lasting stuff in a suit, we
cannot away with that horse that will tire ; and can God like such as do not con-
tinue? He cannot do it. (Ibid.) Resolution not followed to execution : — Their
purposes being like the minutes of a clock, the second follows the first, and the
third the second, all day and year long, but never overtake the one the other.
Many there are also, who when the hand of God is upon' them by losses, or
Eickness, or such like visitation, they purpose and promise great reformation ; but
when God's rod is removed, and His hand taken away, they are as bad as ever tbey
were. So that we say of them, as the wise man by shearing his hogs, •' Here is a
great deal of cry, but a little wool." Here is a great deal of purpose, but a httie
practice ; abundance of resolution, but small store of action. (Ibid.) Satan'i
assailing resolutions : — As a man pulling at an oak or other tree, if he finds it
vielding, he plucks with greater force, and leaveth not till he have it down, so in
this case, if Satan find us doubting and wavering, he will the more violently assault
us, and not rest until be overcome us, when, if we were resolute and constant, and
riid thus resist him with settled determination, he would be out of heart, and, as
James saith, •• fly from us." (Ibid.) Good resolutions brought to perfection : —
But some may demand. What good means are to be nsed for the bringing theee
good motions to perfection, which is no easy matter, the devil being ready to steal
every good motion out of our hearts, and our own corruption to extinguish it,
before we can bring it forth into actions ? For the attaining to this, let these rules
be practised : First, resolve upon a good ground, build thy resolution on a strong^
foundation. If thou resolvest to leave any sin, consider well the absolute necessity
of forsaking of it, the danger it will bring if it be continued in. A second means
is speedy execution ; delay not, but speedily put in practice. Before the iron cooU
it is good striking, and while the wax is pliable, it is good setting on the seal ; and,
therefore, what Solomon exhorteth in the case of tows is generally to be practised
CHIP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 175
in all holy pnrposes and motions, "be not slack to perform them." They that know
themselves know how fickle and unconstant their hearts are. ^ow as we would
deal with a variable and unconstant man, so let us deal with these hearts of ours.
We would take such a one at his word, and lay hold of the opportunity, when we find
him in a good vein, lest within a short space he alter his mind. Our hearts are far
more variable and unconstant than any man is. (Ibid. ) Father: — Remove the word
Father from this sentence, and you rob it at once of all the wondrous pathos that
lies in it, and that has so often brought tears to the eye of the penitent and con-
trition to his heart. Let us say, '* Oh, Sovereign King, I have sinned against Thee ! "
and we may tremble, but we do not weep. *' Oh, Judge of all, I have sinned against
Thee 1 " and perhaps we tremble still more, but our heart doesn't melt. But let
ns say and feel, " Father, I have sinned against Thee and Thy Fatherly love,"
and, lo 1 our hard heart begins to break, and the unbidden tears most likely
begin to rise. What a doubly damnable sin to sin against a Father, and such a
Father! A young man at one of our meetings to whom I had spoken on the
previous evening said to me, " When I went home last night I took np my Bible
and began to read. I had not read very long when I came to these words, ' Father,
I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called
thy son ; ' and, I can tell you, they pretty well broke my heart. I lay awake just
sobbing, for I don't know how long, repeating over these words, 'Father, I have
sinned. ' " (IF. Hay Aitken, M.A.) Man invited to return to hit heme: — Major D. W.
Whittle was asked to preach Christ to a great crowd in the opera house at Pittsburg,
and had but a few moments' notice. He asked his wife, "What shall I say?" Hi&
little girl spoke up earnestly, "Papa, tell them to come home." He did tell them,
and God wonderfully blessed the simple message to the conversion of many souls.
{Christian Age. ) Great re$olution$ : — History tells us that great soldiers before
their great battles, as Caesar at the Bubicon, and Lord Clive at Plassey, looked like
men inspired the moment they resolved on their line of action. An earnest reso-
lution, and the honest effort to carry it through, will fetch you new strength. The
prodigal had formed the great resolve in the greatest of all battles. And no sooner
resolved than done — he is off for home. He is quick to turn his thought into
pnrpose, and his purpose into an accomplished fact. He had often repented before
in a way, and then repented of his repentance ; but now he must burn his boats,
and break down all the bridges behind him, and make return to the swine-troughs
impossible. (J. Wells.) The Fatherhood of God : — I advise every one — who
wishes to be a true penitent — first of all to get a firm hold upon the fact that God
is his Father, his loving Father still. Our sins do not change the Fatherhood of
God. God loves sinners. If God did not love sinners, why did He give His own
dearly beloved Son to die for sinners ? And is not the feeling that his Father is
grieved the severest part of that punishment, be that punishment whatever it
may, to every child who has not quite sinned away the finer joys and the natural
instincts of the human heart ? "I can bear my punishment, father ; bat I cannot
bear your tears, father ! " was the true outcome of a son's inmost feelings under his
father's chastening. Never, whatever you have done to offend God, or how long
Tou have offended God, never let go the feeling of the confidence of a child to a
loving Father. " He is my Father, He is not changed." You are, not He. Do
not confuse your feelings and His feelings. Cling to the Fatherhood of God.
The Father may chasten, very severely chasten, but He is a Father who never
hates ; He is a Father who never tires ; He is a Father who cannot finally refuse
to accept the smallest confession, or one really penitential tear. {J. Vaughan, M.A.\
A viental picture : — The picture of the workings of the prodigal's mind and of their
practical results brings before us the features of genuine repentance with incom-
parably greater clearness and effect than a treatise of any supposable length on
the abstract subject would have done. The features of true repentance apparent
there are these: 1. A change of mind : he "came to himself." How opposite his
views and feelings now from what they had been when he forsook the paternal
abode 1 2. A deep sense of guilt arising from a right view of sin, as committed
not against man only, but against heaven ; not against his father only, but against
Gk>d : " I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight," &o. 3. A consequent
sense of entire unworthiness, accompanied with a conviction that, if he met with
a favourable reception, he should owe it entirely to free clemency : ha should have
no claim, no title to it, but might justly be rejected : " I have sinned, and am no
more worthy." And— 4. A returning conviction that there was no happiness for
lam but (mder his father's roof, and in the possession of his father's favour : " I
176 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. Xf.
am no more worthy to be called thy son, make me as one of thy hired servants ; '*
let me be but under thy roof, let me be the lowest menial ; but let me not be oast
out of thy sight, for *' blessed are even these thy servants." I have made myseU
wretched and unworthy, and I envy the lowest of them. This is the very counter-
part of the spirit in which a truly penitent sinner comes back to God. {R. Wardlaw.)
I have sinned. — Confession of xin : — And you will see how these words, in the lipa
of different men, indicate very different feelings. I. The first case I shall bring
before you is that of the hardened sinner, who, when under terror, says, " I have
sinned." And you will find the text in the Book of Exodus, the 9th chap, and
27th verse : " And Pharaoh sent, and called for Moses and Aaron, and said nnto
them, I have sinned this time : the Lord is righteous, and I and my people are
wicked." But why this confession from the lips of the haughty tyrant ? Of what
avail and of what value was his confession? The repentance that was bom in the
storm died in the calm ; that repentance of his that was begotten amidst the thunder
and the lightning, ceased so soon as all was hushed in quiet. II. Now for a second
text. I beg to introduce to yon another character — the double-minded man, who
says, " I have sinned," and feels that he has, and feels it deeply too, but who is bo
worldly-minded that he " loves the wages of unrighteousness." The character J
have chosen to illustrate this, is that of Balaam (see Numb. xxii. 34). III. And
now a third character, and a third text. In the First Book of Samuel, the I5th
chap, and 24th verse : " And Saul said unto Samuel, I have sinned." Here is the
insincere man — the man who is not, like Balaam, to a certain extent sincere in
two things ; but the man who is just the opposite — who has no prominent point
in his character at all, but is moulded everlastingly by the circumstances that are
passing over his head. To say, "I have sinned," in an unmeaning manner, is
worse than worthless, for it is a mockery of God thus to confess with insincerity
of heart. IV. The doubtful penitent. Achan (Josh. vii. 20). Achan is the
representative of some whose characters are doubtful on their deathbeds ; who do
repent apparently, but of whom tho most we can say is, that we hope their souls
are saved at last, but indeed we cannot tell. V. I must now give you another bad
case ; the worst of all. It is the repentance op despair. Will you turn to the
27th chap, of Matthew, and the 4th verse ? There you have a dreadful case of the
repentance of despair. VI. And now I come into daylight. I have been taking
you through dark and dreary confessions ; I shall detain you there no longer, but
bring you out to the two good confessions which I have read to you. The first ia
that of Job in 7th chap., at the 20th verse : " I have sinned ; what shall I do unto
Th«e, 0 Thou preserver of men ? " This is the repentance op the saint. VII,
I come now to the last instance, which I shall mention ; it is the case of the
prodigal. In Luke xv. 18, we find the prodigal says: "Father, I have sinned."
Oh, here is a blessed confession? Here is that which proves a man to be a
regenerate character — "Father, I have sinned." {C. H. Spurgeon.) Inordinate
sorrow not necessary to repentance : — If thus, then be you assured, that though you
have not been cast down under that depth of humiliation that others have, yet that
degree of humiliation you have had, God in wisdom saw to be competent, and
sufficient for you. It is good to grieve, because we can grieve no more ; but to perplex
the soul with needless fears, because we have not been so much humbled as others
(the former marks and signs being found in us) argues ignorance and unthankful-
ness. As if one should cry out of a skilful chirurgeon, for setting our broken bones
with less pain, or curing our wounds with less smart, than he did some others. It may
be, God in mercy hath kept as yet from thee the ghastly aspect of thy sins, lest the
horror of them should overwhelm thee. Bless God for it, and think not the worse
of Him nor of thyself, if thou be brought home by enticements and allurements. It
is no small advantage the devil takes through immoderate sorrow of young beginners.
{N. Rogers.) The prodigals return : — That cry of the prodigal to his father, which
framed itself spontaneously in his mind, when first he came to himself in his misery
and degradation — I suppose it is the common cry of repentant humanity. Taking thia
cry, therefore, as the natural utterance of penitent humanity, let us observe two things
about it. In the first place, it is very humble, and therefore very hopeful. " I am
no more worthy to be called thy son," is no mere formal expression, such as might
serve a purpose without costing anything ; his condition and his state of mind were
too serious to allow of hypocrisies, conscious or unconscious ; it was the genuine
feeling of the man, a feeling very painful and humiliating, yet the one which had
the greatest hold of his mind, and therefore found the strongest expression in hia
irords. I need not say that a genuine sense of anworthiness and of self -oondemna*
CHAP. XV.] ST. Luke. m
tioB is the most hopeful sign which God can behold in His returning children. But
we have to observe, in the second place, that the words which the prodigal
intended to say, however natural and however hopeful they might be, were founded
oc a mistake, and impUed an impossibiUty. For better or worse, he was a son, and
a son he must remain ; his sins had been the sins of a son, not of a servant ; bin
punishment had been the misery of a self-exiled son, not of a runaway servant.
Now let us ask how it may have fared with him in after days. Was there nothing
hard in store, nothing difficult, when the first absorbing happiness of his welcome
home was past? Would the habits and the maimers which he had learnt in
his long wanderings suit the gravity of his father's house ? Would the restlessness
which grows with travel let him be at ease even within those pleasant walls?
Could he without great effort exchange his former unrestrained licence for the duti-
ful behaviour of a younger son ? In one word, could he, without a constant struggle
with himself, fill again the place of a child within his father's home 7 Now, it
seems to me that here is a lesson most true, most necessary for us to learn. Many
of us are apt to think that when once the prodigal has returned, when once the
sinner has repented, then all the struggle and the difficulty and the sad conse-
quence of former wilfulness is past and over — that henceforth all is calm and easy.
Alas 1 what ignorance of human nature, even of redeemed human nature, does such
a fancy display. The starved and ragged wanderer is indeed clasped within his
father's arms, is clothed in the finest and feasted of the best, but — he has to live
henceforth as a son, and to render to his father the ready, thoughtful, loving obedi>
ence which is due from a son. And this, although it be so great a privilege, so
much more than we could have asked, is yet so hard to the obstinate waywardness,
to the ingrained lawlessness of our hearts. It is so hard that God will have us as
children, or not have us at alL If we might only be as hired servants, and have
our tasks assigned to us, and if we did not do them bear the loss of wages, and hear
no more about it 1 The more unworthy we feel ourselves to be, the more conscious
we are of the real inferiority of our character and of the very mixed nature of our
motives, the more painful must we feel our position to be as sons of Ood. For my
own part, I will say that this demand of a free and loving obedience, of an obedi-
ence which is absolutely unlimited, and which must be a law unto itself, is
harder than any which God could have made of perverse and fallen creatures
such as we. It seems to me that it would be infinitely easier to face the fires or
the vnld beasts once for all, than always to render the loving service of a child to
the Father in heaven, always to strain after conformity to a standard which is far
above our reach, always to accommodate ourselves to the dispositions of One who
is infinitely hoUer than we. What is this to one who feels the law of sin at work
within him, who feels the old wildness yet untamed, the old self-will yet unbroken,
who consents to the rule of the Divine life with his mind, but caunot find how to
put it in practice — what is it to him but a Ufelong, a daily, hourly martyrdom?
What is it but a perpetual crucifixion — as, indeed, the Bible calls it? Even so;
that is the law of Christian hfe. What is happy and hopeful about it is due to
Ood's great love in receiving us once more as His children; what is sad
and disheartening about it is due to oar own sin and folly in having been
alienated so long from Him. This is sad and disheartening in very truth,
but it is saved from being intolerable t>y two things — the hope of heaven,
and the sympathy of Christ. For croceming heaven, while many beautiful
things are written in the Word of Gv,i, none is written so beautiful as that
simple saying, " His servants shall serve Him " ; for that is the very thing we
are always trying to do, and always failing to do properly in this life. There
shall really come a time when it will not be hard, not be painful, not be against the
grain to do God s will in all things — when we shall serve Him joyfully, naturally,
as children should, from love, not from fear, for love, not for reward. And then for
the present distress there is the sympathy of Christ. That prodigal had an elder
brother who would certainly have added to his difficulties, who would have watched
for and reported any breach of propriety, and rejoiced in any mortification. We
have an elder Brother who has shared the same hardships and endured the same
discipline as ourselves — who feels an infinite sympathy for the failures, the self-
reproaches, the mortifications, which He understands so well. Far from alienating
Him by our want of success, every disappointment over which we grieve only wakes
in Him a livelier pity and a more tender love. {B. Winterbotham, M.A.) The
diffietUty of Ood's service to recent converts : — We know that God's service is perfect
freedom, not a servitude ; but this it is in the case of those who have long gerred
YOL. XIJ. 18
178 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xt.
Him ; at first it is a kind of servitude, it is a task till oar likings and tastes come
to be in unison with those which God has sanctioned. It is the happiness of saints
and angels in heaven to take pleasure in their duty, and nothing bat their duty ;
for their mind goes that one way, and pours itself out in obedience to God, spon-
taneously and without thought or deliberation, just as man gins naturally. This is
the state to which we are tending if we give ourselves up to religion ; but in its
commencement, religion is necessarily almost a task and a formal service. When
s man begins to eee his wickedness, and resolves on leading a new life, he asks,
*' What must I do ? " he has a wide field before him, and he does not know how to
enter it. He must be bid to do some particular plain acts of obedience to fix him. He
must be told to go to church regularly, to say his prayers morning and evening, and
statedly to read the Scriptures. This will limit his efforts to a certain end, and
relieve him of the perplexity and indecision which the greatness of his work at first
causes. But who does not see that this going to church, praying in private, and
reading Scripture, must in his case be, in great measure, what is called a form and
a task ? Having been used to do as he would, and indulge himself, and having
very little understanding or liking for religion, he cannot take pleasure in these
religious duties ; they wUl necessarily be a weariness to him ; nay, he will not ba
able even to give his attention to them. Nor will he see the use of them ; he will
not be able to find they make him better though he repeat them again and again.
Thus his obedience at first is altogether that of a hired servant, " The servant
knoweth not what his lord doeth." This is Christ's account of him. The servant
is not in his lord's confidence, does not understand what he is aiming at, or why he
commands this and forbids that. He executes the commands given him, he goes
hither and thither, punctually, bat by the mere letter of the command. Such
is the state of those who begin religious obedience. {J. R. Newman, D.D.)
Complete surrender to God : — There is no mention made here of any offering on his
part to his father, any propitiatory work. This should be well observed. The
truth is, that our Saviour has shown us in all things a more perfect way than was
«ver before shown to man. As He promises us a more exalted holiness, an exacter
self-command, a more generous self-denial, and a fuller knowledge of truth, so
He gives us a more true and noble repentance. The most noble repentance (if a
fallen being can be noble in his fall), the most decorous conduct in a consoioaa
sinner, is an unconditional surrender of himself to God — not a bargaining about
terms, not a scheming (so to call it) to be received back again, but an instant sur-
render of himself in the first instance. Without knowing what will become of him,
whether God will spare or not, merely with so much hope in his heart as not
utterly to despair of pardon, still not looking merely to pardon as an end, but
rather looking to the claims of the Benefactor whom he has offended, and smitten
with shame, and the sense of his ingratitude, he must surrender himself to his
lawful Sovereign. He is a runaway offender ; he must come back, as a very first
step, before anything can be determined about him, bad or good ; he is a rebel, and
must lay down his arms. Self -devised offerings might do in a less serious matter ;
as an atonement for sin, they imply a defective view of the evil and extent of sin in
his own case. Such is that perfect way which nature shrinks from, but which
our Lord enjoins in the parable — a surrender. The prodigal son waited not for his
father to show signs of placability. He did not merely approach a space, and then
stand as a coward, curiously inquiring, and dreading how his father felt towards
him. He made up his mind at once to degradation at the best, perhaps to rejection.
He arose and went straight on towards his father, with a collected mind ; and
though his relenting father saw him from a distance, and went out to meet him,
■till his purpose was that of an instant frank submission. Such must be Christian
repentance : First we must put aside the idea of finding a remedy for our sin ;
then, though we feel the guUt of it, yet we must set out firmly towards God, not
knowing for certain that we shall be forgiven. He, indeed, meets us on our way
with the tokens of His favour, and so He bears up human faith, which else woald
sink under the apprehension of meeting the Most High God ; still, for our repent-
ance to be Christian there mast be in it that generous temper of self -surrender,
the acknowledgment that we are tmworthy to be called any more His sons, the
abstinence from all ambitious hopes of sitting on his right hand or His left, and
the willingness to bear the heavy yoke of bond-servants, if He should put it upon
ne. {Ibid.) Our need of the Father :— 1. I would first recall your attention to
Masons which must have marked more or less frequently the lives of all who heav
Boa- -seasons of inward uneasiness without any outward cause. They cpme some-
«HA*. XT.] 8T. LUKE. 179
times in the dim solitude of evening or the qoiet night-watches, sometimes in th«
yet deeper solitude of a heartless human throng. 2. We feel, it seems to me,
peculiar need of a Father in heaven, in our communion with the fair and glorious
scenes of nature. Did you ever see a little child taken by his father to see soma
ghttering pageant, which seemed to the child immensely vast and grand ? And
have you not marked how the child will at short intervals look away from the gay
show to his father's face, as if to fortify himself by a glance of love? Were I an
atheist, I would cut myself off from every grand view of nature, would shun the
mountain and the ocean, and shut my eyes against the crimson sunset and the
gemmed vault of night ; for all these things would tell me what a solitary being I
was, and how unsheltered — they would speak to me of a stupendous machinery
beyond my control, of gigantic powers which I could not calculate, of material
lorces which my boasted intellect could neither comprehend nor modify. 3. In our
domestic relations, we also deeply feel the need of a Father in heaven. How short*
lived the family on earth 1 How frail the tie that here makes us one I 0 yes 1 we
need the protecting providence and the regenerating spirit of our Father for the
ground of immovable trust, at every stage of our domestic experience— else we might
well resign our charge and remit our efforts, exclaiming in despair, " Who is
snflicient for these things ? " 4. Finally, as sinners, we need a Father in
heaven. How often, my Christian friends, do our attainments fall short of our
nims 1 How often are we betrayed into sudden sins of thought or speech 1
Under such experiences, we need to turn from our own frailty to our heart-seeing
Father, with whom our witness is in heaven, our record on high. {A. P. Feabody.)
Adoniram Judson's conversion : — A new England student sets out on a tour through
the Northern States. Before leaving home he avows himself an iufidel. His father
argues, his mother weeps. He can resist his father's arguments, but finds it more
difficult to resist his mother's tears. Still he leaves home, resolved to see hfe, its
dark side as well as its bright, having perfect confidence in his own self-control that
it will protect him from anything mean and vicious. In the course of his travels
he stops at a country inn. The landlord mentions, as he lights him to his room,
that he has been obliged to place him next door to a young man who is probably in
a dying state. The traveller passes a very restless night. Sounds come from the
sick chamber — sometimes the movements of the watchers, sometimes the groans of
the sufferer ; but it is not these that disturb him. He thinks of what the landlord
said — the stranger is probably in a d.ving state ; and is he prepared ? Alone, and in
the dead of night, he feels a blush of shame steal over him at the question, for it
proves the shallowness of his philosophy. What would his late companions say to
his weakness. The clear-minded, intellectual, witty E , what would he say to
such consummate boyishness f But stiU his thoughts will revert to the sick man.
Is he a Christian, cahn and strong in the hope of a glorious immortality, or is he
shuddering on the brink of a dark, unknown future? Perhaps he is a *' Free-
thinker " educated by Christian parents, and prayed over by a Christian mother.
At last morning comes, and its light dispels what he would fain consider hia
*' superstitious illusions." He goes in search of the landlord and inquires for his
fellow-lodger. "He is dead." "Deadl" "Yes, he is gone, poor fellow!"
" Do you know who he was ? " " Oh 1 yes ; he was a young man from Providence
College, a very fine fellow ; his name was E ." Our traveller is completely
stunned. E 1 E was his friend, the friend whose wit and raillery he
dreaded, when he blushed at the thought of his own weakness during the wakeful
flight. And E was now dead. The traveller pursues his journey. But one
single thought occupies his mind. The words dead I lost ! lost ! ring in his ears.
Neither the pleasures nor the philosophies of the world can satisfy him now. The
old resolution is virtually taken — " I will arise." He abandons his travels, and
turns his horse's head homewards. His intellect does not readily accept the
evidences of religion. But his moral nature is thoroughly aroused. And within a
few months this young man surrenders his whole soul to Christ as his Saviour and
Lord. This was Adoniram Judson, whose six-and-thirty years of unwearied
devotion to missionary work have won for him the honourable appeUation of the
Apostle of Burmah. (J. Kennedy, D.D.) The worlding arrested: — Christopher
Anderson was an impulsive and fearless lad, averse to all hypocrisy and deception.
One after another of his brothers was converted to God, and he was left companion-
less in his ungodly course. But till he could enjoy religion, he was determined to
enjoy the world. Much of his time was spent in the country, and there he was
a devotee to the music and dancing in rural fStes. In town, where the ao«
180 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. it.
companiments are less harmless, these gratifications were no less keenly sought
after and indulged in. When about seventeen years of age he was sometimea
alarmed at the course he was pursuing, and shuddered at the thought of where
it must end ; but he would not allow himself to think long enough on the subject,
lest it should cost him those pleasures which he knew to be inconsistent with
a godly life. But one evening, as he was returning home from a concert, he was
suddenly and strangely impressed with a sense of the vanity of the world and its
pleasures. There was no vision, nothing without, nothing within, on which the
most critical could fasten a charge of fanaticism. But there was a profound con-
viction, suddenly awakened, as by the finger of God, that he was living the life of
a fool, and that he must live it no longer. " I will arise," he said in effect. And
he arose, and at once gave himself up to God. The transition from darkness to
light, from the spirit of bondage to the spirit of adoption, was nearly instantaneous.
In less than one hour he was conscious of the change. And the reality of the
change was attested by a long life of unvarying constancy, and of service to God
and man. (Ibid.) Luthefs awakening : — Martin Luther was worldly, not after
the merchant's fashion, but after the scholar's. He gave himself to study, and
became a Doctor in Philosophy. He was not without thoughts of God, which
haunted him and marred his happiness, but they were not suiUcient to turn the
current of his life. Among his college friends there was one, named Alexis, with
whom he was very intimate. One morning a report was spread that Alexis had
been assassinated. Luther hurried to the spot, and found the report was true.
This sudden loss of his friend affected him deeply, and he asked himself, " What
would become of me if I were thus suddenly called away ? " Some months after he
visited the home of his childhood, and on his return to the university he was
x^ithin a short distance of Erfurt, when he was overtaken by a violent storm. The
thunder roared ; a thunderbolt sank into the ground at his side. Luther threw
himself on his knees; his hour, he thought, was perhaps come; death, judgment,
eternity, were before him in all their terrors, and spoke with a voice which he
could no longer resist ; encompassed with the anguish and terror of death, as he
himself relates, he made a vow, if God would deliver him from this danger, to
forsake the world, and devote himself entirely to His service. Risen from the
earth, having still before his eyes that death which must one day overtake him, he
could be worldly no longer, he must now be godly. His whole soul went into the
resolution, " I will arise " ; and arise he did with singlene?s and earnestness of
purpose, nor lingered for one moment until he found himself sheltered in peace
under the roof of his heavenly Father. [Ibid.) A patchwork quilt : — A good
woman, whose son was in the army, made a patchwork quilt for the Soldiers'
Hospital. In the white squares were texts of Scripture — every block had been
prayed and wept over. Many poor fellows had laid under that quilt. In course of
time a boy came ; he was nearly senseless for more than a week. At last he was
seen to kiss the patchwork quilt. It was thought he was wandering, or had found
a text of hope or comfort. But no ; it was a calico block, a little crimson leaf on
a dark ground. He kept looking at it, tears in his eyes ; he kissed it again, and
asked, " Do you know where this quilt came from ? " He was told a good woman
had sent it, with a note pinned on to it. This they showed him at his request.
His hand trembled, his cheek grew white, when he saw the writing. " Please read
it to me very slowly," he said. It was read. ** It is from my mother ; that bit of
calico was part of her dress." Afterwards he pointed out the text. "Father, I
have sinned against heaven and in thy sight," and said, "I am no more worthy."
The rest of the parable was read to him. A few days after he said, " I was a great
way off; but God has met me, and had compassion on me; the Saviour's love fills
me with peace." So the mother's prayers were answered, and her son saved.
And he arose and came to bis father. Good resolutions must he acted upon: —
Conviction is the first step to reformation. If we suffer conviction to cool upon
our minds, the force and spirit of it will soon decay and evaporate. In all living
creatures, it may be observed, that at first the dawnings and the beginning of Ufe
in them aie very faint and hardly discernible. It is a small spark that just
glimmers, and may easily be extinguished. But if it be cherished by heat and
food, a wonderful alteration soon appears, and the little animal unfolds itself, and
assumes its proper form. So it is in the first appearance of a spiritual Ufe : there
if a conviction and a resolution ; and when that is exerted, a gradual reformation
ensues. But the spiritual as well as the natural life is at first a tender thing,
easily stopped, and hardly recovered. It concerns us, therefore, to cherish th«
fliur. XT.] ST. LUKE. 181
rising resolutions, and improve them into a saitable practice. It is to be supposed
that there are few persons who, when they do evil, have not some conviction and
remorse arising upon it, with an intention of amending and making peace with God
some time or other ; to-morrow, or in a few days, or before the last hours. But in
this there is too often a fair appearance and no vital principle ; it is a spark that
shines in a moment and goes out; a forward blossom that is nipped by the frost and
withers away. Such faint essays and weak resolutions only aggravate the sins
committed against them ; and by thus continuing to offend, not only peace of mind
is lost, but it becomes more difficult either to make new resolutions, or to trust to
them when they are made ; and consequently to satisfy ourselves of the sincerity of
Buch a repentance. And yet this is a matter of infinite moment, and our all
depends upon it. The sooner it is performed, the better ; and God hath promised
to concur with us in the undertaking. If we arise and go to Him, He, like the
lather in the parable, will come forth to m^et us. (J. Jortin, D.D.) Act at once
on convictions : — It is beyond my power to tell the importance of acting at once on
your convictions. You will never attain to eminence without it. The pages of
history are bright with the names, and the pathway of eminence is now crowded
with men who added this to other qualities of mind — they carried out their purposes
with a depth and power of resolution before which no ordinary considerations were
permitted to stand. Take an instance. Nearly a hundred years ago, a young man
from Peterborough entered Christ's College, Cambridge. His head was clear, but
his manners clumsy, his time wasted, and his University privileges fast passing
away in idleness. He had spent an evening at a party. At five o'clock next
morning he was awakened by one of his companions standing at his bedside.
" Paley," said he, " what a fool you are to waste your time this way ! I could do
nothing if I were to try ; you could do anything. 1 have had no sleep with thinking
about you. Now, I am come to tell you that, if you continue this idle life, I shall
renounce your society." The admonition was not lost. That very day, the startled
sluggard formed a new plan for life. He rose every morning at five ; he continued
at work till nine at night. He kept his resolution. His industry was unconquer-
able, his progress unrivalled, until, in the general examination, at the top of the
list, as Senior Wrangler, stood the name of William Paley, whose varied writings
on Christian Evidences have rendered the greatest service to the cause of truth.
The whole success of your recovery, young man, hinges upon immediate decision.
You must arise and go to your Father. Four-and-twenty hours' delay may utterly
ruin your purpose. Oh, that every one here, that feels the relentings for past sin,
would this night put his purpose into effect. (W. B. Mackenzie, M.A.) The
turning point : — ^I. Hbbb was action. He had passed beyond mere thought, mere
regret, mere resolving; now "he arose." 1. This action of the prodigal was
immediate, and without further parley. 2. The prodigal aroused himself, and put
forth all his energies. II. Hebe was a soul comino into actual contact with God.
It would have been of no avail for him to have arisen, if he had not come to his
father. Come to God ; come just as you are, without merits or good works ; trust
in Jesus, and yoar sins will be forgiven yon. III. In that action there was an
BNTiBB TtELDiNO DP OF HiusELF. His proud independence and self-will were gone.
He ga*f. np all idea of self- justification. He yielded up himself so thoroughly that
he o«»ixcA his father's love to him to be an aggravation of his guilt. He also yielded
up aii bin supposed rights and claims upon his father. And he made no terms or
conditions. IV. In this act there was a measure of faith in his father. Faith
in his iathor'a power, and in his readiness to pardon. V. This act of comino
into coNT/xnr with God is pebforued bt the sinneb just as be is. YI. This act
wrought tub obeatest oomobivablb change in the man. (C H. Spurgeon.) A
great way off, his father saw him. The penitent received : — I. The love of God
discerns tux first motions of penitence in the heart of man. The prodigal
" arose and came to his father," came, doubting and trembling, wondering, perhaps,
bow he would be received. Oh 1 how much better was his father than his fondest
hopes imagined I And how much more gracious is God to the penitent than he
could ever desire. II. And then, as He discerns the beginnings of penitence, so
HE MAKES HASTE TO MEET THE PENITENT ON HIS WAT. There Is a loving minuteness
in the details of the story — in the setting forth of the father's acts, his words, his
very emotions. It is the minuteness of love. Every sentiment of anger, every
emotion of resentment, if they bad ever been cherished, vanished in a moment
" His father saw him, and bad compassion on him." He forgot bis ingratitade,
Mlfishnen, insolence; or, if he remembered them, the remembrance was over*
182 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. rr.
powered by that which was far stronger, the sense of the penitent's need, the feeding
that the needy one was his son. It is God in Christ who alone can bring this lesson
home to ear and mind and heart, and fill our whole being with a sense of its trath.
Jesus Christ speaking words of tenderest love and pity, performing acts of super-
human power and mercy, weeping over sinful and doomed Jerusalem, agonizing on
the cross for the salvation of a lost world, teaches us as no other has done the love
of God for man, and convinces as powerfully that "His compassions fail
not." III. And the immediate effect of this loving welcome which Almighty God
accords to the penitent is at once to deepen his penitencb and to raise bis hopes.
It is a wonderful picture of the twofold power of the pardoning love of God. We
do not cease to feel our sinfulness, we do not fail to confess oar unworthiness,
because we are assured of our reconciliation to God. The love of God has broken
his htart and humbled him in his own eyes as no sense of sin and misery had done;
but it has also raised him up again, and given him new and brighter hopes, and
brought him into the " glorious liberty of the children of God." IV. Nor is it long
before the seal is put upon the reconciliation which has been effected by the great
AND blessed privileges TO WHICH THE PENITENT IS INTRODUCED. The penitent is
clothed in the robe of righteousness which was wrought for him by the Passion of
our Lord. As the lost son receives the signet ring on his finger, so he is sealed
with the Holy Spirit of promise. He is shod, too, " with the preparation of the
gospel of peace," so that he is now no longer a mere wanderer from the fold of
God, erring and straying from Him like a lost sheep, but is able to go with his
whole heart in the way of life, and is fitted for a course of earnest devotion and
holy obedience. There is not a hne in the whole glorious picture but has its
counterpart in the love of God to the penitent sinner. And then there is a fulness
of meaning in the last words of the joyful father, when he bids them kiU the fatted
calf, that they may eat and be merry, because the dead is alive and the lost is
found. These words proclaim to as the double truth of the joy with which the
grace of God fills the heart of the penitent when he has been adopted into the
family of God, and of the ample provision which has been made for his wants in
the kingdom of grace and glory. And now I have bat two thoughts to urge upon
you in conclusion. First, I would remind yoa that all these blessings belong only
to those who truly repent : not to those who entertain some transient regrets. But
my second closing word is one of encouragement — of encouragement to those who
are weary of evil, and desirous of returning to God. You, my brethren, find it hard
to believe that God will receive yoa willingly, and " heal your backshding, and love
you freely." Contemplate for a moment the teaching of this parable. He is saying
to yoa, in the most convincing and affecting language, " Have I any pleasure at all
that the wicked should die?" " I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth."
•• Turn ye, turn ye, from your evil ways ; for why will ye die ? " I beseech you,
therefore, by the love of God, that yoa will return to Him. He is more ready to
receive you than you are to offer yourself to Him. {W. R. Clark, M.A.) The
prodigal'M return : — I. First, then, what is the position signified by being " a great
way off " ? I must just notice what is not that position. It is not the position of
the man who is careless and entirely regardless of God ; for you notice that the
prodigal is represented now as having come to himself, and as returning to his
father's hoase. Once again, there is another person who is not intended by this
description, namely, the very great man, the Pharisee who thinks himself extremely
righteous, and has never learned to confess his sin. You, sir, in your apprehension,
are not a great way off. You are so really in the sight of God ; you are as far from
Him as light from darkness, as the east is from the west ; bat yoa are not spoken
of here. Your hope of self -salvation is a fallacy, and you are not addressed in the
words of the text. It is the man who knows himself lost, but desires to be saved,
who is here declared to be met by God, and received with affectionate embraces.
And now we come to the question. Who is the man, and why is he said to be a
great way off ? For he seems to be very near the kingdom, now that he knows his
need and is seeking the Saviour. I reply, in the first place, he is a great way off in
his own apprehensions. Oh ! poor heart ; here is a comforting passage for thee :
" When he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion on
him." But again, there is a second sense in which some now present feel them-
selves to be far off from God. Conscience tells every man that if he would be saved
he mast get rid of his sin. Let me present you with one other aspect of our distance
from God. You have read your Bibles, and you believe that faith alone can unite
the BOOl to Christ. You feel that unless you can believe in Him who died upon th«
«BAP. X?.] ST. LUKE. 18S
cross for your sins, you can never see the kingdom of God ; but you can say this
morning, " Sir, I have striven to believe ; I have searched the Scriptures, not hours,
but days together, to find a promise upon which my weary foot might rest : I have
been upon my knees many and many a time, earnestly supplicating a Divine blessing;
but though I have pleaded, all in vain have I urged my plea, for until now no
■whisper have I had of grace, no token for good, no sign of mercy. Well, poor soul,
thou art indeed far from God, I will repeat the words of the text to thee : " When
he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion on him " I
II. Our second point is the pecdliab tbodbles which agitate the breasts of those
who are in this position. There are yet many miles between him and his father
whom he has neglected. Can you conceive his emotions when for the first time
after so long an absence he sees the old house at home ? He remembers it well in
the distance ; for though it is long since he trod its floors he has never ceased to
recollect it ; and the remembrance of his father's kindness, and of his own pros-
perity when he was with him, has never yet been erased from his consciousness.
xou would imagine that for one moment he feels a flash of joy, hke some flash of
lightning in the midst of the tempest, but anon a black darkness comes over his
spirit. In the first place, it is probable he will think, " Oh ! suppose I could reach
my home, will my father receive me ? Will he not shut the door in my face and
tell me to begone and spend the rest of my life where I have been spending the first
of it ? Then another suggestion might arise: " Surely, the demon that led me first
astray may lead me back again, before I salute my parent." " Or mayhap," thought
he, "I may even die upon the road, and so before I have received my father's
blessing my soul may stand before its God." I doubt not each of these three
thoughts has crossed your mind if you are now in the position of one who is seeking
Christ, but mourns to feel himself far away from Him. First, you have been afraid
lest you should die before Christ has appeared to. you. You have been for months
seeking the Saviour without finding Him, and now the black thought comes, " And
what if I should die with all these prayers unanswered ? There was never a soul
yet, that sincerely sought the Saviour, who perished before he found Him. No ;
the gates of death shall never shut on thee till the gates of grace have opened for
thee. Your second fear is, " Ah, sir I I am not afraid of dying before I find Christ,
I have a worse fear than that ; I have had convictions before, and they have often
passed away; my greatest fear to-day is, that these will be the same." I have
heard of a poor collier, who on one occasion, having been deeply impressed under a
sermon, was led to repent of sin and forsake his former life ; but he felt so great a
horror of ever returning to his former conversation, that one day he knelt down and
cried thus unto God, " O Lord, let me die on this spot, rather than ever deny the
religion which I have espoused, and turn back to my former conversation " : and wa
are credibly told, that he died on that very spot, and so his prayer was answered.
But the last and the most prominent thought which I suppose the prodigal would
have, would be, that when he did get to his father, he would say to him, " Get
along with yon, I will have nothing more to do with you." Now, sinners, dry your
tears ; let hopeless sorrows cease ; look to the wounds of Christ, who died ; let all
your griefs now be removed, there is no further cause for them : your Father loves
you ; He accepts and receives yon to His heart. III. Now, in conclusion, I may
notice bow thbsb fbabs were mbt im thb prodioal's casb, and how they shall be
met in ours if we are in the same condition. The text says, " The Father saw him."
Yes, and God saw thee just now. That tear which was wiped away so hastily — as
if thoa wast ashamed of it — God saw it, and He stored it in His bottle. That prayer
which thou didst breathe just a few moments ago, so faintly, and with such little
faith — God heard it. Sinner, let this be thy comfort, that God sees thee when thoa
beginnest to repent. He does not see thee with His usual gaze, with which Ha
looks on all men ; but He sees thee with an eye of intense interest. He has been
looking on thee in all thy sin, and in all thy sorrow, hoping that thou wouldst
repent; and now He sees the first gleam of grace, and He beholds it with joy.
Never warder on the lonely castle top saw the first grey light of morning with mora
joy than that with which God beholds the first desire in thy heart. Never physician
rejoiced more when he saw the first heaving of the lungs in one that was supposed
to be dead, than God doth rejoice over thee, now that He sees the first token for
good. And then, the text says, " He had compassion on him." Jehovah's bowels
yearn to-day over you. He is not angry with you ; His anger is passed away, and
Bis hands are stretched oat stilL Nor did this prodigal's father stop in mere
•ompassion. Having had compassion, " he ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed
184 THE BIBJ.ICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [CHA». IT.
him." This you do not understand yet ; but yon Bhall. As sure as God is God, if
you this day are seeking Him aright through Christ, the day shall come when the
kiss of full assurance shall be on your lip, when the arms of sovereign love shall
embrace you, and you shall know it to be so. (C H. Spurgeon.) The danger of
irifling with convictions: — A correspondent of the New York Christian Advocate
furnishes the following affecting narrative : — ' ' When I was travelling in the state
of Massachusetts, twenty-six years ago, after preaching one evening in the town of
, a very serious-looking young man arose, and wished to address the assembly.
After obtaining leave, he spoke as follows : — • My friends, about one year ago, I set
out in company with a young man of my intimate acquaintance, to seek the salvation
of my soul. For several weeks we went on together, we laboured together, and often
renewed our covenant never to give over seeking till we obtained the religion of
Jesus. But, all at once, the young man neglected attending meeting, appeared to
turn his back on all the means of grace, and grew so shy of me, that I could scarcely
get an opportunity to speak with him. His strange conduct gave me much painful
anxiety of mind ; but still I felt resolved to obtain the salvation of my soul, or
perish, making the publican's plea. After a few days, a friend informed me that
my young companion had received an invitation to attend a ball, and was deter-
mined to go. I went immediately to him, and, with tears in my eyes, endeavoured
to persuade him to change his purpose, and to go with me on that evening to a
prayer-meeting. I pleaded with him in vain. He told me, when we parted, that I
must not give him up as lost, for after he had attended that ball, he intended to
make a business of seeking religion. The appointed evening came, and he went to
the ball, and I went to the prayer-meeting. Soon after the meeting opened, it
pleased God, in answer to my prayer, to turn my spiritual captivity, and make my
Boul rejoice in His justifying love. Soon after the ball opened, my young friend
was standing at the head of the ball-room, with the hand of a young lady in his
hand, preparing to lead down the dance ; and, while the musician was tuning his
violin, without one moment's warning, the young man sallied back, and fell dead
on the floor. I was immediately sent for, to assist in devising means to convey hia
remains to his father's house. You will be better able to judge what were the
emotions of my heart, when I tell you that that young man was my ovra brother.* "
Trifle not, then, with thy convictions, for eternity shall be too short for thee to
utter thy lamentations over such trifling. [Ibid.^ The prodigals father: — I. Thh
father's etbbight. He has seen all your frailties, all your struggles, all your dis-
advantages. He has not been looking at you with a critic's eye or a bailiff's eye,
but with a Father's eye ; and if a parent ever pitied a child, God pities you. Yoa
Bay : " Oh, I had so many evil surroundings when I started life." Tour Father sees
it. n. The father's haste. He ran. No wonder. He didn't know but that the
young man would change his mind and go back. He didn't know but that he would
drop down from exhaustion. He did not know but something fatal might overtake
him before he got up to the door-sill, and so the father ran. " When he was yet a
great way off, his father ran." When the sinner starts for God, God starts for the
sinner. God does not come out with a slow and hesitating pace ; the infinite
spaces slip beneath His feet, and He takes worlds at a bound. " The father ran I "
III. The father's eisb. Oh, this Father's kiss 1 There is so much meaning, and
love, and compassion in it ; so much pardon in it ; so much heaven in it. I
proclaim Him the Lord God, merciful, gracious, and long-suffering, abundant in
goodness and truth. Lest you would not believe Him, He goes up Golgotha, and
while the rocks are rending, and the graves are opening, and the mobs are howling,
and the sun is hiding. He dies for you. {De W. Talmage, D.D.) The father'i
gilence: — We must not fail to observe the father's silence in reference to the confession.
There is meaning in this. When a son is received in such circumstances, express-
ing his grief for the past, what he says is apt to give occasion for reproach, or, if
a different spirit rule, the father is apt to go to the opposite extreme, and frame
words of excuse. It is otherwise here. The father is silent, and that silence is
Godlike. He receives the confession, for it is true, it is necessary ; nothing can
excuse the deeds, nothing can change the character of that awful past ; but he doe^
not dwell upon the painful subject, he does not open np the wound afresh. As he
cannot say a word in excuse, he will not speak at all. His silence is condemnation.
Thus God deals with man, maintaining a silence which is merciful. He casts the
Bins behind His back. '• He giveth to all liberally, and upbraideth not." (Prof.
Calderwood.) The return and the reception: — L The prodigal's betuen home.
** He aroM and oame to his father." He did not spend his remaining strength eithef
ciHAJ. XV.] ST. LUKE. 18i
in useless regrets, or in mere resolutions. " He arose and came." In coming to
Christ we must not allow difficulties to discourage us. We may expect them ; for,
if we have lived in sin, we have lived at a great distance from Him ; and the king
of the " far country " does not like to lose a subject. There is cause for all thij
steadfastness of purpose. If you, who have been awakened, advance no farther,
sin will quickly overtake you, and will bind the chains of habit still more closely
around your soul. There is no safety but in going forward boldly and confessing
Christ. Haste I The cause of so many failures with those who attempt to walk in
the '* narrow path," is, that they attempt in their own strength. This brings us
to — II. The prodigal's reception. " When he was yet a great way off, his father
saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him."
That prince of story-tellers, Dr. Guthrie, tells of a young sailor's widow, who had
parted with her husband after a few brief bright days of wedded bliss. He went to
sea and never came back, his ship, probably foundering with all her crew, was never
heard of again. When the time had arrived for her return, and she came not, this
woman repaired to some bold headland and watched the white sails as they appeared
on the blue waves, and at length as she saw vessels making for the harbour, hoped
that one of them at least would bring her long-lost one home. At night on her
lone bed she used to lie awake fancying she recognized his footstep, as some lata
traveller or midnight reveller wended his way home, but only to sink back on her
pillow and weep away her disappointment as the footstep passed her door. And
long after hope had died away in others' breasts, would she on her lonely bed,
or on the headland close by, watch for the coming of him who never came
home again. Love like this may have prompted the father of the prodigal to
daily watch, with eager eye, the distant hill over which he saw his son go on that
Bad morning of his leaving home. When the prodigal was a great way off his
father ran to meet him. The son walked; the father ran. (W. G. Pascoe.)
The prodigal's reception : — ^I. First, dear friends, the condition of such a seeker —
HE IS TET A GREAT WAY OFT. He is a great way off if you consider one or two
things. 1. Bemember his want of strength. This poor young man had for soma
time been without food — brought so very low that the husks upon which the swine
fed would have seemed a dainty to him if he could have eaten them. He is so
hungry that he has become emaciated, and to him every mile has the weariness ot
leagues within it. So the sinner is a long way off from God when you consider hia
utter want of strength to come to God. 2. He is a great way off, again, if yoa
consider his want of courage. He longs to see his father, but yet the probabilities
are that if his father should come he would ran away ; the very sound of his father's
footsteps would act upon him as they did on Adam in the garden — he would hide
himself among the trees. His want of courage, therefore, makes the distance long,
for every step hitherto has been taken as though into the jaws of death, 3. You
are a great way off when we consider the difficulty of the way of repentance. John
Bunyan tells us that Christian found, when he went back to the arbour after his
lost roll, that it was very hard work going back. Every backsUder finds it so, and
every penitent sinner knows that there is a bitterness in mourning for sin com-
parable to the loss of an only son. 4. Let us look into this matter, and show
that while the road seems long on this account it really is long if we view it in
certain lights. (1) There are many seeking sinners who are a great way off in their
life. (2) Again, you feel yourself a great way off as to knowledge. (3) In another
point also many an earnest seeker is a great way off ; I mean in his repentance.
Great way off as you are, if the Lord pardons you, while yet callous and con-
sciously hard of heart, will you not then fall at His feet and commend that great
love wherewith He loved you, even when ye were dead in trespasses and sins ? (4)
Yes, but I think I hear one say, " There is another point in which I feel a great
way off, for I have little or no faith. I have not the faith that I want ; I am a great
way off from it, and I fear that I shall never possess it." Yes, my brethren, I
perceive your difficulty, for I have felt the sorrow of it myself; but oh 1 my Lord,
who is the giver of faith, who is exalted on high to give repentance and remission
of sins, can give you the faith you so much desire, and can cause you this morning
to rest with perfect confidence upon the work which He has finished for yon. II.
Now consider the uatchi^bs kindness ot the heatxnlt Father. We must take
each word and dwell upon it. First of all, we have here Divine observation.
*' When he was yet a great way off his father saw him, " It is true he has always
Been him, God sees the sinner in every state and in every position. The father
does not turn away and try to forget him; he fixes hu fall gase upon him.
186 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. m.
Observe this was a loving observation, for it is written, " his father saw him." H«
did not see him as a mere casual observer ; he did not note him as a man might
note his friend's child with some pity and benevolence ; but he marked him as a
father alone can do. What a quick eye a parent hath I The next thought to be
well considered is Divine compassion. " When he saw him he had compassion on
him." Does not the word com-passion mean suffering-with or fellow-suffering T
What is compassion, then, but putting yourself into the place of the sufferer and
leehng his grief? Notice and observe carefully the swiftness of this Divine love:
"He ran." After noticing thus observation, compassion, and swiftness, do not
forget the nearness : " He fell upon his neck and kissed him." Observe how near
God comes to the sinner. It was said of that eminent saint and martyr. Bishop
Hooper, that on one occasion a man in deep distress was allowed to go into his
prison to tell his tale of conscience ; but Bishop Hooper looked so sternly upon
him, and addressed him so severely at first, that the poor soul ran away, and could
not get comfort until he had sought out another minister of a gentler aspect. Now,
Hooper reaUy was a gracious and loving BOol, but the sternness of his manner kept
the penitent off. There is no such stern manner in oar heavenly Father; he
loves to receive His prodigals. When he comes there is no " Hold off 1 " no " Keep
off ! " to the sinner, but He falls upon his neck and He kisses him. In kissing his
eon the father recognizes relationship. He said with emphasis, '• Thou art my
son." Again, that kiss was the seal of forgiveness. He would not have kissed
him if he had been angry with him ; he forgave him, forgave him all. There was,
moreover, something more than forgiveness ; there was acceptance. In samming
up, one may notice that this sinner, thongh he was a great way off, was not
received to full pardon and to adoption and acceptance by a gradual process, but
he was received at once. (C. H. Spurgeon.) The prodigaVt return: — It was
about midnight in one of the suburbs of Edinburgh, and everything aroond
seemed peaceful and quiet, when a young man, whose age could not be more
than nineteen, cautiously advanced towards one of the few shops that were to be
found in that neighbourhood. He seemed anxious to escape observation; for,
although it was so late, there were still many persons passing to and from the city.
He very soon effected an entrance into the shop in some way known to himself, and
after he gained admittance, groped his way into a part of the shop with which he
seemed well acquainted, and where he found some matches and a candle, which he
soon hghted. Then, looking carefully around him, his eye lighted on a desk which
stood at the forther end of the counter. After trying it, he found that it was
locked ; bnt not to be defeated in his purpose, he got hold of some blunt instru-
ment and forced the lock. In doing so he made a considerable noise, and before
he could proceed further in his operations he heard a voice saying, "Who ie
there ? *' He began to tremble and show signs of fear, and before he had time to
escape a door leading towards the back part of the premises was opened. A
middle-aged woman with a hght in her hand then appeared. The first object that
attracted her attention was the young man, who stood as if he was riveted to the
£oor. She looked at him for a short time, and then said, "Oh, Willie, Willie, my
poor boy, have yon become so wicked as to rob your widowed mother ? Willie, my
bo^, this will break my heart." " I cannot help it, mother," he replied, in a husky
voice. "I must have money ; and yon can see by my clothes that I have deserted
from my regiment." " I will tell you what to do," his mother said. " Go back to
your regiment." " What 1 go back and be punished as a deserter ! " he said,
sullenly. " No, I will not. I will have this money that is in the desk ; then I can
get away to another country." As he spoke he lifted the lid of the desk and seized
the bag which contained the money. While thus engaged his mother stepped
towards him, and grasped him by the arm, as she said, pleadingly, " Willie, don't
do this wicked thing; the money is of no value to me — it is your soul that
I value. Come, say tiiat yon will not take it, and leave your mother." " Come,
mother," he said, doggedly, "let go my arm" ; but she still clung to him. Then
with some violence he pushed her back into a chair, and the poor woman covered
her face with her hands and wept bitterly. " Ob, Lord," she said, " save my poor
hoy." As he pushed his mother from him he made for the door with the money in
his possession, bnt when he reached the door he looked back, and saw his moUier
sobbing as her whole frame shook with emotion. He ptood for a moment nnde>
eided what to do ; then, throwing back the money on the counter, he put his arms
round his mother's neck. " Mother," he said, " I will not leave you ; I will go back to
my regiment to-morrow." The following morning WiUie gave himself up to the mili
CHAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. 187
tary authorities as a deserter, was tried by court-martial, and punished. Shortly
afterwards he became seriously ill, and was sent to the Military Hospital at Edinburgh,
•where I first met him. The Lord blessed the Word to his soul, so that when he was
discharged a short time afterwards he returned to his mother's house a believer in
the Lord Jesus and a new man. A short time after his discharge he got married to a
Christian young woman, and in a few weeks afterwards both of them sailed for
Australia, where his voice has often been heard preaching Christ to perishing
sinners, both in the public parks and in the streets of the city of Melbourne.
Before he left, he said to me, " I am sorry to leave you, J , but take this Bible
and keep it for my sake ; it is the Bible my dear father gave me, and I value it
above almost anything I possess. Keep it for my sake, and visit my mother, for
fche loves you as myself ; and if we never meet on earth again, let us both so live
here that we may meet * where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are
at rest.' " (Notes from a Soldier's Diary.) The return of tlie banished : — Some
people once lived in a happy isle, but for their misdeeds were banished. The place
of tiieir exile, however, lay within sight of their former home. They could look
across the channel and discern the beach, with its border of golden sand, and the
hills beyond, with their emerald slopes and cool snow-capped summits. Occasion-
ally, too, in the stiller weather, they could hear voices from that land : the shout
of happy playmates, the tinkling tune of browsing flocks, or the mellow peal
summoning to welcome worship. Their own was a land of emptiness. From the
brackish bog sprouted a few dingy weeds, and the glairy stems, or mallows among
the bushes, were the food of the gaunt inhabitants. Few had any desire to leave,
or any hope of bettering their condition. One exception we may notice. He was
a thoughtful character. With those deep, melancholy eyes, which take so much for
granted, and which seldom kindle to the fullest — for they have looked the world
through and through, and seen an end of all perfection — glimpses of a noble soul
could at times be caught as it climbed to the window of his wan and wistful counte-
nance. Many an eager glance did he direct towards the blessed isle. Fain would
he reach it. One morning, on waking, it struck him that the opposite coast was
unusually near. So low was the tide that perhaps he might ford it, or at all events
swim. So down through the swamp and over the dry shingle he posted ; and then
across the sad and solid sand, off which the gentle wavelets had folded, right
athwart the wet stones and crackling fuci, where tiny streams of laggard water and
crustaceans tumbling topsy-turvy in their crawling haste were trying to overtake
the ocean, till abruptly met by the rising tide, be found to his dismay that, deep as
was the ebb, the channel still was deeper. Disappointed here, he by and by
bethought him of another plan. Westward of his dwelling the coast-line stretched
away in successive cliffs and headlands, till it ended in a lofty promontory, which
in its turn seemed to abut against the happy isle. Thither he made up his mind
that he would take a pilgrimage. With slopes and swells, zigzags and windings, it
turned out much farther than it looked ; and when at last, footsore and staggering,
he got to the summit, instead of a bridge to the better land, he found it a dizzy
cliff, with the same relentless ocean weltering at its base. Baulked in this final
effort, he went down and flung himself on the rocks and wept. It was during this
paroxysm of vexation that, looking up, he noticed a little boat, with whose appear-
ance he was familiar. He was a little surprised to see it there, for he remembered
that it used to ride exactly opposite bis own habitation, although, belonging to no
one in particular, and not having brought any of the commodities they cared for,
be and the other inhabitants had never paid it much attention. Having now
nothing else to do, he looked at it eagerly and somewhat wonderingly. It neared
bim. It came close up to the rocks where be was seated. It was a beautiful boat,
with snowy sail and golden prow, and a red pennon flying. There was one on
board, and only one. His raiment was bright and glistening, and his features were
such as could only have come from the happy isle. " Son of man," he said, " why
weepest thou ? " " Because I cannot reach yonder blessed region." " Couldst thou
trust thyself to me ? " The pilgrim looked, first at the little skiff, and then at its
benignant pilot, and said, " I can." With that timid "yes " he stepped on board,
and like a sunbeam, so swift, it bore bim away from that dismal coast ; and ere be
oould believe it he was a denizen of the happy isle, breathing its immortal air ; at
home amidst its loveliness, and numbered with its citizens. The happy isle ifl
peace with God — the blessed state which men when sinless occupied. The dreary
land is the state of alienation from the living God, in which, with joyless aoquies-
«enoe, so many are living. And the little skiff — the only means of passing ovef
188 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha». vr.
from the oo» ragion to the other — is the atonement, the intercession of Jesas
Christ. {James Hamilton, D.D.) "My father will meet me" : — A friend got
into a railway carriage in Liverpool to gO'^r north in Scotland, and there sat
beside him a pale, weak, worn young mother, and she had upon the bend of her
arm a strong but restless babe. Surely, he thought, this mother is not able to carry
this child all these hundreds of miles. After a little he put the question to her,
" Are yoo going far ? " "I am." ** Are you going to carry that child all tha
way?" "Yes, lam." " Will you not get tired ? You look tired now." "lam
not well, and I am tired, and I do feel that it is a long way to go ; but oh 1 " — and
the tears stole down her cheek — " I do not mind, for my father will meet me there."
Ah I beloved, thou mayest have many a load to carry, many a sin to weep over,
many a long and weary day in life's journey, and but little strength, little to solace
or comfort ; but never mind, yon are going home, to die no more, and your Father
will meet you at the journey's fend. Conversion not necessarily a protracted
procens : — "When we read of the prodigal being a great way off, and so are led to
think of his return as a long and toilsome journey, we are not to suppose that
conversion is necessarily a protracted process. The coming back, of course, in the
parable, must correspond to the departure into the far land ; and though frequently
there is a considerable time of anxiety and struggle between the moment of
awakening and the time when the soul finds joy and peace in believing, yet this
dark middle-passage is by no means espential. Rather it is the result either of
faulty views as to the way of salvation, or of a want of faith in it as it is presented
to the sinner. On this point I cannot refrain from reproducing an anecdote which
I heard one evening in conversation from the lips of Mr. Spurgeon. An earnest
young evangelist was one morning on his way from Granton to Edinburgh, and
overtook a Newhaven fishwife carrying her burden to the market. Anxious to do
some good, he said to her, •' There you go with your burden on your back. Once
I had a heavier load than that, but, thank God, I have got rid of it now." " Oh,"
she replied, " yon mean the burden that John Bunyan speaks of ; I know all about
that ; but I have got rid of mine many and many a year ago. " I am happy to
hear of it," said the evangelist. " Yes," she answered ; " but, do you know, I don't
think that man Evangelist was a right preacher of the gospel at all. When
Christian asked him where he was to go, he said, Do you see yonder wicket-gate ?
He said he didn't ; and it was no wonder. He asked again. Do you see yonder
shining light 7 and he said he did ; and then Evangelist directed him to make for
that. Now, what business had he to speak either about the shining light or the
wicket-gate? Couldn't he have pointed him at once to the Eedeemer's cross.
Christian never did lose his burden till he saw that cross ; and he might have seen
it sooner if Evangelist had known his business better. Much good he got, too, by
making for the shining light. Why, before he knew where he was, he was flounder-
ing in the Slough of Despond ; and if it had not been for the man Help he would
never have got out." " What ! " said the evangelist to her, " were you never in the
Slough of Despond t " " Ay, many a time, many a time," was the reply ; " but
let me tell you, young man, it's a hantel easier to get through that slough ynth
your burden off than with your burden on I " Now, though as a record of what
often actually happens, the immortal allegorist has given us a truthful portraiture,
the Christian fishwife was in the right ; for the moment a sinner rightly appre-
hends and thoroughly believes the doctrine of the Cross he loses his sin-burden ,
and this may be after no painfully protracted process of agony and inward
conflict. IW. M. Taylor, D.D.) The father'$ readiness to forgive : — ^As the
father in the parable ran to meet the returning prodigal, so the Lord, while
slow to condemn, makes haste to forgive. Some time ago a devoted Christian
worker in Edinburgh, finding a young woman — one of the fallen — in rapid decline,
earnestly entreated her to go back to her home. " No," she said, " I cannot ; my
parents would never receive me." Her Christian friend knew what a mother's
heart was, so she sat down and wrote a letter to the mother, telling her that she
had met her daughter, who wai deeply grieved, and wanted to return. The next
post brought an answer back, and money along with it for the journey, and on the
envelope was written, " Immediately 1 immediately 1 " That was a^ mother'a
heart; she fully forgave, and desired the earliest possible return. This is what
the great and loving God is saying to every wandering sinner: "Come imme-
diately." Yes, backsliders, you catmot come home too soon ; for He will forgive
jou graciously and love you freely, and in heaven there will be joy unspetikabla
©?«r jour retom. Tfie Father's joy at the sinner's return: — This infinite joy in
OHAP. XV.] ST. LUKE. I8f
the Father's heart seems to as appalling when we read of it, and try to believe
that it is an actual revelation of the Divine mind. It is high — we cannot attain
onto it ; that is our natural language. And yet all Christendom is but an expres-
sion of this truth. What does the message of Christ's full and perfect sacrifice
mean — what do the sacraments mean — if it is not this ? Are they not manifesta-
tions of One who of His tender love to mankind gave His only begotten Son to
take our nature upon Him, and to suffer death upon the cross. Passion Week is
either a dream or it is a translation into fact of this parable. It is a witness
that the parable applies equally to both the sons of the Father — to those
who are near and to those who are afar off. {F. D. Maurice, M.A.)
And the son ssild luito him, Father. — Confession and restoration : — ^I. Thb
rBODiGAij's CONFESSION. 1. This confessiou was the result of repentance. 2. This
confession of the prodigal showed that his repentance was real. " Father, I have
sinned." There was nothing fictitious about that confession. It was the welliug
up of a bursting heart, too full of sadness, too conscious of error, too desirous of
forgiveness to think of an excuse, or to say anything but the simple truth — " I
have sinned." It is a beautiful confession, when, coming from the lips of a truly
earnest man, it is whispered into the ear of God. 3. This confession of the
prodigal showed that his repentance was evangelical. "I have sinned against
heaven and in thy sight." The earthly aspect of the sin he saw in all its vileness;
but when he turned his eyes towards heaven, he felt that God had been more
bitterly sinned against. 4. This confession of the prodigal was humble — " And
.am no more worthy to be called thy son." He did not say that he was humble ;
true humility never does this ; but he showed it. IL The pbodioal's bestobatiom.
1. The prodigal was restored to honour. " The best robe." 2. He is restored to
dignity. Bing on finger. 3. He is restored to comfort and strength. Shoes on
feet. 4. He is restored to abundant provision. Fatted calf. iW. G. Faseoe.)
Bring forth the best robe. — The best robe : — I. The sinner by nature is spiriiuai.]:<y
NAKED. Prodigal in rags. II. A suitable bobe has been graciously prepared.
Not "go and prepare one," but "bring it forth." III. It is of unpaballelsd
BEAUTS AND VALUE. " The best robe." Its beauty indescribable. Its beauty never
fades. Purchased for us by a great price ; but no price is asked from us. An
invulnerable robe ; clothed in it we have nothing to fear. lY. It is brought to
us and put upon ub by appointed aobncy. V. It is the Fatheb's gift. VI.
Bestowed upon none but the sincebely penitent. {J. Dobie, D.D.) The best
robe : — The best robe is the " garment of salvation," or the " robe of righteous-
ness," which God puts upon every one who believes on the Lord Jesus Christ.
1. It is the best robe, because it cost so much labour to make it. 2. It is the best
robe, because becoming to all persons. 3. The excellence of this robe is seen in
its suitableness for all occasions. 4. It is the best robe, because it wears so well.
5. Because it costs so little. The poorest person and the greatest sinuer may have
it for nothing. 6. Because it is the robe we shall wear in heaven. It wiU be our
"court dress." (D. Wiriters.) The best robe: — By the best robe we may
Boripturally understand what theologians and preachers have all along designated
"the robe of righteousness." It covers at once and completely the rags and
unseemliness of sin. It was woven on Calvary for the race of man, out of the
white warp of Divine mercy and the blood-red woof of the Bedeemer's sacrifice.
It is like Christ's own garment for which lots were cast, " without seam, woven
from the top throughout," and of which, when He was stripped by His executioners.
He was significantly arrayed in the " scarlet robe," emblematical of our crimson
transgressions which He bore. This robe of righteousness has been hung up in
heaven's gospel-wardrobe, " and is unto all and upon all them that believe." It is
beautifully bedecked with the ornaments of holiness, which the Spirit of Christ,
with delicate hand, has embroidered on its indestructible texture. An affecting
anecdote has been preserved concerning the work of God in Jamaica, before our
slaves were set free. Although Britain had not liberated them, God's Spirit often
broke their spiritual chains; and the joy of salvation visited black and white alike.
Once, at a certain plantation, a slave had entered into the peace of the gospel,
while his master still remained in darkness ; and the black f reedman thus addressed
the white bondman, who had not yet got rid of the galling chains of sin and Satan.
" You see, Massa, it just like this. A gentleman pass our house one day and he
offer two robe for notink— one to you and one to me. Me poor negro — very poor —
got no good clothes — very glad to get robe for de taking. But yon rich man — ^hab
plenty better robe ob your own — you too proud to take de kind man's robe. Jest so.
190 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. Xf,
Massa, wid de gospel. De Lord Jesns Christ is passing by our plantation wid robe ok
righteousness for poor sinners. Me poor sinful negro — black skin — black sin — very
glad to get de robe dat was woven on de tree ; but you go great deal to church — gib
much money — hab minister many time in your house — tink yourself very good-
Christian — not willing to take de robe as a free gift. O Massa, be persuade to be-
poor in spirit hke poor negro, and take de robe ob righteousness as a free gift."
{F. Ferguson, D.D.) The ring: — It is a conscience -keeping ring. I cannot
explain my meaning here without narrating one of those Arabian tales in which a deep
meaning is often found hidden. A genius or guardian spirit presented to his protege
a ring, which had this virtue, that whenever the wearer went against the wishes of
his protector, it tightened upon his finger and gave him pain. Beautiful emblem^
of the new heart and tender conscience which God's grace brings to the penitent
and believing soul 1 That is the magic ornament which the returning prodigal
receives when his father dresses him for the feast, and which unspeakably exceed*
in value the rarest jewels that sparkle on the brow, the neck, or hand of haughty
beauty. {J. Ferguson.) A father't pity and love : — A preacher one day wound
up his sermon by saying that there was not a man in London so far gone but he
could be saved. Next morning a young lady — a tract distributor — requested an
interview, and repeated his words. "Do you mean itr " *• I do." " Well, there
is a man down in the East End of London who says there is no hope for him. I
wish you would go and see him." He went down into one of those dark alleys till
be came to a miserable-looking building. And up in the fifth storey he found the
young man, mangled and bruised by the effects of sin. The minister talked to
him and told him of the sinner's Friend, and prayed with him until at last light
began to break into his soul, and he was able to say, '• I could die happy if I could
hear my father say, ' I forgive you.' He lives in the West End of London, but he
has had my name taken out of the family records. He treats me as if I were
dead." " I will go and see him," said the minister. He found his abode — &
beautiful mansion — rang the bell, and was answered by a servant in livery. He
inquired if his master was in, and presently the man came down. " I believe you
have a son called Joseph ? " " No," he said, "I have no boy of that name. I
had, but I have disinherited him. There is nothing good about him." " But,"
eaid the minister, " he is your boy, nevertheless." " Is my Joseph sick ? " " Yes,
he 18 at the point of death. I ask you if you will forgive him. If you will, he
can die in peace. Tell me that you forgive him, and I will take the message to
him." " No, no; if my boy is sick, I will go and see him." And so the carriage
was taken out, and they went to the dark alley in the East Eud. The father
hardly recognized him. The boy said, "Father, can you forgive me?" "Oh,
Joseph, I would have forgiven you long ago, if I had known you wanted me to.
Let my servants take you and put you in the carriage." " No, father, I am not
•well enough to be moved. I shall not live much longer, but I can die happy now."
And Boon he passed away to meet his Lord and Saviour. Let us eat, and be
merry. — Joy on the prodigal's return : — I. The new convebt's jot. You have seen,
perhaps, a man running for his temporal liberty, and the officers of the law after
him, and you saw Lim escape, or afterward you hear the judge had pardoned him,
and how great was the glee of that rescued man ; but it is a very tame thing that
compared with the running for one's everlasting life, the terrors of the law after
him, and Christ coming in to pardon and bless and rescue and save. You remember
John Bunyan in his great story tells how the pilgrim put his fingers in his ears, and
ran, ciying : " Life, life, eternal life 1 " A poor car-driver in this city, some months
ago, after struggling for years to support his family, suddenly was informed that ar
large inheritance was his, and there was a joy amounting to bewilderment; but that is
a small thing compared with the experience of one when he has put in his hands the
title-deeds to the joys, the raptures, the splendours of heaven, and he can truly say,
" Its mansions are mine, its temples are mine, its songs are mine, its God is mine ! "
Oh, it is no tame thing to become a Christian. It is a merry-making. It is the
killing of the fatted calf. It is a jubilee. II. The father's jot. At the opening
of the Exposition in New Orleans I saw a Mexican flutist, and he played the solo,
and then afterward the eight or ten bands of music, accompanied by the great
organ, came in ; but the sound of that one flute as compared with all the orchestras
was greater than all the combined joy of the universe when compared with the
resounding heart of Almighty God. IIL Tbb jot or the ministebs of bblioion.
They blew the trumpet, and ought they not to be glad of the gathering of the
host? They pointed to the fall supply, and ought they not to rejoice when thirtttj
CHIP. XT.] ST. LUKE. 191
Bonis plunge as the hart for the water brooks ? They came forth, saying : " All
things are now ready" — ought they not to rejoice when the prodigal sits down at
the banquet ? IV. The jot of all eabnest Chbistuns. V. The joy op the inhabi-
tants or HEAVEN. (De W. Talmage, D.D.) The merry household : — I. The occasion
OF this mibtb. It was the restoration of the prodigal son. II. The pabticifatobs
IN this mibth. 1. The father took part in this mirth. But for him, indeed, there
had been no merry-making. And in that happy party there was none so happy as
the father I 2. The servants took part in this mirth. They rejoiced in sympathy
with their master. " They say that if a piano is struck in a room where another
stands unopened and untouched, he who lays his ear to the latter will hear a string
witbin, as if touched by the hand of a shadowy spirit, sounding the same tone.
But how far more strange that the strings of the heart vibrate to those of another."
Joy meets joy, feeling meets feeling. The rapturous gladness of the father is
caught, and like two torches blended, heightened by the servants as they crowd the
hall, and with music and dancing begin to be merry. When a sinner is converted
to God the sympathy of all holy beings is with him. 3. The prodigal himself took
part in this mirth. He had the greatest cause of all to do so. Had he not been
rescued from a misery worse than death — the misery of a sinful life ? Had he not
been restored to all the honours he had originally possessed ? Oh 1 the blessedness
of that hour when God first whispered forgiveness to our heart. III. The effect of
THIS mibth. It would establish the prodigal in his new mode of life. ( W. Q. Pascoe.)
The safety of moral return : — Christmas Evans was once describing the prodigal's
coming back to his father's house, and he said that when the prodigal sat at the
father's table his father put upon his plate all the daintiest bits of meat that he
could find ; but the son sat there and did not eat, and every now and then the tears
began to flow. His father turned to him and said, " My dear son, why are you
midiappy ? You spoil the feasting. Do you not know that I love you t Have I
not joyfully received you f " •' Yes," he said, " dear father, you are very kind, but
have you really forgiven me ? Have you forgiven me altogether, so that you will
never be angry with me for all I have done ? " His father looked on him with
ineffable love and said, " I have blotted out thy sins and thy iniquities, and will
remember them no more for ever. Eat, my dear son." The father turned round
and waited on the guests, but by and by his eyes were on his boy, they could not
be long removed. There was the son weeping again, but not eating. " Come, dear
child," said his father, "come, why are you still mourning? What is it that you
want ? " Bursting into a flood of tears a second time, the son said, ** Father, am I
always to stop here? Will you never turn me out of doors ? " The father repUed,
" No, my child, thou shalt go no more out for ever, for a son abides for ever."
Still the son did not enjoy the banquet ; there was still something rankling within,
and again he wept. Then his father said, " Now, tell me, tell me, my dear son,
all that is in thy heart. What do you desire more? " The son answered, "Father,
will you make me stop here ? Father, I am afraid lest, if I were left to myself, I
might play the prodigal again. Oh, constrain me to stay here for ever ! " The
father said, " I will put my fear in thy heart, and thou shalt not depart from me.'*
" Ah 1 then," the son replied, " it is enough," and merrily he feasted with the rest.
So I preach to you just this — that the great Father, when He takes you to Himself,
will never let you go away from Him again. Whatever your condition, if you trust
your soul to Jesus, you shall be saved, and saved for ever. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Heavenly merry-makings : — It is now his turn to act the prodigal in lavishing all
upon the penitent. Little wonder that the elder brother reproached the father as
the greater prodigal of the two. Such a costly merry-making had never been in
their quiet home. The prodigality of grace surpasses the prodigality of sin. The
best robe, the ring, and the shoes were the dress of a free-born son, and showed to
all that ihe lost son had received the highest favours the father could bestow.
" The fatted calf " was well known to the servants, as at Jewish farms a calf was
fattened for great festivals. " And they began to be merry " (ver. 24), but we are
not told when they ended. Heaven has its merry-makings as well as earth, and
they celebrate the prodigal's home-coming. {J. Wells.) His elder son. — The
elder ton: — The elder son was one who had always remained at that very
home from which the younger had wandered, and to which he had at last
returned. He had been a faithful son, doing his father's commandments,
and the parable would lose all its point, unless we were to see in it a picture ot a
father's heart which has depth and warmth enough not only to love a son who
obeys, but to forgive a son who disobeys and repents. The elder eon was not
192 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. jOBkr. XT.
therefore a self-righteous Pharisee. He was not a hypocrite. But he was a some-
•what narrow good man. He was a type of thousands among the Jews, and of
thousands still among Christians, who look with jealous suspicion upon all who
have been once abandoned and now have repented and turned to God. They have
never fathomed the depths of sin. From their childhood they have walked
uprightly. I. In the first place we may see that the position of the eldek son
IS PREFERABLE TO THAT OF THE YOUNQEB BECAUSE OF THE EISK HE ESCAPED. It is
true that the younger son returned, but then he might not have returned. When
he turned his back upon his father's house, it might have been for ever. II. The
position of the elder brother is preferable because a life of continuous godliness
IS FAB EASIEB THAN A LIFE OF GODLINESS SUCCEEDING A LIFE OF SIN. The piodigal,
remember, does not start hfe afresh. He is not brought back to the point of
innocence from which he started. His soul is not cleared and cleansed from all
the past. If he be able to exercise a fair command over his speech and outward
conduct, so as not to break out into the words and deeds of his profligate career,
think how his memory and his imagination are poisoned 1 He has to undo so
much that has been done. He has to strive hard to break the links of association
which connect him with evil thoughts. What would he not sacrifice if he could bat
just wipe out of his remembrance the tormenting, polluting past. Bat he cannot.
Though it be forgiven by God, it is there still to be struggled with. He has to pull
down much that he has built up ; he has to tear up much that he has planted ; he
has to put a double watch at those points where he so often fell ; he often feels the
old sin reviving and struggling for mastery again, and trembles lest he should be
-vanquished- Whereas the son who has remained at home has grown up into godli-
aiess with his advancing years. IH. Viewed as a whole, the life of the son who
BEMAINED AT HOME MUST YIELD FAB HOBE PLEASURE TO GOD THAN THE LIFE OF THK
SON WHO WANDEBS AND THEN EETUBNS. Let experience be called in to testify which
is preferable, the joy which a parent has over a son who is obedient and virtuous,
who never sets at nought the laws of the house, whose ear is ever ready to hear and
hands to do the will of his father, the serene joy which is felt every day and all the
day, the joy which is like quiet and peaceful sunshine, or that tumultuous gladness
which, after years of pain and sorrow over a son's profligacy, welcomes him home.
liet any parent on earth who has the well-being of his children at heart answer, and
he will say. Give me the obedient, loving son, with the quiet tranquil joy from day
to day, before the brief ecstasy after long agony, which arises from a repenting
prodigal. The one is but a mountain torrent-— the other is a deep and noiseless
stream. And as with the parent so too with the children ; the joy of the obedient
one is higher than that of the returning one. It may not seem so, because of the
feast which the returning one sees provided for him. The merriment will cease.
The fatted calf will not be killed again to-morrow. Even the prodigal's joy will
sober down after a while, and he will have to find a sweeter banquet, though a lesa
exciting one, in doing the will of his father. {E, Mellor, D.D.) The prodigal's
elder brother : — 1. The first point which we have to consider is, that the elder could
not rejoice, on account of jealousy, in the return of his younger brother. That such
a character should take no delight in welcoming one of his own blood from habits
which were leading him to inevitable ruin is a most humihating proof that " every
suan at his best estate is altogether vanity." Nor can we suppose that our Lord
intends us to regard this character as an exception to the general rule ; quite the
reverse. We may find in this elder brother our own likeness. There is scarcely a
fault more common than this very jealousy and grudging of good to others. In
proof of this, a sceptical philosopher, whose wisdom we may suppose was not
drawn from the sacred page, but from his own observation, has sneeringly affirmed
that we rejoice in the misfortunes of our friends ; and, though we may hope this is not
universally true, it certainly requires much more Christian charity than most of U3
possess to rejoice from the heart in our neighbour's good fortune. 2. The second
remarkable point in the character of the elder brother is, that he set a value and
merit upon his own decent behaviour. Now nothing can be more fatal to a right
^ew of our position towards God than to suppose that any merit can attach to our
obedience ; or that it would be less incumbent upon us to obey were all prospective
recompense removed 1 The only sound reason why we should ever live well is that
<Ood has commanded it — the only motive which can effectually influence our conduct
is love for Him. The conclusion to be drawn from this brief consideration of the elder
brother's character is what I have already summed up in the early part of my dis-
tfourse. 1. In the first place, his past respectable domestic conduct could not hava
CHAP. XV.] ST. LUKE, 19k
been the fruits of genuine good afifections. ']?hroughout the parable there is not thee
faintest trace of affection for any one but himself. 2. Secondly, it is evident that,
however good his life may have been, his real taste v^as not for holiness and what
is right. The mere fact that he oonld not take delight in the reformation of his
brother is sufficient to prove this. 3. Finally, the many years* service of which the
elder brother boasted had not been given out of love to his parent : if he had not
been watching from time to time for instances of parental indulgence, he could at
any rate feel they were his due — "Long as I have served thee thou never gavest me
a kid 1 " Thus did want of real love for his father unamiably show itself, hidden
probably alike from himself and others until circumstances arose to develop it.
Such a deficiency strikes at once all remaining interest from his character ; and
stained in sin as the prodigal had been, still, in his remnant of good afifections, we
trace how Divine grace operates more easily, and conquers more effectually, when
it has to combat the vices of youthful excess, than when it has to contend with
decent formalism, a hard and cold heart, a jealous temper, self-righteousness, and
conceit. {A. Gatty, D.D.) The elder son : — It was a joyless life, that of the old
Bon. While his dull round of duty lacked the colour and merriment of the
prodigal's gay time, it found no compensation from any sympathy of affection
betwixt himself and his father. They were men of rery different characters. The
father's heart yearned incessantly after his lost boy ; but this worker in the field
wasted no love on him. Alone or with the labourers he wrought ; and his chief
intercourse with his father was when he took his orders. Hear his own account ol
it : " These many years do I slave to thee, nor did I transgress at any time thy
command." To be a bondservant, that was his chosen place ; to have wilfully dis-
obeyed no injunction, that was his boast. Yet he had friends elsewhere who were
not his father's friends, and desires after other company than met at his father's
table ; for, had he earned any pleasure by his toil, it would have been, he says, a
kid with which to make merry with his own companions. Even this he did not
get. It was thankless service. No glow of family love warmed it. Yet, if not
quite satisfied, the old son was in a measure content to hold this unsonlike place,
just because his cold heart had never dreamed that sonship meant anything mora
than this. The problem was, how to teach him that; how to open up what tender-
ness the heart of his father held, and what the claim of a son really meant, so that
he shall discover that he for one has never yet entered into the joy of that relation-
ship, nor known what is the deep confidential love which binds true parent and
true child in one. What, then, does sonship really mean ? It means that there ia
more sacred strength in that single word "son" than in ever so many years oi
laborious servitude ; for it is the power of love and not of law which says, " All that
I have is thine." It means that this Father of yours, whom you haTe been observ-
ing as a taskmaster, and misjudging as a niggard, you have never really known in
His Fatherhood ; for see, to this scapegrace, just because he ia become again a sor?
mdeed, and dares to trust the father's heart, that father's heart brims over instantly
with unutterable tenderness and a generosity that knows no bounds. Oh, it means»
if yon will learn it, that you have been as little of a true son as this pitied outcast;
-else might you also have rejoiced all through these weary years past, in a love no
less strong, in a joy no less deep, than the love and joy of this festive day ; nay,
more deep and strong, if less noisy or exuberant, because springing out of the calm
depths of an unbroken intercourse, unmarred by the memory of separation or the
■hadow of guilt ; for " Thou art ever with me " I (J. 0. Dykes, D.D.) The elder
brother : — The aim of every Christian is to be complete in Christ ; but how many of
His own are poor in the possession of His sympathies, His generosity and meekness.
His large views ? Let us see how these are represented by the elder brother, and
show how onr Father in heaven deals with the errors of such a disposition. I. Thb
BouBCES OF iMPEBFECTioN IN THIS CHABACTEB. 1. Wrong views of the character oi
God. This man had not sufficient trust in the integrity and goodness of his father.
2. Wrong views of the nature of religious service. This elder brother considered
the service of his father as legal and constrained. The child of Ood ought to have
a feeling of possession in the property of his Father, serving Him as a son who i»
native to the inheritance. 3. Wrong feeling towards the objects of the Divine
mercy. To mention the evils of his brother's life, at such a time as this, was bad
taste, and worse feeling. He might have trusted the honest affection of his father,
and waited till his own soal rose to that high eminence. That feeling which
refuses to recognize a man as one of the family of God, because he has greatly
Binned, is a bad feeling. II. The Ditxme beiudt. The same love which receives
Tou m. 13 - —
194 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xt.
the prodigal home now argues with the narrow-minded saint. That love is great to
cover faults, and to develop the most unpromising germs of goodness. It ia not
expended in the single eSort of forgiveness, bat has reserves of force to transform,
purify, and elevate. There are souls within the kingdom of God who are not fully ia
sympathy with the greatness of the Divine love. There are surfaces on which, whea
the Light falls, some of the rays are quenched, and the reflection is imperfect. Thera
are some souls who fail to reflect the fall splendour of the love of God. What we
know of this heavenly principle depends upon what we are able to receive. 1. The
flrst remedy for this state of mind is to impress us with the sacredness and worth
of true feeling. There is a logic of the heart which no sophistry can invade or
dissipate. Let ns follow those impulses of the Divine love within as, though
we cannot now mark out by our reason the whole journey. At what
time the mind disposes to unbelief, the heart can restore us to faith.
2. Another remedy is — We are reminded that God's resources are infinite.
Lavish bounty of design and provision is the rule of nature. How
grudging and narrow is man 1 How good is God I 3. We are reminded
that constancy of service is superior to sudden rapture. {The Lay Preacher.)
He was angX7. — The angry brother : — I. The want of syusktuy with a bbothkb's
CONVEBSION. The prodigal's brother is " angry and will not go in." Angry at
what ? The salvation of a brother ! The reception of the lost one home again !
No true saint will look coldly on a poor sinner who staggers to the mercy-seat.
n. SeIiTIshmess passing censube ok cacseb fob gladness. Selfishness is a fire that
burns all love out of the soul. Selfishness is an angry beast whose iron hoof
crushes every flower in the garden of sympathy. Selfishness is a monster that has
no eye for the beautiful, no ear for music, no appreciation of poetry or sentiment.
Selfishness is a lean-souled miser who would snatch a crust from the hand of a
beggar, and would begrudge hospitality to a starving wanderer. UI. Angeb shut-
ting OUT FBOU A feast OF JOY. "He WBS angry and would not go in." {W. O.
Pascoe.) The elder ton's dissatisfaction : — How plausible this reasoning sounds I
How perfectly invincible it must have seemed to this dutiful son ! And yet, if we
examine it, what does it come to but this t "I have been obedient, and I ought to
be paid for my obedience. My brother has been disobedient. Why art thou glad
that he haa ceased to be disobedient ? I see no caase for satisfaction in that. It
causes me no delight." Here is that flagrant opposition between the Divine pur-
pose and the purpose of those who had been called to be the ministers of His will
and purpose, which our Lord has been detecting in all His dealings with the scribes
and Pharisees? " The Father's joy is in the restoration of the lost. You have no
such joy. Ton think the removal of their curse, of their sin, is an injury to you."
But is this consistent with the words, " Son, thou art ever with me, and all Uiat I
have is thine." Thoroughly consistent. For what do these words signify but this :
" Son, I have called thee to know my goodness and loving-kindness. I have called
thee to be a dispenser of that knowledge to the children of men. I can give thee
no greater treasure. I can make thee partaker of no higher bliss than my own.
Thou wilt not have that ? Thou wishest for another kind of joy than mine ? Well,
if thou choosest it, thou must have it. Thou must try what that selfish joy ia
worth ; whether it satisfies thee better than the husks which the swine eat have
satisfied thy brother. But before thou formest that terrible resolution, I will
come out and entreat thee. I will urge thee to partake of my festival. I will vin-
dicate thy right to it. I will conjure thee to enter into thy father's blessedness.
Thoa dost enter it when thou ownest the outcast for thy brother, when thou
makest merry and art glad because he was dead and is alive again, he was lost and
is found." So pleaded the Eternal Father by the mouth of Jesus with His Jewish
people. So pleads He with us in this Passion Week. Do you want wages for your
virtue, for your faith, for your superiority to the rest of mankind 1 You must ask
the devil for those wages ; for the service of pride he will give you strictly and
punctually the wages of death. Do you desire the delight of the Father who so
loved the world as to give His only-begotten Son for itr^ Do you want the
delight of the Son who poured out His blood for all men, who is the Saviour of all
men ? Do you want the delight of the Spirit, who is seeking to bring all to repent-
ance and tine knowledge of the truth ? " Son, thou art ever with Me, and all that
I have ia thine." Thou mayest possess My own character. Thou mayest declar*
My purpose to those who have lost themselves. Thou mayest be My instrument in
finding them. And if they never hear thy feeble voice, thou needest not doubt
that they will hear the voice of the Son of Man ; that by hunger and misery H«
i«HAP. XV.] 8T. LUKE. .198
■will remind them of their Father's house ; that they will arise and go to Him ; that
He will meet them when they are a great way off ; that He will embrace them and
bring them to His banquet ; that His Spirit will enable them to feed on the perfect
Sacrifice, and to ofifer themselves acceptable sacrifices to Him. (F. D. Maurice,
M.A.) Self-importance : — 1. Observe how self-importance makes a man moody
and unhappy. He who is always thinking of his own excellences, renders himself
thereby unfit to enjoy the good of others, and is prone to imagine that every token
of affection given to another is an insult offered to himself. Hence he is touchy,
sensitive, irritable, and envious. There is no surer way to make ourselves miser-
able than to think of ourselves more highly than we ought to think. It isolates us
from all about us. May God deliver us from this idolatry of self, on whose altar all
true nobleness and real happiness are completely immolated I 2. Notice, again,
how repulsive to others this self-important spirit is. You cannot take to this elder
brother. Even in his wanderings and sins, the younger was more lovable than he,
his industry and sobriety notwithstanding. So it is ever with the selfish one. He
is a non-conductor in society. The electricity of love never passes through him ;
and in the end, all loving hearts are driven from him. Thus he is not only the
most unhappy, but also the most useless of men. He has no magnetism about him.
He can gain no entrance into the hearts of others. {W. M. Taylor, D.D.) The
elder son's disposition: — When a Christian of long standing and irreproachable
character, who has known some degree of happiness in Christ, but has not had
anything approaching to ecstasy, is inclined to be suspicious of the genuineness of
the transport of him who has just been converted from a life of grossest sin, and is
disposed, in envy, to ask, " Why should such experiences be granted to him, while
I, who have been seeking to follow Jesus all my days, know nothing of them ? " we
have the working of the same disposition as that which the elder brother here dis-
played. When a minister of age and excellence, who is mourning over the apparent
iruitlessness of his labours, is tempted to ask how it oomes that a young brother, in
the very outset of his career, is made instrumental in bringing multitudes to Christ,
and permits himself to think, if not to say, that it is " mean " in God to pass by an
old and faithful servant such as he has been, and to use and bless an inexperienced
lad ; or when a stickler for order and decorum murmurs that the Lord should
Jionour with success the irregularities of a revival meeting, and the labours of some
" converted burglar," in larger measure than he seems to bless the stated workings
of the authorised ministry in the ordinary exercises of the sanctuary ; or when some
father, prominent in the Church for piety and usefulness, is led, in his haste and
in his self-importance, to ask, " How comes it that the children of thisone and that
one — of little name among the brethren, and hardly known for their zeal and
devotedness — are all converted, while my son is permitted to grow up in sin, and to
become tome a source of constant anxiety ? " — in each and all of these we have aphasis
of that unlovely disposition which, in the elder brother, is here condemned. The
Sabbath-school teacher who throws up the work because another seems more suc-
cessful in it than himself ; the labourer in any department of benevolent activity, who,
because he thinks that more is made of some one else than of himself, gives way to
personal pique, and will have no more to do with the concern ; the over-sensitive,
irritable, petted man, who is for ever taking offence, and manages somehow to ex-
clude himself from every society with which he has been connected, and to estrange
himself from the sympathy and co-operation of all with whom he has come into
■contact ; may all look here, and in the elder brother of this parable they will behold
themselves. (Ibid.) Dlder brotherliness : — Some years ago I preached to my
congregation in Liverpool, one Lord's Day morning, from this episode in the parable
of the Prodigal Son. As I was leaving the church for my home, I was requested to
visit a dying man whom I had seen frequently before, but who was just then, appa-
rently, about to pass within the veil. He had been for many years a careless and
irreligious man ; but as I spoke with him from time to time, I marked that a great
change had come over him. I had conversed faithfully and earnestly with him, of
Jesus and His salvation ; and he had turned in sincere penitence to his Father, and
was, as I sincerely believe, accepted with Him. When I entered his room that
morning, I found him in great happiness, rejoicing in the near prospect of being
with his Lord, and apparently perfectly happy. I talked with him a little on the
things of the kingdom, and after prayer I took my leave. His brother-in-law fol-
lowed me downstairs, and said, "I cannot understand this at all. Here have I
-beep serving Christ for these twenty years, and I have never experienced such joy
AS he expresses ; and yet be has not been a Christian, if he be really one, for aiorv
196 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTEATOR. [chap, iv,
tlian a few weeks." Immediately I recognized tLe elder brother, and I stayed long
enough to show him just how he looked in the light of this parable. I told hin)
that I had been preaching about him that very morning. " About vie f " he said.
" Yes, about you " ; and I then went on to explain to him the meaning of this epi-
sode, while I warned him of the danger of being angry, and refusing to go into the
Father's house to share the joy over the returning prodigal. The result was
that he saw his error, and was delivered from his envy. Now, that incident,
occurring just at that precise time, has given a new point to the parable in my view
ever since, and makes me far more anxious to get the elder-brotherliness out of
my own heart than to identify the elder brother with any particular class. (Ibid.)
Pharisaism in ourselves : — There is sufficient Pharisaism in each of us to justify the
application of this to ourselves. They who have long served God with care and
diligence, and yet find their life a hard struggle, with few bright passages, many
disappointments, and never joy such as tbe penitent at once enters into, naturally
feel some soreness that one step should bring a lifelong sinner abreast of them.
Tou may have been striving all your days to be useful, and making great sacrifices
to further what you believe to be the cause of God, and yet you cannot point to
any success ; but suddenly a man converted yesterday takes your place, and all
things seem to shape themselves to his hand, and the field that was a heart-break
to you is fertile to him. You have denied yourself every pleasure that you might
know the happiness of communion with God, and you have not known it, but you
see a banquet spread in God's presence for him who has till this hour been delight-
ing in sin. You have had neither the liotous living nor the fatted calf. You
have gone among the abandoned and neglected, and striven to enlighten and lift
them ; you have done violence to your own feelings that you might be helpful to
others; and, so far as you can see, nothing has come of it. But another man who
has lived irregularly, who has not prepared himself for the work, who is untaught,
imprudent, unsatisfactory, has the immediate joy of wirming souls to God. Have
you not been tempted to say, " Verily, I have cleansed my heart in vain, and
washed my hands in irmocency " 7 All this may be needful to convince you that it
is not service that wins God's love ; that His love is with you now, and that your
acceptance of it will make all that has seemed to you grievous to be light and happy.
Take refuge from all failure and disappointment in the words, " Son, I am ever
with thee, and all that I have is thine." Learn to find your joy in Him, and yon
will be unable to think of any reward. (Marcus Bods, D.D.) Contracted views in
religion : — In the conduct of the father, there seemed, at first sight, an evident
departure from the rules of fairness and justice. Here was a reprobate son received
into his favour on the first stirrings of repentance. What was the use of serving
liim dutifully, if there were no difference in the end between the righteous and the
wicked ? This is what we feel and act upon in life constantly. In doing good to
the poor, for instance, a chief object is to encourage industrious and provident
habits ; and it is evident we should hurt and disappoint the better sort, and defeat
our object, if, after all, we did not take into account the difference of their conduct,
<iiough we promised to do so, but gave those who did not work nor save all the
benefits granted to those who did. The elder brother's case, then, seemed a hard
one ; and that, even without supposing him to feel jealous, or to have unsuitable
notions of his own importance and usefulness. Apply this to the case of religion,
and it still holds good. At first sight, the reception of the penitent sinner seems to
interfere with the reward of the faithful servant of God. Just as the promise of
pardon is abused by bad men to encourage themselves in sinning on, that grace may
abound ; so, on the other hand, it is misapprehended by the good, so as to dispirit
them. For what is our great stay and consolation amid the perturbations of this
world ? The truth and justice of God. This is our one light in the midst of dark-
ness. *' He loveth righteousness, and hateth iniquity; " "just and right is He."
Where else should we find rest for our foot all over the world? The condescending
answer of the father in the parable is most instructive. It sanctions the great truth
which seemed in jeopardy, that it is Twt the same thing iu the end to obey or dis-
obey, expressly telling us that the Christian penitent is not placed on a footing with
those who have consistently served God from the first. " Son, thou art ever with
Me, and all that I have is thine " : that is, why this sudden fear and distrust? can
there be any misconception on thy part because I welcome thy brother ? dost thou
not yet understand Me ? Surely thou hast known Me too long to suppose that
thou canst lose by his gain. TAott art in My confidence. I do not make any outward
display of kindness towards thee, for it is a thing to be taken for granted. We giv*
CHAP. XV.-] ST. LUKE. 191
praise and make professions to strangers, not to friends. Thou art My heir, all that
1 have is thine. " O thou of little f nith, wherefore didst thou doubt ? " Who could
have thought that it were needful to tell to thee truths which thou hast heard all
thy life long ? Thou art ever with Me ; and canst thou really grudge that I should
by one mere act of rejoicing, show My satisfaction at the sinner's recovery, and
sliould console him with a promise of mercy, who, before he heard of it, was sink-
ing down under the dread of deserved punishment 7 " It was meet that we should,
make merry and be glad," thou as well as thy Father. Such is our merciful God's
answer to His suspicious servants, who think He cannot pardon the sinner without
withdrawing His favour from them ; and it contains in it both a consolation for the
perplexed believer not to distrust Him ; and again, a warning to the disobedient,
not to suppose that repentance makes all straight and even, and puts a man in the
same place as if he had never departed from grace given. But let us now notice
the unworthy feeling which appears in the conduct of the elder brother. " He was
angry, and would not go " into the house. How may this be fulfilled in our own
case ? There exists a great deal of infirmity and foolishness even in the better sort
of men. This is not to be wondered at, considering the original corrupt state of
their nature, however it is to be deplored, repented of, and corrected. Good men are,
like Elijah, "jealous for the Lord God of hosts," and rightly solicitous to see Hia
tokens around them, the pledges of His unchangeable just government ; but then
they mix with such good feelings undue notions of self-importance, of which they
are not aware. This seemingly was the state of mind which dictated the complaint
of the elder brother. This will especially happen in the case of those who are in
the most favoured situations in the Church. All places possess their peculiar
temptation. Quietness and peace, those greatest of blessings, constitute the trial of
the Christiana who enjoy them. They becomt not only over-confident of their
knowledge of God's ways, but positive in their over-confidence. They are apt to
presume, and so to become irreverent. Give them much, they soon forget it is
much ; and when they find it is not all, and that for other men, too, even for peni-
tents, God has some good in store, straightway they are offended. Without denying
in words their own natural unworthiness, and still having real convictions of it to a
certain point, nevertheless, somehow, they have a certain secret over-regard for
themselves ; at least they act as if they thought that the Christian privileges
belonged to them over others, by a sort of fitness. And they like respect to be shown
them by the world, and are jealous of anything which is likely to interfere with the
continuance of their credit and authority. Perhaps, too, they have pledged them-
selves to certain received opinions, and this is an additional reason for their being
suspicious of what to them is a novelty. Hence such persons are least fitted to deal
with difficult times. Ood works wondrously in the world ; and at certain eras His
providence puts on a new aspect. Beligion seems to be failing, when it is merely
changing its form. God seems for an instant to desert His own appointed instru-
ments, and to be putting honour upon such as have been framed in express
disobedience to His commands. For instance, sometimes He brings about good by
means of wicked men, or seems to bless the efforts of those who have separated from
His Holy Church more than those of His true labourers. Here is the trial of the
Christian faith, who, if the fact is so, must not resist it, lest haply he be fonnd
fighting against God, nor must he quarrel with it after the manner of the elder
brother. But he must take everything as God's gift, hold fast his principles, not
give tJiem up because appearances are for the moment against them, but believe all
things will come round at length. On the other hand, he must not cease to beg of
God, and try to gain, the spirit of a sound mind, the power to separate truth from
falsehood, and to try the spirits, the disposition to submit to God's teaching, and
the wisdom to act as the varied course of affairs requires. (J. H. Newman, I).D.)
Son, thou art ever with me. — Constant obedience better than repentance : — Here the
father, who at first rejoiced so greatly at the return of the prodigal, yet in hia
sedate judgment makes a wide difference between the penitent son and the innocent
son. Let us, then, make out this point. 1. It is in itself a singular advantage to
have set out well betimes, and to have kept the right way, like the elder son in the
parable, who always adhered to his father. There is a sort of proverb which says
that a young saint makes an old sinner ; a young angel makes an old devil. But
this proverb seems to have been made by the devil, or by one of his agents, on pur-
pose to ridicule and discourage an early piety, which of all acquisitions is the most
valuable. 2. They have likewise this advantage, that the difficulties, struggles,
and dangers, which they have to encounter, are not so formidable as thos* to whiok
198 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. XT.
einnera remain exposed, even after their repentance and their good resolutions.
Nothing is so hard as to overcome old vices, and to root up evil habits ; for by cua-
torn they have taken firm hold, just like chronical diseases, which are seldom cured.
From such grievous inconveniences he is freed who hath been accustomed to regular
obedience. 3. There cannot be that settled content and security in the return and
repentanc« of a sinner, as there is in an uniform and unbroken compliance with the
laws of God. His hope will not be without a mixture of fear, as his fear
is not without a mixture of hope. 4. Neither can such a penitent be so
much in the favour of God, and so highly rewarded by Him, aa one of
more constant and regular virtues. This is a plain rale of eternal justice; it
follows from the declarations that God will render to every one according to his
works. 5. A regular obedience makes us more truly and properly the children of
God. Let us now review a little the nature of the foregoing doctrine. 1, This
doctrine allows whatsoever is due to repentance, and excludes none of the encourage-
ments to it. Bepentance is the sovereign cure for the worst diseases of the soul ;
but it must be applied in due time. Yet still it is better to be always well, than too
often to stand in need of this medicine. 2. Be it observed that we are speaking all
this while of repentance for evil habits, and for great and wilful offences ; and aa
to this repentance, it is to be hoped that many Christians stand not in need of it.
3. This shows the advantage of early habits of goodness. Nothing makes religion
sit so well upon us, as when it hath taken the first possession of the mind. 4.
This doctrine prevents a common and pernicious mistake about repentance ; and
that is, to delay it, and to trust that a late sorrow and remorse shall rein-
state an offender in the favour of God. 5. This doctrine stands upon
such plain and solid principles, that no interpretation of any passages of
Scripture contrary to it can possibly be true. {J. Jortin, D.D.) Ever
tvith God : — All will admit that the angels in light have ever been, and ever
are, with God; but the question has sometimes been keenly discussed among
critics and theologians, " May it be said that, during this dispensation of the Holy
Spirit, some children have been so admirably trained, that they have never wholly
left their Heavenly Father, but have been • ever with Him ' ? " A sermon was once
preached on this parable, by an earnest minister of the gospel, during a series of
revival meetings, in which he went the length of saying that " it might be main-
tained concerning those who ' could not recollect a time when they did not love
Christ,' that, like the elder son, they had never left their Father. They might be
imperfect like him, and need forgiveness, as he evidently needed it — still they had
never wholly left their Father." In supporting this position, the preacher could
not see that he was doing any disrespect to the grace of God. Indeed, he was
rather magnifying it, since God had promised to be the God of His people's seed,
as well as their own God. When I was asked my opinion concerning this repre-
sentation, I replied that I was inclined to go that length myself. There seems still
to be such a thing as being "called from the womb." Observe, this tenet does not
involve a denial of human depravity. It does not amount to the assertion that any
responsible human being has lived an absolutely perfect life, being literally free
from sin, except the Lord Jesus Christ. It only ventures humbly to express the hope,
to the praise of the glory of God's grace, that where there has been much parental
prayer and exemplary religious education, " the first springs of thought and will "
may have been so early gained for the Redeemer, that the soul, although conscious
of waywardness and sin, and therefore needing atoning blood, has never been
wholly withdrawn from God's fold, so that He could say to such a follower near the
end of his course, " Son, thou hast ever been and ever art near Me." {F. Ferguson,
D.D.) Love for all: — There is room for all. Sometimes, when a little babe has
been bom in a house, the elder child is jealous. The two-year-old envier has been
seen using its, happily not very forcible, fists against the tiny occupant of the cradle,
because its arrival had deprived him of customary attention, and of that monopoly
of love which he had enjoyed before. Then the concerned parent has taken the
sulking pugilist on her knee and, with a tear in her eye, has said, " You are mother's
pet stiU. She has room in her heart for yon and your baby brother too. You will
always be mother's child, although baby h»s come home — only you have been here
many days, but he is only newly arrived. Therefore, wonder not at our joy, and
grieve not, if for a time, you seem to be overlooked." This is exactly the argu-
ment of the text, with the element of prodigality left out. (^Ibid.) It was meet
that we should make merry. — Good reasons for joy : — I. It is meet that we should
KJoice, because when a sinner is brought to repentance, the kingdom of Christ ia
^HAP. XT.] ST. LUKE. 199
thereby promoted. He is all in all. Everything turns upon yonr receiving Him.
Life and death, heaven or hell, felicity or ruin, here and hereafter, all rest with Him.
2. It is meet that we should rejoice, because, then, an immortal creature is rescued
from misery, and another traveller is on the road to heaven. 3. It is meet that we
should rejoice, because a sinner brought to repentance will injure others no more.
When a sinner is converted, another agent of destruction is removed. Another gun
ou the enemy's ramparts is spiked. Another soldier in Satan's army is struck
down. Another poison-chalice is dashed from the devil's hand. Another upas tree
is uprooted. Another electric cloud is dispersed, to send down thunder and death
»o more. Another vessel of honour is placed in the Master's house, prepared for
His use, to be employed hereafter in His blessed and holy service. (W. B. Macken-
zie, M.A.) God's joy at the sinner's return : — I saw in Amsterdam the diamond
matting, and I noticed great wheels, a large factory and powerful engines, and all
the power was made to bear upon a small stone no larger than the nail of my little
finger. All that huge machinery for that little stone, because it was so precious !
Methinks I see you poor insignificant sinners, who have rebelled against
your God, brought back to your Father's house, and now the whole universe is
lull o£ wheels, and all those wheels are working together for your good, to make
out of you a jewel fit to glisten in the Redeemer's crown. God is not represented
«s saying more of creation than that " it was very good," but in the work
of grace He is described as singing for joy. He breaks the eternal silence, and
cries, " My son is found." As the philosopher, when he had compelled nature
to yield her secret, ran through the street, crying, " Eureka ! Eureka I I have
found it ! I have found it ! " so does the Father dwell on the word, " My son
that was dead, is alive again, he that was lost is found." (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Was dead, and Is alive again. — Life after death : — Startling tales are some-
times related around the fire, on a winter's night, of the dead who have come to life
Again. I remember being told in my youth that the mother of two eminent mini-
sters had been buried in a swoon before her twin sons were bom. The covetous
sexton, having opened her grave, was cutting off her finger to get her gold marriage
ring, when she awoke and spoke. Who could envy such an one a joyous jubilation
on her return to life ? And who should envy the quickened sinner the honour that
is paid him by God and man ? For he is often brought to spiritual life when the
Lord, by His faithful knife of chastisement, outs some prized and precious treasure
away. Some time ago the great Dr. Livingstone was thought to be dead— wholly
lost in the African wilds. I so thoroughly believed the report which his lying com-
panions circulated, that I preached a discourse which was designed to do him
honour, and especially the God he had served. I take great pleasure in here
acknowledging that my discourse was premature, and in expressing my delight at
the news of the Doctor's safety which has since reached our shores, as well as my
hope that he may soon be welcomed home by his friends " safe and sound." And
what friend or fellow-townsman could grudge him a very special and remarkable
reception — because " he was dead, and is alive again ; and was lost, and is found " ?
This is the very " expostulation " by means of which the Saviour in this parable
seeks to still the murmurs of the Pharisees, and which at every time of revival
eamestnessand revival success is specially appropriate. A youngwoman mentioned to
me one day that her brother, an engineer in a steamer between Bombay and the Eed
Sea, had informed her in a recent letter that he saw the Abyssinian prisoners land
at Suez. They looked pale and exhausted. They had the appearance of people
who had suffered much by anxiety and confinement. But, as they stepped ashore,
all the Europeans crowded around and gave them three hearty cheers, which they
acknowledged with smiles of gratitude and satisfaction. I wish that I had seen
them land. I would have cheered too with all my might. For Britain had done a
grand thing in sending out that expedition — enough to stamp her as in reality Great
Britain in Qie eyes of the nations. Nor can we find a better illustration of the
gospel. It was meet that the sympathizing spectators at Suez should make the
welkin ring with their shouts of joy ; for the captives of Theodore, like the captives
of sin and Satan, " had been dead, and were alive again ; and had been lost, and
were found." And who could grudge them such a welcome to life and liberty again ?
(F. Ferguson, D.D.) Concludivg reflection on this parable : — If John iii. 16, and
1 Tim. i. 15, have been the most usefiU of Scripture texts, the parable of the prodigal
son has been one of the most useful of Scripture paragraphs. If Bom. iii. 19-^1
has ever been esteemed by scholars the loctu classicus for the display of th*
righteousness of God, Luke xv. 11-32, has ever been regarded by evangelists as th«
200 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. ^chap. m.
Ucus $anctug etfertiUs for the display of the love of God. I ■would also obsery*
that it Buits rich and poor alike. I was paying a pastoral visit one day to one ol
the officials of a great poor-house in the neighbourhood of the city in which my
lot has been cast. The chaplain asked me to conduct evening prayers. I found
myself placed in unwonted circumstances. I etood in a spacious hall, capable of
containing fifteen hundred individuals, and seated like a church. About twelve
hundred paupers joined in the evening devotions. Three times a day they were
wont to assemble there to receive the plain supplies of the bread that perisheth,
which charity had provided ; and, twice a day, to worship God. My heart filled
as they sang with me the beautiful paraphrase, beginning "0 God of Bethel, by
whose hand," and especially when they came to the couplet—
•• O spread Thy covering wings aroond
Till all our wanderings cease " ;
for the great building in which they sang in rough, unpolished strains, since it bacl
been reared by Christ-inspired benevolence, looked like the covering wings of the
Almighty, which had been spread around them. In the course of conversation, at the
close of the service, the chaplain informed me that several of the ministers of the city
had preached on the Sabbath evenings of the preceding summer, and that the poor
people had been greatly delighted with their discourses. But what had pleased
them most of all had been a sermon by the late Doctor Norman Macleod on the
Parable of the Prodigal Son. I had noticed in the newspapers that he had delivered
the same sermon, a few weeks before, to a fashionable audience, when many car-
riages were standing at the door. It delighted me that he had dispensed that
identical supply of the bread of life to the inmates of the poor-house ; for, in truth,
we are all on a level. We are all God's offspring, and are all pensioners on His
bounty. The poor people had enjoyed greatly the rich representation of the love of
God which the parable contains. Many of them had been bathed in tears. For the
career of the prodigal had been their career. They would not have been glad of
the poor-house, if they had not "wasted their substance with riotous living." And
not only had the arms of the world's charity been opened to receive them, but,
warmer and kindlier far, the arms of the Divine good-will were ready to clasp them
round. Yes, the parable to which I am bidding farewell for the present suits the
high and low, the rich and poor, the West End and the East End alike. Lastly, it
is capable of edifying application to the hour of death. Here we are all *• in a far
country." •• At home in the body, we are absent from the Lord." We often feel
that our engagements and pursuits are, like the prodigal's occupation, beneath the
dignity of our immortal spirits. Amid degraded men we sigh for the purity and
royalty of our Father's house on high. At length a gentle summons comes in
friendly disease ; and the dying Christian, responding to the call, says, " I will
arise and go to my Father." As he lies upon his bed of pain, in crowded city or
rural hamlet, " his Father sees him afar oft and has compassion on him." By the
kind ministrations of His grace, *• He makes all his bed in his sickness." At length,
when his disembodied spirit approaches the heavenly house, a father's kiss and a
father's welcome are received. Then the robe of glory, the ring of full redemption,
and spiritual shoes, are given to the weary traveller. Oh, what rejoicing takes place
over his safe arrival, at the heavenly feast, amid whose transports he completely
forgets the sorrows of the far country I No sullen celestials seem jealous of his
«ordial reception —
** The wondering angels round Him throng
And swell the chorus of His praise," (Ibid.)
CHAPTER XTL
V«BB. l-«. There was a certain rich man, which had a steward.— CJkmt'i tenaiO*
«re stewards: — I. Show what things thkt abb entbustbd wtfh, that abb ko»
THxiB own. 1. AH earthly good things, as riches, health, time, opportunities. S.
▲Iso spiritual goods, via., the gospel and its ministration, spiritual knowledge, glfti^
CHAP, ivi.] ST. LUKE. 201
grace, the worship of God, and His ordinances, promises, providences, and care of
His holy temple or vineyard. II. Show why wk mcst cakefully improve aix.
THiKOS THAT ABE IN ODB HANDS. 1. Earthly things. (1) Because, whatsoever we
have put into our hands is to advance the honour of our great Lord and Master,
Jesus Christ, and to refresh, comfort, and support the whole household where we
are placed. (2) Because we liave nothing that is our own ; it is our Lord's goods.
(3) Because if we are not faithful in the least, it may stop the hand of Christ from
giving the greater things to us. (4) It will be otherwise a wrong and great injustice
to the poor, or to such for the sake of whom they that are rich are entrusted with
earthly wealth, in withholding that which is theirs by Christ's appointment from
ihem ; and so a clear demonstration of unfaithfulness both to God and man; and
it may provoke God to take away from them what they have. (5) Because we must
in a short time be called to give an account of our stewardship ; we must expect to
hear Clirist say, " What have you done with My gold and silver. My corn. My wool,
and My flax ? How is it that My poor have wanted bread and clothes, and My
ministers have been neglected and forced to run into debt to buy necessaries to
support their families ? " (6) Because if these good things be not rightly and f aith-
f uUy improved as Christ commands. His poor and His ministers may be exposed to
great temptations, and their souls borne down and sorely discouraged ; and Satan
may get advantages against them, for many snares and dangers attend outward
want ; moreover the name of God and religion may also thereby be exposed to the
contempt of the world. Who can believe we are the people of God, when they
cannot see that love to one another among them which is the character of true
Christians ? Or how should they think that we believe the way we are in is the true
way and worship of God ? 2. Spiritual things. (1) The gospel and its ministra-
tion, because it is given to the end that we may profit thereby. It is Christ's
chief treasure, and that which He intrusts very few with. If not improved, He
may take it away from us, as He has already from others. When that goes, God,
Christ, and all good goes, and all evil will come in. (2) Spiritual gifts, knowledge,
&o., because given for the use and profit of the Church ; and they that have them
are but stewards of them, which they are commanded to improve (1 Pet. iv. 10).
Use : Get your accounts ready ; you know not but this night Christ may say, •' Give
an account," &o. {B. Reach.) All men are stewards of God : — A friend stepping
into the office of a Christian business man one day, noticed that he was standing
at his desk with his hands full of banknotes, which he was carefully counting, as
he laid them down one by one. After a brief silence the friend said : " Mr. H ,
just count out ten pounds from that pile of notes and make yourself or some other
person a life member of the Christian Giving Society I" He finished his count,
and quickly replied, "I'm handling trust funds nowl" His answer instantly
flashed a light on the entire work and life of a Christian, and the friend replied to
his statement with the question, "Do you ever handle anything but trust funds?"
If Christians would only realize that all that God gives us is " in trust," what a
change would come over our use of money I "I'm handling trust funds now."
Let the merchant write the motto over his desk ; the farmer over the income of his
farm ; the labourer over his wages ; the professional man over his salary ; the
banker over his income ; the housekeeper over her house expense purse ; the boy
and girl over " pocket money " — and what a change would be made in our life. A
business man who had made a donation of one thousand pounds to a Christian
enterprise, once said in the hearing of the writer — " 1 hold that a man is account-
able for every sixpence he gets." There is the gospel idea of " trust funds." Let
parents instruct and train their children to " handle trust funds " as the stewards
of God's bounty, and there will be a new generation of Christians. Tlie proper
improvement of temporal possessions: — ^I. That the common maxims of human
wisdom in the conduct of worldly affairs, and even those of carnal and unjust
policy, may be usefully applied for our direction in the concerns of religion, and
they reproach the folly and slothfulness of Christians in working out their salva-
tion ; " the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of
light." II. The second observation is, that riches and other gifts of providence are
but little in comparison with the greater and more substantial blessings which God
is ready to bestow on His sincere and fal^^hful servants ; that these inferior things
are committed to Christians as to stewards for the trial of their fidelity, and they
who improve them carefully to the proper ends for which they were given, are
entitled to the greater benefits which others forfeit, and render themselves on-
worthy of, by negligence and onfaithfolness. This is the meanini; of the l(Hk
202 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ckap. zn.
and 11th verses — " He who is faithful in that which is least, is faithful
also in much ; and he who is unjust in the least, is unjust also in much ;
if, therefore, you have not been faithful in the unrighteous mammon, who wiD
commit to your trust the true riches ? " We may further observe upon this head,
that God hath wisely ordered the circumstances of this life in suboidination to
another. The enjoyments of our present state are the means of trying our virtue,
and the occasions of exercising it, that so by a due improvement of them to that
purpose, we may be prepared for the perfection of virtue, and complete happiness
hereafter. This might be illustrated in a variety of particular instances — indeed,
in the whole compass of our worldly affairs, which, according as they are conducted,
either minister to virtue or vice. By the various uncertain events of life, as some
are tempted to different distracting passions, to eager, anxious desire, to fear and
sorrow, so there is to better disposed minds an opportunity of growing in self-
dominion, in an equal and uniform temper, and a more earnest prevalent desire of
true goodness, which is immutable in all external changes ; in afllictions there is a
trial and an increase of patience, which is of so much moment as to be represented
in Scripture as the height of religious perfection. Knowledge, likewise, is capable
of being greatly improved for the service of mankind ; and all our talents of this
Eort, which are distributed promiscuously to men, though little in themselves, and
with respect to the main ends of our being, yet to the diligent and faithful servant,
who useth them well and wisely for the cause of virtue, and under the direction of
its principles, they bring great returns of real and solid benefit, which shall abide
•with him for ever. Thus it appeareth that Divine Providence hath wisely ordered
the circumstances of our condition in this world, in our infancy of being, so that
by the proper exercise of our own faculties, and the industrious improvement of the
opportunities which are afforded us, we may be prepared for a better and happier
state hereafter. But if, on the contrary, we are unjust to our great Master, and to
ourselves, that is, to our highest interest, in the little, which is now committed to
us, we thereby forfeit the greatest good we are capable of, and deprive ourselves of
the true riches. If in the first trial which God taketh of us, as moral agents
during our immature state, our state of childhood, we do not act a proper part, but
are given up to indolence and sloth, and to a prodigal waste of our talents, the con-
sequences of this folly and wickedness will naturally, and by the just judgment of
God, cleave to us in every stage of our existence ; of which there is a familiar
instance every day before us in those unhappy persons who having from early youth
obstinately resisted the best instructions, for the most part continue unreclaimed
through their whole lives, and bring themselves to a miserable end. Let us, there-
fore, always consider ourselves as now under probation and discipline, and that eternal
consequences of the greatest moment depend upon our present conduct. III. The
third observation is, that the things or this wokld committed to odb tecbt abb not
OtJB OWN, BUT THE PEOPEKTT OF ANOTHER; BUT THE GITTB OF GoD, OBANTED IS. TSERBWABD
OF ODB IMPBOVINO THEM FAITHFtTLLT, HATE A NEABEB AND MOBE IMMEDIATE BKLATION TO
OUBSELVES, AND A STEICT DISEP ARABLE CONNECTION WITH OUB HAPPINESS. "And if yOU
have not been faithful in that which is another's, who will give you that which i«
your own ? " (ver. 12. ) The things which are said to be another's, are, the unrighteous
mammon, and others like it ; God is the sovereign proprietor of them ; they are
foreign to the constitution of the human nature, and their usefulness to it is only
accidental and temporary. But the other goods, virtuous integrity and the favour
of God, enter deeper into the soul, and by its essential frame are a never-failing
Bpring of joy and consolation to it in every state of existence. It is very surprising
that a man, who so much loveth and is devoted to himself, being naturally and
necessarily so determined, should be so ignorant, as many are, what that self really
is, and thereby be misled to place his affections on something else instead of it.
By the least attention every man will see that what is meant by himself is the same
person or intelligent agent, the thinking, conscious " I," which remaineth unaltered
in all changes of condition, from the remembrance of his earliest thoughts and
actions to the present moment. How remote from this are riches, power, honour,
health, strength, the matter ingredient in the composition of the body, and even its
limbs, which may be all lost, and self still the same ? These things, therefore, are
*• not our own," meaning by that, what most properly and unalienably belongeth to
ourselves ; we hold them by an uncertain, precarious tenure, they come and go,
while the same conscious, thinking being, which is strictly the man himself, con-
tinneth unchanged, in honour and dishonour, in riches and poverty, in sickness and
health, and all the other differences of our outward state. But, on the contrary, a
CHAP. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 803
Btate of religions virtue, which it is the intention of Christianity to bring us to, and
which is the immediate effect of improving our talents diligently and faithfully,
that " kingdom of God which is righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy
Ghost " ; this is of a quite different kind, it entereth into our very selves, and
closely adhereth to us ; it improveth our nature, refineth and enlargeth its noblest
powers ; it is so much "our own," as to become our very temper, and the ruling bent
of our minds ; there is nothing we are more directly conscious of in ourselves than
good dispositions and good actions proceeding from them, and the consciouaness is
always accompanied with delight. The good man is therefore " satisfied from him-
self," because his satisfaction ariseth from a review of his goodness which ia
intimately his own. (J. Abernethy, M.A.) Stewardship : — I. The office of
STEWAED. 1. A steward is a man who administers a property which is not his own.
His relation to property is distinguished on the one hand from that of those who
have nothing to do with the property, because the steward has everything to do
with it that he can do for its advantage ; and, on the other hand, from that of the
'jwner of the property, because the steward is no sense the owner of it, but only the
administrator. His duty towards it is dependent on the will of another, and it may
terminate at any moment. 2. The office of a steward is before all things a trust. It
represents in human affairs a venture which the owner of a property makes, upon
the strength of his estimate of the character of the man to whom he delegates the
care of the property. 3. An account must at some time be rendered to some one.
(1) We are accountable to public opinion. (2) To our own conscience. (3) To
God. If man has no account to give, no wrong that he does has the least conse-
quence. If man has no account to give, no wrong that is done to him, and that is
unpunished by human law, will ever be punished. If man has no account to give,
life is a hideous chaos; it is a game of chance in which the horrible and the
grotesque alternately bury out of sight the very last vestiges of a moral order. If
man has no account to give, the old Epicurean rule in all its profound degradation
may have much to say for itself (1 Cor. xv. 32). n. Human life is a btewabd-
8BIP. We are stewards, whether as men or as Christians ; not less in the order of
nature than in the order of grace. 1. Every owner of property is in God's sight a
steward of that property, and, sooner or later, He will demand an account. Has it,
however little, been spent conscientiously ; or merely as the passion or freak of the
moment might suggest ? 2. Or, the estate of which we are stewards is a more
interesting and precious one than this. It is situated in the world of the mind, in
the region where none but knowledge and speculation and imagination and taste
have their place and sway. Tet all this is not ours, but God's. He is the Author
of the gifts which have laid out the world of taste and thought and knowledge ;
and each contributor to that world, and each student, or even each loiterer in it, is
only the steward, the trustee, of endowments, of faculties which, however intimately
his own when we distinguish him from other men, are not his own when we look
higher and place them in the light of the rights of God. " Give an account of thy
stewardship. " The real Author and Owner of the gifts of mind sometimes utters
this summons to His stewards before the time of death. He withdraws the mental
life of man, and leaves him still with the animal life intact and vigorous. Go to a
lunatic asylum, that most pitiable assortment of all the possibilities of human
degradation, and mark there, at least among some of the sufferers, those who abase
the stewardship of intelligence. 3. Or, the estate of which we are stewards is some-
thing higher still. It is the creed which we believe, the hopes which we cherish,
the religion in which we find our happiness and peace as Christians. With this
treasure, which He has withheld from others, God has entrusted us Christians,
in whatever measure, for our own good, and also for the good of our fellow-men.
Beligion, too, is a loan, a trust ; it is not an inalienable property. 4. And then,
growing out of those three estates, is the estate of influence — that subtle, inevitable
effect for good or for ill which man exerts upon the lives of those around
him. The question is, what use are we making of it ; how is it telling
npon friends, acquaintances, servants, correspondents, those who know us
only from a distance — are we helping them upwards or downwards, to heaven
or to hell t Surely a momentous question for aU of us, since of this stewardship
events may summon ns before the end comes to give account. 5. And a last
estate of which we are but stewards, is health and life. Thift bodily frame, so
fearfully and wonderfully made, of such subtle and delicate texture that the wonder
is that it should bear the wear and tear of time, and last as long as for many of ni
it does — of this we are not owners, we are only stewards. It is most assuredly no
204 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xvr
creation of our own, this body ; and He who gave it as will in any case one day
withdraw His gift. And yet how many a man thinks in his secret heart that if ha
owns nothing else, he does at least own, as its absolute master might own, tha
fabric of flesh and bones, nerves and veins, in which his animal life resides : that
with this, at least, he may rightfully do what he will, even abuse and ruin and
irretrievably degrade, and even kill ; that here no question of another's right can
possibly occur ; that here he is master on his own ground, and not a steward. Oh,
piteous forgetfulness in a man who believes that he has a Creator, and that that
Creator has His rights! Oh, piteous ingratitude in a Christian, who should
remember that he is not his own, but is bought with a price, and that therefore he
should glorify God in his body no less than in his spirit, since both are God's !
Oh, piteous illusion, the solemn moment for dissipating which is ever hurrying on
apace I The Author of health and life has His own time for bidding us give
an account of this solemn stewardship — often, too, when it is least expected.
( Canon Liddon). Moral steivardship ; — I. Men abb stewards. 1. In regard to
their talents. (1) Time. (2) Money. (3) Physical, mental, and moral abilities.
2. In regard to their privileges. Each privilege is a sacred talent, to be utilized
for personal, spiritual end. Golden in character. Uncertain in continuance. 3.
In regard to their opportunities. Men are responsible not only for what they do,
but also for what they are capable of doing. II. Men abb stewabcs only.
Whatever we have, we have received, hold in trust, and must account for to God.
III. The beckoning day is coming. 1. The day of reckoning is certain. 2.
Uncertain as to the time. 3. Divine in its procedure. God Himself will make the
final award. 4. Solemn in its character. 5. Eternal in its issues. Learn — 1.
That moral responsibility is a solemn thing. 2. It is imposed upon us without our
own consent. 3. That we cannot avert the day of reckoning. 4. That upon the
proper use of our tftlents shall we reap the reward of hfe and blessedness. 5.
That unfaithfulness to oar solemn responsibilities will entail eternal disgrace and
everlasting reprobation. (J, Tesseyman.) The ttewardship of life: — I. The
TBiJST BEPOSED iH US — *' Thy Stewardship." Stewardship is based upon the idea
of another's proprietorship. 1. Of the Divine Proprietorship. 2. Stewardship
implies interests entrusted to human keeping and administration. 3. Stewardship
implies human capabiUty. Faithfulness cannot be compelled by an omnipotent
Buler. It is a subject of moral choice. II. The end or oub stewabdship as
HEBE scooEBTED — *' Give an account. Thou mayest be no longer steward."
Moral responsibility is the solemn heritage of all rational ^intelligences. 1. The
stewardship may be held to be determinable at death. Moral power continues,
and moral obligations and duties rest on the spirit. So, there will be stewardship
in eternity. But here the concern is with " the deeds done in the body." 2.
Stewardship may practically be determined before the last hoar of mortal history.
{The Preacher' $ Monthly.) The unjust steward: — 1. We are stewards, not pro-
prietors. 2. Let me urge upon you to be faithful in whatsoever position in life
you may be. 3. It is only as yon are in Christ, and Christ in you, that yon will
be able to realize your true position, and act with true faithfulness. {A. F.
Barfield.) Christian prudence : — I. The obligation to this. 1. Because we
are dependent on God. 2. Because we are accountable to Him. H. Its pbofeb
NATXTBE. 1. In general. (1) It is provident of the future. (2) It conceals not
from itself the true state of matters. (3) It is inventive of means for its well-
being. (4) It forms its purpose with greatest determination. (5) It discloses
clearly who or what can be of service to it for the accomplishment of its purpose.
(6) It does not content itself with purposes, but goes immediately to action. (7)
It employs the time without delay. (8) It transacts everything with careful
consideration. 2. In particular. (1) It employs temporal goods in well-doing.
(2) It is mindful of death and the day of reckoning. (3) It has an eye to eternal
bliss. III. The consequences of it. 1. It obtains the approval of the Lord and
Judge of all. 2. It renders as capable and worthy of receiving greater, truer,
abiding goods. (F. G. Lisco .) Lessons : — 1. A regard to our own interest is a
commendable principle. The great fault which men commit is, that they mistake
the nature as well as the means of happiness. 2. There is another object which
our Saviour has in view. It is to compare the sagacity and exertion which worldly
men employ in order to attain their ends with the.lukewarmness and negligence of
the children of light. Do we not see with what ardour and perseverance those
who place their happiness in wealth pursue their grand object ? 3. We learn from
this parable, aad the observations of our Saviour which accompany it, the manaei
OHAP. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 205
in which riches may be applied for the advancement of happiness. 4. From this
passage we may learn the benefit which good men may derive from observing the
vices which prevail aroond them. This lesson our Saviour has taught us. By
seeing vice, as it appears in the world, we may learn the nature and character, the
effects and consequences of it. 6. But the principal object of this parable was
evidently to teach us that the exercise of forethought is an important duty
required of all Christians. Forethought, then, is necessary to reformation. It is
not less necessary to improvement. For does not improvement presuppose that
we seek or watch for opportunities of exercising our benevolent affections — of
doing good and kind actions — and of supplying the importunate wants of the needy
and the destitute ? (J. Thornton, D.D.) The unjust steward an example in one
respect : — If we were to wait for perfect men, men perfect in all parts and on all
feides of their character, before admiring them or asking others to admire them,
whom should we admire ? what models or examples could we hold up before our
children or our neighbours ? Instead of turning so foolishly from the instruction
human life offers us, we detach this quality or that from the character of men, and
admire that, without for a moment meaning to set up all the man was or did as a
complete model, an exact and full epitome of human excellence. We can call the
attention of our children to the dexterity of a cricketer or a juggler without
supposing, or being supposed, to make him the beau ideal of mental and moral
character. We can admire Lord Bacon as one of " the greatest " and " wisest " of
mankind, if we also admit him to have been one of "the meanest." We can
quote an eminent sceptic as a very model of patience and candour, yet deplore hia
scepticism. Both we and the Bible can detach noble qnahties from the baser
matter with which they are blended, and say, ♦' Imitate these men in what was
noble, pure, lovely," without being supposed to add, " and imitate them also in
what was mean, weak, immoral." Why, then, should we deny our Lord the
liberty we claim for ourselves ? What should we expect of Him but the mode of
teaching which pervades the Bible throughout ? Above all, why should we suppose
Him to approve what is evil in the men He puts before us, unless He expressly
warns us against it, when we ourselves, and the iDSpired writers, seldom make any
such provision against misconception f Bead the parable honestly, and, according
to all the analogies of human and inspired speech, you will expect to find some
excellent quality in the steward which you will do well to imitate ; but yoa will
not for an instant snppose that it is his evil qualities which you are to approve.
Do any ask, " What was this excellent quality ? " Mark what it is, and what alone
it is, that even his lord commends in the Unjust Steward. It is not his injustice,
but his prudence. "His lord commended him because he had done wisely" —
— because on a critical occasion he had acted with a certain promptitude and
sagacity, because he had seen his end clearly and gone straight at it. Did he not
deserve the praise? (S. Cox). Our stewardship : — I. In thb pkesent life evbbt one
OP VB HAS THE CHARACTER AND PLACE OF A STEWARD. II. ThE TIME OF ODR STEWARD-
SHIP WILL HAVE AN END. 1. It wiU end certainly at death. 2. It may end
suddenly. 3. Our stewardship, once ended, shall be renewed no more. When
death comes, our negligences and mismanagement are fatal. HI. On cub ceasino
TO BE STEWARDS, AN ACCOUNT OF OUR STEWARDSHIP WILL BB REQUIRED. 1. Who
must give an account ? I answer, every one that lives and is here a steward, 2.
To whom? And this is to God; to God by Christ, to whom all judgment is com-
mitted. 3. Of what will an account be demanded? The text says, of our
stewardship, i.e., how we have acted in it while it lasted. 4. \Vhen will such an
account be demanded ? The Scripture tells us — (1) Immediately upon every one's
going out of his stewardship. (2) Most solemnly at the last day. 5. What is
conveyed in the expression, " Give an account of thy stewardship " ? (1) That
God will deal with every one in particular. (2) That notice is taken, and records
kept of what every one now does, and this in order to a future judgment, when all
is to be produced, and sentence publicly passed. (8) Every one's account called
for to be given, shall be according to the talents wherewith he was entrusted.
Application : 1. Is every one in the present life to be considered as a steward of
all that he enjoys ? How unreasonable is pride in those who have the largest
share of their Lord's goods ; as they have nothing but what they have received,
and the more their talents, the greater the trust. 2. What cause of serious
concern have all that live under the gospel, left, as stewards of the manifold grace
of God, they should receive it in vain, and have their future condemnation
aggravated by their present advantages, as neglected or abused ? 3. Will the time
206 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xyv
cf OHT stewardship have an end ? What a value should we put upon it, as •
season in which we are to act for eternity. 4. The believer has no reason to faint
under the difficulties of his stewardship ; seeing it will have an end, a most
desirable one ; and neither the services nor sufferings of the present time are
worthy to be compared to the glory to be revealed. 5. When our stewardship
ends, must an account be given up? It is hence evident, that the soul survives the
body, and is capable of acting and of being dealt with in a way of wrath or mercy,
according to the state in which it goes away ; and hereupon — 6. How great and
important a thing is it to die ; it being to go in spirit to appear before God, and
give an account of all that we have done in the body, and to be dealt with accord-
ingly? What is consequent upon it? {Daniel Wilcox.) Faithful stewardship: —
In this parable the man was dispossessed from his place because he wasted goods
which did not belong to him. He had been in various ways careless. The par-
ticular nature of his carelessness is not specified ; but this is specified — that he
was to be dispossessed because he was not faithful in the management of the property
of another. Our subject, then, is : The use of funds not your own, but intrusted
to your administration or keeping. Men think they have a complete case when
they say, " Here is a power in my hand for a definite end, and I shall use it for
that end ; but I find that it is a power which may accomplish more than that : it
can do good for more than the owner. I can use it and derive benefit from it. I
can also benefit the community by my operations. Besides, it will never be known.
Therefore men who are weaker than I will not be tempted by my example to do the
same thing. It will never injure the owner, it will help me, through me it will
benefit many others, and no evil shall come from it." This would seem to make
the thing secure ; but let us examine the matter. 1. It would not be honest, and
therefore it would not be wise, to use other people's property for our own benefit,
secretly, even if it were safe. If it did them no harm, if it did you good,
and if nobody knew it, it would not be honest. You have no business to do it under
any circumstances. And it does not make it any better that you have managerial
care over property. In that event the sin is even greater ; for you are bound to
see to it that it is used for the purposes for which it was committed to your trust,
and not for anything aside from that. 2. No man has a right to put property that
is not his own to all the risks of commerce. What if a man thus employing trust
funds does expect, what if he does mean, so and so ? That is nothing. He might
as well throw a babe out of a second-story window, and say that he hoped it would
lodge in some tree and not be hurt, as to endanger the property of othira held in.
trust by him, and gay that he hopes it will not come to any harm. What has that
to do with it ? The chances are against its being safe. 3. No man has a right to
put his own character for integrity and honesty upon a commercial venture. No
man has a right to enter upon an enterprise where, if he succeeds, he may escape,
but where, if he fails, he is ruined not simply in pocket, but in character ; and yet
this is what every man does who uses trust funds for his own purposes. He takes
the risk of destroyiug himself in the eyes of honest men. He places his own soul
in jeopardy. 4. No man has a right to put in peril the happiness, welfare, and
good name of his family, of the neighbourhood, of the associates and friends with,
whom he has walked, of the Church with which he is connected, of his partners in
business, of all that have been related to him. 5. No man has a right to under-
mine the security of property on which the welfare of individuals of the community
depends in any degree. {H. W. Beecher.) The Sunday-school teacher — a
tteward : — I. First, then, the steward. What is he ? 1. In the first place the
steward is a servant. He is one of the greatest of servants, but he is only a servant.
No, we are nothing better than stewards, and we are to labour for our Master in
heaven. 2. But still while the steward is a servant, he is an honourable one.
Now, those who serve Christ in the office of teaching, are honourable men and
women. 3. The steward is also a servant who has very great responsibility
attached to his position. A sense of responsibility seems to a right man always a
weighty thing. II. And now, thk acootjnt — " Give an account of thy stewardship."'
Let us briefly think of this giving an account of our stewardship. 1. Let us first
notice that when we shall come to give an account of our stewardship before God,
that account must be given in personally by every one of us. While we are here,
we talk in the mass ; but when we come before God, we shaU have to speak as
individuals. 2. And note again, that while this account must be personal it must
be exact. Ton will not, when you present your acconnt before God, present the
gross total, bat every separate item. 3. Now remember, once again, that the
mrnn. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 207
account must be compiete. Ton will not be allowed to leave ont something, you
•will not be allowed to add anything. III. And now, though there are many other
things I might say, I fear lest I might weary you, therefore let me notice some
occasions when it will be well for you all to give an account of your stewardship ;
and then notice when you must give an account of it. Ton know there is a proverb
that *' short reckonings make long friends," and a very true proverb it is. A man
will always be at friendship with his conscience as long as he makes short
rec£:onings with it. It was a good rule of the old Puritans, that of making frank
and full confession of sin every night ; not to leave a week's sin to be confessed on
Saturday night, or Sabbath morning, but to recall the failures, imperfections, and
mistakes of the day, in order that we might learn from one day of failure how to
achieve the victory on the morrow. Then, there are times which Providence puts
in your way, which will be excellent seasons for reckoning. For instance, every
lime a boy or girl leaves the school, there is an opportunity afforded you of thinking.
Then there is a peculiar time for casting up accounts when a chUd dies. But it
you do not do it then, I will tell you when you must ; that is when you come to die»
(C. H. Spurgeon. ) A certain rich man had a steward : — We learn here incidentally,
bow evenly balanced are the various conditions of life in a community, and how
ittle of substantial advantage wealth can confer on its possessor. As your
property increases, your personal control over it diminishes ; the more you possess^
the more you must entrust to others. Those who do their own work are not
troubled with disobedient servants ; those who look after their own affairs are not
troubled with unfaithful overseers. {W. Amot.) Give an account of ttiy
etewardsMp. — An account demanded: — 1. An account of the blessings received^
children of prosperity. 2. An account of the fruit of trial, members of the school
of suffering 1 3. An account of the time measured oat to you, sons of mortality !
4. An account of the message of salvation received, ye that are shined upon by that
light which is most cheering! {Van Oosterzee.) How much owest thou unto
my Lord 7 — The obligations of Great Britain to the gospel : — I. Our first appeal must
be made to rest upon the broad basis of oub PRtviLEOES as a nation. How much, I
ask, do we of this land owe to the God of all mercies, as inheritors of the noble
patrimony of a constitutional government ; as dwelling under the shadow of equal
law ; as enriched with a commerce which allies us with the most distant extremities
of the earth ; as honoured, in the great brotherhood of nations, for our literature,
for our science, for our vanguard position in all the eimobling arts of life ; as rich
in agencies for promoting the physical and moral happiness of all classes of our
people, providing for the young, the old, the fallen, the outcast — for the poor a
shelter, and for the sick a home ; as enjoying a liberty of thought and conscience,
free as the winds which sweep round our shores, and yet as having a governing
power over the opinions of other nations, which controls more than half the world?
For how much of such blessings we are indebted to our Christianity, we may admit,
it is not easy to determine. Here, then, I rest my first appeal to your gratitude as
possessors of a national Christianity. Beligion, says Burke, is the basis of civil
society, and education in its truths is the chief defence of nations. It hallows the
sanctions of law. It puts the seal of heaven on social order. It ministers to
learning and the liberal arts. It strengthens the foundations of civil liberty. It
refine:! tb« habits of domestic life. It makes each home that embraces it a centre
of blessing to the neighbourhood, and every country that adorns and honours it a
centre of light unto the world. And this is the religion which by the gospel is
preached unto you. " How much owest thou unto my Lord t " II. But let me
urge a claim upon your gratitude, in the next place, abisino out or that pube and
BEPOBMED FAITH, WHICH IN THIS COUNTRY IT IS OUB PEIVILEOE TO BNJOT. " HoW muoh
owest thou unto thy lord," for the glorious light and liberty of the Protestant faith,
for the recovered independence of our ancient British Church, for the Protestantism
of Bidley, and Latimer, Jewel, and other faithful men, who witnessed for the truth
of Gcd by their teaching, and some of them with their blood ? 1. How much do
we owe for a permanent standard of religious faith — for a " form of sound words "
which yet bows impUcitly to the decision of the sacred oracles to approve its
soundness? 2. Again, how much do we owe for the clearer views — brought out
anew as it were from the concealment and dust of ages — of the method of a sinner'a
acceptance and justification, through faith in the merits of Christ to deliver, and by
the influences of His Spirit to restore. 3. Again, we owe much to the men of those
times for their vindication of the great principles of political and religious freedom,
and the services thereby rendered to the oaase of moral progress in the world.
208 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cmr. xyi,
ni. I must not ooDclnde, brethren, without urging upon you one form of gratitude,
which, to those who have experience of it, will be far more constraining than any I
have yet brought before you, I mean the debt which you owe to the God of auCi
ORA.CK AS BEING Y0DE8ELVE8 PABTAKEBS OF THE SPIBIT AND HOPES OF THE GOSPEL. And
I ask how much owest thou for a part in Christ, for a sense of forgiveness, for tha
weight lifted off the burdened conscience. (D. Moore, M.A.) The universality oj
debt to God : — I. I turn at first to the established chbistun and ask, How much
owest thou unto my Lord ? II. Is any here a lover of pleasubb mobe than a
lovebofGod? How much owest thou unto my Lord ? *' He was a man of sorrowa
and acquainted with grief." 0 will ye defraud Jesus of the travail of His soul, by
making an idol of the world and bowing down before it as before your God ? III.
Are any among you offending God, by disregard op His laws, or unbelief of His
obeat salvation. IV. There are persons who have declined in religion. " Ye
did run well, who hath hindered you ? " O take with you words of penitence and
sorrow, and lurn to the Lord your God. Y. Once more. Let me address thb
AVFLicTED SERVANT OF Christ, and say. How much owest thou uuto my Lord ?
(E. P. Buddicom.) Man's debt to his Maker: — I. I might remind you, in the
first place, of our obligations to God, as creatures of His hand. He not only made
OS, but He preserves us ; "in Him we live, and move, and have our being," Are
(here no obligations that we have incurred, in consequence of our constant reception
of these varied mercies at the hands of God ? 11. But I proceed to take another
view of our subject, and to remind you how we are indebted to God as sinnebs
AGAINST His bighteous LAW. You will remember that the blessed Saviour teaches
us to look upon sins in the light of debts. Surely there is none present who would
have the hardihood to say that he owes nothing (Jer. ii. 22, 23). III. Let ma
remind you next, of duties that have been neglected. Alas ! how long a list
might here be made, in the catalogue of unworthiness, ingratitude, and guilt I To
say nothing of our unprofitableness, under the public ordinances and means of
^ace, what says conscience as to our daily communion with God in privacy and
retirement ? IV. I must remind you, further, of opportunities that have been
iDNiuPROVED. We have, first, the opportunities of gaining good, and then the
opportunities of doing good. V. But there is yet another view of our subject. How
much do we owe unto Him, as those who have hopes of pardon through His mercy
in Christ Jesus? (W. Cadman, M.A.) Owing to God : — A merchant, who was a
God-fearing man, was very successful in business, but his soul did not seem to
prosper accordingly ; his offerings to the Lord he did not feel disposed to increase.
One evening he had a remarkable dream ; a visitor entered the apartment, and
quietly looking round at the many elegancies and luxuries by which he wa3
surrounded, without any comment, presented him with the receipts for his subscrip-
tions to various societies, and urged their claims upon his enlarged sympathy. The
merchant repUed with various excuses, and at last grew impatient at the continued
Appeals. The stranger rose, and fixing his eye on his companion, said, in a voice
that thrilled to his soul, " One year ago to-night, you thought that your daughter
lay dying ; you could not rest for agony. Upon whom did you call that night? "
The merchant started and looked up ; there seemed a change to have passed over
the whole form of his visitor, whose eye was fixed upon him with a calm, penetrating
look, as he continued — " Five years ago, when you lay at the brink of the grave,
And thought that if you died then, you would leave a family unprovided for — do
Toa remember how you prayed then ? Who saved you then ? " Pausing a moment,
he went on in a lower and still more impressive tone — " Do yoa remember, fifteen
years since, that time when yoa felt yourself so lost, so helpless, so hopeless ; when
you spent day and night in prayer ; when you thought you would give the world for
one hour's assurance that your sins were forgiven — who listened to you then ? "
" It was my God and Saviour I " said the merchant, with a sudden burst of remorse-
ful feeling ; " oh yes, it was He 1 " " And has He ever complained of being called
on too often ? " inquired the stranger, in a voice of reproachful sweetness. " Say —
are yoa willing to begin this night, and ask no more of Him, if He, from thia
time, win ask no more of you?" "Oh, never I never 1" said the merohsuit,
throwing himself at his feet. The figure vanished, and he awoke ; his whole
soul stirred within him. " 0 God and Saviour 1 what have I been doing 1 Take
all— take everything 1 What is all that I have, to what Thou hast done for me ? "
Y«r. 8. ABd tha Lord eommended tlie u^oBt steward.— TA« ur^ust ttttoar4
ttaehing a le$»om<tffrudeuMS-^l. How iiiitduiu.t kumd up wuh xaoh OTHsa tarn
CHAP. XVI. ] ST. LUKE. 209
TiBTtJBS AND VICES, GOOD AND EVIL, IN THIS HUMAN woBLD. In fact, HO bad man is
without some redeeming quality ; and no good man (who is merely man) is without
eome taint or defect that mars the harmony and soils the whiteness of character.
In the best men there is something to regret ; in the worst there is something to
admire and to imitate. What, e.g., can possibly be worse than the general conduct
of this steward ? Here he is treated with generous confidence by his employer, and
he is guilty first of a carelessness in dealing with his master's property, which
amounts to a breach of trust, and next of a deliberate effort to gain credit for per-
sonal generosity, and to make provision for his own future by falsifying the bonds
in his keeping, which represent debts due to his employer. The man's moral
nature, we say, must have utterly broken down, before such conduct could have,
been possible ; and yet our Lord discerns an excellence glittering amidst this moral-
darkness. He puts forth His hand, and He isolates from the corruption which sur-
rounds it in the steward's character, and He lifts up on highjthat it may be admired^
and copied in Christendom to the very end of time one single virtue — the virtue o£
prudence. II. The high religious taluk of prudence ; its need and function in.
relation to the life and future of the soul. Prudence is in man what providence is
in Almighty God. Its great characteristic is, that it keeps its eye upon what is
coming ; it looks forward to the future that really awaits us. What is that future ?
Nothing, most assuredly, nothing that lies within the compass of the few years, if
indeed, there are to be a few years, that will precede our disappearance from this
visible scene, but the existence beyond, of whatever character it be, to which, so
far as we know, there is neither term nor limit. We know what to think of the
men who trifle with baubles when great earthly interests are trembling in the
balance, in those solemn moments which come and pass, and come not again, the
moments on which all depends. Who can forget Carlyle'a description of the un-
happy Louis XVI., when, in his endeavour to escape from the triumphant revolu-
tion, he was brought to a standstill by the suspicious officiousness of some of the
petty local authorities of Varennes ? A httle nerve would have enabled the king
to escape the barrier that his enemies had thrown across the public road, by making
a slight circuit in his carriage through the adjoining fields, and in twenty minutes
or half an hour he would have been safe among his friends ; and the course of his
own life and all European history might have been very different, to say the least,
from the event. But he hesitated, and hesitation was ruin. He hesitated, and as
they showed him into the parlour of the village inn he discussed, with the good-
humoured courtesy that belonged to him, the precise quality of the burgundy that
was placed upon the table. But meanwhile events outside were shaping themselves
irrevocably into the fatal grooves of that long procession of humihation and suffer-
'.tag which ended with the guillotine. This life, for many of us, is the halt at
Varennes. It is incumbent on us first of all to feel how immense are the issues that
depend on the use we make of its fleeting moments. We must bear in mind that
its opportunities are as brief as the consequences that depend on them are incal-
culable. This power of anticipating the reality, the reality as distinct from the
appearance, is the first ingredient of religious prudence. We, too, have the sentence
of dismissal hanging over us ; but do we understand what it means, as did the
unjust steward in the parable 7 For the second business of prudence is to take
measures to prepare for that which is coming on ns, and to lose no time in doing
BO. We must not let things drift, and trust for a good issue to some imaginary
chapta of accident ; we must make friends, as did the steward, who will receive as
in this new future into their houses. And who are those friends ? Clearly the
triends suggested by the parable are the poor. The story of Fernandez de Cordova^
who wrapped up in his robe the leper who was lying deserted by all men on the
roadside, and who set him down on his bed to find indeed that he had passed away»
but also to trace on his brow, on his hands, on his feet, the marks of His sacred
passion, embodies why the poor can be said to be received into everlasting habita-
tions. They are not alone, they are identified with One who has shared their
sufferings without sharing their weakness ; and who knows well how to reward that
which is done to Himself in them. Yes, most assuredly, one Friend there is whose
power to help us is without limit. He can help us through our passage to our new
home, for He died that by His death He might destroy him that hath the power of
death, and deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to
bondage. And He can provide for us when we get there, since among His parting
words were these : " In My Father's house," <&o. Are our relations with Him suoh
fts to warrant oar claiming His help in the hour of need ? (Canon Liddon.) Le$$on»
TOL. m. 14
210 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap, xn;
from the children of this world: — 1. From their sagacity learn to forecast ho^»
to please God; to forearm ourselves against all assaults and wiles of Satan ; to fore"
think, and to be in some measure provided beforehand of needful and propef
expedients for any exigent or cross accident that may probably befall us. 2. From
their industty learn not to be slothful in doing service, not to slack the time of our
repentance and turning to God ; to run with constancy and courage the race that i3
set before us ; to think no pains, no travel, too much, that may bring us to heaven ;
to work out our salvation to the uttermost with fear and trembling. 3. From their
hypocrisy and outward seeming holiness learn to have our conversations honest
towards them that are without, not giving the least scandal in anything that may
bring reproach upon the gospel ; to shun the very appearances of evil ; and having
first cleansed the inside well, to keep the outside handsome too, that by our piety,
devotion, meekness, patience, obedience, justice, charity, humility, and all holy
graces, we may not only stop up the mouth of the adversary from speaking evil of us,
but may also win glory to God, and honour and reputation to our Christian profes-
sion thereby. 4. From their unity learn to follow the truth in love, to lay aside
vain janglings, and opposition of science falsely so called ; to make up the breaches
that are in the Church of Christ, by moderating and reconciling differences, rather
than to widen them by multiplying controversies, and maintaining hot disputes ;
to follow the things that make for peace, and whereby we may edify one another.
This doing, we may gather grapes of thorns ; make oil of scorpions ; extract all the
medicinal virthe out of the serpent, and yet leave all the poisonous and malignant
quality behind. (Bishop Sanderson.) Ninth Sunday after Trinity : — ^It was a
piece of sheer rascality from beginning to end. There was no honesty in the man.
He was out and out a child of this world — an example of the bad faith and base
principles which govern in those who have no fear of God before their eyes.
Thongh he did most unjustly, he yet did '• wisely." There was a cunning, skill, cal-
culation, farsightedness, and perfection of adjustment of means to his ends, worthy of
all praise, if only it had been used in a better cause. And it is just here that we &ni
the chief point in this parable. Separating the morality of the deed from the wit
that directed it, the Saviour fixes upon the skill and prudence of this unjust man
as an illustration of the foresight and calculation which should mark our conduct
with reference to the necessities that are upon us in relation to eternity. There are
three things specially noticeable in the case of this shrewd villain, in which his
example furnishes copy for our imitation. 1. He considerately directed his thoughts
towards the future. His worldliness and wickedness we are of course to eschew.
But as he looked forward to his needs when his stewardship was ended, so are we
to have respect to the solemn realities of the judgment and another life. 2. The
unjust steward was also very diligent in improving his time, and making th« most
of his opportunities. If ever there was energy in him, it was now called into the
fullest activity. Here was wisdom. Had he waited, postponed, delayed, the oppor-
tunity would have passed. 0 that miserable delusion, Time enough yet I How
many has it utterly and irremediably ruined ! 3. The unjust steward made very
efficient use of very transient possessions. The control of his master's estates was
in process of passing for ever from his hands. But he was wise enough to make
them yet tell for his advantage in the beyond. And in allusion to this the Saviour
says, " Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness " ; that is, of
the deceitful and fleeting riches of this world ; " that when ye fail they may receive
you" — or, ye may be received — "into everlasting habitations." There is nothing
flo fleeting and uncertain as riches. But fleeting, deceptive, and uncertain as they
are, so long as they are in our hands, they may be turned to good account, and
made to tell advantageously upon our eternal peace. We cannot buy admission
into heaven with money. But we can add to our blessedness with money, and
attain to higher rewards in heaven by a right disposition of the possessions of this
life. "He that giveth to the poor, lendeth to the Lord"; and the same shall be
returned again with interest. " The liberal soul shall be made fat." Closehanded
miserliness, and reckless waste and speculation, are as sinful and incompatible with
piety, as profaneness and unbelief. {J. A. Seiss, D.D.) Worldlings an example
to Christians : — I. Thet becoqnize mobbclbablt the necessity of personal efpobt
-TO BNSUBi SUCCESS. It was so with this unjust steward. Must do something. It
is so with the politician, lawyer, business man. Instead of merely hoping, wishing,
they put their shoulder to the wheel. II. Thbt becoomize mobb oleablt thb
NEED OF THOUOHT, BBFLEOTION, ON THE METHODS TO BE ADOPTED. III. ThBT ABB
MOBB WILLDIO TO KAKB PXBSONAI. BACBIFI0E8. lY. ThXT UOBB FBEQUENTLX MAXI
<nup. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 2U
SBU-EXAMiNATioN. Take stock. See whether they are advancing or going back-
ward. (J.Ogle.) The wisdom of making provision for the future : — I. It is pakx
OF OBEAT WISDOM TO PROVIDE FOB THE FUTDEE. 1. This appears by the care and
practice of all wise, rational men. 2. It appears by the care and labour of irrational
or mere animal creatures. 3. It appears to be a point of great wisdom, because
God Himself bewails the folly of His people of old upon this respect (Deut. xxxii.
29). 4. It must needs be great wisdom to provide for the future well-being of our
souls, because all that were ever esteemed to be wise before or above all other things
preferred this matter (Heb. xi. 25, 26 ; 2 Cor. iv. 18). 5. Because there is no avoid-
ing our entering into an endless state of joy or sorrow. 6. Because the soul far
exceeds in worth the body and all things in this world, 7. Because God from
eternity studied and provided for the future good of our souls and bodies for ever.
8. Consider how soon I or any may fail, how soon the youngest may like a flower
lade away ; it may be this year, this month, this week, nay, this night. 9. If you
are not provided for your future state, consider how dismal at death your state will
be. Is it not the highest wisdom to prevent or seek to escape the greatest evil, and
be possessed of the greatest good ? 10. Consider that God has found out a way to
make us happy for ever ; and observe what promises He has made to such as before
all things seek the kingdom of heaven and His righteousness. 11. How have many
thousands bewailed their great folly in not providing for the time to come!
II. What futobb time is it such wisdom to peovidb fob ? 1. Against that time
when the means of grace may fail, or all provision for the future may utterly be cut
ofif, or our understanding fail. 2. The hour of death. 3. The day of judgment.
ill. Show wherein a wise and pbodent care to provide for the future consists.
1. We ought to think of our future state, into which we shall and must pass, when
the soul shall be separated from the body. (1) Think of the certainty of a future
state of joy or sorrow. (2) The nearness of it. 2. Consider the necessity of your
knowing Christ, or of being united to Him by faith ; for unless you truly believe in
Jesus thrist, you cannot be prepared for the time to oome. 3. This wisdom oon-
eists in a careful use of the means God aflords, and has ordained, in order to faith,
or a sinner's believing in Christ Jesus. (1) Prayer. (2) The hearing of the Word
{Isa. xlii. 23). Conclusion : 1. This reproves such as pursue the world as if they
came into it for no other end but to eat and drink and heap a little white and yellow
earth. 2. It reproves such as prefer the world above the Word, and the body
above the soul. 3. It reproves such as put the evil day afar off, as if we
spoke of things that will be long before they come. 4. It commends those
who are heavenly, it shows the saints only are truly wise. {B. Keach.)
Lessons that the Church may learn from the world : — Note some respects in which
the world shames the Church. 1. There is the clearness of vision with which the
worldly man perceives the object of his pursuit. 2. There is the unremittmg
effort with which, in relation to the attainment of this world's good, men pursue
their object. Eeligion is not so real to most of us as markets and money are to
merchants. 3. Think how careful men of the world are to use all their resources
for the attainment of their end. No drones. No square men in round holes. 4.
Think how determinedly the children of this world refuse to be deterred from pro-
secuting their schemes by the temporary failure of their efforts. 5. Is it not true
that even the children of light themselves prosecute their worldly affairs in far
more vigorous fashion than their religious duties ? Does not care sometimes well-
nigh crowd prayer out of our lives ? Are we not all too prone to count our own
private business that which must be done, and God's work that which may be done ?
{J. R. Bailey.) An example of wisdom from the unjust steward : — I. The wisdom
OF this wobiiD. There are three classes of men. Those who believe that one thing
is needful, and choose the better part, who believe in and live for eternity ; these
are not mentioned here : those who believe in the world, and hve for it : and those
who believe in eternity, and half live for the world. Forethought for self made the
steward ask himself, " What shall I do ? " Here is the thoughtful, contriving,
sagacious man of the world. In the affairs of this world, the man who does not
provide for self, if he enter into competition with the world on the world's principles,
soon finds himself thrust aside ; he will be put out. It becomes necessary to jostle
and struggle in the great crowd if he would thrive. With him it is not, first the
kingdom of God ; but first, what he shall eat, and what he shall drink, and where-
withal shall he be clothed. Note the kind of superiority in this character that is
commended. There are certain qualities which really do elevate a man in the scale
«f being. He who pursues a plan steadily is higher than he who hves by the hour.
212 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xn.
Ton cannot but respect such an one. The value of self-command and self-denial ia
exemplified in the cases of the diplomatist who masters his features while listening ;
the man of pleasure who is prudent in his pleasures ; the man of the world who
keeps his temper and guards his lips. How often, after speaking hastily the thought
which was uppermost, and feeling the cheek bum, you have looked back in admir-
ation on some one who held his tongue even though under great provocation to
epeak. n. In contrast with the wisdom of the children of this world, the Redeemer
Bhows THE INCONSISTENCIES OT THE CHiLDBEN OF LIGHT. Now the Want of Christian
wisdom consists in this, that our stewardship is drawing to a close, and no provision
i8 made for an eternal future. We are all stewards. Every day, every age of life,
eyery year, gives us superintendence over something which we have to use, and the
use of which tells for good or evil on eternity. Childhood and manhood pass. The
day passes : and, as its close draws near, the Master's voice is heard — " Thoo
mayest be no longer steward." And what are all these outward sjrmbols but types
and reminders of the darker, longer night that is at hand ? One by one, we are
tamed out of all our homes. The summons comes. The man lies down on his
bed for the last time ; and then comes that awful moment, the putting down the
extinguisher on the light, and the grand rush of darkness on the spirit. Let us
now consider our Saviour's application of this parable. There are two expressions
to be explained. 1. " Mammon of unrighteousness." Mammon is the name of a
Syrian god, who presided over wealth. Mammon of unrighteousness means the
god whom the unrighteous worship — wealth. It is not necessarily gold. Any
wealth ; wealth being weal or well-being. Time, talents, opportunity, and authority,
all are wealth. Here the steward had influence. It is called the mammon of un-
righteousness, because it is ordinarily used, not well, but ill. Power corrupts men.
Biches harden more than misfortune. 2. "Make to yourselves friends." Wise
arts, holy and unselfish deeds, secure friends. Wherever the steward went he
found a friend. The acts of his beneficence were spread over the whole of his
master's estate. Go where he would, he would receive a welcome. In this way
our good actions become our friends. And if it be no dream which holy men have
entertained, that on this regenerated earth the risen spirits shall Uve again in
glorified bodies, then it were a thing of sublime anticipation, to know that every
spot hallowed by the recollection of a deed done for Christ, contains a recollection
which would be a friend. Just as the patriarchs erected an altar when they felt
God to be near, till Palestine became dotted with these memorials, so would earth
be marked by a good man's life with those holiest of all friends, the remembrance
of ten thousand little nameless acts of piety and love. {F. W. Robertson, M.A.)
The mperiority of the worldly man's wisdom to the godly man's : — I. Our' first object
is TO KBTABUSH THE VACT, THAT " THE CHILDBEN OF THIS WOBLD ABE WISEB IN THEIB
OBNERATiON THAN THE CHILDBEN OF LIGHT." We hold Unreservedly, in both these
respects, the wisdom of " the children of this world " is a vast deal more conspicuous
than the wisdom of "the children of light." You need only cast your eye over the
busy group of the world's population, and you will observe for the most part a
fixedness of purpose which is altogether admirable. If a man have turned hit
desires on the amassing of money, he will not be driven aside, even for a solitary
moment, from the business of accumulation ; it will be plain to all around him,
that he is literally given up to the influence of one engrossing and domineering
passion ; and if pleasure and ambition do exert over him authority, they are but
tributaries to the prominent desire, and in no sense the principal in the empire of
his heart. The case is exactly the same with the man of ambition : he has fastened
his wishes on some lofty point in the scale of human preferment, and it is not the
eyren voice of voluptuousness, and it is not the stem ruggedness of the upward
path, by which he can be induced to turn away his eagle glance from the shadowy
prize which floats above him. But if we turn from " the children of this world " to
*' the children of light," we shall not find the fixedness and constancy Of purpose
which we see indicated in "the children of the world." But we go on to observe,
in the second place, that wisdom is to be discovered in the choice and employment
of means as well as in fixedness and constancy of purpose ; and thus we think in
this respect the comparison will go against " the children of light." You cannot
fail to observe among the men of the world a singular shrewdness in finding oat
the methods most likely to effect their designs, and as singular a diligence in trying
and adapting them. You will see nothing irrelevant, nothing which in all prob-
ability is likely to frustrate in p]ace of forwarding, no risks run unless the ohanoes
of advantage do more than apparently counterbalance the chances of damage. You
caup. XVI.] 8T. LUKE. 21f
will not find them endangering their property by exposing it to sharpers, as a
Christian does his piety by bringing it in contact with unrighteousness. You will
not observe them so dull of apprehension, when there are opportunities of personal
aggrandizement to be improved, as religious men appear when God affords them
occasions to become better acquainted with Himself. You will not detect in them
that indiscreetness in making associations with parties who are not likely to help
them, which you see in believers running heedlessly into fellowship with unbelievers.
The complaint of the prophet has lost nothing of its force in coming down through
a succession of centuries ; " Men are wise to do evil, but to do good they have no
knowledge." And if in the choice of means, pre-eminence of wisdom must be
denied to " the children of light," then in the employment of means we fear they
Btill less can be held supreme. If you take " the children of light " in the Church
where they are professedly giving their whole soul to the service of God, and take
" the children of this world " on the exchange, when avowedly occupied with their
temporal aggrandizement, on which side will you find the most devoted attention
to the business in hand ? If you take " the children of light," when met by diffi-
culties in their heavenward career, and " the children of the world " when stopped
in the path of human preferment, which will set themselves with the most out and
out energy to overleap the impediments? If you take *' the children of light" when
scoffers are around them jeering their piety, and " the children of the world " when
sarcasms are being passed on covetousness or ambition, which will be most moved ?
II. "We come now to investigate tbb causes to which the superiority under
REVIEW MAY BE LEOiTiMATELY TRACED. In the first placc it would Seem well-nigh
impossible that the dehghts of the next world should exert as powerful and per-
vading an influence as tiie delights of the present world, which address themselves
directly to our senses. " The children of the world " have nothing to do but to
follow the dictates of their senses ; while we do almost say, that " the children of
light " begin by doing violence to their senses. And thus, while worldly men may
bring mind and body, and life together to the pursuit of their end, godly men have
the body as well as the mind from the outset to the termination of their career to
combat with ; and if it be lawful to bring forward these truths, by way of excuse
they may clearly be adduced, as accounting for the fact that the imgodly exhibit
greater constancy of purpose than the godly ; or in other words, that " the children
of this world are in their generation wiser than the children of light. " Again, the
unrighteous have only to do with one world ; whereas the righteous have necessarily
to do with two worlds. If I make the amassing of wealth my end, I may give to it
an undivided and an andistracted attention, I concern not myself with the things
of eternity ; and what then shall interfere with my pressing on in the pursuit of
the things of time? It is widely different with "the children of light." There
must be earthly matters just as well as heavenly matters which require their atten-
tion ; they cannot detach themselves from commerce, or from labour, or from study,
and care only for the soul as if there were no body to provide for, just as the worldly
care only for the body as if there were no soul to provide for ; and though it may be
perfectly true, according to some of oar foregoing remarks, that the minor interests
may be, and ought to be, made subservient to the major ; it is equally true that the
difficulty is almost incalculable of so using the present world as not to abuse it, and
following the occupations of earth with the dispositions of heaven. (H. Melvill, B.D.)
The children of this world wiser than the children of light : — The words are a com-
parison, in which we have — 1. The persons compared, " the children of this
world," and '• the children of light." It is a very usual phrase among the Hebrews,
when they would express anything to partake of such a nature or quality, to call it
the BOD or child of such a thing. Thas good men are called " the children of God,"
and bad men " the children of the devil " ; those who mind earthly things, and
make the things of this world their greatest aim and design, are called " the children
of this world " ; and those who are better enhghtened with the knowledge of their
own immortality, and the beUef of a future state after this life, are called " the
children of light." 2. Here is the thing wherein they are compared, and that is,
as to their vrisdom and prudence. 3. The object of this prudence, which is not the
same in both ; as if the sense were that " the children of this world are wiser than
the children of light " as to the things of this world ; but here are two several
objects intended, about which the prudenoe of these two sorts of persons is lespeo*
lively exercised, the concernments of this world and the other ; and our Saviour'i
meaning is, " that the children of this world are wiser in their generation," that is,
in their way ; vii , as to the interests and eonoernments of this world, " than thi
214 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xvj.
children of light " are in theirs ; viz., as to the interests and concernments of tha
other world. 4, Here is a decision of the matter, and which of them it is that
excels in point of prudence, in their way; and our Saviour gives it to the " children
of this world"; they "are wiser in their generation than the children of light."
1. I SHALL BNDEAVOrB TO CONriBM AND ILLUSTKATE THE TRUTH OF THIS, BY CONSIDEBINO
THE 8EVEBAL PABT8 AND PROPERTIES OP WISDOM. 1. They are usually more firmlj
fixed and resolved upon their end. Whatever they set up for their end, riches, or
honours, or pleasures, they are fixed upon it, and steady in the prosecution of it.
2. " The children of this world " are wiser in the choice of means in order to their
end ; and this is a great part of wisdom, for some means will bring about an end
with less pains, and difficulty, and expense of time than others. 3. " The children
of this world " are commonly more diligent in the use of means for the obtaining
of their end; they will sweat and toil, and take any pains, " rise up early, and lie
down late, and eat the bread of carefulness " ; their thoughts are continually
running upon their business, and they catch at every opportunity of promoting it ;
they will pinch nature, and harass it ; and rob themselves of their rest, and all the
comfort of their lives, to raise their fortune and estate. 4. The men of the world
are more invincibly constant and pertinacious in the pursuit of earthly things ; they
are not to be bribed or taken off by favour or fair words ; not to be daunted by diffi-
culties, or dashed out of countenance by the frowns and reproaches of men. 5.
The men of the world will make all things stoop and submit to that which is their
great end and design ; their end rules them, and governs them, and gives laws to all
their actions ; they will make an advantage of everything, and if it will not
serve their end one way or other, they will have nothing to do with it. II. Give
SOME PROBABLE ACCOUNT OP THIS BY CONSIDERING WHAT ADVANTAGES " THE CHILDREN
OP THIS world" HAVE ABOVE "THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT." 1. The things Of thiS
world are present and sensible, and, because of their nearness to us, are apt to
strike powerfully upon our senses, and to affect us mightily, to excite our desires
after them, and to work strongly upon our hopes and fears: but the things of
another world being remote from us, are lessened by their distance, and conse-
quently are not apt to work so powerfully upon our minds. 2. The sensual delights
and enjoyments of this world arefbetter suited, and more agreeable to the corrupt
and degenerate nature of men, than spiritual and heavenly things are to those that
are regenerate. 3. The worldly man's faith and hope, and fear of present and sensible
things, is commonly stronger than a good man's faith and hope, and fear of things
future and eternal. Now faith, and hope, and fear, are the great principles which
govern and bear sway in the actions and lives of men. 4. The men of the world
have but one design, and are wholly intent upon it, and this is a great advantage.
Application to one thing, especially in matters of practice, gains a man perfect
experience in it, and experience furnisheth him with observations about it, and
these make him wise and prudent in that thing. But good men, though they hav«
a great affection for heaven and heavenly things, yet the business and necessities
of this life do very much divert and take them off from the care of better things; they
are divided between the concernments of this life and the other, and though there be
but one thing necessary in comparison, yet the conveniences of this Ufe are to be
regarded ; and though our souls be our main care, yet some consideration mast be
had of our bodies, tbat they may be fit for the service of oar souls ; so that we
cannot always and wholly apply ourselves to heavenly things, and mind them as
the men of the world do the things of this world. 5. The men of the world have a
greater compass and liberty in the pursuit of their worldly designs, than good men
have in the prosecution of their inteiests. The " children of light " are limited and
confined to the use of lawful means for the compassing of their ends ; but the men
of the world are not so strait-laced ; they are resolved upon the point, and will
stick at no means to compass their end. Concluding remarks : 1. Notwithstanding
the commendation which hath been given of the wisdom of this world, yet upon the
whole matter it is not much to be valued and admired. It is, indeed, great in its
way and kind; bat it is applied to little and low purposes, employed about the con-
cernments of a short time and a few days, about the worst and meanest part of
onrselves, and accompanied with the neglect of greater and better things. This is
.wisdom, to regard our main interest ; but if we be wrong in our end (as all worldly
men are), the faster and farther we go, the more fatal is our error and mistake.
" The children of this world " are out in their end, and mistaken in the main ; they
are wise for this world, which is inconsiderable to eternity ; wise for a little while,
•nd fools for evar. 3. From what hath been said, we may infer, that if we los« our
«HAP. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 215
fiouls, and come short of eternal happiness, it is throngh oar own fault and grosi
neglect ; for we see that men are wise enough for this world; and the same prudence,
and care, and diligence, applied to the concernments of our souls, would infallibly
make us happy. 3. What a shame and reproach is this to the children of light I
{Archbishop Tillotson.) Sagacity commended: — It is merely the wisdom, the
practical sagacity, the tavoirfaire of the steward that is commended to our attention
and imitation. A bad thing may be well done. The most admirable qualities — in-
dustry, perseverance, bravery, quickness — may serve to accompUsh a wicked as well aa
a righteous purpose. Few can withhold a tribute of applause from the forger who
successfully copies a very difficult bank-note, or elaborates a professedly mediaaval
document so as to deceive even the experts. No one commends the morality of David
when he played the madman at Gath, and scrabbled on the gate ; but who has not
smiled at his skill in meeting the occasion, in overreaching all his enemies, and
making them serve him by the simple device of hiding the brightest intellect of the
age under the vacant, silly stare of the idiot ? The wisdom of the unjust steward,
which we are invited to admire, appeared mainly in his business-like apprehension
of the actual situation in which he was placed, and his sagacity and promptitude
in making the most of it. He looked the facts in the face. He did not buoy him*
self up with delusive hopes. He did not waste his brief opportunity in idle
expectations. He manfully faced the inevitable, and this was his salvation. The
ability to do so is a great part of what is known as a strong character {Marevta
Dods, D.D.) The true wisdom: — Our Lord pronounced the children of this world
" wise in their generation " ; and who can doubt that thousands who are lost would,
with God's blessing, be saved, did they bring the same prudence, and diligence, and
energy to their eternal, as they do to their temporal interests? But in how many
people is consummate wisdom joined to the greatest folly ? They are wise enough
to gain the world, and fools enough to lose their souls. Convince a man that the
only way to save his life is to part with his limb, and he does not hesitate aa
instant between living with one hmb and being buried with two. Borne into the
operating theatre, pale, yet resolute, he bares the diseased member to the knife.
And how well does that bleeding, fainting, groaning sufferer teach us to part with
our sins rather than with our Saviour. If life is better than a limb, how much
better is heaven than a sin ? Two years ago a man was called to decide between
preserving his life, and parting with the gains of his lifetime. A gold-digger, he
stood on the deck of a ship that, coming from Australian shores, had — as some all
but reach heaven — all but reached her harbour in safety. The exiles had been
coasting along their native shores : and to-morrow, husbands would embrace their
wives, children their parents, and not a few reaUze the bright dream of returning
to pass the evening of their days in happiness amid the loved scenes of their youth.
But as the proverb runs, there is much between the cup and the lip. Night came
lowering down ; and with the night a storm that wrecked ship, and hopes, and
fortunes, all together. The dawning light but revealed a scene of horror — death
staring them in the face. The sea, lashed into fury, ran mountains high ; no boat
could live in her. One chance still remained. Pale women, weeping children,
feeble and timid men must die ; but a stout, brave swimmer, with trust in God, and
disencumbered of all impediments, might reach the shore, where hundreds stood
ready to dash into the boiling surf, and, seizing, save him. One man was observed
to go below. He bound around his waist a heavy belt, filled with gold, the hard
gains of his life ; and returned to the deck. One after another, he saw his fellow-
passengers leap overboard. After a brief but terrible struggle, head after head went
down — sunk by the gold they had fought hard to gain, and were loth to lose.
Slowly he was seen to unbuckle his belt. His hopes had been bound up in it. It
was to buy him land, and ease, and respect — the reward of long years of hard and
weary exile. What hardships he had endured for it 1 The sweat of his brow, the
hopes of day and the dreams of night, were there. If he parts with it, he is a
beggar ; but then if he keeps it, he dies. He poised it in his hand ; balanced it for
a while ; took a long, sad look at it ; and then with one strong, desperate effort,
flung it far out into the roaring sea. Wise man 1 It sinks with a sullen plunge ;
and DOW he follows it — not to sink, but, disencumbered of its weight, to swim ; to
beat the billows manfully ; and, riding on the foaming surge, to reach the shore.
Well done, brave gold-digger 1 Ay, well done, and well chosen ; but if *' a man,"
as the devil said, who once spoke God's truth, *• will give all that he hath for his
life," how much more should he give all he hath for his soul? Better to
part with gold than with God ; to bear the heaviest cross than miM a heaveulf
onmn 1 (T. Quthrie, D.D.)
216 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTRATOB. {cbkp rn.
Yer. 9. Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrlgliteousneu. — Th«
right use of unrighteous mammen: — By the " mammon of unrighteousness " we are
very clearly to understand money ; but why it has been so called by Christ is not
BO evident. Perhaps the simplest, as it is certainly the most obvious explanation,
is because it is so frequently unrighteously acquired, and bo much more frequently
as the man's own possession, and not as a trust of which he is merely a steward.
But, however the epithet " unrighteous " may be accounted for, the thing which it
characterizes is money. Now, there is a time when that shall fail. Death says to
each man, " Give an account of thy stewardship, for thou mayest be no longer
steward." We can carry with us nothing out of this world. Money cannot —
simply and only as money — be transferred into the world beyond ; but it may be
80 used in this world as to add to and intensify a Christian's happiness in the
next. We are familiar with the fact, in our daily lives here, that money may
become the means of procuring that which is better than itself. Thus knowledge
is better than wealth ; yet by a wise use of wealth we may acquire knowledge.
So, by a judicious employment of money as trustees for God, in commonicating to
the necessities of the saints, we shall secure that those whom we have thus
relieved shall receive us into everlasting habitations. This use of money vrill not
purchase our admission into heaven ; but it will make friends for us there, whose
gratitude will add to our enjoyment, and increase our blessedness. It will not open
the gates for our entrance. Only Christ is the door. Through Him alone can we
gain ingress. But it will affect what Peter calls the " abundance " of our entrance,
for it will secure the presence there of those who have been benefited by our faith-
ful stewardship ; and, chiefest of all, it will be rewarded with the approbation of
Him who will say, " Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these My brethren,
ye did it unto Me." It is of grace alone, through Christ, that we are permitted to
enter heaven ; but once there, the measure of reward will be graduated according
to that of our faithfulness here as "good stewards of the manifold bounties of
God." Those who have been helped and blessed by our service wiU lead us up to
the throne, and say, " This is he of whom we have often spoken, and to whom we
were so much beholden in the life below " ; and He who sitteth thereon will reply,
" Well done : let it be done unto him as unto the man whom the King delighteth
to honour." Thus, though money cannot be taken with us into the future life, we
yet may so employ it here, in stewardship for God, as to send on treasure before ua
into heaven, in the shape of friends, who shall throughout eternity redouble and
intensify our happiness. (W. M. Taylor, D.D.) The mammon of unrighteous'
ness: — "Mammon" is just the Syrian word for money, and it is called "un-
righteous " or " unjust" because those to whom our Lord was speaking had made
their money by injustice. It was as little their own as the unjust steward's was.
The steward was unjust because he had not regarded himself as a steward ; and in
60 far as we have forgotten this fundamental circumstance, we also are unjust.
We may not have consciously wronged any man or defrauded any ; but if we have
omitted to consider what was due to God and man, the likelihood is we have more
money than we have a right to. The name, indeed, " unrighteous mammon," is
sometimes sweepingly applied to all wealth and material advantages, because there
is a feeling that the whole system of trade, commerce, and social life is inex-
tricably permeated with fraudulent practices and iniquitous customs — so permeated
that no man can be altogether free, or is at all hkely to be altogether free, from all
gailt in this matter. Take any coin out of your pocket and make it tell its
history, the hands it has been in, the things it has paid for, the transactions it has
assisted, and you would be inclined to fling it away as contaminated and filthy.
But that coin is a mere emblem of all that comes to you through the ordinary
channels of trade, and suggests to you the pollution of the whole social condition.
The clothes you wear, the food you eat, the house you Uve in, the money you are
asked to invest, have all a history which will not bear scrutiny. Oppression, greed,
and fraud serve you every day. Whether you will or not you are made partakers
of other men's sins. You may be thankful if your hands are not soiled by any
Btain that you have wittingly incurred ; but even so, you must ask. What com-
pensation can I make for the unrighteousness which cleaves to mammon ? how am
I to use it now, seeing I have it? Our Lord says, " You are to make friends with
it, who may receive you into everlasting habitations." Yon are so to use your
opportunities that when your present stewardship is over you may not be turned
out in the cold and to beggary, but may have secured friends who will give you a
welcome to the eternal world. If is the same view of the connection of this worM
our. X71.] ST. LUKE, SIT
and the next which onr Lord gives in His picture of the last jadgment, when Ha
eays, " Inasmuch as ye have done it," <&o. Those whom we have done most good
to are, as a rule, those whom we have most loved ; and what better welcome to a
new world, what more grateful gnidance in its ways, could we desire than that of
those whom here on earth we have loved most dearly ? Can you promise yourselves
any better reward than to meet the loving recognition and welcome of those who
have experienced your kindness; to be received by those to whom you have
willingly sacrificed money, time, opportunities of serving yourself? {Marcut
Dods, D.I).) A profitable investment: — The old Jewish writers tell us of a
certain avaricious Babbi who was very anxious to invest his wealth to the best
advantage. A friend undertook to do Uiis for him. One day the Babbi asked the
name of the investment from which he was assured he would receive the highest
interest. His friend answered, " I have given all your money to the poor." You
know, that if you were going to take a journey into some foreign country, you
would change your English money for the currency of the place to which you
were bound. You would convert your sovereigns, and bank notes, and shillings,
into dollars, or roubles, or francs, or what not. Well, remember that we all have
to take a journey into a land beyond the grave, where our money, and our pride,
and our intellect, and our strength, and our success will not avail us — these will
not be the currency of the country. Let us change our currency now, and get
such property as faith, love, purity, gentleness, meekness, truth — these alone will
pass current in the better country. Consecrate your wealth, or your work, or your
influence, or whatever you have to God. {H. J. Wilmot Buxton, M.A.) Making
friends of mammon : — Probably most of us understand that we are to do what good
we can vrith our '• goods " now, in order that when we die we may receive the
reward of our good deeds. But that is a very partial and imperfect reading of the
words. It is true that our Lord promises us an eternal reward : but " eternity" ia
a word that covers the present and the past as well as the future. It is true He
promises that, if we make friends of mammon, then, when mammon fails us,
our " friends will receive us "; and it is also true that mammon will fail us when
we die, for it is very certain that we cannot carry it out of the world with us, even
in the portable form of a cheque-book. But may not mammon fail us before we
die ? May we not, even while we are in this life, lose our money, or find that there
are other losses for which no money can compensate us ? We know very well that
we may, some of us know it only too sadly. Biches have wings for use, and not
only for show. It is not only the grim face of Death that scares them to flight ;
they flee before a thousand other alarms. The changes and accidents in which
they fail us are innumerable ; there are countless woimds which gold will not heal,
en^ess cravings which it will not satisfy. And the very point and gist and value of
our Lord's promise is that, whenever mammon fails us, in life and its changes and
sorrows no less than in death, if we have previously made friends out of it, these
friends will open eternal tabernacles in which our stricken spirits may find refuge
and consolation. It is this present, this coustant, this eternal reward of a wise
use of our temporal possessions on which we need most of all to fix our thoughts.
And, remember, we all need it, the poor no less than the rich. For we all have
some acquaintance with mammon, though for some of us, happily, it is a very
distant acquaintance. We all have 8 Uttle money, or money's worth, at our con-
trol, and may take one of two courses. Well, now, suppose a man has lived long
enough to feel his feet and to consider the courses that are open to him, and to be
sincerely anxious to take the right course and to make the best use he can of his
life. All around him he sees neighbours who are pushing on with the utmost
eagerness in the pursuit of fortune, who are sacrificing ease, culture, pleasure,
health, and at times conscience itself, in their love for that which St. Paul pro-
nounces to be a root of all evil, a temptation and a snare, and which Christ says
makes it very hard for a man to enter the kingdom of God. He has to determine
whether or not he will join in this headlong pursuit — whether he, too, will risk
health of body, culture of mind, and sensitive purity of conscience, in the
endeavour to grow rich, or richer than he is. He sees that the dignity and
comfort and peace of human life depend largely on his being able to supply a large
circle of wants, without constant anxiety and care ; but he also feels that he has
many wants, and these the deepest, which mere wealth will not supply. Accordingly,
he resolves to work diligently and as wisely as be can, in order to secure an
adequate provision for his physical necessities, and to guard his independence; but
be resolves also that he will not sacrifice himself, or all that is bwt and purest
218 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. JTfc
and most refined in himself, to the pursuit of money and what it will fetch. Hence,
BO far as he can, he limits his wants ; he keeps his tastes simple and pure; and by
labours that do not absorb his whole time and energies he provides for the dn«
gratification of these tastes and wants. Hence also he gives a good deal of hi»
time and energy to reading good books, let us say, or to mastering some natural
science, or to developing a taste for music and acquiring skill in it. He expects
his neighbour, who had no better start nor opportunities than he, to grow far
richer than he himself has done, if his neighbour think only of getting and invest-
ing money. And therefore he does not grudge him his greater wealth, nor lock on
it with an envious eye; he rather rejoices that he himself has given up some wealth
in order to acquire a higher culture, and to develop his literary or artistic tastes.
Here, then, we have two men, two neighbours, before us. The one has grown very
rich, has far more money than he can enjoy, more even perhaps than he quite
knows how to spend or invest, but he has hardly anything except what his money
•will procure for him. The other has only a modest provision for his wants, but he
has a mind stored with the best thoughts of ancient and modern wisdom, an eye
which finds a thousand miracles of beauty in every scene of Nature, and an ear
that trembles under the ecstasy of sweet harmonious sounds. By some sadden
turn of fortune, mammon fails them both; they are both reduced to poverty: both,
BO soon as they recover from the shock, have to make a fresh start in life. Which
of the two is better off now ? Which of them has made real friends to himself out
of the mammon while he had it? Not the wealthier of the two assuredly ; for,
now that he has lost his wealth, he has lost all that he had : he has Uved only to
get rich ; when his riches went, all went. But the other man, the man who read
and thought and cultivated his mental faculties, he has not lost all. His money
has gone, but it has not taken from him the wise thoughts he had gathered from
books, or his insight into the secrets and beauties of Nature, or the power to charm
from the concord of sweet sounds. He is simply thrown more absolutely on these
inward and inseparable possessions for occupation and enjoyment. While he had
it he made friends to himself out of the mammon of unrighteousness ; and, now
that it has failed him, those friends receive him into tabernacles which are always
open, and in which he has long learned to find pleasure and to take rest. Poor
and imperfect as this illustration is, for there are losses in which even Science and
Art, even Nature and Culture, can give us but cold comfort — it may nevertheless
sufiSce to make our Lord's words clear. For, obviously, if a man give a good part
of the time he might devote to the acquisition of wealth to religious culture, instead
of to merely mental culture ; if he take thought and spend time in acquiring habits
of prayer and worship and obedience and trust, in acquainting himself with the
will of God and doing it; if he expend money, and time which is worth money to
him, in helping on the works of the Church and in ministering to the wants of the
sorrowful and guiJty^he, too, has made to himself friends out of the mammon of
unrighteousness, and friends that will not fail him when mammon fails him, but
will receive him into taberuHcles of rest. However poor he may be, he can still
pray, and read his Bible, and put his trust m God, and urge the guilty to penitence,
and speak comfort to the sorrowful ; and, by his cheerful content and unswerving
confidence in the Divine goodness, he may now bear witness, with an eloquence far
beyond that of mere words, to the reality and grandeur of a truly religious life.
Faith, hope, charity, righteousness and godliness, patience and meekness,
will not close their doors against him, because mammon has slammed his door
ip^ his face. These are eternal friends, who pitch their tabernacles beside us wher-
ever our path may lead, and who welcome us to the rest and shelter they afford
all the more heartily because we have not where to lay our head. (S. Cox.}
The earthly life a heavenly training : — It has been observed by an eminent critic,
that the words, "mammon of unrighteousness" might be better rendered, "mammon
of deceitfulness " ; for Christ never condemned the possession of wealth as in itself
an unrighteous thing. It is very often the righteous reward of praiseworthy
toil. But He speaks of it as deceitful, because he who trusts to it will find that itR
promises are hes, and will fail at last, leaving him miserably alone ; and with this
failure Christ contrasts the certainty of eternal possessions. We can enter now
into the meaning of the parable. If the riches of life — which are only one and a
comparatively insignificant circumstance in man's earthly history — may prepar*
him for eternity, then it follows that every circumstance of life — our wealth or our
poverty, our work or our rest — may form a training. Here, then, seems to be the
thought which Christ has shadowed forth in this eurthly form — Every circnmstano*
CEAP. XVI.] ST. LUKE, il9
cf man's life may become a traicLng for immortality. It is obvious that if this be
tiue it is of supreme importance. But how is it possible for all our life to become
a training for immortality ? or, to use the words of Christ, how may we so make
friends of our earthly circumstances, that when they have passed, we may have
been prepared by their employment for the everlasting habitations ? The tenth
arid eleventh verses of this chapter imply two great principles on which this
possibility is founded — the eternity of God's law, and the perpetuity of man's
character. On the one hand, it is possible to make every circumstance of life
part of one grand training, because the law of the immortal life is the law
of a blessed life here. " He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful
also in much; and he that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much."
These words imply that the law of God which guides us here extends over all
worlds. The life of time is ruled by no different law from that which prevails
in the great life of eternity. The faithfulness which makes men blessed
here, is the same law of life which creates their blessedness there. This
is obviously the first great principle that renders it possible for us to make
our present circumstances an education for the everlasting world. If the law
which prevails there were essentially different from that which prevails here, then
no present conduct, no employment of the earthly, could prepare for the heavenly ;
we should have to learn a new rule of life, and every present circumstance would
be vain as affording a preparation for the life to come. This is all we need know
of the future, as far as regards our present conduct. This thought may perhaps
be made clear to every one by taking an illustration with which we are all famiUar.
We know that in different countries different customs are adopted and different
laws prevail. Actions, which in this land would be thought natural, would be
considered absurd in another. Deeds, which in one land are common, might else-
where be regarded as crimes. The man who would travel into other countries
must first of all acquaint himself with their social customs, and study the require-
ments of their laws. He thus prepares himself to enter other lands without
danger, and live another life without difficulty. Now we have a journey to make
at no distant period into another world. We stand looking at its dim outlines,
seeing friend after friend depart, waving us their sad, solemn farewells, and knowing
that we must soon set out for that distant region. But the law, whose fulfilment
is love, pervades every world of the bit ssed. The love of God, which forms the
Christian blessedness in this low earth, is the source of the highest angels' bhss in
the great eternity. Therefore we have no new law of life to learn. The other fact
requisite to show this is the perpetuity of human character. See verse 11 : "If
therefore ye have not been faithful in the unrighteous mammon, who will commit
to your trust the true riches ? " In their deepest meaning the«e words involve this
principle — " Unfaithful in time, unfaithful in eternity." Some illustration of this
perpetuity of human character is afforded us by the dif&culty of changing men's
characters in this world. How, for instance, can you change the character of a
hard, selfish, worldly man ? You cannot do it by reasoning. We know not what
tstaie may await us after death, but as far as we can gather from the teachings of
the Bible, death immortalizes character. All life's affections, and fellowships, and
friendships — all the revelations we have of human nobleness and grandeur — if they
teach us more of God by revealing the Godlike, become a discipline for eternity.
Every glory in nature — the pomp of autumn, the rejoicing beauty of the spring,
the splendour of the sunset, or the majesty of the starry hosts — everything, in fact,
in the outer world which raises our thoughts to the Divine, becomes a training for
the immortal. Every dark temptation that makes us strong in resistive might ;
every gloomy doubt that by its conquest helps to strengthen our faith, every
Borrow that drives us to repose more utterly on the eternal love, becomes a schooling
for the higher world, where the presence of the Father is boundless joy. In con-
clusion, let us observe the practical application of the words of our text. They
are a call to action. The duty to which Christ here summons us is to watch the
formation of character. They contain also a lesson of encouragement. {E. L.
Hullt B.A.) The Christianas farewell to business : — I. A fabewell imports a
itOOK BSBiND. What is there in the Christian's last look at the world ? It is a fact
that that look must be taken. We may avoid many things, but not that. Of the
end of business we can have no doubt. If it end not before death, it will at death.
When the end comes, there will be a tenderness in the adieu. Of course, there will
be much to make a farewell pleasant. Business will be an object of not uumingled
ttgret. 1. But still, "me say, there must be tenderness in the adieu. It is an adieo.
1^ THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap. xn.
2. Bat there are other sources of regret. Business has been a sooroe of positive
enjoyment. It has suppUed a wholesome excitement. It has exercised the
active powers. 3. Nor can we omit to remark that when the Christian fails
in death, he leaves, in business, that which has been the channel and scene
of spiritual things. It is in business he has " exercised himself to godliness."
The place of work has been the place of prayer. II. Let us now oontemplata
the Christian in that bbioht pbospect which is befobb him when he leaves
THE WORLD, EB he looks forward to " the everlasting habitations " to which he
will be "received" at his failure in death. That ground is ChrisL It is not
because we are by good works entitled to it, that we oan obtain an inheritance
above. 1. And, therefore, I remark, first, that though secular life closes at
death, the Christian retains all that made that life holy and noble. With
many, business was an end ; with him, it was a means. With many, the thought,
the care, the aim, the ambition, were all comprised in this outward world ;
with him the outward world was but a glass, a tool, a stepping-stone. 2. And
w}jile the Christian retains his principles, which made his business good and
holy and happy, those principles are transferred to a better sphere at death. 8.
The Christian, in failing at death, will be able not only to expect the continuance
of holy activity in a better sphere, but to connect his past with his future activity.
(/. A. Morrii.) Wealth changed into the coin of heaven : — Every rich man who
is growing selfish and using all his money for earthly uses only should study this
parable. It would surely cure him. Money may be made a grand thing both now
and hereafter ; for by liberality you can change it into the current coin of heaven.
You are like an orphan maid I read of, whose kind master allowed her to give
away the fruit of his garden, that she might raise up friends for herself among the
neighbours. Wealth thus used is worthy of its name, which is just weal writ
large. {J. Wells.) Mammon :—'M.&ramon, the world — ah, is it not adverse to
the interests of our souls ? What then 7 Believer, adversary though it be, you may
make it your friend. A skilful seaman, when once fairly out to sea, can make a
wind from the west carry him westward t he can make the wind that blows right
in his face bear him onward to the very point from which it blows. When he arrives
at home, he is able to say, the wind from the west impelled me westward, and led
me into my desired haven. Thus if we were skilful, and watchful, and earnest^
we might make the unrighteous mammon our friend ; we might so turn our side
to each of its tortuous impulses, that, wilUng or unwilling, conscious or unconscious,
it should from day to day drive us nearer home. (W. Arnot.) The everlasting
dwellingi: — I. What kind or dwellings abb these? 1. The sweetest peace
reigns in them, as regards the body. (1) There is no earthly burden. (2) There
are no afilictions or tribulations. 2. The sweetest peace, as regards the soaL
(1) There is no struggle. (2) There is no peril. 3. The greatest joy reigns in
them. II. Fob whom abb tbb bveblastino dwellings? 1. Not for sinners
(Bev. xxi. 27). (1) The unjust. (2) The uncharitable. (3) The unbelieving.
(4) Drunkards. (5) The nnchaste. (6) The slothful. (7) Blasphemers. 2. Only
for the just. To heaven we are led — (1) By unwavering faith. (2) By childlike
humility. (3) By a strenuous combat. (4) By true justice. {Joseph Schuen.)
How the little may be used to get the great : — I. First, then, I desire to consider
briefly that strange, new standard of value which is set up here. On the one side
is placed the whole glittering heap of all material good that man can touch or
handle, all that wealth can buy of this perishable world; and on the other hand
there are the modest and unseen riches of pure thoughts and high desires, of a
noble heart, of a Ufe assimilated to Jesus Christ. The two are compared in three
points — as to their intrinsic magnitade, as to their quality, as to our ownership of
them. Of the great gUttering heap our Lord says : " It is nothing, at its greatest
it is small " ; and of the other our Lord says : " At its smallest it is great." All
the wealth of all the Bothschilds is too little to fill the soul of the poorest beggar
tbat stands by their carriage door with hungry eyes. The least degree of truth, of
love, of goodness, is bigger in its power to fill the heart than all the externals that
human avarice can gather about it. Can we thus enter into the understanding of
Christ's scale and standard, and think of all the external as " that which is least,"
and of all the inward as " that which is much " ? The world looks at worldly
wealth through a microscope which magnifies the infinitesimally small, and then it
looks at " the land that is very far oS " through a telescope turned the wrong way,
which diminishes all that is great. But if we can get up by the side of Jesus Christ
And see things with His eyes and from His station, it will be as when a man olimba
CHIP. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 281
a mountain, and the little black line, as it seemed to him when looked at from the
plain, has risen up into a giant clilf ; and all the big things down below, as they
eeemed when he was among them, have dwindled. That white speck is a palace ;
that bit of a green patch there, over which the skylark flies in a minute, is a great
lord's estate. Oh, dear brethren, we do not need to wait to get to heaven to learn
heaven's tables of weights and measures 1 One grain of true love to God is greater
in its power to enrich than a California of gold. Take, again, the second anti-
thesis, the "unrighteous mammon" and "the true riches." That word, "un-
righteous " in its application to material good, is somewhat difficult. If we keep
strictly to the antithesis "unrighteous" must be the opposite of "true." The
word would then come to mean very nearly the same as "deceitful " — that which
betrays. And bo we have presented to us the old familiar thought that external
good of all sorts looks to be a great deal better than it is. It promises a great many
things that it never fulfils, tempting us as a fish is tempted to the hook by a bait which
hides the hook. But the inward riches of faith, true holiness, lofty aspirations,
Christ-directed purposes, all these are true. They promise no more than they
perform. They bring more than they said they would. No man ever said, " I have
tasted Thy love, and lo I it does not satisfy me ! I have realized Thy help, and lo !
it has not been enough 1 " And then the last contrast is between " another's " and
" your own." Another's ? Well, that may mean God's ; and therefore you are
stewards, as the whole parable that precedes the text has been teaching. But I am
not sure that that is the only, nor indeed the principal reference of the word here.
And I think when our Lord speaks of all outward possessions as being, even whilst
mine, another's, He means to point there, not only to the fact of stewardship, but
also to the fact of the limitations and defects of all outward possessions of outward
good. That is to say, there is no real contact between the outward things that a
man has and himself. The only things that you really have, paradox as it sounds,
are the things that you are. AH the rest you hold by a very slight tie, like the
pearls that are sewn upon some half-barbarous Eastern magnate's jacket, which he.
shakes off as he walks. So men say, " This is mine I " and it only means " It is
not yours." There is no real possession, even while there is an apparent one,
and just because there is no real contact, because there is always a gap between
the man and his goods, because he has not, as it were, gathered them into himself,
therefore the possession is transient as well as incomplete. It slips away from the
hand even whilst you hold it. And just as we may say, " There is no present, bat
everything is past or future, and what we call the present is only the meeting point
of these two times," so we may say, there is no possession, because everything ia
either coming into my hands or going oat of them, and my apparent ownership is
only for a moment. I simply transmit.
*' 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thoasando."
And so it passes. And then consider the common accidents of life which rob men
of their goods, and the waste by the very act of use, which gnaws them away as
the sea does the cliffs ; and, last of all, death's separation. What can be taken
oat of a man's hands by death has no right to be called his. II. Notice for a moment
the other broad principle that is laid down in these three verses, as to the highest
USB OF THE LOWER GOOD. Whether you are a Christian man or whether you are
not, this is true about you, that the way in which you deal with your outward
goods, your wealth, your capacity of all sorts, may become a barrier to your
possessing the higher, or it may become a mighty help. There are plenty of people,
and some of them listening to me now, who are kept from being Christians because
they love the world so much. The world thinks that the highest use of the highest
things is to gain possession of the lowest thereby, and that truth and genius and
poetry are given to select spirits and are wasted unless they make money out of
them. Christ's notion of the relationship is exactly the opposite, that all the out-
ward is then lifted to its noblest purpose when it is made rigidly subordinate to
the highest ; and that the best thing that any man can do with his money is so to
spend it as to "purchase for himself a good degree," "laying np for himself in
•tore a good foundation that he may lay hold on eternal life." III. And now let
me say one last word as to the jtaithtxtlness which tbcs utilizes the lowsst
jlb k HEARS or possessing uobs ruLLT thb highest. Yon will be ** faithful " if,
through all yoar administrations of your possessions, there rang, first, the prineipl*
of stewardship ; yon will be "faithful " if, through all your adininiBtration of Toot
\
\
222 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xn»
eartbly possessions, there runs, second, the principle of sacrifice ; you will be
"faithful" if, through all your administration of your earthly possessions, there
runs, third, the principle of brotherhood. {A. Maclaren, D.D.) Wise expendir
ture : — Christ here tells us plainly which is the path of wisdom. When we see a
man making ducks and drakes of his money, we call him a fool — and so he is,
from our point of view, because he might be acquiring solid advantages with what
he is wasting. But, from the point of view of the gospel, we are just as great fool»
ourselves, for those solid advantages of which we speak are probably as far from
being eternal as the others ; keeping our eyes fixed upon the everlasting future, we
must admit that every penny spent upon ourselves is as much wasted as if we had
chucked it into the river. Do not then ask me, " May I allow myself this luxury ? "
or " May I not indulge this taste ? " Of course you may, as long as it is harmless,
but you will be wiser if you don't, for you might with the same money be making
friends for eternity. This saying of our Lord, then, is, in its fulness, for those
that can receive it, and they are, perhaps, as few as they are happy ; when we get
to heaven and behold the richness of their reward, the overfiowing happiness ot
those who have spent and been spent in making others happy, we shall wonder how
we could have been so stupid as to waste our money on ourselves. For the rest of
us, it is a principle which we must acknowledge^ humbly, even if we have not
strength of mind to act upon it much at present. We may still decide, perhaps,
to live up to our income, to live according to our rank, to maintain a certain style,
and so on, but we will not be such contemptible hypocrites as to pretend that this
is the path of Christian wisdom. The principle which Christ lays down we
shall keep before our eyes, and we shall pray that it may sink little by little into
our hearts, until it begin to bear fruit in our lives — the principle, I mean, that
every penny spent on self is wasted, every penny we can learn to part with is
saved because laid up with Him. (R. Winterbotham, M.A.) Charity the road
to wealth: — You want to double your riches, and without gambling or stock-jobbing.
Share it. Whether it be material or intellectual, its rapid increase will amaze you.
What would the sun have been, had he folded himself up in darkness • Surely he
would have gone out. So would Socrates. This road to wealth seems to have been
discovered some three thousand years ago ; at least it was known to Hesiod, and
has been recommended by him in the one precious line he has left us. But even
he complains of the fools who did not know that half is more than the whole. And
ever since, though mankind have always been in full chase after riches, though they
have not feared to follow Columbus and Gama in chase of it, though they have
waded through blood, and crept through falsehood, and trampled on their own
hearts, and been ready to ride on a broomstick, in chase of it, very few have ever
taken the road, albeit the easiest, the shortest, and the surest. {J. C. Hare.)
Vers. 10-13. Faithful In that wMcIi Is least. — On living to God in small thing* : —
... u'. Notice how Utile we know concerning the relative importance of events and
« ~ - duties. We use the terms " great " and " small " in speaking of actions, occasions,
plans, and duties, only in reference to their mere outward look and first impres-
sion. Some of the most latent agents and mean-looking substances in nature are
yet the most operative ; but yet, when we speak of natural objects, we call them
great or small, not according to their operativeness, but according to size, count,
report, or show. So it comes to pass when we are classing actions, duties, or
/ occasions, that we call a certain class great and another small, when really the
^ latter are many-fold more important and influential than the former. We are
generally ignorant of the real moment of events which we think we understand.
2. It is to be observed that, even as the world judges, small things constitute
almost the whole of life. S. It very much exalts, as well as sanctions this view,
that God is so observant of small things. He upholds the sparrow's wing, clothes
the lily with His own beautifying hand, and numbers tbe hairs of His children. He
holds the balancings of the cluuds. He maketh small the drops of rain. i. It is
a fact of history and of observation that all efficient men, while they have been
men of comprehension, have also been men of detail Napoleon was the most
effective man in modern times — some will say, of all times. The secret of his
character was, that while his plans were more vast, more various, and, of course,
more difficult than those of other men, he had the talent, at the same time, to fill
them up with perfect promptness and precision, in every particular of execution.
There must be detail in every great work. f^. It is to be observed tbat there is
HWte xeal piety in adorning one small than one great occasion. This may seem
(9
OBAf. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 22»
paradoxical, but what I intend will be seen by one or two illustrations. I have
spoken of the minuteness of God's works. When I regard the eternal God as
engaged in polishing an atom, or elaborating the functions of a mote invisible to
the eye, what evidence do I there receive of His desire to perfect His works 1 No
gross and mighty world, however plausibly shaped, would yield a hundredth part th&
intensity of evidence. An illustration from human things will present a closer
parallel. It is perfectly well understood, or if not, it should be, that almost any
husband would leap into the sea, or rush into the burning edifice to rescue a
perishing wife. But to anticipate the convenience or happiness of a wife in some
small matter, the neglect of which would be unobserved, is a more eloquent proof
of tenderness, 6. The importance of living to God in ordinary and smaU things, is
seen in the fact that character, which is the end of religion, is in its very nature »
growth. Application : 1. Private Christians are here instructed in the true method
of Christian progress and usefulness. 2. Our subject enables us to offer some useful
suggestions, concerning the manner in which Churches may be made to prosper.
3. Finally, some useful hints are suggested to the ministers of Christ. (H. Bush-
iieU, D.D.) The value of little things: — "Who has despised the day of small
things ? " Not the sagacious men of the world, to whom experience has taught the
necessity of husbanding the minutes that make up days, and the pence that grow
to pounds. I. OCB LIVES VOB THE MOST PABX ABE MADB UP OF LITTLE THINGS,
AND BY THESE ouB PRINCIPLE IS TO BE TESTED. There are Very few who have to
take a prominent place in the great conflicts of their age, and to play their part in
the arena of public life. The vast majority must dwell in humbler scenes, and be
content to do a much meaner work. The conflicts which a Christian has to
maintain, either against the evil in his own soul, or in the narrow circle where
alone his influence is felt, appear to be very trivial and unimportant, yet are they
to him the battle of life and for life, and true heroism is to be shown here as well'
as in those grander struggles in which some may win the leader's fame, or even the
martyr's crown. It will stimulate us to faithfulness in such little things if we bear
in mind the way in which the Master regards the humblest works that are done,
and the poorest sacrifices that are made from a pure feeling of love to Him. He
can recognize and bless the martyr-spirit even though it be shown in other ways
than the endurance of bonds, or the suffering of death. There is not a tear of
sympathy with the sorrows of others which we shed that falls without His know-
ledge. His presence is with us to encourage and strengthen us in these little as in
the greater trials, and faithfulness here will have its own reward. II. Little
PEFBCI8 weaken the INFLUENCE OF MANY viBTUEs. " One sinner " (the wise man
tells us) ** destroy eth much good," and then following out the principle he proceeds
to show by an expressive illustration how a little sin or even folly in a good xa&u
may rob him of much of the power that otherwise he would possess for good-
" Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking savour,,
80 doth a little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and honour." The world
is always on the watch for the faults of Christians. But the point on which we
wish chiefly to insist is that men's estimate of our character is regulated chiefly by
their observation of little things. III. Little tbinos oontbibdib hatebially to
THU! FOBUATioN OF CHABACTEB, Under the operation of varied causes, of whose
power over us we are hardly conscious, we are continually growing in holiness of
■inking lower and lower in sin, by a process so gradual as to be scarcely perceptible.
Conversion may be sudden, but not sanctification. Our power of resistance is to
grow by constant exercise ; our love, fed by the ministry of Providence and grace,
is to burn with an ever brighter and purer flame ; our path is to be like the shining
light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. Thus, by listening to
every voice of instruction, by using every opportunity, by watchfulness in the leasi
things, are we to attain spiritual increase. There is a part of our Lancashire coask
on which the sea is making steady encroachments. Those who have long been
familiar with its scenery can point yon to places over which the tide now rolls it»
waters, where a few short years ago they wandered along the grassy cliff, and stood
to watch the play of the wild waves beneath. From year to year the observer may-
note continued alteration — fresh portions of the cliff swept away, and the bed of the
ocean becoming ever wider. Were he to ask for an account of these changes, some
would tell him that during a terrible tempest the sea had rolled in with more than
its Qsnal violence and carried away great fragments of solid earth — and fancy that
thus they had told the whole story. His own eyes, however, gave him fuller infor-
xnation. He sees aroond him preparations for Uie desolations of the ooming winter*
«24 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap. Xyi.
Other places are now menaced with the fate of their predecessors, and the work if
already being done — the process may be gradual, but sure — every tide of more than
ordinary power is contributing something towards it — "by httle and little" tha
work advances, and all is making ready for the fiercer storm which shall put tha
final stroke to what may seem to be the work of a night, but is in reality that of
weeks and months. This is a picture but too true of incidents in the spiritual life
of man. Sometimes the successive steps of the process are all hidden, and we see
only the sad result ; in others its advances may be more distinctly marked. (/. O.
Guinness, B.A.) Gradual attainment of holiness : — Holinesa of character is not a
,^ thing into which we can jamp in a moment, and just when we please. It is not
/f^ like a mushroom, the growth of an hour. It cannot be attained without great
^^••^ watchfulness, earnest effort, much prayer, and a very close walk with Jesus. Like
the coral reef which grows by little daily additions until it is strong enough to
resist the mighty waves of the ocean, so is a holy character made up of what may
be called littles, though in truth each of those littles is of vast importance. Little
duties prayerfully discharged ; little temptations earnestly resisted in the strength
which God supplies out of the fulness which He has made to dwell in Jesus Christ
for His people ; little sins avoided, or crucified ; these all together help to form that
holy character which, in the hour of need, will be, under God, such a sure defence
to the Christian. (A. C. Price, B.A.) Fidelity in little things: — In every
l^j>^- thought, word, and act of an intelligent agent, there is a moral principle involved.
1. Fidelity in little things commends itself to us, when we consider our inability
to estimate the prospective value, power, and influence of the smallest things.
2. Fidelity in little things commends itself when we consider that it is only by
attention to small things that we can hope to be faithful in great. Great events
^ J . often turn on little hinges. Chemists say, one grain of iodine will impart its colour
'•"' to seven thousand times its weight in water. So, often, a little deed containing a
great moral principle will impart its nature to many hearts and lives. 3. Attention
to small things is important, as it relates to our individual character. Its effect is
subjective as well as objective. A beautiful character reaches its climax by pro-
gressive development. You cannot paint it on the life. It must be inwrought^
4. The example given as by Christ, our great prototype, should prompt us to
fidelity in little things. 5. We should exercise the strictest fidelity in all things,
small and great, because we are to be judged in view of these things. (J. W.
Bledsoe.) On religious principle ;— Consider the excellence of religious principle —
1. In the energy of its operation. (1) Promptness in decision. (2) Determination
to do one's duty. (3) Courage. (4) Self-denial. 2. In the uniformity of its
effects. 3. In the extent of its influence. It prompts to the discharge of every
duty, and to the avoidance of every sin. 4. The simplicity of its character.
6. The perpetuity of its existence. Undecaying and immortal. {Essex Remem-
irancer.) Faithful in little, faithful in much : — Now let us look, for a moment
4>r two, at these three principles. I. From the highest point of view, tbue vaith-
iFULNESS KKOWB KO DISTINCTION BETWEEN OBSAT AND SMAIiL DUTIES. FrOm the
highest point of view — that is, from God's point of view — to Him, nothing is great,
nothing small, as we measure it. The worth and the quality of an action depends
on its motive only, and not at all on its prominence, or on any other of the
Accidents which we are always apt to adopt as the tests of the greatness of oar
/ 'deeds. The largeness of the consequences of anything that we do is no measure of
^ the true greatness or true value of it. So it is in regard to God Himself, and His
doings. What can be little to the making of which there goes the force of a soul
that can know God, and must abide for evermore ? Nothing is small that a spirit
43au do. Nothing is small that can be done from a mighty motive. Faithfulness
measures acts as God measures them. " Large " or " small " are not words for tha
vocabulary of conscience. It knows only two words — right and wrong. The circle
that is in a gnat's eye is as true a circle as the one that holds within its sweep all
the stars ; and the sphere that a dew-drop makes is as perfect a sphere as that of
the world. AU duties are the same which are done from the same motive ; all acta
which are not so done are ahke sins. Faithfulness is one in every region. Large
or small is of no account to the Sovereign eye. " He that reoeiveth a prophet in
4he name of a prophet shall receive a prophet's reward," because though not gifted
'With the prophet's tongue, he has the prophet's spirit, and does his small act of
hospitaUty from the very same prophet-impulse which in another, who is more
ioftily endowed, leads to burning words and mighty deeds. Faithfulness is faith*
folness, on whatsoever scale it be set forth 1 II. Then — in another point of ynam.
•■IP. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 925
FAITHFULNESS IN SMALL DUTIES IS EVEN GBEATEB THAN rAITHFOTjNESB IN GREAT.
Great things that are great because they seem to have very wide-reaching conse-
quences, and seem to be hfted up upon a pinnacle of splendour ; or great things
that are great because there was severe resistance that had to be overcome before
we did them, and sore temptations that were dragging us down on our way to the
performance of them — are really great and lofty. Only, the little duties that had
no mighty consequences, no glittering splendour about them, and the little duties
that had not much strife with temptation before they were done, may be as great,
as great in God's eye, as great perhaps in their consequences, as great in their
rewards, as in the other. Ah, my brother, it is a far harder thing, and it is a far
higher proof of a thorough-going persistent Christian principle woven into the very
texture of my soul, to go on plodding and patient, never taken by surprise by any
small temptation, than to gather into myself the strength which God has given me»
and, expecting some great storm to come down upon me, to stand fast and let it
rage. It is a great deal easier to die once for Christ than to live always for Him»
It is a great deal easier to do some single mighty act of self-surrender, than daily —
unnoticed, patiently — to " crucify the flesh with its affections and lusts.*' Let a»
neither repine at our narrow spheres, nor fancy that we can afford to live care-
lessly in them because they are narrow. The smallest duties are often harder —
because of their apparent insignificance, because of their constant recurrence —
harder than the great ones. But do not let us forget that if harder, they are on the-
whole more needful. The world has more need of a great number of Christian
{>eople doing little things like Christians, than it has need of one apostle preaching
ike an apostle, or one martyr dying like a martyr. The mass of trifles makes
magnitude. The little things are greater than the great, because of their number.
They are more efficacious than the single lofty acts. Like the air which in th&
lungs needs to be broken up into small particles, and diffused ere it parts with its
vitalizing principle to the blood, so the minute acts of obedience, and the exhibition
of the power of the gospel in the thousand trifles of Christian lives, permeating
everywhere, will vitalize the world and will preach the gospel in such a fashion as
never can be done by any single and occasional, though it may seem to be more
lofty and more worthy, agency. Honour the trifles, and you will find yourself right
ftbout the great things 1 Lastly : Faithfulness in that which is least is thb
PRBPABATION FOB, AND 8E0UBES OUB HAVINQ A WIDEB SPHEBE IN WHICH TO OBEY
God. Of course, it is quite easy to see how, if once we are doing, what I have
already said is the harder task — habitually doing the little things wisely and well,
for the love of Christ and in the fear of God — we shall be fitted for the sorest
eudden temptations, and shall be made able to perform far larger and far more
apparently splendid acts. Every power strengthens by exercise. Every act of
obedience smoothes the road for all that shall come after. And, on the other side,
the same process exactly goes on to make men, by slow degrees, unfaithful in all.
Tampering with a trifle ; saying. Oh, it is a small matter, and I can venture it ; or.
It is a little thing, too little for mighty motives to be brought to bear upon it — that
ends in this — " unjust also in much." My brother, life is all great. Life is great
because it is the aggregation of littles. As the chalk cliffs in the South, that rear
themselves hundreds of feet above the crawling sea beneath, are all made up of the
minute skeletons of microscopic animalculffi ; so life, mighty and awful as having
eternal consequences, life that towers beetling over the sea of eternity, is made up
of these minute incidents, of these trifling duties, of these small tasks ; and
if thou art not "faithful in that which is least," thou art unfaithful in the
whole. He only is faithful that is full of faith. {A. Maclaren, D.D.) Guilt f.,fW*
not to be estimated by gain: — I. The great principle of the text is, that he
who has sinned, though to a smaU amount in respect of the fruit of his transgres-
sion— provided he has done so by passing over a forbidden limit which was distinctly
known to him, has, in the act of doing so, incurred a full condemnation in respect
of the principle of his transgression. In one word, that the gain of it may be small,
while the guilt of it may be great ; that the latter ought not to be measured by the y /^ -•'/»-.•--
former ; but that he who is unfaithful in the least shall be dealt with, in respect ol — — rT"
the offence he bas given to God, in the same way as if he had been unfaithful in
much. 1. The first reason which we would assign in vindication of this is, that,
by a small act of injustice, the line which separates the right from the wrong is
just as effectually broken over as by a great act of injustice. There is no shading
off at the margin of guilt, but a clear and vigorous delineation. It is not by a
gentle transition that a man steps over from honesty to dishonesty. There it-
▼01.. m. 16
226 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [OTTip. xn.
between them a wall rising np unto heaven ; and the high authority of heaven
mast be stormed ere one inch of entrance can be made into the region of iniquity.
The morality of the Saviour never leads him to glosa over beginnings of crime. 3;
The second reason why he who is unfaithful in the least has incurred the con.
demnation of him who is unfaithful in much, is, that the littleness of the gain, so
far from giving a littleness to the guilt, is in fact a circumstance of aggravation.
There is just this difference. He who has committed injustice for the sake of alesa
advantage has done it on the impulse of a less temptation. Nay, by the second
reason, this may serve to aggravate the wrath of the Divinity against him. It
proves how small the price is which he sets upon his eternity, and how cheaply ha
can bargain the favour of God away from him, and how low he rates the good of
an inheritance with Him, and for what a trifle he can dispose of all interest in His
kingdom and in His promises. It is at the precise limit between the right and the
wrong that the flaming sword of God's law is placed. It is there that " Thus saith
the Lord " presents itself, in legible characters, to our view. It is there where the
operation of His commandment begins ; and not at any of those higher gradations
where a man's dishonesty flrst appals himself by the chance of its detection, or
appals others by the mischief and insecurity which it brings upon social life. II.
Let us now attempt to unfold a few of the pkactical consequences that may bb
SBAWN FROU THE PBiNOiPLE OF THE TEXT, both in respect to our general relation
with God, and in respect to the particular lesson of faithfulness which may be
deduced from it. 1. There cannot be a stronger possible illustration of our
argument than the very first act of retribution that occurred in the history of our
species. What is it that invests the eating of a solitary apple with a grandeur so
momentous ? How came an action, in itself so minute, to be the germ of such
mighty consequences ? We may not be able to answer all these questions ; but we
may at least learn what a thing of danger it is, under the government of a holy
and inflexible God, to tamper with the limits of obedience. 2. Let us, therefore,
urge the spirit and the practice of this lesson upon your observation. It is evange-
lizing human life by impregnating its minutest transactions with the spirit of the
gospel. It is strengthening the wall of partition between sin and obedience. It is
the teacher of righteousness taking his stand at the outpost of that territory which
he is appointed to defend, and warning his hearers of the danger that lies in a
single footstep of encroachment. It is letting them know that it is in the act of
stepping over the limifr that the sinner throws the gauntlet of his defiance against
the authority of God. It may appear a very little thing, when you are told to be
honest in little matters ; when the servant is told to keep her hand from every one
article about which there is not an express or understood allowance on the part of
her superiors ; when the dealer is told to lop off the excesses of that minuter
{raudulency which is so currently practised in the humble walks of merchandise ;
when the workman is told to abstain from those petty reservations of the material
of his work for which he is said to have such snug and ample opportunity ; and
when, without pronouncing on the actual extent of these transgressions, all are told
to be faithful in that which is least, else, if there be truth in our text, they incur
the guilt of being unfaithful in much. It may be thought, that because such
dishonesties as these are scarcely noticeable, they are therefore not worthy of
notice. But it is just in the proportion of ^their being nnnoticeable by the human
, eye, that it is religious to refrain from them. These are the cases in which it will
be seen, whether the control of the omniscience of God makes up for the control of
human observation — in which the sentiment, that " Thou God seest me 1 " should
carry a preponderance through all the secret places of a man's history — in which,
when every earthly check of an earthly morality is withdrawn, it should be felt that
the eye of God is upon him, and that the judgment of God is in reserve for him.
/r. Chalmer$, D.D.) Faithfulness in little things : — In our text the Master
declares that fidelity, which is an element of conscience, must be thorough. It
must not be an optional thing, chosen when we see that it will be better than any
other instrument to secure a desired end. It must belong to every part of life,
pervading it. It must belong to the least things as much as to the highest. It is
not a declaration that Uttle things are as important as great things. It is not a
declaration that the conscience is to regard all duties as of one magnitude and of
(one importance. It is a declaration that the habit of violating conscience, even in
the least things, produces mischief that at last invalidate it for the greatest, and
that is a truth that scarcely can have contradiction. I propose to illustrate thin
trath in some of its relations to life. In the first place, I shall speak of th«
«HAr. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 227
heedlessness and anconscientiouEness with which men take up opinions and form
judgments, on every side and of every kind, in daily life. In regard to events, men
seldom make it a matter of conscience to see things as they are, and hear things aa
they really report themselves. They follow their curiosity, their sense of wonder,
their temper, their interests, or their prejudices, instead of their judgment and
their conscience. There are few men who make it a point to know just what things
do happen of which they are called to speak, and just how they happen. How
many men were there round the corner? '* Twenty," says the man, quickly.
There were seven. How long did you have to wait? "Two hours, at least." It
was just three-quarters of an hour by the watch. So, in a thousand things that
happen every day, one man repeats what his imagination reported to him, and
another man what his impatient, irritable feelings said to him. There are very
few men that make it a matter of deliberate conscience to see things as they are,
and report them as they happen. This becomes a great hindrance to business,
clogs it, keeps men under the necessity of revising their false impressions ; expends
time and work ; puts men on false tracks and in wrong directions ; multiplies the
burdens of life. But its worse effect is seen in the judgments and prejudices which
men are liable to entertain about their fellow-men, and the false sentences which
they are accustomed to issue, either by word of mouth or by thoughts and feelings.
In thousands of men, the mind, if unveiled, would be found to be a Star-chamber
filled with false witnesses and cruel judgments. The effect in each case may be
small, but if you consider the sum-totals of a man's life, and the grand amount of
the endless scenes of false impressions, of wicked judgments, of causeless prejudices,
they will be found to be enormous. This, however, is the least evil. It is the
entire untrastworthiness of a moral sense which has been so dealt with that is most
to be deplored. The conscience ought to be like a perfect mirror. It ought to
reflect exactly the image that falls upon it. A man's judgment that is kept clear
by commerce with conscience ought to reveal things as they are, facts as they exist,
«nd conduct as it occurs. Now it is not necessary to break a mirror to pieces in
order to make it worthless. Let one go behind it with a pencil, or with a needle of
the finest point, and, with delicate touch, make the smallest line through the silver
coating of the back ; the next day let him make another line at right angles to
that ; and the third day let him make still another line parallel to the first one ;
and the next day let him make another line parallel to the second, and so continue
to do day by day, and one year shall not have passed away before that mirror will
be 80 scratched that it will be good for nothing. It is not necessary to deal it a
hard blow to destroy its power ; these delicate touches will do it, little by little. It '.V^
is not necessary to be a murderer or a burglar in order to destroy the moral sense ;
bat ah ! these million Uttle infelicities, as they are called, these scratchings and
raspings, take the silver off £rom the back of the conscience — take the tone and
temper out of the moral sense. Nay, we do not need even such mecbanical forca
as this; just let the apartment be uncleansed in which the mirror stands: let
j>articleg of dust, and the little flocculent parts of smoke, settle film by film, fiaka
by fiake, speck by speck, upon the surface of the mirror, and its function ia
destroyed, so that it will reflect neither the image of yoorself nor of anything else.
Its function is as much destroyed as if it were dashed to pieces. Not even is this
needed ; only let one come so near to it that his warm breath falling on its cold
face is condensed to vapour, and then it can make no report. Now there are eom-
paratively few men who destroy their moral sense by a dash and a blow, bnt there
is many a man whose conscience is seared as with a hot iron. The effect of this is
not merely to teach us the moral lesson that man is fallible ; it is to diminish the
trust of man in man. And what is the effect of diminishing that ? It is to
introduce an element which dissevers society, which drives men away from one
another, and takes away our strength. Faith in man, trust in man, is the great
law of cohesion in human society. And so this infidelity in little things and little
dnties works both inwardly as well as outwardly. It deteriorates the moral sense ;
it makes men nnreUable ; it makes man stand in doubt of man ; it loosens the ties
that bind society together, and make it strong ; it is the very counteracting agent
of that divine love which was meant to bring men together in power. The same
truth, yet more apparently, and with more melancholy results, is seen in^the on-
trustworthiness and infidelity of men in matters of honesty and dishonesty. The
man that steals one penny is — just as great a transgressor as if he stole a thousand
dollars ? No, not that. The man that steals one single penny is — as great a
transgressor against the laws of society as if he stole a thousand dollars T No, aol
,C
228 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xn.
jj^^^^jij* exactly that. The man that steals one penny is — jast as great a transgressor
against the commercial interests of men as if he stole a thousand dollars ? No,
not that. The man that steals a penny is just as great a transgressor against the
purity of his own conscience as if he stole a million of dollars. The danger of these
little things is veiled under a false impression. You will hear a man say of hia
boy, '* Though he may tell a Httle lie, he would not tell a big one ; though he may
Sractise a little deceit, he would not practise a big one ; though he may commit a
ttle dishonesty, he would not commit a big one." But these little things are the
ones that destroy the honour, and the moral sense, and throw down the fence, and
let a whole herd of buffaloes of temptation drive right through you. Criminals that
die on the gallows ; miserable creatures that end their days in poorhouses ; wretched
beings that hide themselves in loathsome places in cities ; men that are driven as
exiles across the sea and over the world — these are the ends of little things, the
beginnings of which were thought to be safe. It is these little things that constitute
your peculiar temptation and your worst danger. (H. W. Beecher.) Little things
tests of character : — Can you discover a man's character more accurately by his
public, extraordinary acts, than by his ordinary, everyday conduct and spirit?
Which is the true Marlborough — the general in the field winning brilliant victories,
or the peculator in his chamber manipulating papers for defrauding the public
treasury ? Which is the real man — Lord Bacon on the bench, or Lord Bacon with
open palm behind his back feeling for bribes ? Which is the true woman — the lady
in the parlour courteously receiving her guests, or the termagant rendering home
wretched by everyday exactions and scoldings ? Jesus teaches that the little things
of everyday life reveal true character, and show the man as he is in himself, by
referring to the ordinary tempers by which he is governed. Is it not plain, when
simply announced, that general conduct in little things is a truer test of a man's
real character than occasional isolated acts could be ? 1. Little things make up
the vast universe. The clouds gather up the rains in moisture, and part with them
in drops. The stars do not leap fitfully along their orbits, but measure with equal
movement each consecutive mile. All the analogies of nature point to the minute
as essential to the harmony, glory, and utility of the whole. And little things are
as necessary in their places in the moral, as in the physical world. 2. Jehovah is
observant of little things. Sparrows. Lilies. Jehovah neglects nothing. Nothing
is so little as to be beneath His notice. His providence regards with equtJ
distinctness a worm and a world, a unit and a universe. You are unlike your
God and Saviour if you neglect little things. «'3. Little things engross the most of
life. Great events are only occasional. Frequency and regularity would take
away from their greatness, by rendering them common. We shall find little to do,
if we save our energies for great occasions. If we preserve our piety for prominent
services, we shall seldom find place for its exercise. Piety is not something for
show, but something for use ; not the gay steed in the curricle, but the plough-
horse in the furrow; not jewellery for adornment, but calico for home wear and
apron for the kitchen. 4. Attention to little things is essential to efficiency and
^^.^^^uccess in accomplishing great things. Letters are little things, but he who scouts
/t^yl the alphabet will never read David's psalms. The mechanic must know how to
^-"■^ sharpen his plane, if he would make a moulding ; the artist must ©ix colours, if he
would paint landscapes. In every direction the great is reached through the little.
He will never rise to great services who will not pass through the little, and train
/ his spiritual nature, and educate his spiritual capabilities. Through faithfulness in
the least he rises to faithfulness in the much, and not otherwise. 5. Little things
are causes of great events, springs of large influences. To know whether a thing is
really small or great, you must trace its results. Xerxes led millions to the borders
of Greece. It looked to the world like a big thing. The whole vast array
accomplished nothing. It turned out a very small business. The turning of a tiny
needle steadily toward a fixed point is a little common thing, but it guides navies along
safe and sure paths, over unmarked oceans. So a magnetic word has guided a soul
through a stormy world to a peaceful haven. A simple, secret prayer has pierced
and opened clouds to pour down showers of spiritual blessings upon a city or state.
6. Conscientiousness in little things is the best evidence of sincere piety. 7. Faith-
fulness in little things is essential to true piety. The principle of obedience is simply
doing what the Lord requires because He requires it. There is nothing little if God
requires it. The veriest trifle becomes a great thing if the alternative of obedience
or rebellion is involved in it. Microscopic holiness is the perfection of excellence.
To hve by the day, and to watch each step, is the true pilgrimage method. (/. L.
OHAP. xn.] ST. LVKh. 229
Burrows, D.D.) Trial of fidelity : — Here are two great truths suggested to ns.
1. That we are here in this world merely on trial, and serving our apprenticeship.
2. That it is our fidelity that is tried, not so much whether we have done great oi
little things, but whether we have shown the spirit which above all else a steward
should show — fidelity to the interests entrusted to him. The two verses following,
in which this is applied, may best be illustrated by familiar figures. " If," says our
Lord, " ye have not been faithful in the unrighteous mammon, who will commit to
your trust that which is real? " He considers us all in this world as children busy
with mere playthings and toys, though so profoundly in earnest. But, looking at
^luldren so engaged, you can perfectly see the character of each. Although the
actual things they are doing are of no moment or reality ; although, with a frank-
ness and penetration not given to their elders, they know they are but playing, yet
each is exhibiting the very qualities which will afterwards make or mar him, the
selfish greed and fraud of one child being as patent as the guileless open-handedness
of the other. To the watchful parents these games that are forgotten in the night's
sleep, these buildings which as soon as complete are swept away to make room for
others, are as thorough a revelation of the character of the child as affairs of state
and complicated transactions are of the grown man. And if the parent sees a
grasping selfishness in his child, or a domineering inconsiderateness of every one
but himself, as he plays at buying and selliug, building and visiting, he knows that
these same qualities will come out in the real work of life, and will unfit their pos-
sessor for the best work, and prevent him from honourable and generous conduct,
and all the highest functions and duties of life. So our Lord, observant of the
dispositions we are showing as we deal with the shadowy objects and passing events
of this seeming substantial world, marks as off as fit or unfit to be entrusted with
what is real and abiding. If this man shows such greed for the gold he knows he
must in a few years leave, will he not show a keener, intenser selfishness in regard
to what is abiding ? If he can trample on other people's rights for the sake of a
pound or two, how can he be trusted to deal with what is infinitely more valuable ?
If here in a world where mistakes are not final, and which is destined to be burned
np with all the traces of evil that are in it — if in a world which, after all, is a mere
card-house, or in which we are apprentices learning the use of our tools, and busy
with work which, if we spoil, we do no irreparable harm — if here we display incor-
rigible negligence and incapacity to keep a high aim and a good model before us,
who would be so foolish as to let us loose among eternal matters, things of abiding
importance, and in which mistake and carelessness aud infidelity are irreparable ?
{Marcus Dods, D.D.) We are being watched : — A merchant sees among his clerks
one whose look and bearing are prepossessing, and he thinks that by and by this
lad might possibly make a good partner; he watches him, but he finds him
gradually degenerating into slipshod ways of doing his work, coming down late in
the mornings, and showing no zeal for the growth of the business ; and so the
thought grows in his mind, " If he is not faithful in that which is another man's,
how can I give him the business as his own ? I can't hand over my business to one
■who will squander what I have spent my life in accumulating ; to one who has not
sufficient liking for work to give himself heartily to it, or sufficient sense of honour
to do it heartily whether he likes it or no. Much as I should like to lift him out of
a subordinate situation, I cannot do so." Thus are determined the commercial and
social prospects of many an unconscious youth, and thus are determined the eternal
prospects of many a heedless servant of God, who little thinks that the Master's
eye is upon him, and that by hasting to be rich he is making himself eternally poor,
and by slackness in God's service is ruining his own future. {Ibid.) Influence oj ^ ^j
little things : — A jest led to a war between two great nations. The presence of a ' .V
comma in a deed lost to the owner of an estate one thousand pounds a month for
eight months. The battle of Corunna, in 1809, is said to have been fought, and the
life of that noble officer Sir John Moore sacrificed, through a dragoon stopping to
drink while bearing despatches. A man lighting a tire on the sea-shore led to the
Bev. John Newton's honoured labours and life of usefulness. Little kindnestet : —
We sin by omitting cheap acts of beneficence in our daily walk and among oar early
companionship. The web of a merciful life is made up of these slender threads. , \
{J. W. Alexander, D.D.) Little sins : — A man who was hung at Carlisle for house- (*t/
breaking declared that his first Btep to ruin was taking a halfpenny out of his
mother's pocket while she was asleep. Another offender, convicted of housebreak-
ing at Chester, said at the gallows, " You are come to see a man die. Oh 1 take
warning by me. The first beginning of my ruin was Sabbath- breaking. It led mt
d^
^
230 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xn,
into bad company, and from bad company to robbing orchards and gardens, anc!
then to housebreaking, and that has brought me to this place." Faithfulne$*
shown in restitution of wrongful gains : — A brother in the ministry took occasion to
preach on the passage, " He that is unjust iu the least is unjust also in much."
The theme was, " that men who take advantage of others in small things have the
very element of character to wrong the community and individuals in great things,
where the prospect of escaping detection or censure is as little to be dreaded." The
preacher exposed the various ways by which people wrong others ; such as borrow-
ing, by mistakes in making change, by eiTors in accounts, by escaping taxes and
custom-house duties, by managing to escape postage, by finding articles and never
seeking owners, and by injuring articles borrowed, and never making the fact known
to the owner when returned. One lady the next day met her pastor, and said, " I
have been to rectify an error made in giving me change a few weeks ago, for I felt
bitterly your reproof yesterday." Another individual went to Boston to pay for an
article not in her bill, which she noticed was not charged when she paid it. A man
going home from meeting said to his companion, "I do not believe there was a man
in the meeting-house to-day who did not feel condemned." After applying the
sermon to a score or more of his acquaintances, he continued, "Did not the pastor
utter something about finding a pair of wheels?" "I believe not, neighbour A.
He spoke of keeping little things which had been found." " Well, I thought he
said something about finding a pair of wheels, and supposed he meant me. I found
a pair down in my lot a while ago." "Do you," said his companion, " know who
they belong to ? Mr. B. lost them a short time ago." The owner was soon in the
possession of his wheels. (Vermont Chronicle.) Unfaithfulness in little: — A king
appointed one servant over his gold treasure, another over his straw. The latter'a
honesty being suspected, he was angry because the gold had not been trusted to
him. The king said, " Thou fool, if thou couldst not be trusted with straw, how
can any one trust thee with gold?" (Archbinhop Trench.) Momentary unfaith-
fulness to be avoided: — A Corsican gentleman, who had been taken prisoner by the
(Jenoese, was thrown into a dark dungeon, where he was chained to the ground.
While he was in this dismal situation the Genoese sent a message to him, that if
he would accept of a commission in their service, he might have it. " No," said
he ; " were I to accept your offer, it would be with a determined purpose to take
the first opportunity of returning to the service of my country. But I would not
have my countrymen even suspect that I could be one moment unfaithful. " Y»
cannot serve God and mammon. — The crime of avarice : — I. Keasons why avakicb
SHOULD BE GDAKDED AGAINST. 1. The avaricious man usually leads a miserable life,
making no use of his wealth. 2. Avarice takes away a man's peace of mind. (1)
The avaricious man is in constant disquietude — (a) Through terror of losing hia
possessions. (6) Through envy of others, and the craving to possess their property,
(c) Through desire to accumulate more wealth. (2) The avaricious man is incon-
solable at the loss of his riches. 2. Avarice is a base vice, and the source of many
other vices. 3. Avarice almost inevitably leads to eternal ruin. II. Means to bb
ADOPTED FOB ouAEDiNQ AGAINST AVAKicE. 1. Eudeavour to know yoursclf, your
inclinations, passions, desires ; and examine yourself in order to ascertain
whether you cannot find some symptom of avarice within yourself. Such symptoms
are — (1) A greater confidence in temporal goods than in Almighty God (Psa. lii. 7).
/(2) Unscrupulousness in the manner of acquiring temporal goods. (3) Excessive
grief at the loss of temporal goods. (4) If you do not use temporal goods for the
glory of God, nor for your own and your neighbours' needs. 2. Strive to keep from
your soul the vice of avarice. ,(1) By continual struggle against the concupis-
cence of money and riches (Psa. Ixii. 10). (2) By the exercise of opposite virtues,
especially that of Christian charity. You will experience the joys earned by these
virtues. (3) By supplication for the removal of the temptation. (Chevassu.)
The two masters : — " No man can serve two masters ; for either he will hate the one
and love the other : or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye
cannot serve Qod and mammon " (Matt. vi. 24). In one point of view, this sounds
very strangely ; for nothing is more certain than that we can serve two masters.
Every child that is dutifully reared serves two masters — its father and its mother ;
and it is quite possible for one to be a servant of a whole family of masters. But
in order that this may take place, it is indispensably necessary that the mastera
should be alike in feeling, and identical in interest. But if masters are antagonistia
the one to the other, if their interests are not only different but conflicting, if to
serve one of necessity puts you in opposition to the other, then it is impossible ta
OTAP. XVL] ST. LUKE. 231
serve two. And the more jou look at it the plainer it becomes. Sappoae one maa
represents perfect honoor, and anotbei represents perfect meanness, and you under-
take to serve both of them, what sort of sucoess will you have ? Suppose one man
be called Truth, and another be called Falsehood, and you attempt to serve both of
them, is it not plain that you will either hate the one and love the other, or else
hold to the one and despise the other ? You cannot serve both at the same time.
No man can serve purity and lust at the same time. No man can serve good nature
and anger at the same time. Are God and mammon, then, antagonistic 7 And what
are the ways in which man is looked at from the two spheres — the Divine and the
earthly ? Mammon regards man as a creature of time and this world, and thinks
of him, plans for him, educates him, and uses him, as if, like the beast of the field,
he only had existence here, and as if his existence was only related to the comforta
that belong to this state of being. But God looks upon man as a creature of eternal
duration, passing through this world. The chief end and interest of men are also
viewed antagonistically. In short, man in his immediate and visible good, is that
which mammon regards. On the other hand, God regards not ind^erently the
interests of our body ; but more He regards the interests of our being. Mammon
builds men in the finer traits which they possess in common with animals. God
would build men in those traits which they have in common with Him. One builds
for this world exclusively. The other builds for this world and the next. There
is nothing more certain than that a man's character depends upon his ruling purpose.
Let us look at it. A man may be a thoroughly worldly man — that is, all his ruling
aims, and desires, and expectations, may make him worldly ; and yet he may bo
observant of external religious services. A man is not to be supposed to be less a
worldly man because when the Sabbath day comes round he knows it. He may be,
also, a believer in the gospel, and in the most evangelical and orthodox type of
doctrine — as an idea. It is quite possible for a man to be supremely worldly, and
yet to have strong religions feelings. There is nothing more common than instances
which go to show that we like as a sentiment things that we do not like as an
ethical rule. Nay, it is possible for a man to go further, and yet be a thoroughly
worldly man. And here it is that the distinction comes in. Although a man may
be a servant of mammon, and may serve him with heart and soul ; yet, externally,
there may be a great many appearances that look as though he was serving God.
And men really seem to think that they can serve God and mammon ! 1. There
is reason to believe that the morality of multitudes of men, though they are good
in some degree, leaves out that which alone can make it a ground of complacence
and trust. A man may be a moral man, and leave out the whole of the life to
come. The Greeks were moral men, many of them. The Bomans were moral
men, many of them. 2. There is reason to fear that the religion of multitudes of
professors of religion is but a form of church-morality. You may teU me that this
is a misjudgment. I hope it is. But what sort of lives are we living, when it is
possible to misinterpret them? What if I should have occasion to say the
same things about your allegiance to the government that I have said about
your religion? There is not a man of any note in the community about
whose allegiance you have any doubt. If I point to one man, you say, " He
is not true to his country." If I point to another man, you say, " He is loyal " ;
and you state facts to prove it. You say, " When his personal interest came in
collision with the interest of the country, and one or the other bad to be given up,
he gave up his personal interest." But when God's claims come in collision with
your personal interests, God's claims go down, and your personal interests go up.
Now, there ought to be no cause for doubt that you are Christians. A man is bound
to live towards his country so that there shall be no mistake about his patriotism.
And Gtod says, " You are bound to live towards Me so that in some way men shall see
that you are My children." You are bound to live in everything as you do in some
things. You are attempting, partly through ignorance, partly by reason of care-
lessness, and partly on account of too low an estimate of the sacredness of your
religious obligations, to serve God with your right hand, and mammon with your
left ; and men see it, and they doubt you ; and that is not the worst of it — they
donbt God, they doobt Christ, they doubt the reality of religion. And to be th«
occasion of doubt concerning matters of such grave importance, is oulpable. No
man, therefore, has a right to allow any mistake to exist in the matter of his Chris-
tian character. There is need. Christian brethren, of severe tests in this particular.
YoQ need to settle these questions : " Where is my allegiance ? Am I with God,
and for God supremely?" (H. W. Beecher.) The two contrary master $, or tht
232 THE BIBLICAL ILLUb'TRATOR. [chap. xn.
inconsistency of the service of God and the world : — For the opening and proseoating
of which words, consider — 1. "What these two masters are. 2. What it is to 8erv6
tbem. 3. How none can serve them both. 4. Why none can serve them both. 6.
The use and application. For the first of these, these two masters are God and the
world, but with much difference, as we may see severally. God is a Lord and
Master absolutely, properly, and by good right in Himself ; being in His own
nature most holy, most mighty, most infinite in glory and sovereignty over all His
creatures. Again, He is a Lord and Master in relation to as : and not only by
right of creation and preservation as we are men and creatures, but also by right of
redemption and sanctification, as new men and new creatures. 1. He hath made
a covenant with us, first of works, and then of grace. 2. He hath appointed our
work. 3. He hath as a Master appointed us liberal wages, even a merciful reward
of eternal life. Thus is God a Lord and Master. Now, on the other side, theworld
is called a master or lord, not by any right in itself, or over us, but — 1. By usurpa-
tion. 2. By man's corruption, and defection from the true God. 3. By the world's
general estimation, and acceptation of the wealth and mammon, as a lord and
great commander ; which appeareth — (1) By subjecting themselves to the basest
services of wealth for wealth. (2) By affecting wealth as the chief good. (3) By
depending (as servants on their masters) on their wealth. Concerning the serrica
of thes« masters, we must mark, that our Saviour saith not, A man cannot serve
God that hath riches, but. He cannot serve God and riches. For he that cannot
distinguish between having the world, and serving the world, cannot understand
this text and conclusion of Jesus Christ. Our Lord well knew it was lawful
both to have, and to seek, and to use the world holily and humbly. But how may
we conceive that one cannot be servant to two masters, or to these two ? In these
conditions : 1. Not at the same time. 2. Not in their proper commands ; for as
they are contrary lords, so they command contrary things, and draw to contrary
courses. One calls to works of mercy, charity, compassion, liberality, and the like ;
the other to cruelty, and unmercifulness, to shut our eyes from beholding our own
flesh, to shut our ear from the cry of the poor, to shut our purse and hand from the
charitable relief of Christ's poor members. And how can one man obey both these
in their contrary commands ? 3. No man can serve two masters in sovereignty,
unless they be subordinate one to the other, and so their commands concur in order
one to another, and cross not one another. The reasons whereof are these : 1. A
servant is the possession of his master ; and one possession can have but one owner
and possessor at once. 2. The servant of the world sets up his wealth as an idol
in his heart ; by which the worldling forsakes the true God, and turns to most gross
idolatry. So of the second reason. 3. The apostle (Eom. vi. 16) asks thus, *• Enow
ye not, that to whomsoever ye give yourselves as servants to obey, his servants ye
are whom ye do obey, whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteous-
ness?" But the distinction implies that they cannot obey both together. 4. No
man can serve these two masters, because a man' cannot divide his heart between
God and the world ; and if he could, God will have no part of a divided heart, as
Elijah said in that case (1 Kings xviii. 20). How may I know what master I serve ?
1. Whom hast thou covenanted withal? God or the world? To whom hast thou
wholly resigned thyself? Is thy strength become God's? Is thy time His? thy
labour His? 2. Every servant is commanded by his master. God's servant knows
his Lord's mind and pleasure, and readily attempts it, even in most difficult com-
mandments. 3. Every servant receives wages of his own master, and thrives by
his service. Of whom doest thou receive wages ? 4. Which of these two masters
Invest thou best ? He that is thy master, thy affection must cleave to him, as is
said of the prodigal. 5. If thou beest the servant of God, thy wealth is His servant
as well as thyself. {T. Taylor, D.D.) Oneness of service: — What we all want
is unity of character. We are, most of us, too many characters folded up into one.
This want of unity of character is the chief secret of almost all our weakness. No
life can be a strong life which has not a fixed focus. Another consequence of ttiis
uncertainty of aim and this divided allegiance is that we really are missing the
goodness and happiness of everything. We have too much religion thoroughly to
enjoy the world, and too much of the world thoroughly to enjoy religion. Our con-
victions haunt us in the world, and our worldliness follows us even to our knees.
But there is a worse consequence than this. The Holy Spirit is grieved in us, and
Christ is wounded, and the Father is dishonoured. For, which is worse, to be half
Joved or not to be loved at all ? Where you have a right to all, is not partial love
ft mockery and an insult? The question, the all-important question is. What ia
CHAP. XVI.] 8T. LUKE. 838
the remedy? Bat first, before I speak of that, let me draw yonr attention to a
distinction which is not without its force. The word " masters " in the text does
not actually carry the meaning of "masters" and "servants" in the ordinary
acceptation of the phrases. It might be literally translated, according to the root
of the word, "proprietors" or "lords." "No one can serve two proprietors."
This emphasizes the sentence. God has a property, all property, in you. By right
you are His. The world is not your proprietor. You are not made to be the world's.
But now I return to the question, " How can we best attain to serve one lord ? " I
should answer first, without hesitation, by making that one Master, or Proprietor,
or Lord, the Lord Jesus Christ. And more than this. God has given the govern-
ment and the sovereignty of this world till the day of judgment, to Jesus Christ.
Therefore He is our Proprietor and our Master. Therefore I say, begin with
believing that you are forgiven. Let Jesus — as your own dear Saviour — occupy
His right place in your heart. The rest is quite sure. You wiU want no other
Master. , All life is service. The happiness or the unhappiness of the service
depends on who is the master. If self is the master, the service will be a failure !
If the world is the master, the service wiU soon become drudgery I If Christ is the
master, the service will be liberty; the law will be love, and the wages life, life for
ever. If self, and the world, and Christ, be all masters, the diluted service will be
nothing worth. There will be no " service " at all. Self will go to the top, and self
will be disappointed. But if the " Master " be one, and that one God, that concen-
tration will give force to every good thing within you. Life will be a great success.
The service will be sweet. {J. Vauglian, M.A.) Impossible to serve God and
mammon : — We cannot possibly serve both God and mammon. ** When you see a
dog following two men," says Ralph Erskine, " you know not to which of them he
belongs while they walk together ; but let them come to a parting-road, and one go
one way, and the other another way, then will you know which is the dog's master.
So while a man may have the world and a religious profession too, we cannot tell
which is the man's master, God or the world ; but stay till the man come to a
parting-road. God calls him this way, and the world calls him that way. Well,
if God be his master, he follows truth and righteousness, and lets the world go ;
bat if the world be his master, then he follows the flesh and the lusts thereof, and
lets God and conscience go." It is always so. The lukewarm can never be trusted,
but the heartily-loving are ever loyal.
Vers. 14-18. The Pharisees also, who were coTOtons. — Loven of money : —
Those "lovers of money" heard what things? As rulers of the people they
heard the parable of the " unjust steward," and their own doom as men entrusted
with the priceless riches of God's teaching pronounced: "How is it that I hear
this of thee?" They heard, "He that is faithful in that which is least" —
money — "is faithful also in much." I. "Lovers of monkt" dkeidb a strict
BCBDPULOsiTT. "Be faithful in the least." Many of the customs of trades and
professions are out of harmony with the gospel teaching on strict conscientiousness.
II. "LOVEEB or money" deride the TEACHINO of the GOSPKIi ON SEIjF-DENIAL.
Self-denial and a race for wealth are incompatible things : " Ye cannot serve God
and mammon." III. "Lotebs of money" deride those who cali. the pursuit
o» biches the woeship of " mammon." IV. " Lovers of money " need bousing
BY A STERNER TEACHINO. Was uot the Saviour impelled to the utterance of the
parable of " Dives and Laizarus " — look at it — by the looks of contempt implied in
the word i^efivKritpiZov, the distended nostril and curled lip of these Pharisees ?
Does this help to explain our Lord's unusual severity : " In hell he lift up his eyes,
being in torment " ? Nothing will shake " the lover of money " but stern teaching,
and not always that. (Clerical World.) Te are they which Justly yourselves
before men. — Men often highly esteem what God abhors : — Show how and why it is
that men highly esteem that which God abhors. 1. They have a different rule of
judgment. God judges by one rule ; they by another. God's rule requires
universal benevolence ; their rule is satisfied with any amount of selfishness, so
it be sufficiently refined to meet the times. The world adopts an entirely different
rale, allowing men to set up their own happiness as their end. But God's rule is,
" Seek not thine own." God regards nothing as virtue except devotion to the right
ends. The right end is not one's own, but the general good. Hence God's rule
requires virtue, while man's rule at best only restrains vice. Men very incon-
siderately judge themselves and others, not by God's rule, but by man's. Here I
mast notice some of the evidences of this, and furnish some illustrations. Thos,,
234 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [khap. sn.
lor example, a mere negative morality is highly esteemed by some men. Again, a
religion which is merely negative is often highly esteemed. So also of a religion
vrhich at best consists of forms and prayers, and does not add to these the
energies of benevolent effort. Again, the business aims and practices of business
men are almost universally an abomination in the sight of God. Professed
Christians judge themselves falsely, because they judge by a false standard. One
of the most common and fatal mistakes is to employ a merely negative standard.
The good Christian in the world's esteem is never abrupt, never aggressive, yet he
is greatly admired. He has a selfish devotion to pleasing man, than which nothing
is more admired. Now, this may be highly esteemed among men ; but does not
God abhor it ? (C. G. Finney, D.D.) God knoweth your hearts. — The heart-
searcher: — I. This truth is eminently calculated to deepen our sense of the
unapproachable greatness of the God with whom we have to do. II. This truth
illustrates, not the greatness only, but also the forbearance and mercy of God. III.
This truth should teach you, my brethren, the folly, not to dwell on the guilt, of
f ormaUty and hypocrisy. IV. This truth is adapted to console and encourage the
often misjudged and afflicted people of God. V. This truth assures us beforehand
of the equity of the Divine awards at the judgment-day. {C. M, Merry.) God's
knowledge of the heart: — At the present day many persons have photographs of
their faces taken, which they present to their friends. But if it were possible to
have an album of photographs taken of our sinful souls, reveahng and blazoning
forth all the evil deeds they had each done, all the evil words they had ever
spoken, and all the evil thoughts they had ever thought, how hideous and horrible
would such pictures be I Would any man dare to give his true soul-photograph to
any brother man ? I think not ; and far less to his friends. Yet the things and
thoughts we would thus conceal from others, and even from ourselves, are all
known to God. He has full and faithful photographs of all ; for He is perfectly
cognizant of every single one of our evil deeds, and words, and imaginations. Nay,
possibly we unwittingly carry about with os complete photographs of our own
souls. May not the unsaved soul carry this record with it at death ? May not
unsaved sinners be thus both their own self-accusers and witnesses before the
judgment-seat of Christ? Nor can anything except His blood, "which cleanseth
from all sin," blot and wash out the record of our iniquities, and prepare the soul,
by the grace of God, to receive the image of His Son. {Sir James Simpson.)
Every man presseth Into It. — Violence victorious : — L The state op the Church
IN THE New Testament. 1. A kingdom. 2. The kingdom of heaven. II. The
DISPOSITION OF those WHO SEEK THIS KiNODou. Violent. 1. Between us and the
blessed state we aim at there is much opposition ; and therefore there must be
violence. (1) The means of grace and salvation are opposed from within us. (2)
There is also opposition from the world, (a) Snares and delights, to quench our
pleasure in the good things of the Spirit, {b) Fears, terrors, and scandals, to scare
us from doing what we ought. 2, God will have this violence and striving, to test
the truth of our profession. 3. God will have us get these things with violence,
that we may value them more when we have them. 4. The excellence of the thing
requires violence. 6. The necessity requires it. The kingdom of heaven is a place
of refuge as well as a kingdom to enrich us. UL The success of this eaqebnebs.
The violent take the kingdom by force. Why t 1. Because it is promised to the
violent (Matt. vii. 7 ; Kev. iii. 19-21). 2. The spirit whereby a man is earnest is a
victorious spirit. The Spirit of God possesses them; and with His help they
cannot fail. 3. Only the violent'^ take it, because God ofFers it on this condition
alone. 4. Only the violent can prize it when they have it. (R. Sibbes, D.D.)
Taken by force : — Let us look in a large way at this important truth. Everything
great on earth has to be achieved by long, earnest, persistent toil. If you seek to
become master of any art, any literature, any science, any accomplishment, you do
not sit down and say, " God is the giver of all good, and I shall not be so arrogant
as to strive for that which He alone can bestow." You know very well it can only
be had by meeting every obstacle and conquering it. The very value of the thing is
estimated often by the straining endeavour, the unconquerable zeal, and the cease-
less labour which are requisite to its attainment. We so often see only the results
in certain lives, and not the long processes which have been leading np to those
results, that we are tempted sometimes to forget this. A poet writes some versea
that cause the whole nation's soul to bum and glow ; an orator makes some speech
that thrills his country to its very heart's core ; a philosopher observes some pheno-
mena which open up a whole field of scientific truth. We are dazsled with tha
OUT. XVI.] 57. LUKE. 235
enccess ; we are forgettnl of tbe long, patient hours of study and of thonght which
have gone before. MillionB had seen apples fall before Newton did, and it revealed
nothing to them ; millions had seen the kettle-lid blown off by steam before "Watt
did, and it suggested no thought to them ; millions had lost their dearest friend
before Tennyson lost Hallam, and they wrote no " In Memorlfem " ; millions had
watched nations reeling with the shock of revolution before Bnrke gazed on the
shattered throne and the polluted altar of France, and no burning words of
eloquence fell from their lips or from their pen. To the souls trained in patient
thought the revelation of great truth comes — or rather, what are common facts to
others are revelations to them. Don't call these things accidents. "The acci-
dental falling of an apple was the cause of the discovery of the laws of gravity,"
Bays a popular treatise. A fearful untruth. The cause of the discovery was the
long period of deep self-sacrificing thought which Newton had given to Nature.
" What a lucky man Newton was to have that apple fall before him I " said a young
man once, in my hearing. "Bather," said a thoughtful man, standing by, " what
a lucky apple to fall before Newton I " There is a world of truth in that. So one
might go through the whole range of human experience and culture, and every-
where the kingdom that you want to become master of has to be taken by force.
The door is opened to the persistent knocking. The bread is given to the
imwearied demand. The treasure is found by the one who has been seeking.
Now we come to the highest life of all — to the culture of that part of our nature
which transcends all else. Is it not this great principle which pervades all the
physical and mental world; which we see in every tiny plant as it struggles
through the earth towards the light, in every mighty oak scarred with the
lightnings and storms of ages, in every torrent that fights its way towards the
ocean ; which we see in every achievement of physical science, in every path she
has constructed across mountain or morass, in every railroad for which she has
torn and blasted a way through the granite of the earth ; which we see in every
great painting that has glowed with beauty on the canvas, in every great work of
the sculptor who has made the cold marble breathe and live ; which we see in
every page of every great book in which Science records her facts, or poet, or
historian, or philosopher has penned his researches and his thoughts — is not, I say,
this great principle, which thus meets us everywhere — in all noble results, and all
great achievements, in every department of human thought and life — to be found
anywhere in the grander life of the immortal soul t Surely it is, brethren, and we
ignore the teaching of Christ and of His apostles if we regard Christ's religion as
merely a means by which we are to be saved from all trouble and responsibility
about the future. There are people who tell you that all jon have to do is to
" accept Christ," " believe in Him," and then He has done all for you — you need
have no more anxiety or trouble. All through those Epistles, which are so full of
the gospel of the grace of God, and where Christ and Him crucified is the central
fact of the Christian faith, the apostle, in words which thrill with the living power
of deep personal experience, speaks of the Christian life as a ceaseless, protracted,
fearful struggle. He exhausts things sacred and profane to find imagery to depict
and to impress this truth. The Christian life is a race for which no previous
preparation is too careful ; in which every nerve is to be strained, and on which
all our force is to be concentrated, that we may "obtain the prize" (1 Cor.
ix. 24-27). (T. T. Shore, M.A.)
Ver. 17. Than one tittle of the law to fail — Power and perpetuity of law : — H
you have read the Pentateuch, and especially the books of Exodus and Leviticus,
with care, you have perhaps wondered why a system of laws, so complicated, so
careful of little things, so rigidly exact in its directions about them, should ever
have been enacted. Viewing it in certain aspects, it may be that a sort of half
suspicion has crossed your minds that legislation of this kind is really unworthy of
such a being as God. But when the purpose of its Divine Author is seen, when
the relation of the Law of Moses to the Jews as a separated people and to the
gospel dispensation is fully understood, the whole system appears in quite a new
Ught. Tbe marks of Divine wisdom and goodness are clearly discernible in all its
parts, even in its minutest details. This Mosaic code is " the Law" spoken of in
the text. It embodies many precepts of universal apphcation and eternal authority
— it included, indeed, the whole moral law ; bat as a code, it was enacted for a
specific end, and was to continue in force for a specific period. Until this end was
gained, and this period completed, not a jot or tittle of it could be annulled. The
236 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [oha». xrt.
system possessed all the mighty power of law — nothing could set it aside. To
regard or to treat any one of its provisions as an effete or antiquated or oselesa
thing, was, in effect, to charge the Divine Lawgiver with folly. Hence the
strong language in which our Lord asserts its power and its perpetuity until
the fulness of the time had come. " Heaven and earth may pass away, but one jot
or tittle of the law cannot fail." These words announce a great truth ; what is
here affirmed of the law in a distinctive sense is true of law universally. God, who
called the universe into existence by the word of His power, governs it according
to the counsel of His own will. Now the great truth which the text asserts is this,
viz., THAT THE LAWS WHICH GOVERN THE UNIVERSE ARE OF INFINITELY MORE CONSE-
QUENCE THAN THE UNIVERSE ITSELF — that it is of Unspeakably more importance
that the former should be maintained than that the latter should exist — that all
the creatures of God, rational and irrational, should obey the laws to which Ho
has been pleased to subject them, that they should work in harmony with these
enactments, than that any or all of them should be kept in being. Glorious as
are all the works of God, yet if you should take any one of them, consider it apart
from all others, or view it as a mere isolated thing, you would perceive Uttle, if
any, excellence in it. It would indeed bespeak the creative energy of Him who
made it, but you could not discover from it alone whether He is wise and good, or
the reverse. It is only when you regard it in its relations to other things, and
ascertain why it was made, and see its exact fitness to an end, that its real glory
and greatness as a work of God shine forth. How beautiful to us is the spectacle
of a field of waving corn? Its very verdure is refreshing to the eye, because
adapted to the structure of our organ of vision, while its yellow ripeness gives the
promise of an abundant supply of the food we need. But — if we may imagine such
a thing — transfer it to a world of creatures with a constitution totally unlike ours,
its beauty would vanish because its fitness to an end would be lost. The glory of
creation, then, arises mainly from the benign ends and perfect adaptations of ita
countless parts. And hence it is that the universe must be, as we have already
said, under law to God, and that the maintenance of the laws which govern it is
vastly more important than the existence of the universe itself. In the working of
the stupendous mechanism of the heavens, all is orderly and harmonious so long
as the law which governs its movements is obeyed. But suppose the reverse of
this to be the case— that the law of gravitation was liable to incessant interrup.
tions, that the forces which produce the beautiful steadiness we now observe
operated according to no fixed rule, either as to direction or degree, bo that
satellites should rush off into boundless space, or dash furiously against each
other, and the planets, starting from their orbits, should wander at their will
through immensity, or should be suddenly deluged with the fogs or the flames (as
the case may be) of a comet, while this fair earth of ours, according as chance
drove her near to or far distant from the sun, were converted into a fiery furnace
or a globe of ice. We may try to fancy the state of things tmder such a reign of
anarchy, though the boldest imagination must come far short of the reality. But
the main question is, can we suppose that God would suffer, even for a moment,
such a lawless universe to exist? No. He is a '• God of order," and it were far
better to remand creation to its original nothingness, than to permit disorder and
confusion thus to gain the mastery over it ; better annihilate it at once, than not
maintain its laws in full supremacy and force. "Heaven and earth may pass
away, but one jot or tittle of the laws shall not fail." Let us, if you please, take
another illustration from the earth on which vra dwell. Here, too, vre observe
a grand and complicated system of physical operations incessantly going on, of
physical laws perpetually at work. But suppose that the whole of this wonderful
economy of nature were mysteriously disturbed — that her processes, apparently v.
complicated, yet never confused, were suddenly left to chance, and were subject to
no laws, so that men sowed fields and reaped nothing, and then again where they
planted nothing they reaped abundance; so that their food one day ministered
nourishment, and the next deadly poison ; nor could they tell whether the water
they drank would quench or increase their thirst ; that the darkness of night, the
light of day, the heat of summer, the frost of winter, lasted through periods so
indefinite, and were liable to changes so great and sudden, that none could predict
what a moment would briug forth; I ask, again, could God permit this goodly
earth of ours to fall into a condition so utterly lawless and so destructive to all
the creatures that dweU upon its saiiace? No indeed. Better a thousandfold
thai it w«N blotted from existence than that it should become such a prey oL
OBAF. ZTi.] ST. LUKE. 237
anarchy, such a plaything of chance, without law, without life — a world as dia-
honooring to its Maker as it would be intolerable for man. But let us come
nearer home and taks an HiLUSTiUTioN tbom uan hiussu. In whatever aspect
we view him, whether as a physical, social, intellectual, or moral being, we find
him the subject of laws — of laws unchangeable as the eternal Lawgiver Himself ;
and harsh as the announcement may soand, it is nevertheless true that not to
maintain these laws would be far greater evil than the destruction of the human
race ; better that men should perish than that these laws should be set aside. We
may not trifle with any one of these laws, to which He who " formed us of clay
and made us men " hath subjected our physical nature. If we do, it is at our
peril ; for although these laws are not enforced by precisely the same penalty, yet
we should ever remember that each has a penalty of its own ; and whether it be
more or less severe, we must endure the punishment if we venture to violate the
law. Let the motive which prompts a man to disregard the laws of health, or the
manner in which the thing is done, be what it may; let him, for example, turn
night into day — whether he be a student, whose intense zeal for knowledge keeps
him at his books when he should be iu bed, or a miserable sensualist, who gives
his midnight hours to revelry and banqueting — the inevitable result to him will be
a ruined constitution. God will not modify the order He has established so as to
suit the convenience of your depraved appetites; He will not change His laws to
accommodate either the unwise student or the miserable sensualist. " Heaven and
earth shall pass, but not one jot or tittle of His law." So it is with men considered
as SOCIAL BEINGS. There are laws of social life ordained of God, and though we
cannot always trace their operation so distinctly as we can the working of those
which govern the material creation, we may still be certain that the former are
i*u6t as uniform and immutable as the latter. We only need to open our eyes and
ook at what is going on around us to be convinced of this trath. Economy,
diligence, prudence, truthfulness, unswerving probity, on the one hand, and
extravagance, self-indulgence, falsehood, deceit, trickery, on the other, do not
yield their respective fruits at random or by chance. No. There is a law which
renders these results invariable. " A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, nor a
corrupt tree good fruit." The trickster, the time-server, the two-faced flatterer,
may secure the position or the office on which his heail is set, but real honour and
lasting power he never wins. God's law forbids it. And the experience of all ages
embodied in the proverbs of all nations, as well as the word of eternal truth,
f)rove8 that in the long run such men always reap their proper reward, and go at
ast to their own place. Thus far we have viewed the teaching of our text mainly
as it bears upon men's present interests and their earthly life. It contains lessons of
still higher moment. We know that this world is the prelude of another, and even
here below we have, in the relation of youth to age, a striking image of the relation
which subsists between this world and the next, between our present life and the
everlasting life to come. He who wastes the period which God has allotted to
make a man of him — a period short indeed, as it consists of only a few years, but
fluflicient for the purpose if rightly improved — wastes what he never can replace.
Such is the law of our present earthly existence, and in it we see shadowed forth
the law of our future and eternal life. The very gospel, which brings life and
immortality to light, emphatically proclaims that sin and suffering are conjoined
by a law immutable as the eternal throne. It is surely needless for me to bring
arguments to substantiate the charge that you are a siuner against God. Your
own conscience confesses it, " your own heart condemns " you. Well, this word
of Him who cannot lie tells you, in terms too plain to be misunderstood, that
perish you must for ever, unless saved through the righteousness and atonement of
the Son of God. " Heaven and earth shall pass away, but one jot or tittle of the
law cannot faiL" Let me, in conclusion, add as a word of warning, that the
instrument with which the devil most successfully assails the young and the old
is scepticism in regard to the momentous truth taught in the text. This is his
grand temptation, and was the weapon with which he gained his dismal triumph
over the common mother of our race. " Why not eat of the tree of knowledge,"
he asked, ** that stands in the midst of the garden — its form so beautiful to the
sight, its fruit so sweet to the taste ? " "I am under a law," replied Eve, " that
forbids me to touch it, and it is enforced by the awful penalty of death." " But
surely," rejoined the tempter, ** you must have misapprehended the meaning of
your Maker ; it is not to be supposed that He will ever inflict upon you a punish-
ment sq dreadful for an offence so trifling." Alas I " She took, ahe ate, oatth
238 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. Iobai. xvir
felt the wonnd, and Nature from her seat sighing, gave Bigns of woe that all waa
lost." Precisely so does the same "father of lies" deceive the youth with
reference to tiie connection that subsists between the springtide and the summer
and autumn of our present life. He who is old enough to understand anything,
however inconsiderate of the personal bearing of the truth, knows perfectly welt
that he must sow the seed if he would reap the harvest. (J. Forsyth^ D.D.)
Vers. 19-31. Tbere was a certain rlcli man. — Dives and Latanu : — I. Thb
AliLOTMENTS OP DlVINB PROVIDENCE ON EARTH ARK NOT ALWAYS EVENLY BASED UPON A
BEGisTEB OF HUMAN DESERT. 1. The rlch man is not offered as a luminous exhibi-
tion of personal worth (see vers. 19-21). 2. On the other hand, Lazarus was a
beggar, and frightfully diseased. His condition was pitiable. But it does not
follow that he had been immoral, nor that he was utider judgment for crime.
Neither of these men represented in the parable took his moral state, or received
his everlasting reward, from his earthly lot. H. The question as to a man's
ACCEPTANCE WITH GOD TURNS ON PERMANENT CHARACTER. 1. The name whioh thiS
poverty-stricken invalid bears is all that is given us at this stage in the story to
indicate that he was a religious man. It is simply the ancient Eleazar put into the
New Testament Lazarus — the Hebrew translated to Greek — and means "God is my
help." It is plain that our Lord Jesus designed this as a sufficient description of
him. As Alford shrewdly remarks, he purposed " to fill in the character of the
poor man." He doubtless gave the appellation, as Bunyan bestowed the name of
his hero in Pilgrim's Progress : he called his name •* Christian " because he was »
Christian. And this beggar here is called " God is my help," because he was a
good man, living according to his light by the help of God. 2. But the other
man's character is under a full exhibition. He was luxuriously self-seeking. H»
lavished his wealth upon himself, and fed his appetites unrestrainedly. He was
inhumane. The very brutes in Perea were less brutal than Dives. The rich man
was not only in his conduct heartless, but in his custom irreligious ; for the Jewish
law demanded consideration of the poor with a hundred reiterated precepts ; these
he habitually disobeyed. And in the end of the tale we have the intimation that,
above everything else. Dives never paid any attention to what Moses and th»
prophets were thundering in his ears from the Scriptures about making preparation
for another world which was lying out beyond this. We reach the conclusion that
in this parable the rich man represents a worldly sinner. III. Again : We learn
HERE THAT DEATH IS THB INEVITABLE EVENT WHICH USHERS IN THE CERTAIN IMMOB-
TALTTT OF EACH HUMAN BouL. 1. Both of thoso men died. 2. Both of these meit
found themselves living after they had died. IV. What comes afteb death is to
us OF FAR more IMPORTANCE THAN WHAT COMES BEFOBB. 1. For, firSt, it gathers Up
now into itself whatever went before, and includes all its consequences. ^ 2. And
then what comes after death introduces fresh and heavy experiences of its own.
The contrast is offered of highest felicity with most extreme suffering. That other
life will be quite as sensitive as this, and possibly more so. Power of suffering may
be augmented. There will be recognition of fnends and relatives and neighbours
in that new existence. These souls all appear to know each other in those moments'
of terrible candour. And they understand each other, too, at last; there is great
plainness of speech among them. V. The gospel invitation beaches its limit Of
THIS STATE OF ouB EXISTENCE. 1. There will be no increase in the ordinary means
of grace. 2. No novel form of address will be possible (vers. 30, 31). (C. S.
Robinson, D.D.) The rich and the poor, here and hereafter: — The case is that of
one who had great wealth, and enjoyed it, and lived handsomely, but took no
thought to the poor brother outside. He had his evil things in the same hour in
which the brother in the grand house had his good things ; and this went on, day
after day, while the two men neared another life : but when that life began, there
came a change. Now, it seems clear, from the way in which the case is put, that
this change, which was in fact a revolution, and brought with it a precise reversal
of the states of those two men, came in a line of predetermined events. It implies
the working of a law, which may have been fulfilled in countless instances already,
and is destined to act and rule so long as the lots of men are unequal in this life.
If this be so, it ought to make those of us uneasy, who perceive, in comparing
themselves with their neighbours, that they are having their good things now. It
seems a just inference from this parable, which was undoubtedly intended as a
lesson and a warning for us all, that Almighty God, the Righteous and Just,
Although He may for the present permit the poor to sofier, has made a law in th«'
VRkT. XVI.] 8T. LUKE. 239
due execution -whereof there may be expected a complete npset of conditiona by
ftnd by, on our passage into another life. Many years ago, in the early winter, I
found myself one evening at a rich man's table, with others bidden to the feast.
We had our good things. Nothing was wanting to the completeness of our enter-
tainment in which appeared, in their order, all delicious viands, with condiments
and delicacies, and whatsoever is pleasant to the eyes and good for food. There
shone the precious metals, and rare porcelains and crystal, while, amidst roses and
other choice flowers appeared, in rich warm hues as of the ruby and the topaz, the
fruit of the vines of distant lands. As one surveyed the cheerful company xmaer
the soft brilliancy of many lights, it was a pleasant scene ; in their lifetime they
were receiving their good things ; and not as dissolute revellers, but after the way
of the highly respectable, to whom all this came as to men and women to the
manner born, and living, as became their station, the life of the rich and the free.
In less than an hour after leaving that scene, I found myself descending, by dim
and muddy steps, the basement of a miserable house in the same city, and entering
a room some feet below the level of the sidewalk. What light there was in that
forlorn apartment came from a dull tallow candle ; the feeble ray fell on bare walls
and a bare floor, and showed no furniture but an old bedstead, without clothes or
bedding, or so much as a truss of straw. On the floor sat two children, thinly clad,
crouching close to an old rust-eaten stove, in which a faint redness glimmered
through the choked-up ashes, the very mockery of a fire. The little ones had no
food ; their mother, they said, was abroad to see if she could get them a bit of
something to eat, while a neighbour had given her the candle by the aid of which
I made out the pitiful scene. There was the other side of the parable ; the old,^
old story : •♦and likewise Lazarus evil things." Under the winter's evening, the
two rooms told their separate stories to the Lord ; the " good things " there, the
" evil things " here ; just as it has been from the beginning. Alas 1 the heart die»
down at such contrasts. Who could look on two such pictures within the sam»
hour, and admit that things are as they ought to be in this world ? And if, at
such a moment, he remembers the words of the parable, it cannot but occur to him,,
as was just now said, that there must be a hidden law of adjustment, whose working,
will be revealed in due season. He must say to himself : It cannot be that these
things are to last for ever ; and moreover, it cannot be that he who is indifferent
to them while they last can finally go unpunished. Indifference on these points
is crime ; and crime must bring retribution. We have, then, in the words of our
Lord in the parable a very serious intimation ; and, in common daily experience,.
an argument of great persuasive force urging us to heed it. It is one of the
gravest of questions how we are to deal with the terrible problems thus raised ;
problems which could not be more urgent or more practical ; which relate to both
worlds at once ; to the estates of men in this life, and to the estates of those same
men in the life hereafter. We want light on a dark question ; infidelity and anti-
Christian social science fail as here ; the latter amuses as with a jack-a-lantenir
leading nowhere but into greater embarrassments ; the former blows out what light
remains, and by destroying society reduces all men everywhere to present terror
and ultimate barbarism. Fortunately for the human race there are ideas a»
different from infidel or socialistic notions as light from darkness ; ideas put forth
by our blessed Lord, and kept afloat by the powerful agency of that religion which
He founded and sustained. In these ideas, fully realized and widely applied,
resides the only hope of relief. Let as recall them to our thoughts and see in whai
subtle and perhaps unsuspected way they help us all — the poor who are in misery
here, and the rich who are in peril hereafter. First, then, Christianity never ha»
attempted to eliminate the rich as a class. It is God's will that there shall always
be the rich and the poor. But although the rich are permitted to be among as and
to have a place in His Church, yet another thing is true. They are told that their
riches are a real and a deadly peril ; as if a man had in his house what might at
any moment take fire or explode and destroy his life. And, more than this : the
vast difference between them and the poor is one of those which seem to be unfair
and onjust, in a human point of view. I mean that if yon take man and man
there is no reason a priori why the rich man should not be in the poor man's place
and the poor man in the rich man's, and often no reason can be found in the
characters of the men themselves. " Why is not that poor brother where I am and
I in his place? It seems scarcely just to him now ; it cannot go on for ever." II
all the rich felt thus the sorrows of the poor would be at end, even for this life ;
ftnd ihe rich woold feel thus if they were penetrated with the spirit of the
240 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ceap. xn,
gospel. Even so mach as there is (and blessed be Godl there is much ol
ithis nobility of Christian love), has done and is doing a vast deal of good,
and alleviating the misery and sorrow of the poor. {Morgan Dix, D,Ij.f
Dives and Lazarus: — I. Thb bich man in his atfluencb and enjoyments. II.
Lazabus in his povbbty. 1. A beggar. 2. Homeless. 3. Afflicted in person. III.
The death of Lazabus. 1. At his death he becomes the subject of angelic minis-
tration. 2. He is conveyed in triumph to glory. IV. The demise of thb bich uah.
1. His riches could not save him from death. 2. They could only secure him an
imposing funeral. Lessons : 1. That piety on earth is often allied with poverty and
sofiering. 2. That earthly prosperity and magnificence are no proofs of the Divine
favour. 3. That whatever be our condition in this world, we are travelling towards
another. 4. That death is inevitable to all stations and ranks. {J. Bums, D,D.)
Dives and Lazarus after death : — I. We see Lazarus in the abode of the blessed.
His state is one of — 1. Bepose, after the toils of life. 2. Dignity, after the humilia-
ting scenes of his earthly adversity. 3. Abimdance, after want. 4. Bliss, after
grief and sorrow. II. We abb befebbed to Dives as consiqned to the bbgions or
the lost. "In torments." 1. Torments arising from the awful change he had
experienced when death removed him from his wealth and luxuries on earth. 2.
Torments from unallayed desires. He seeks now even for one drop of water, but
in vain. 3. Torments from the bitter and despairing anguish of his doomed spirit.
4. Torments of keen self-reproach. 5. Torments from the direct iniliction of the
righteous wrath of God. 6. Torments from having the world of joy and glory
within the range of his distracted vision. III. We abb bemindbd of his unavailino
PBAYEBS. 1. For the alleviation of his own agonies. 2. For additional means to
save his brethren. Lessons : 1. How awful it is to die in a carnal, unregenerata
etate. 2. How connected are the concerns of time with the realities of eternity.
** Whatsoever a man sows that shall he also reap." 3. How all-important is real
personal piety. 4. The sufficiency of the means appointed for man's salvation.
{Ibid.) Lessons from the parable : — 1. Let us learn here that " one thing is need-
ful " — the care of the soul. What can riches do without this t 2. Let us learn,
that, if the word of God revealed in the Scriptures, if the gospel of Jesus Christ, if
the promises and the warnings written there, do not convince us, do not turn us to
God — then nothing would. 3. Observe from this parable, that hell will be the por-
tion not only of the grossly wicked, the swearer, the adulterer, the drunkard, the
dishonest, the liar ; for we read not, that the rich man was any of these : yet he
perished. 4. What comfort may this parable give to the Christian in suffering I
\e. Blencowe, M.A.) The rich man and Lazarus: — I. Thb contbasts. 1. In
their external circumstances. (1) One rich; the other poor. (2) One elegantly
clothed ; the other as a beggar. (3) One sumptuously fed ; the other desiring the
rich man's crumbs. (4) One in health ; the other physically wretched. (5) One
socially influential ; the other in beggarly isolation. 2. In their spiritual condition.
(1) One exulting in his wealth ; the other contented in his poverty. (2) One satis-
fied with his earthly possessions ; the other seeking treasure in heaven. (3) One
selfish and ungodly ; the other a self-sacrificing believer. 3. In their eternal destiny.
^1) One cast into hell ; the other carried into heaven. (2) One tormented ; the other
<;omforted. (3) One associated with demons; the other in companionship with
Abraham. (4) One in unalterable anguish ; the other in permanent blessedness.
U. The lessons. 1. As to Providence. (1) Worldly prosperity no proof of aooep-
ianoe with God. (2) Poverty and distress no proof of Divine abandonment. (3)
Worldly isolation compatible with Dirine companionship. 2. As to spiritual life.
il) Ease, luxury, and social elevation do not lead to spiritual-mindedness. (2)
Beggary, physical helplessness, and deprivation of all worldly comforts, not able
to wean the beUever from God. (3) The Holy Scriptures God's best guide to spiri-
tual truth. 8. As to the future state. (1) That man has an immortal nature. (2)
That death does not affect the constituents of this nature in respect either to {a)
Its consciousness ; (b) memory ; (c) conscience. (3) That death does not affect tna
moral condition of this nature. (4) Heaven and hell, respectively appointed for the
good and bad. (5) Heaven and hell, eternally separated by an impassable
gulf. (D. C. Hughes, M.A.) A wealthy but sad family: — I. A wealthy
rAMiLY. •* Wore purple and fine linen every day." Probably the great magnates
of the neighbourhood, n. A laboe family. Six brothers. UI. A family
WHICH DBATH HAD VISITED. "The rich man died and was buried." Death
will neither be bribed by wealth, nor wait for preparation. IV. A family,
mm ov WHioH was 2h hell. Secular wealth is sometimes soul-degrading. V. k
CHAP. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 241
FAMItiT WHOSE BTTRTIVINO BB0THER8 WEBB JlLL ON THE BOAD TO ETJIN. VI. A PAMILT
WHOSE DECEASED BBOTHEB BECOILED AT THE IDEA Oy BEUNION. VII. A FAMILT WH(P
POSSESSED AI>L THE MEANS THEY NEEDED OR WOULD EVEB HAVE FOB SPIRITUAL SAIiTA-
TioN. {Anon.) Opportunity for charity : — "There was a certain beggar named
Lazaras, which was laid at his gate." This is a fact of importance in the history
of Dives. Lazaras enters on the stage not merely to present a striking contrast to
the rich man's state, but as one with whom the latter had relations. Lazarus re-
presents opportunity for the exercise of humanity. That is the chief if not the sole
purpose for which he appears in the first scene. {A. B. Bruce.) Wealth making
friends for the future : — What a vastly greater benefit Dives might have gained
through Lazarus, had he only turned his acquaintance with him to account in good
time. Had he made of him a friend with his worldly possessions he might have
been his companion in paradise. But now, so far from attaining that felicity, he
cannot even obtain the little favour he craves. (Ibid.) Contrasts: — This para-
ble is full of sharp contrasts. 1. There is the contrast in the life of these two men.
The one rich, the other a beggar. The rich man had great possessions, yet one
thing he lacked, and that was the one thing needful. Lazarus, the beggar, was
after all the truly rich man, "as having nothing, and yet possessing all things."
2. Next, there is a contrast in the death of these two men. 3. And there is a con-
trast in the after time for these two men. The rich man was buried, doubtless,
with great pomp. Some of us have seen such funerals. What extravagance and
display take the place of reverent resignation and quiet grief! Of the beggar's
burial place we know nothing. 4. But the sharpest contrast of all is in the world
beyond, from which for a moment Jesus draws back the veil. {H. J. Wilmot Bux-
ton, M.A.) Dives and Lazarus:^-!. The unequal distribution of the gifts of
PEOVIDENCE AMONGST MANKIND. II. ThE DECISIVE ADJUSTMENT OF THINGS THAT TAKES
PLACE AT DEATH. III. ThE EVEBLASTINO 8EPABATI0N THAT TAKES PLACE AT DEATH
BETWEEN THE BI0HTE0U8 AND THE WICKED. IV. ThE VIEW THAT IS TAKEN OF THIS LIFB
WHEN ONCE THEY GET OUT INTO THE FUTUEE. V. ThE SUFFICIENCY OF THE BEVBLA-
noN THAT God has given to confirm all these things. {J. E. Beaumont.) Dive»
and Lazarus: — I. The circumstances of Dives in his two different states of
EXISTENCE. 1. In this world Dives was possessed — (1) Of an abundance of earthly
good. (2) He knew how to enjoy this abundance, according to the usual meaning
of this phraseology. (3) He was probably, so far as pertains to human nature in
these circumstances, possessed of entire ease of mind. 2. At death his situation
was in all respects reversed. (1) He was disembodied. (2) In absolute want of alH
things. (8) Despised. (4) Miserable. II. The circumstances of Lazarus in thb
PRESENT WOBLD, AND IN THE FUTUBE. 1. In thls world, Lazarus was — (1) In a state*
of the most abject poverty. (2) Miserable. 2. In the future world he was — (1)
Bich in the abundance of all things. (2) Honourable. (3) Happy. (T. Dwight,
D.D.) The rich man and Lazarus : — I. The besemblancb between these two
MEN. 1. The parable speaks of a rich man and a poor man ; and the resemblance
between them may be traced, first, in the mortality of their bodies. They were-
both men, sinfnl men, and consequently dying men. No sooner is it said that "the-
beggar died," than it is added, " the rich man also died." And thus mast end the'
history of ns all. 2. These men resembled each other also in the immortality of
their sonls. The sonl of the poorest amongst us is as immortal as the soul of the
richest. 8. To these two points of resemblance between these men, we may add a
third, not indeed absolutely expressed here, but, like the fact we have just alluded
to, evidently to be inferred — accountableness to God. It was not chance which
placed them where they are. They went thither from a bar of judgment. IL Lei
as proceed to notice, secondly, the diffebence between these two men, with ths
6B0UND8 OB REASONS OF IT. They differed in two points. 1. In their earthly por-
tion. How great a contrast ! Where shall we find its origin ? It warns us against
judging of men's character by men's condition. That diversity of condition, which
we may wonder at but cannot alter, which has prevailed more or less in every age
and nation notwithstanding every attempt to put an end to it, that diversity mast
be traced to the sovereign will of God. And He suffers, or rather He establishes it,
because it is conducive to oar welfare and His own glory. (1) It serves to show as^
among other things, the i>overty of the world and the all-sufiScienoy of God. (2>
Besides, this diversity of condition, this mixture of poverty and riches on the earth,
answers a farther end — it proclaims to thoughtless man another world. Thero
must be a world in which the just Governor of the oniverse will assert His justice,
«rill vindicate His character, and render to the sons of men according their works^
▼oi^ m. 16
842 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, m,
2. The two men it speaks of differed in their eternal eondition. (C. Bradley, M.A.)
The contrast in eternity : — The first truth here saggested is that by the allotmenta
of His providence in the present world, God does not distinguish between the
righteous and the wicked. It has been the grief of many good men, that the dis-
pensations of providence in this world afford bo little evidence of the impartiality
and rectitude of the Divine government. Whether it be to show the comparative
sneanness and significance of all earthly good, or that the Father of mercies is kind
even to the evil and unthankful, or to illustrate their own impenitence and ob-
duracy, or to give them the opportunity of filling up the measure of their iniquity t
or to accomplish all these purposes — the fact is unquestioned — that thus far in the
history of the world, by far the greater portion of those who, like the rich man in
the parable, have fared sumptuously every day, have been of the wicked rather than
of the righteous. The real disposition of the Divine mind toward holiness and sia
must be exhibited in the distribution of good and evil in accordance with their re-
spective characters. The present world, therefore, is but the season of trial, with a
view to a future retribution. We must look beyond, if we would see the line of
demarcation between the friends and foes of God drawn with visible and pemianent
distinctness. This difference will be clearly and distinctly made, at the end of the
world. The time of trial on the earth was never designed to be long. Human life
with all its invaluable opportunities, is but " a vapour that appeareth for a httle
while and then vanisheth away." Every man then enters upon allotments, which,
so far from being influenced by his earthly standing, are exclusively determined by
Jiis moral character. There will be a difference of character, of place, of society, of
employment, of prospects. They will be unlike in every conceivable particular.
iG. Spring, I).D.) Worldly gratification and its terrible mockery : — My friends,
do you remember that old Scythian custom, when the head of a house died ? How
lie was dressed in his finest dress, and set in his chariot, and carried about to his
friends' houses ; and each of them placed him at his table's head, and all feasted in
his presence ? Suppose it were offered to you, in plain words, as it i$ offered to
you in dire facts, that you should gain this Scythian honour, gradually, while you
yet thought yourself alive. Suppose the offer were this : You shall die slowly ; your
blood shall daily grow cold, your flesh petrify, your heart beat at last only as %
Tusted group of iron valves. Your life shall fade from you, and sink through the
earth into the ice of Caina; but, day by day, your body shall be dressed mors
gaily, and set in higher chariots, and have more orders on the breast — crowns on
its head, if you will. Men shall bow before it, stare and shout round it, crowd
after it up and down the streets ; build palaces for it, feast with it at their tables'
heads all the night long; your soul shall stay enough within it to know what they
ido, and feel the weight of the golden dress on its shoulders, and the furrow of the
;erown-edge on the sktill — no more. Would you take the offer, verbally made by
the death-angel? Would the meanest among us take it, think you? Yet practically
and verily we grasp at it, every one of us, in a measure ; many of us grasp at it in its
fulness of horror. Every man accepts it, who desires to advance in life without know*
ing what life is ; who means only that he is to get more horses, and more footmen,
and more fortune, and more public honour, and — not more personal soul. He only
as advancing in life, whose heart is getting softer, whose blood warmer, whose brain
iqoicker, whose spirit is entering into living peace. And the men who have this life
in them are the true lords or kings of the earth — they, and they only. (John Ruskin.)
The parable of the rich man and Lazarus : — I proceed to observe the vast difference
'between men's conditions in this world and the other. The rich man prospered
here, and was afterwards tormented. And it is very agreeable to the wisdom of
<God to make such a difference between men's conditions in this world and the
4)ther, and that for these two reasons : 1. For the trying of men's virtue. 2. In
order to the recompensing of it. From this consideration of the difference between
the condition of men in this world and the other, we may infer — (1) That no man
should measure his felicity or imhappiness by his lot in this world. (2) We should
not set too great a value upon the blessings of this life. (3) We shonld not be
excessively troubled if we meet with hardship and affliction here in this world,
because those whom God designs for the greatest happiness hereafter may receive
.«vil things here. (4) We should do all things with a regard to our future and
<eternal state. (Archbishop Tillotson.) The true valuation of man : — In this life,
under the managery of ordinary Providence, the worst men may abound with the
good things of this life, and better men are sometimes shortened and want even the
jMoeuary conveniences of Ufe. Of this I shall speak but a word, because it is ft
CHAP, xn.'s ST. LUKE. 24»
matter of easy observatijQ. This David, Job, and Jeremiah stumbled at. That
tight, property, and title are founded in nature, not in grace. God gave the world
and the things thereof unto the sons of men. If I would prove this to be mine, I
must prove my title, not by miracle, but as the law and usage of the country where
I dwell do state and determine ; therefore I will say no more in this particular. I.
I'hat if we would take a right estimate of man, we must consider him in respect to
& double state — here and hereafter — and that for these two reasons : 1. Because
there is less of man here and more hereafter. 2. Because man is more valuable
than this world represents him to be. I. The first of these I will make appear in
three particulars, that there is less of man here and much more hereafter. 1. In
respect of his time and continuance in being. 2. In this state there is less of right
judgment of things and persons. Things here go under false appearances, and
persons here are under the power of lying imaginations. 3. Less of weal or woe is
in this state than in the other, for men in this state do not fully reap the fruit of
their own ways ; they do not come to the proof of the bargain they have made. In
the respects before mentioned and others that possibly might be superadded, it
appears that there is less of man in this world. But I may also adjoin, by way of
exception, some particulars to the contrary, for I must acknowledge that in some
respects our being in this world is very considerable. I will instance in three
particulars — 1. In respect of man's possibility. 2. In respect of man's oppor-
tunity. 3. In respect of man's well-grounded faith and expectation. I now
come to the second reason. Why, if we would make a just estimate of man,
-we must consider him in respect to his double state of existence, in time and in
eternity. For man is a much more valuable creature than his affairs in this
world represent, him to be, and this I will make appear in three particulars.
Because — 1. Man is here in his state of infancy ; yea, he is as it were imprisoned
and encumbered with a gross, dull, and crazy body. 2. In this state man is
neither as he should be, nor, if he himself well consider, as he would be. The
state of man in this world doth represent him subject to the same vanity that all
other creatures lie under (Job xvii. 14). This state represents a man as very
low and mean because he is subjected to low and mean employments — fit only
to converse with other creatures. This present state represents a man in a
condition of beggary, dependence, and necessity (Job i. 21). This state represents
a man as worn out with solicitude and care for himself, as being tormented with
fear, and more to seek than any other creature. This state represents man to be
in danger from him that is next him, and of his own kind ; for so is the world
through sin become degenerate, that one man, as it were, is become a wolf to
another. Lastly, the state of man in this life represents his condition otherways
than indeed it is ; that is, it represents a man the object of the devil's envy,
usurpation, and tyranny. He is called the " Prince of the power of the air, the
spirit that worketh in the children of disobedience " (Eph. ii. 2). For the close of
this particular I shall add a word or two of application. And— 1. If so be there
is less of man here and more hereafter, if when we would take a right estimate of
man we must consider him in respect of his double estate, hereafter as well as
here, then those persons are guilty of the greatest madness and folly that consider
themselves only in order to this life ; whereas these men have souls to save or to
lose, and there is another state that will commence and begin after the expiration
of this. 2. My next inference from what hath been said is — that we should not
b« tempted in this life to do anything to the prejudice of our fntiue state, the state
of eternity ; but to let things be considered according to the true worth and value,
lest they find cause to repent, when it is too late, of the pleasures they took in their
unlawful actions. II. The second proposition is — that the state of man in the life
to come holds a proportion to his affairs in this life. 1. Let it be understood that I
have no intention at all to speak one word to countenance the creature's merit
with God, for that I conceive to be incompatible to the condition of the highest
angel in glory properly to merit anything at the hand of God. 2. Again, when I
say the state of man in the world to come holds a proportion to his affairs in this
world, you must not understand it means worldly circumstances of wealth, hononr,
pleasure, strength, or worldly privileges. Therefore in the affirmative, two things
there are belonging to men in this state which are the measures of onr happiness
in the future state — (1) The internal disposition and mental temper. (2) The
illicit acts which follow the temper and are connatural to it. These are our
acquisitions, through the grace and assistance of God, which always is to be
^inderstood as principal to all good, though it be not always expressed, for all good
244 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xt^
is of God. And for this I will give you an account that it must be so. 1. Fronj
the nature of the thing, for goodness and happiness are the same thing materially ;
in nature they are the same, as malignity and misery are the same in nature too.
2. From the judgment of God, and those declarations which He hath made ol
Himself in the Scriptures, which everywhere declare that He will render to every
one according to right (Rom. ii. 6-8). Then let men look well to their mental
dispositions, and to their moral actions. This is of a mighty use in religion to
understand the true notion of moral actions. From the words of the text I
shall observe briefly two things more— First. That worldly prosperity is no certain
forerunner of future happiness ; for this is a thing heterogenial, and is from dis-
tinct and quite other causes. The providence of God governs the world, and the
laws of the kingdom of Christ are quite different things. 1. Let no man make
himself a slave to that which is no part of his happiness. 2. Let him take his
chief care about that which is in certain conjunction with happiness, and that is
the noble generous temper of his soul, and the illicit acts of his mind. Secondly.
We see from hence that men change terms, circumstances, and conditions, one with
another in the world to come. For an account of this — 1. Things many times are
wrong here, but they will not be wrong always. 2. The present work is to exercise
virtue. This is a probation state, a state of trial, and if so, there must be freedom
and liberty of action. 3. The final resolution and last stating of things is reserved
to another time when no corrupt judge shall sit, but He shaU come that shall
judge the world in righteousness. The use I will make of this is — 1. Therefore,
do not envy any one's condition ; it is not safe, though glory attend upon it for a
while (Psa. xxxvii. 1). 2. Satisfy thyself in thine own condition if it be good and
virtuous, for then it is safe. 3. Have a right notion and judgment of the business
of time, which is to prepare for the future state. I will conclude this discourse with
these four inferences : 1. Then it is folly and madness for men — as frequently they
do — to estimate or consider themselves wholly or chiefly by their affairs in this
world, and by the good things thereof, such as are power, riches, pleasures. 2. Then
it is the great concernment of our souls not at all to admit of any temptation or
suggestion to do anything in this Ufe to the prejudice of our state in eternity. _ 3.
Then it is fairly knowable in this state, and by something thereof as a foregoing
participation or sign, what our state and condition for sort and kind will be in the
world to come. 4. Then faith and patience to go through the world withal, for the
day draws on apace for the stating and rectifying of things, the proportioning of
recompense and reward to action, and the completing and consummating
what is weak and imperfect for the present. He is unreasonably im-
patient and hasty who will not stay and expect the season of the year
and what that brings, but mutters and complains^ of injury and hard
measures because he cannot have harvest in seed-time. (£>'. Whichcote.)
The sin of neglecting to be charitable : — Here are three great aggravations of tiie
rich man's uncharitableness — I. That here was an object presented to him.
II. Such an object as would move any one's pity, a man reduced to extreme misery
and necessity. III. A little relief would have contented him. 1. That uninerci-
fulness and uncharitableness to the poor is a very great sin. It contains in its
very nature two black crimes. (1) Inhumanity ; it is an argument of a cruel and
savage disposition not to pity those that are in want and misery. (2) Besides the
inhumanity of this sin, it is likewise a great impiety toward God. Unmercifulness
to the poor hath this fourfold impiety in it — it is a contempt of God ; an usurpa-
tion upon His right; a slighting of His providence; and a plain demonstration
that we do not love God, and that all our pretences to religion are hypocritical and
insincere. 2. That it is such a sin, as alone, and without any other guilt, is suf-
ficient to ruin a man for ever. The parable lays the rich man's condemnation
upon this, it was the guilt of this sin that tormented him when he was in hell.
The Scripture is full of severe threatenings against this sin (Prov. xxi. 13). _ Our
eternal happiness does not so much depend upon the exercise of any one single
grace or virtue, as this of charity and mercy. Faith and repentance are more
general and fundamental graces, and, as it were, the parents of all the rest : but of
all single virtues, the Scripture lays the greatest weight upon this of charity ; and
if we do truly believe the precepts of the gospel, and the promises and threatenings
of it, we cannot but have a principal regard to it. I know how averse men
generally are to this duty, which make them so full of excuses and objections
against it, 1. They have "children to provide for. This is not the case of all, and
they whose case it is may do well to consider tliat it will not bo •roiss to laava
CHAT. VII.] ST. LUKE. 245
a blessing as well as an inheritance to their children. 2. They tell us they intend
to do something when they die. It shows a great backwardness to the work when
we defer it as long as we can. It is one of the worst compliments we can put upon
God to give a thiug to Him when we can keep it no longer. 3. Others say, they
may come to want themselves, and it is prudence to provide against that. To this
I answer — (1) I believe that no man ever came the sooner to want for his charity
David hath an express observation to the contrary (Psa. xxxvii. 25). (2) Thou
mayest come to want thouj^h thou give nothing ; in which case thou mayest justly
look upon neglect of this duty as one of the causes of thy poverty. (3) After all
our care to provide for ourselves, we must trust the providence of God; and a man
can in no case bo safely commit himself to God as in well-doing. But, if the truth
were known, I doubt covetousness lies at the bottom of this objection : however, it
is fit it should be answered. (1) I say, that no man that is not prejudiced, either
by his education or interest, can think that a creature can merit anything at the
hand of God, to whom all that we can possibly do is antecedently due ; much less
that we can merit so great a reward as that of eternal happiness. (2) Though we
deny the merit of good works, yet we firmly believe the necessity of them to eternal
life. {Archbishop Tillotson.) Tlwughts : — 1. Eiches constitute a serious, though
not insuperable, obstacle to one's salvation ; and poverty, in itself undesirable, is,
in a spiritual aspect, less dangerous than riches. 2, Before Him who seeth not as
man seeth, the millionaire has no advantage over the mendicant. 3. The soul is
the same self-conscious existence immediately after death that it was before ; and
death ushers some, at once, into a state of conscious enjoyment, and some into a
state of conscious misery. 4. They that would not, while probationers, cry to God
for mercy, will, in eternity, look in vain for mercy to either God or man. 5. Those
whom God designs to save He finds it necessary to chasten, so that life's evil things
may wean them from the world and fit them the better to enjoy an eternity of good
things. But there are men of the world who have their portion in this life. They
prefer enjoying the pleasures of sin for a season, rather than to suffer affliction
with the people of God, and hence they in their lifetime receive their good things
but are tormented in the world to come. 6. While here, sinners are urged to cross
the moral chasm which separates them from saints, for Christ has bridged it ; bu<
after death it becomes to them an unbridged, impassable gulf. 7. How deluded
are they who suppose that converse with the dead is possible, or that the unseen
world can, in that way, be partly unveiled. An inspired book was God's wise and
jhosen mode of acquainting us with spiritual truths, and he who has this book,
yet disregards its teachings, will, in eternity, reap the bitter consequences. (T.
Williston.) Dives and Lazarus: — L The ruruBB state is one of ketribction.
IL The future state is one into which memory enters as a factor of happiness
OB HI8EBY. III. In the FUTURE STATE INTEREST IB FELT IN THOSE WHO ARE STILL IN
THE BODY. IV. God BESTOWS UPON US HERE AND NOW ALL THE PRIVILEOES WHICH ABB
NEEDFUL TO PREPARE FOB THE FUTURE STATE. CoHclusion : 1. The seriousness and
solemnity of this earthly probation. 2. The folly of those who use this life simply
for their own gratification. 3. The nearness of eternity. 4. The justice of God's
requirement of assent to His truth and compliance with His demands. 5. The
importance of an immediate acceptance of the gospel, and immediate preparation
for judgment. {J. R. Thomson, M.A.) Luxury disregarding suffering : — Mdlle.
Taglione, the celebrated dancer, spent her last London season at Her Majesty's
Theatre in 1847. She said she would not return to London, being dissatisfied with
the admiration which she received. The season was exceptionally brilliant,
" though it was said that bread was dear, and the misery of the people great."
" One would never suspect it," said the famous dancer, " to see so many splendid
equipages, and so many diamonds on the white shoulders of the ladies." Wanton
extravagance : — " The age cannot be very good," remarked Hannah More, " when
the strawberries at Lady Stormonth's breakfast last Saturday morning cost one
hundred and fifty pounds." Too respectable for hell : — A wealthy merchant of
Philadelphia, who would not listen to the gospel message in health, sent for me at
his death-bed. I told him, " I have nothing new to tell you. You are a sinner,
and here is a Saviour. Do you feel your guilt, and will yon take a Saviour ? "
" No. There must be some better place Uian hell for a man of my respectability."
(S. H. Tyng, D.D.) Eiches and perdition : — Ay, and so it is with the wicked man
nowadays. He gets rich, but what is the use of being wealthy if you must be
damned ? Fool that he is, if he buys a gold coffin, how would that help him *
8nppoM be is laid out with a bag of gold in each hand, and a pile of it between hii
246 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip. m.
legs, how will that help him f Others seek to get learning, but what is the good
of learning if you sink to perdition with it ? Take up the learned man's skull, and
what is the difference between that and the skull of the merest pauper that scarcely
knew his letters ? Brown unpalpable powder, they both crumble down into the
same elements. To die in a respectable position, what is the use of it ? What are
a few more plumes on the hearse, or a longer line of mourning coaches ? Will
these ease the miseries of Tophet ? Ah 1 friends, you have to die. Why not make
ready for the inevitable ? Oh ! if men were wise, they would see that all earth's
joys are just like the bubbles which our children blow with soap ; they glitter and
they shine, and then they are gone, and there is not even a wreck left behind.
{C. H. Spurgeon.) The just retribution of selfishness : — How marvellously just
was the retribution of selfishness I with what wonderful precision was the punish-
ment adapted to the sin ! During the life of Lazarus, he had laid at the rich man's
gate, whence he could behold the pomp, and Lear the revelry, that reigned in the
gorgeous mansion ; and he had asked only for the crumbs that fell from the table,
and even these were denied him. But after death the rich man and the beggar
are hterally made to change places. Dives is placed where he can be a spectator
of the happiness of Lazarus ; and he desires, but desires in vain, a single drop
from those gushing fountains which he saw on the other side of the gulf. You
cannot but observe how accurately Dives has become what Lazarus was, and
Lazarus what Dives. Lazarus was the beggar, now Dives is. Lazarus saw, though
he did not share the abundance of Dives; Dives now sees, but only sees, the
abundance of Lazarus. Lazarus asked for crumbs, and Dives asks for a drop.
Crumbs were refused, and now even the drop is withheld. Thus the selfish man
is made to feel his selfishness through being placed in the precise position of the
supplicant, whom his selfishness had caused him to neglect. It may be thus in
regard to every other sin, that the wicked will be so circumstanced in futurity, that
their sins will be forced on their recollection, and thus conscience be kept for ever
on the alert — for ever on the fret. And all — for indeed these are things too dreadful
to be dwelt on long — all we can say is, that if the selfish man is to beg in vain
from the victims of his selfishness, if the envious is to be forced to gaze on the
splendour of those whom he envied, if the seducer is to be made to feel himself for
ever the seduced — yea, if punishment is to be so exactly the picture of crime, that
a man shall seem to be eternally receiving in his own person the very wrongs that
he did to others, so that every stroke beneath which he writhes will appear as the
reflected blow of his own violence rebounding on himself, then, indeed, must we
be living under a government which will vindicate its righteousness ; and he who,
in Scriptural language, " sows the wind," must be a spectacle of justice when com-
pelled to "reap the whirlwind." (H. Melvill, B.D.) Self-denial necessary to
salvation : — This rich man was no open sinner, but he was simply living to and for
self ; he enjoyed life, as men say, to the full ; he got out of it all the satisfaction
he could ; self was the centre round which his thoughts, his time, his money
revolved ; he indulged his taste for fine dress and good food without restraint. In
the face, then, of this awful warning, ask yourself the question, Can it be said that
my life is marked by self-denial ? do I, for Christ's sake, and for that only, do that
which is against my natural inclinations, and leave undone that which I should
otherwise be inclined to do? or, on the other hand, is it my constant aim and
desire to get as much enjoyment for myself as I can in life, if not to the loss and
injury of others, yet without any particular thought or care about them ? And it
will not do to reckon as acts of self-denial instances in wbich our wills and inclina-
tions have been thwarted, either by others, or by the direct action of God's provi-
dence. We must all of us endure a great many crosses and disappointments
whether we will or no ; no doubt the rich man had occasionally his cares and
vexations. These do not leave the stamp of the cross upon our lives, except when
they are made to minister to our spiritual good through a willing and loving
acquiescence in the will of our Heavenly Father. They may become only the
occasion of fresh sin in the shape of fretfulness and discontent. Self-denial is
something very different from these. It is the habit of mind which leads us in
everything to ask, not how may I best please myself, but, how may I best serve
God and aid the souls and bodies of others ? Take, for instance, the question of
time. We are naturally selfish about our time ; we like to spend it in the manner
which most gratifies self. Self-denial will set us about asking. Can I, by giving;
this or that hour which I should othervdse devote to amusement, bring any aid or
pleasure to others f Or again, take the question of money. We naturally like t«
OBAT. XVI.] BT. LUKE. 24?
«]^nd oar money on ourselves, or on some object which brings gratification to selL
Self-denial will suggest to as to give up something which we should otherwise havs
liked in order to devote the money to God. And do not let us shrink back aa
though self-denial were some hard, bitter thing : it brings with it greater pleasure
than self-indulgence. And we may begin, if we have never practised it before, by
$mall acts ; God accepts even the cop of cold water given for Christ's sake. (S. W,
Skejington, M.A.) ConsciovM esittenee after death: — I. These is such a tbinq
AS CONTINUANCB 07 EXISTENCE — AND Ot C0MS0I0C3 EXISTENCE — AFTER DEATH. II.
This condition or conscious existence mat be one of intense misebt. III.
CONSIDEB WHAT IT WAS IN THE BICH UAN'S EABTHLT LIFE WHICH LEO TO SUCH
CALAMITOUS EESOLTS. (Gordou Calthrop^ M.A.) The mind made a hell : —
A great and rich man in one of our towns in the West was once taken sick
and lost his mind. When he recovered from his sickness he was still a deranged
man. He seemed never to know his own wife or children. He forgot all his
old friends. For seven long years he was in this unhappy state. One day,
while sitting in the room where his daughters were, he sprang from his chair
And cried out in great joy, " Thank God I am out at last ! " I cannot describe the
scene of that hour. He embraced and kissed his daughters. He wept with joy on
the bosom of his wife, and acted as if he had not seen them for many years. At
last he said to them, " For seven long years I have been in a burning hell. It was
• horrible cavern of lakes and rocks and mountains of fire. I saw millions there,
but could find no friend. I was ever burning, yet never consumed ; ever dying, yet
never dead. No light of the sun shined there, and no smile of God was seen. I
remembered there every sinful thing I had done, and was tormented in my soul. I
thought of the sufferings and death of that blessed Saviour, and how I had treated
Him. There was no rest to my soal day nor night. I had no hope there. Tet I
wandered in madness to find some way of escape. At last, as I stood on the top of
a high rock blazing with heat, I saw in the distance a little opening like the light of
the sky. I jumped headlong down, and with all my powers made my way towards
it. At last I climbed up to it, and worked and struggled through ; and, blessed be
God, here I am again, with my beloved wife and children." Now, my friends, sup-
pose there is no such place as hell. Suppose some one should be so foolish as to
hope that there is no such place. Yet remember, that if God can make a man's own
mind such a heU as this while he is yet in this world, He can find a still more fear-
ful hell for him in the world to come. {Bishop Meade.) Where i* hell f — " Where
is hell ? " was the question once asked by a scoffer. Brief but telling was the reply,
"Anywhere outside of heaven." (Biblical Museum.) No relief possible in hell : —
It is an overpowering refiection I but we have sometimes emboldened ourselves to
inquire what would bring relief and support to the lost in hell ? What could soften
the keenness of that flame ? And two considerations have raised themselves in our
mind as those which, coald they be indulged, might yield the assuagement that we
had ventured to suppose. 1. The first consideration we should demand is, that the
sufferer of the doom might feel that it was inevitable. The idea of fate sets us free
from the sense of blame. 2. The second consideration which might subdue the
fierceness of infernal agonies, would be that they are undeserved- It would be joy
to the prisoners, could they only reflect, •' We are the victims of arbitrary justice ! "
Spirit has not, however, passed into such regions with either of these consolations,
nor found them there I Spirit never, in fearful soliloquy, spake : " Necessity
wrought this chain, and malignity locked it ! " Spirit never exclaimed : " Despite
of myself, I was dragged hither, and here in violation of all truth and equity I am
ehained 1 "... It is the converse of these thoughts that deepens the outer dark-
ness, that accumulates the horrors of the pit. " It need not have been." What a
self-upbraiding 1 " Justice had none other recourse." What a self-condemnation 1
•* Why would ye die? " is the rebuke for ever in their ear I •• We indeed justly," is
the confession for ever on the tongue 1 (R. W. Hamilton.) Final impenitence : —
It is something — it is a step towards higher reaches of faith, to be well assured of
the existence and reality of this invisible realm, in which the spirits of the departed
energize (for surely such is the plain teaching of the parable) after they are severed
from the body, and go through all the processes of consciousness, thought, and feel-
ing. It is something to believe, or rather something to realize the truth, that there
is indeed a world, more thickly peopled with the spirits of the departed than this
earth is with the bodies of the living ; and that among the inhabitants of this world
there are movements of mind, actings of the will, the memory, the understanding,
the affections : on the one hand, a spiritual intercommunion with Christ and th«
246 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xn.
members of Christ, fetching deepest peace into the soul ; on the other, •!! the
agitations of fear, remorse, compunction, and despair. The reahn is to as a
shrouded realm, but surely not the less real because we cannot apprehend it with
our sense'^. Let us now consider briefly That the text implies of the circumstances,
sentiments, and character of the rich worldling, who is represented as undergoing
torments. I. As to his circumstances. It is sufficiently indicated that he was a Jew
by descent. He calls Abraham father, and Abraham, though separated from him by •
great gulf, though unable to render him assistance, or comply with his request, doe&
not refuse t^ recognize him. " Abraham said unto him. Son, remember." What 1 a
son of Abraham, and yet an outcast I Circumcised the eighth day, and yet a repro-
bate ! A child of God's covenant, and yet a vessel of wrath fitted to destruction I
II. From the position and circumstances of this rich worldling, we next proceed to
consider his sentiments. He is represented as imploring Abraham to save his five
brethren from the doom in which he had irretrievably involved himself, by sending
them an unearthly warning of the reality of a future state of existence, and of ita
horrors for the ungodly. It does not seem that every spark of natural affection,
exile from God and from happiness though he be, is extinguished in this man's
breast. III. Let me mention a third point, still more favourable to his salvation
than the two preceding, but still quite insufficient to secure it : this is, that so far
as appears from the narrative, he had not been guilty of any crime, of any gross or
palpable offence whatever. He had not hurled blasphemous defiance against the
Most High. My brethren, these remarks may serve to confute the fatal error of
those in whose estimation the only real sins in existence are sins of commission.
How many are there who congratulate themselves on the many wrong things which
they have never done. What, then, was the sin, a wilful and impenitent continu-
ance in which ensured the eternal loss of this worldling's soul ? The sin, in it«
root (for every sin has a root, a state of mind out of which it springs and to which
it is referable), was unbelief. But I must hasten on to point out the particular
development of unbelief with which this narrative presents us. If a man have
no realizing apprehension of a future state, still more if he entertain doubts
respecting some revealed particulars of that state, the natural consequence,
the practical operation of such views, will be a living for this world. All
beyond the grave is, in such a man's apprehensions, hazy, indistinct, oncer-
tain. His aim was to enjoy himself, to lead a life of ease and self-indul-
gence. He secluded himself, as much as he could, from annoying sighti
and distressing sounds. Whenever, accidentally, misery or want met his eye, he
turned away as from an object distressing to contemplate. And hence, probably,
more than from any settled hardness of heart, sprang his culminating offence,
his entire lack of service to God's poor. Behold then, brethren, in these words, the
origin and development of that sin which, cherished to the end of his days, issued
in the ruin of his soul — practical unbelief ; a living unto self and for this world ;
an entire forgetfulness of the wants of others. Nothing flagrant, nothing vicious,
nothing openly immoral, but quite enough to conduct him to that awful realm,
where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched. My brethren, our subject
admits of, or rather it challenges, a close application to our own circumstances, and
that in regard both of the times on which we are fallen, and of the place in which
our lot is cast. 1. A subtle disbelief of the spiiitual world in general, and of a
future state of existence (at least on the side of eternal punishment), is fast insinu-
ating itself into the minds of the respectable, the educated, and thoughtful classes.
Again, there is a growing, and even avowed, disbelief among the most earnest and
thoughtful men of the day on the subject of eternal punishment. And here I would
remark that disbelief of the future world, in any of its aspects, is very closely con-
nected with disbelief of the uiween world which is at present around us. I shall
suppose, then, the case of a man who, while orthodox in all the main articles of his
religious belief, and nominally a member of the Church, has allowed his faith in
things nnseen and eternal to be secretly sapped. In that he resembles Dives. 2.
The second point to which I shall call your attention, in applying to our own con-
sciences the warning of the text, is the atmosphere of religious privilege, which my
academical hearers specially, but those residing in the city also in good measure,
habitually inhale. Yet who does not know that, where no corresponding zeal and
spirituahty exist in the heart, this frequency of religious ordinance and privilege acta
rather as a soporific than as a stimulant, makes eternal things more hazy and less
substantial than they were, when worship more rarely recnrred 7 8. Now, oar Lord,
ID the parable before as, represents tfaiis development of resonrces as liaving •
«BAP. XVI. 1 SI. LUKE. 849
dangeroas tendency, as contribating something material to strengthen the impeni
teuce of the natural heart. (Dean Qoulhurn.) Natural affection dUtinguUked
from the faith and love of the gospel: — "We desire to show what light the parable
throws on the obligation and the motives of Christian benevolence: First, by
setting before us, in the rich man, a character in which that grace is deficient ;
and, secondly, by setting before us, in Lazarus, a fitting object for its exercise. I.
We find in the rich man a character devoid of Christian benevolence, or the
Christian principle of benevolence ; and this defect rendered all his goodness of any
other sort unavailing, for that he was good in some points and in a certain sense
we gather from the conclusion of the parable. And why does he select his brothers
alone, from the victims of his example? It must be — it can only be — from
the relentings of fraternal tenderness. The earnestness of his prayer, that they
might not " also come to the place of torment," marks the still remaining sensitive-
ness of his natural sensibilities, and the strength of his natural affection. In the
first place — ^how little is that sensibility and natural affection to be depended upon,
which even the condemned in the place of torment may feel 1 What 1 will you
build your hope of heaven on a virtue which you may share in common with the
accursed inmates and inhabitants of hell f Will you plume and pride yourselves
on your kindly feelings, or your goodness of heart, as a security that all is well, and
that ultimately, somehow or other, you cannot but be happy, when you see much of
that kindliness of feeling, and what you call goodness of heart, in the regions ot
everlasting woe ? Learn, then, ye who are living in friendship with the world, yet
still in conscious enmity against God — loving perhaps your brother, according to
the flesh, with much tenderness of human affection, yet untaught to love your God
with all your heart, and to love your neighbour for His sake — learn to estimate the
real worth, or rather worthlessness, of your much-vaunted goodness of heart. It is
not a goodness that will carry you to heaven. But, in the second place, we must
put the case more strongly still. We must observe that this natural sensibility and
affection, when the views are thus enlarged by taking in eternity as well as time,
may become itself the very source of misery and torment. It is evidently so repre-
sented in the case of this rich man. His solicitude about his brothers very much
increased his own sufferings, and aggravated the agony of his own hopeless con-
demnation. This is a very striking and appalling view to take of the misery
awarded to the impenitent and unbelieving. It shows how the very best, the most
amiable and generous, feelings of the unrenewed and unregenerated soul, may
become themselves the means and occasions of its sorer punishment. Experience
even here on earth shows, that affection makes us partakers of the sufferings aa
well as the joys of our fellow-creatures and friends. His love to his brothers on
earth superseded his love to his Father in heaven. And fitly therefore now, that
very love is made to minister the punishment due to him for his breach of the firsv
and great commandment. He loved his brethren independently of God. He
made them partakers of his pleasures ; and partakers also of his sin. Have
you no fear, I ask — that in the very attachment you are now forming — in the very
affection you are now indulging — in the friendship and love which every day i^
rendering more intense, as you lavish on its object all proofs and tokens of
tendeiest regard — you may be but treasuring up the very instruments of wrath
against the day of wrath f Cultivate the charities of social and domestic life ;
but be sure that you cultivate them as in the sight of God, and in the full
and steady prospect of eternity. II. We turn now to the other party in this
scene, the other figure in this picture. We consider the beggar, and his claim
to sympathy and relief. It is a claim which the benevolence of mere natural
feeling overlooked, but which the benevolence of Christian principle insists
upon having regarded. It is in this light, accordingly, that the Christian con-
siders his fellow-men ; as being either actually partakers, or capable of yet
becoming partakers, of the grace and the glory of God. This is the ground
of the esteem in which he holds them — this the measure of the value he assigns
to them. How different is this esteem of men, on account of the worth and viJue
of their souls, from the careless and casual sympathy of mere natural com-
passioD, and how vastly more effectual as a motive of benevolence ? The man ot
natural kindness and sensibility, touched with the sight of woe, and moved to pity
and to tears, may utter the Toice of tenderness, and stretch forth the hand of
charity. But the object of his compassion has no great importance or value in hia
eyes. All the interest he takes in him is simply on account of his present suffering.
Bat now, if you were to view that individual in the light in which Christianity
250 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOE. [chap, xn,
represents him ; as one of those whom the Father willeth lo save, and for whos*
Eouls He gave His own Son to die ; how would the intensity of your concern in
Him be deepened, and how would your sense of obligation to Him be enhanced 1
Again, how different is this Christian view of the preciousness of every human
being, from the view which mere infidel philanthropy takes I On the infidel
hypothesis — what at the best, in the eye of enlightened benevolence, is the race of
man ? A succession of insects — creatures of a day, fluttering their few hours of
shade and sunshine, and then sinking into endless night. Is it worth while to fret
end toil much for such a generation ? It is the gospel alone that shows the real
value of man — of individual man — as having a spirit that will never die ; and
enforces the regard due to him from his fellow-men on the ground of his being the
object of the regard of their common God. See, then, that you love him as God
loves him. God is kind to the evil and to the unthankful, because He would have
them to be saved. Be you kind to them also ; and with the same view. Abound
towards them in all good works. Melt their hearts, though hard and sullen
as lead, by heaping your benefits as coals of fire upon their heads. (Dr. Candlish.)
The rich man's prayer : — I. A good act at a wrong time. II. A good prayer
for a wrong purpose. III. A good effort with no effect. {The Preacher' t Analyst.)
Son, remember. — The retributive power of memory : — Those who believe in the
immortality of the soul must also believe in the immortality of its faculties —
reason, memory, conscience. I. What, then, is memory f Let ub fiest defink
THE faculty. Every one is aware of the fact that the knowledge which we have
once acquired, the things we have seen and done, the experiences that we have had,
though not always present to the mind, are nevertheless so retained, that the same
things may be, and often are, recalled to our mental notice. Every one is fully
conscious of such a fact in his own history. We designate this fact by the term
memory. Memory is, therefore, the mind's power of preserving and knowing its
own past history. It is the same in both worlds. We are, moreover, so constructed,
that we cannot discredit the knowledge given by memory. I am as certain of what
I distinctly remember, as I can be of anything. The absolute loss of memory
would destroy the whole framework of man's mental existence, by limiting hia
intellectual life to the impressions of the passing moments. II. Let ub say that
MEMORY OPERATES IN OBEDIENCE TO ESTABLISHED AND PERMANENT LAWS. By them WB
conduct the process of memory. We do it without labour, yea, by necessity, having
no power not to do it. Thus we think of ourselves as intelligent, conscious,
voluntary, in both worlds, in both exercising memory according to fixed laws, some
of which at least rule our present life. III. I wish to call your attention to the
EXTENT OF ITS RETENTIVE AND REPRODUCTIVE POWER. In the amazlug grcatuess of
this power, as we observe it in time, we shall perhaps find the condition of at least
conjecturing what it will be in eternity. It was the opinion of Lord Bacon that
nothing in one's antecedent history is ever irrecoverably forgotten. Coleridge held
the same view. We know, as a matter of positive experience, that the prominent
and leading facts of life past are safely retained in the bosom of memory. The
many instances of remarkable memory that we gather from history are an
instructive commentary upon the greatness of this power. Themistocles, we are
told, could call by their names the twenty thousand citizens of Athens. It is said
of Cyrus, that he could repeat the name of every soldier in his army. There are
also many striking and peculiar cases of resuscitated knowledge, in which ap-
parently extinct memories are suddenly restored. Numerous instances of quickened
memory, under the influence of physical causes, show what the mind may do under
special and extraordinary exaltations of its activity. Persons on the brink of
death by drowning are said to have unusually vivid visions of the past. If such be
memory here, in this nascent state of our being — this mere infancy of our in-
tellectual life — what may it not be, and what may it not do, when, with onr other
faculties, freed from a body of flesh and blood, it shall soar in progressive expansion
and enlargement through the ages of a coming eternity ? IV. What is to be th»
IMPRISBION OF MEMORY UPON OUB HAPPINESS OR MISERY IN THE FUTURE WORLD ? That
so great a power will make an impression upon the soul, pleasant or painful,
according to the character of the facts embraced in the exercise, is an inference
derivable not only from the greatness of the power, but equally from the ample
materials of onr present experience. (S. T, Spear, D.D.) The memory of tht
lost; — I. There is satisfactory evidence that thb memory of babthly scenes wm,
BE RETAINED IN ETERNITY. This is impUed in the very nature of retribution. The
•oul is to be punished for the deeds done in the body ; and unless it remember
CHAP. XVI.3 ST. LUKE. 151
those deeds, how can it know for what it is panished ? The nature of retribution,
and the end of God's government in it, require that the soul should remember.
Moreover, the philosophy of the mind itself teaches the same thing. Go to the
place of your birth, and look at the objects that were familiar to you in early days,
and the scenes and events of childhood, which have been gone from you for years,
■will come thronging up from the storehouse of memory, and you will almost think
yourself a child again. The past is not for ever gone, and at the appropriate signal
it can all be summoned before us. And is there any evidence that death will break
this chain of memory? II. Not onlt will the memoby exist in the fdtubk
WOBLD, BUT IT WILL PBOBABLT POSSESS FAB GEEATEB ACTIVITY AND ENEBOY THAN IN THE
PBESENT life, and thus BE ENABLED TO BECALL THE PAST WITH A DISTINCTNESS AND
▼iViDNESS NOW WHOLLY UNKNOWN. That our knowing faculty wiU be vastly increased
is expressly asserted in the Word of God. Why not, then, the remembering
faculty, which is so intimately associated with it? ILL What subjects will
pbobably be most pkominent in the beflections of the lost soul. 1. They will
remember the gifts of Providence, for which they requited their Maker with
ingratitude and rebellion. 2. They will doubtless remember the spiritual privileges
which they failed to improve. 3. Sinners will remember in eternity the evil
influence which they exerted while on earth, and all the fatal consequences of it.
(D. B. Coe.) Son, remember : — Like Fear, like Hope, like Love, like Conscience,
Memory has a place, a large place, in the heart, in the life, and therefore in the
gospel. Whose to-day is not the product of a number of yesterdays? Whose
present is not the very fruit and harvest of his past ? We should expect that this
thing — call it faculty, gift, talent, infliction, or what you will — would have a place,
and it has a large place, in Revelation ; for Eevelation is nothing else than God
speaking to man as he is, and calling him to something of which he has in him
already the capability and the germ. God Himself ascribes to Himself memory ;
speaks of remembering, and remembering not ; speaks of remembering man's
Borrows and His own mercy ; speaks of that other faculty, the reverse of memory,
the power of forgetting, which is a more Divine faculty still, when it is exercised,
as in the mind and heart of God, in so putting away a man's sins that He
remembers them no more. And God bids man exercise memory; bids
him remember his own sins, and be ashamed, bids him remember God's
commandments, and set himself to obey ; bids him remember his last end,
and make preparation: bids him remember death, judgment, and eternity, and
the great gulf fixed. 1. Eemember, we will say first, God's dealings with thee. 0,
it is not philosophy, it is mer« commonplace vulgar infidelity, which makes any of
ne doubt whether God has been about our path and about our journey in the time
past of our life. If we have not seen Him, it is the worse for us. 2. Remember the
opportunities, seized or neglected, with which God in the past has furnished and
endowed you. Who can think of his school-days, and not reproach himself
bitterly with neglects, now irreparable, of instructions and influences which might
have altered the very complexion of his life ? Who can remember his friends, and
not mourn over evil done and good left undone ? And when we pass from these
outward gifts to such as are altogether spiritual ; when we think of the Word of
God, and His House, and His Ministry, and His Sacraments ; then, there is a
eolemnity, an awfulness, even as it is heard in this hfe, in the charge, " Son,
remember." 3. Eemember the blessings God has showered upon thee. {Dean
Vaughan.) Memory in another world: — I. In another state, memoey will be so
WIDENED AS TO TAKE IN THE WHOLE LIFE. We bcUeve that the contents of the
intellectual nature, the capacities of that nature also, are all increased by the fact
(tf having done with earth and having left the body behind. But whether saved or
lost — he that dies is greater tban when yet living; and all his powers are intensified
and strengthened by that awful experience of death, and by what it brings with it.
Memory partakes in the common quickening. There are not wanting analogies and
experiences in our present life to let us see that, in fact, when we talk about for-
getting we ought to mean nothing more than the temporary cessation of conscious
remembrance. Everything which you do leaves its effect with you for ever, just as
long-forgotten meals are in your blood and bones to-day. Every act that a man
performs is there. It has printed itself upon his soul, it has become a part o£
himself : and though, like a newly painted picture, after a little while the colours
go in, why is that ? Only because they have entered into the very fibre of the
canvas, and have left the surface because they are incorporated with the substance,
and they want but a t.iuch of varnish to flash out again I As the developing solution
281 THE BIBLICAL ILLDSTRaTOR. [oha». xH.
brings oat the image on the photographic plate, so the mind has the strange power,
by fixing the attention, as we say (a short word which means a long, mysteriona
thing) upon that past that is half remembered and half forgotten, of bringing it
into clear consciousness and perfect recollection. The fragmentary remembrances
which we have now, hft themselves above the ocean of forgetfulness like islands in
some Archipelago, the summits of sister hills, though separated by the estranging
sea that covers their conveiging sides and the valleys where their roots unite. The
solid land is there, though hidden. Drain off the sea, and there will be no more
isolated peaks, bat continuous land. In this life we have but the island memoriea
heaving themselves into sight, but in the next " the Lord " shall ** cause the sea to
go back " by the breath vi His mouth, and the channels of the great deep of a
human heart's experiences and actions shall be laid bare. " There shall be no
more sea " ; but the solid land of a whole life will appear when God says, " Son,
remember I " So much, then, for my first consideration — namely, that memory in
a future state wUl comprehend the whole of life. II. Another thing is, that
MKMOBT IN A FCXUBE STATE WILL PBOBABLT BB SO BAPID AS TO BMBBACE ALL THE PAST
LIFE AT ONCE. We do not know, we have no conception of it, the extent to which
our thinking, and feeling, and remembrance, are made tardy by the slow vehicle of
this bodily organization in which the soul rides. As on the little retina of an eye
there can be painted on a scale inconceivably minute, every tree and mountain-top
in the whole wide panorama, so, in an instant, one may run through almost a
whole lifetime of mental acts. Ah, brethren, we know nothing yet about the
rapidity with which we may gather before us a whole series of events; so that
although we have to pass from one to another, the succession may be so swift, as
to produce in our own minds the effect of all being co-existent and simultaneous.
As the child, flashing about him a bit of burning stick, may seem to make a circle
of flame, because the flame-point moves so quickly, so memory, though it does go
from point to point, and dwells for some inconceivably minute instant on each part
of the remembrance, may yet be gifted with such lightning speed, with such
rapidity and awful quickness of glance, as that to the man himself the effect shall
be that his whole life is spread out there before him in one instant, and that he.
Godlike, sees the end and the beginning side by side. Yes ; from the mountain of
eteiTiity we shall look down, and behold the whole plain spread before us. Once
more : it seems as if, in another world, memory would not only contain the whole
life, and the whole life simultaneously ; but would perpetually attend or haunt us.
III. A CONSTANT BEMEMBBANCE. It docs uot He in OUT power even in this world, to
decide very much whether we shall remember or forget. There are memories that
vnll start up before us, whether we are willing or not. Like the leprosy in the
Israelite's house, the foul spot works its way out through all the plaster and the
jiaint ; and the house is foul because it is there. I remember an old castle where
they tell us of foul murder committed in a vaulted chamber with a narrow window,
by torchlight one night ; and there, they say, there are the streaks and stains of
blood on the black oak floor; and they have planed, and scrubbed, and planed
again, and thought they were gone — but there tbey always are, and continually up
comes the dull, reddish-black stain, as if oozing itself out through the boards to
witness to the bloody crime again I The superstitious fable is a type of the way in
which a foul thing, a sinful and bitter memory — gets engrained into a man's heart.
He tries to banish it, and gets rid of it for a while. He goes back again, and the
spots are there, and will be there for ever ; and the only way to get rid of them is to
destroy the soul in which they are. Memory is not all within the power of the will
on earth ; and probably, memory in another world is still more involuntary and still
more constant. A memory, brethren, that mil have its own way ; what a field for
sorrow and lamentation that is, when God says at last, ** Now go — go apart ; take
thy life with thee ; read it over ; see what thou hast done with it 1 " One old
Boman tyrant had a punishment in which he bound the dead body of the murdered
to the living body of the murderer, and left them there scaffolded. And when that
voice comes, " Son, remember 1 " to the living soul of the godless, nnbelienng.
Impenitent man, there is bound to him the murdered past, the dead past, his own
life ; and, in Milton's awful and profound words,
•* Which way I fly is hell — myself am hell 1 "
There is only one other modification of this awful faculty that I would remind yoa
el; and that is — lY. That in a future life usuobt will bk assoolltbo wrni a
CHAP, xvi.] ST. LUKE. 95S
PERFECTLY ACCURATE KNOWLEDGE OF THE CONSEQtTENCES, AND A PEKFKCTLT BEN8ITITK
CONSCIENCE A8 TO THE CBiMiNALiTT OF THE PAST. You Will have cause and CODSe-
quence put down before you, meeting each other at last. There will be no room
then to say, *• I wonder how such and such a thing will work out," " I wonder how
such a thing can have come upon me " ; but every one will have his whole life to
look back upon, and will see the childish sin that was the parent of the full-grown
vice, and the everlasting sorrow that came out of that little and apparently
transitory root. The conscience, which here becomes hardened by contact with sin,
and enfeebled because unheeded, will then be restored to its early sensitiveness and
power, as if the labourer's horny palm were to be endowed again with the softness
of the infant's little hand. It is not difficult to see how that is an instrument of
torture. It is more difficult to see how such a memory can be a source of gladness,
and yet it can. Calvary is on this side, and that is enough 1 Certainly it is one of
the most blessed things about " the faith that is in Christ Jesus," that it makes a
man remember his own sinfulness with penitence, not with pain — that it makes the
memory of past transgressions full of solemn joy, because the memory of past
transgressions but brings to mind the depth and rushing fulness of that river of
love which has swept them all away as far as the east is from the west. [A.
Maclaren, D.D.) The present life a$ related to the future : — Let us notice some
particulars in wnich we see the operation of this principle. What are the " good
things," which Dives receives here, for which he must be " tormented" hereafter ?
and what are the " evil things," which Lazarus receives in this world, for which h©
will be " comforted " in the world to come 7 1. In the first place, the worldly man
derives a more intense physical enjoyment from this world's goods than does the
child of God. He possesses more of them, and gives himself up to them without
self-restraint. Not many rich and not many noble are called. In the past history
of mankind the great possessions and the great incomes, as a general rule, have not
been in the hands of humble and penitent men. In the great centres of trade and
commerce — in Venice, Amsterdam, Paris, London — it is the world, and not the
people of God, who have had the purse, and have borne what is put therein. So
far as this merely physical existence is concerned, the wicked man has the advan-
tage. 2. In the second place, the worldly man derives more enjoyment from sin,
and suffers less from it, in this life, than does the child of God. The really
renewed man cannot enjoy sin. His sin is a sorrow, a constant sorrow, to him. He
feels its pressure and burden all his days, and cries, " 0 wretched man, who shall
deliver me from the body of this death?" And not only does the natural man
«njoy sin, but, in this life, he is much less troubled than is the spiritual man with
reflections and self-reproaches on account of sin. This is another of the " good
things " which Dives receives, for which he must be " tormented " ; and this is
another of the " evil things " which Lazarus receives, for which he must be
" comforted." 1. In view of this subject, as thus discussed, we remark, in the first
place, that no man can have his •' good things" — in other words, his chief pleasure —
in both worlds. There is no alchemy that can amalgamate substances that refuse
to mix. No man has ever yet succeeded, no man ever will succeed, in securing both
the pleasures of sin and the pleasures of holiness— in living the life of Dives, and
then going to the bosom of Abraham. 2. And this leads to the second remark,
that every man must make his choice whether he will have his "good things " now,
or hereafter. Every man is making his choice. The heart is now set either upon
Ood, or upon the world. 3. Hence we remark, in the third place, that it is the
duty and the wisdom of every man to let this world go, and seek his •' good things "
hereafter. Our Lord commands every man to sit down like the steward in the
parable, and make an estimate. He enjoins it upon every man to reckon up the advan-
tages upon each side, and see for himself which is superior. (W. G. T. Shedd,D.D.)
Memory as an element in future retribution : — Memory is that power of the soul by
which it retains the knowledge acquired by the perceptions and consciousness of
the past. Its operations are altogether inscrutable by us, and we can give no other
account concerning them than this : that God has so made us that our minds have
this particular power. Memory is in every man the infallible autobiographer of
the soul, and on its pages, however much they may be now concealed from view,
are recorded every thought and feeling, every word and action, everything ex-
perienced and everything perceived, during the course of life. As in our meteoro-
logical stations, by a delicate instrument, with which some of yon may be
acquainted, the strength and direction of the wind are by the wind itself registered
without intermission from hour to hour, so on the tablets of memory the whole history
254 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTBATOR. [chap. xn»
of the soul is by the soul itself recorded with the most minute and unerring exactnessi
Not indeed that all that is at every moment consciously present to the mind.
There is such a thing as forgetfulness, but over against that we must place the fact
that things forgotten at one time are remembered at another, so that we may fairly
conclude that nothing is ever completely lost by the souL Memory furnishes the
material on which conscience shall pronounce, and conscience gives to memory the-
sting which turns it into remorse. This is evident, even in the present life. Our
own experience testifies thereto ; and though a poet has sung in strains of beauty of
the Pleasures of Memory, there are few of as who could not tell a thrilling tale of
its agonies as well. But in the case of the world to come, over and above these
things which make memory even here a scourge to the sinner, there are three con-
siderations which are calculated to intensify its power of torment. 1. Memory
shall there recall the events of time as seen in the perspective of eternity. In the
crowd and hurry of the present, things bulk before us disproportionately. We need
to be at a distance from them before we can estimate them rightly. That is one
reason why the past is seen always more correctly when it is past, than it was when
it was present ; and why it is, that in taking a review of anything, we observe more
clearly where we have failed, or in what we have been to blame, than we did at the
time when we were engaged in it. Yon may despise now the blessings which yoa
enjoy, but when they have gone from you to return nevermore, you shall see them
in their proper brightness, and upbraid yourselves for your madness in letting them
go unimproved. 2. But another thing calculated to intensify the power of memory
as an instrument in the retribution of the future life, is the fact that there it shall
be quickened in its exercise, and we shall not be able to forget anything. Things
of which we are now oblivious shall there be brought back with lurid distinctness to
our remembrance, and actions long buried beneath the sands of time shall, like the
ruins of Pompeii, be dug up again into the light, and stand before as as they were
at first. Among ancient manuscripts which modern research has brought to light,
there are some, called by learned men palimpsests, in which it has been discovered
that what was originally a gospel or an epistle, or other book of Holy Scripture,
had been written over by a mediaeval scribe with the effusions of a profane poet ;
but now, by the application of some chemical substance, the original sacred record
has been produced, and is used as an authority in settling the reading of disputed
passages. So the pages of memory are palimpsests. 8. Another thing which will
intensify the power of memory as an element in future retribution is the fact that,.
ic the case of the lost, conscience shall be rectified and give just utterances regard*
ing the events reviewed. As he now is, the sinner can look back with mirth oil
Bome hour of frantic dissipation, or some deed of shame ; but then conscience will
compel him to contemplate such things with the agony of remorse. As he now is,
he can congratulate himself on having done a clever thing when he has overreached
his neighbour; but then he will lose sight of the cleverness of the act in the guilt by
which it was characterized. As he now is, he can gloss over his excesses by speak-
ing of himself, in the specious and entirely deceptive phraseology of the world, a»
*• fast," or •* a little wUd," or " sowing his wild oats," or the like ; but then
conscience will insist on calling things by their right names, and each act of wicked-
ness will stand out before him as rebellion against God. Thus, with conscience
rectified and memory quickened, it is not difficult to account for the agony of the
lost, while at the same time the retributive consequences of sin in the future life
are seen to be not the effects of some arbitrary and capricious sentence, but the
natural and necessary results of violating the law v«%ich was written at first upon
onr moral constitution. Appucation : 1. Look at these things in their bearing on
the privileges which at present we so lightly esteem. Every blessing disregarded
now will there be recalled by memory, and transformed by conscience into an
upbraiding reprover and a horrible tormentor. 2. Again, let as apply the
principles which have been before onr minds this morning to the opportnnities of
doing good to others which we have allowed to go by us unimproved. Behold here,
how the conscience of this man gives sting to his memory as he recalls the
resources which were at his command, and sees how much he might have done
with them for the promotion of the welfare and happiness of his fellow-men. Never
before had he seen his responsibility for them as he sees it now, and now that he does
see it in its true light, he is not able to act according to its directions, to that the
perception of it only magnifies and intensifies his agony. But is there no voice of
warning in all this to us ? (W. M, Taylor, D.D.) ReJ!eetion$ ofsinnert in hell : —
L WB XATB BBASOH TO BXLIBTB THAI TBB DAMNED WILL HATB BEFLBCTIOMB. 1..
CEA». XVI.] 8T. LUKE. J6&
Their natural powers and faculties will not only be continued, bat vastly
etrengthened and enlarged. 2. They will not meet with the same obstructions to
mental exercises that they meet with here in their present state of probation. Here
their cares, their troubles, their employments and various amusements, dissipate
their thoughts and obstruct reflection. But there such objects will be entirely
removed from their reach and pursuit. 3. God will continually exhibit before their
view such things as will excite the most painful reflections and anticipations. He
wUl set their sins in order before them, in their nature, magnitude, and peculiar
aggravations, so that they cannot obliterate them from their minds. He will
exhibit all his great, amiable, and terrible attributes of power, holiness, justice, and
sovereignty before them, and give them a constant and realizing sense of His awful
presence and displeasure. He will give them no rest and no hope. Let us now —
U. Take a sebiods view of their bitteb bbflbctions in the regions op despair. 1.
They will realize what they are. Eational and immortal beings, which can never
cease to exist nor to suffer. 2. They will realize where they are. In helL 3. The
damned will reflect whence they came to that place of torment. They will reflect
upon the land of light and the precious advantages they there enjoyed^
before they were confined to the regions of darkness. 4. They will reflect
upon all that was done for them, to prevent them from falling into the pit of perdi-
tion. 5. They will realize that they destroyed themselves, which will be a source
of bitter and perpetual reflections. 6. They will reflect upon what they had done,
not only to destroy themselves, but others. 7. They will reflect upon what good
they might have done, while they lived in the world. 8. It will pain them to think
how they once despised and reproached godliness, and all who lived holy and godly
bves. 9. Their clear view of the happiness of heaven will be a source of tormenting
reflections. 10. Finally, they will reflect not only upon what they have been, and
might have been, but upon what they are, and always will be. They wiU reflect
that being filthy, they shall be filthy still ; that being unholy, they shall be unholy
still ; and that being miserable, they shall be miserable still. Application : 1. If
the state of the damned has been properly described, then it is of great importance
that ministers should preach plainly upon the subject, and if possible, make their
bearers realize the danger of going to hell. 2. If the miseries of the damned be
such as have been described, then it deeply concerns sinners to take heed how
they hear the gospel. 3. If the miseries of the damned be such as have been
described, then we see why the Scripture represents this world as so dangerous to
sinners. 4. If the miseries of the damned arise from bitter reflections, then all
sinners, in their present state, are fit for destruction. They have just such views,
«nd feelings, and reflections in kind, as the damned have. 5. If the miseries
of the damned, and the character of sinners, be such as have been described,
then there is reason to fear that some sinners are very near to the pit of perdition.
They are in the broad road which has led many such persons as they are
to the place where there is no light, and no hope. The symptoms of
eternal death are upon them, though they know it not. (N. Emmont, D.D.)
The influence of memory increasing the misery of the lost : — What, speaking of a lost
BOol, will he remember in another world? I. The possessions hb had in this:
Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise
Lazarus evil things : but now he is comforted ; and thou art tormented." Yes,
all shall be recollected: the gains in business that this lost soul in perdition
secured when he was an inhabitant of our world ; his patrimonial possessions, his
accumulations of wealth, his splendid mansions, his gay equipage, his sumptuous
living, his retinue of servants, everything that constituted his gaiety and his
grandeur, and all his pomp and circumstance. But what advantage wiU it be to
have a voice perpetually saying to him throughout eternity, " Son, remember that
thou in thy Lifetime receivedst thy good things " ? Oh, V.ie sting of that past
tense — " thou hadst " 1 II. Lost bouls wnji bemehbbb theib wobij>ly plbasubeb.
The poet has said, and every man's experience sustains the propriety and truth of
the expression, " Of joys departed never to return, oh how painful the remembrance.'^
Think of the votary ot this world's pleasure, think of the man of fashion, think of
the woman given up to little else than earthly delights, suddenly arrested in their
career, and carried into eternity, away from aJl their pleasures, to a land where no
sounds of mirth, no voice of song, no note of music, ever break upon the ear.
m. Thb lost soul will bembmbbb ih btbbnitt his binb. The great multitude
forget theirs now as soon as they are oommitted; and any man that sets him«
•elf down to the task of counting the number of his transgresBionB, will find ht
266 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. m.
is engaged in as hopeless a work as numbering the stars that burst on his viev
on a clear winter's night. The lurid flashes of perdition will throw light
on this subject, and for ever settle the question, that sin is an infinite evil ; and
then all excuses will be silenced. IV. The lost soul will recollect in eternitt
ITS MEANS Oy grace, ITS OPPORTUNITIES OF SALVATION, ITS ADVANTAGES FOR OBTAINING
ETERNAL LIFE. V. ThE LOST SOUL IN ETERNITY, WILL REMEMBER ITS IMPRESSIONS,
CONVICTIONS, PURPOSES, AND RESOLUTIONS, ON EARTH. Sometimes it is painful to you
now to think of this, and you are ready to say, " Oh, that I had never heard that
sermon ; oh, that I had never had those impressions ; oh, that those convictions
had never taken hold of my heart 1 I cannot enjoy my sins as I once did ; I am
half spoiled for the world, though I am not a member of the Church." Yes, and
you know, that often the scene of festivity, in which others experience no inter-
ruption, is marred for you. Then think, young man, think what will be the case
in eternity, when a voice shall say, " Son, remember thy impressions ; remember
thy convictions." {J. A. James.) The eternity of memory: — ^Death destroys
neither the soul's capacities nor energies. Memory is eternal ; it therefore behoves
us to ask with what we are storing it. 1. Consciousness lies at the foundation of
all responsible life, and soon merges into the fuller day of self-consciousness. Self-
consciousness is the knowledge which self attains when it says "I," and recognizes
that " I " is distinct from anything else in the universe ; and involves three things —
the knowledge of " myself," of something not " myself," and of the relations arising
between what is "myself" and what is not " myself." 2. In order to make these
relations explicit, we need a faculty to tell ns that we existed yesterday, and what
other faculty is this but memory ? But unless we make memory to subsist in two
|>arts, as a capacity to retain and an energy to recall, we shall not explain its work-
ings, or be able to see in what way it is deathless. 8. The principles by which
active memory works among the treasures of passive memory to .recall things new
and old, are called the primary and the secondary laws of association. Ideas and
actions have relation to time, and connect with each other like links in a chain.
Sometimes we perceive the connection between the ideas which memory recalls, at
other times we do not ; and yet there is some connection, just as when a row of
balls is struck at one end, the force is transmitted through them, and the ball at the
other end takes np the motion and the journey of the impinging ball. 4. But if
memory is thus complete and deathless — as without doubt it is— some one may ask,
" How is it possible for any to go from an imperfect life, with its imperishable
record, and derive any pleasure from its contemplation ? " I answer : " In the life
•of heaven love will predominate, and by the laws of association it will bring forth
from the storehouse only such reminiscences as are pure and holy." Conclusion :
In view of all this, how wise and necessary for our future happiness to All the
present life and its passing moments with kind words, upright thoughts, and useful
actions. And, on the other hand, will not the memory of an evil life, if unchecked
by grace and unrestrained by holy love, constitute a source of keenest misery ?
Will not a deathless memory work upon the quickened conscience, and gnaw like a
worm that never dieth, or bum like a fire that is never quenched ? (L. 0. Thompson.)
Materials for a future judgment in the constitution of tlie human mind ; — The argu-
ment from memory for a future judgment is powerful, because, on every excursion
of the mind into the past, there is now a judgment of conscience, and an expectation
of a righteous award. Now if there be within the circle of our natural knowledges
or capacities the prediction of any event, we look inevitably for some grounds of the
prediction, or some signs that it is a probability, and that the event promised will
take place. If it be rumoured among the people of a vast city that a new and
magnificent Hall of Justice is to be built, and if there be seen a multitude of work-
men collecting materials at the stated place of the proposed building, those materials
are a strong proof of the truth of the common rumour. And just so, when the
conscience of all mankind tells of a judgment to come, and we see how the matenala
for that judgment are accumulating, and the demand and necessity for it increasing,
and how the busy memory is occupied with collecting and arranging those materials,
the proof becomes very strong ; the common rumour of the world and of the individual
conscience is so corroborated, that one who looks fairly at the light of nature, even
ispart from that of Eevelation, cannot doubt. And every instance of the power of
memory, every elucidation of the laws under which the mind acts in its operations
of remembrance, and every instance of the manner in which conscience accompanies
this work, affords additional conviction. The first instance we shall give of the
myolontary power of memory, is that noted one presented by Coleridge, which shall
«EAr. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 257
be related mainly in the words and with the conclusions of that eminent man. The
fact that the case may be 80 familiar to some of our readers as to be almost a
truism does not lesson its importance. A young woman, he says, of four or five-
and-twenty, who could neither read nor write, was seized with a nervous fever,
during which the priests and monks in the neighbourhood supposed that she
became possessed of the devil. She continued incessantly talking Latin, Greek,
and Hebrew, in very pompous tones, and with most distinct enunciation. The case
had attracted the particular attention of a young physician, and by his statement
many eminent physiologists and psychologists visited the town, and cross-examined
the case on the spot. Sheets full of her ravings were taken down from her own
mouth, and were found to consist of sentences coherent and intelligible each for
itself, but with little or no connection with each other. Of the Hebrew, a small
portion only could be traced to the Bible ; the remainder seemed to be in the
Habbinical dialect. A trick or conspiracy was out of the question. Not only had
the young woman ever been a harmless, simple creature, but she was evidently
labouring under a nervous fever. In the town of which she had been a resident for
many years, as a servant in different families, no solution presented itself. The
physician, however, determined to trace her past life, step by step ; for the
patient herself was incapable of returning a rational answer. He searched out the
place of her nativity, and from a surviving uncle learned that the patient had beea
charitably taken by an old Protestant pastor at nine years of age, and had remained
with him some years, till his death. Of this pastor the uncle knew nothing, but
that he was a very good man. With great difficulty he at length discovered a niece
of the pastor's, who had lived with him as his housekeeper, and had inherited his
effects, and who remembered the girl. Anxious inquiries were made concerning
the pastor's habits, and the solution of the phenomenon was soon obtained. For it
appeared that it had been his custom for years to walk up and down a passage of
his house, into which the kitchen door opened, and to read to himself with a loud
voice out of his favourite books. A considerable number of these were still in the
niece's possession. She added, that he was a very learned man, and a great
Hebraist. Among the books were found a collection of Babbinical writings, together
with several of the Greek and Latin Fathers; and the physician succeeded in
identifying so many passages with those taken down at the young woman's bedside,
that no doubt could remain in any rational mind concerning the true origin of the
impression made on her nervous system. " This authenticated case," Coleridge
concludes, " furnishes both proof and instance that relics of sensation may exist for
an indefinite time in a latent state, in the very same order in which they wer»
originally impressed ; and as we cannot rationally suppose the feverish state of the
brain to act in any other way than as a stimulus, this fact, and it would not be
difficult to adduce several of the same kind, contributes to make it even probable
that all thoughts are in themselves imperishable ; and that, if the intelligent faculty
should be rendered more comprehensive, it would require only a different and
apportioned organization, the body celestial instead of the body terrestrial, to bring
before every human soul the collective experience of its whole past existence. And
this, perchance, is the dread book of judgment, in whose mysterious hieroglyphics
every idle word is recorded. Yea, in the very nature of a living spirit, it may be
more possible that heaven and earth should pass away, than that a single act, a
single thought, should be loosened or lost from that living chain of causes, to all
whose hnks, conscious or unconscious, the free will, our only absolute self, is
coextensive and copresent." This last remark respecting the copresence of the will
in all our intelligent Ufe, conscious or unconscious, is of the utmost solemnity and
importance. Dr. Abercrombie relates another example, which he puts under the
phenomena of dreams, but which is in reality a development of memory. It occurred
with one of his own intimate friends, a gentleman connected with one of the
principal banks in Glasgow. He was at his place at the teller's desk, when a person
entered, demanding payment of the sum of six pounds. There were several waiting,
who were entitled to be attended to before him; but he was extremely impatient,
and rather noisy ; and being likewise a remarkable stammerer, he became so
annoying that another gentleman reqaested the teller to pay him his money and
get rid of him. He did so, accordingly, but with an expression of impatience at
being obliged to attend to him before his turn, and thought no more of the trans-
action. At the end of the year the books of the bank could not be made to balance,
the deficiency being exactly six pounds. He spent days and nights in endeavouring
to discover the error, but without success ; when at last one night retiring to bed
▼oii. m. 17
258 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha?. Xf\.
much fatigued, he dreamed of being at his place in the bank, where the transaction
with the stammerer passed before him in all its particulars. He found on
examination that the sum paid had not been inserted in the book of accounts, and
that it exactly amounted to the error in the balance. His memory, which "had
failed him during the day, had wrought during sleep with perfect exactness. This
was simply an instance of the revival of old associations, which had passed for a
season from the mind and been forgotten. Thus it is that all mistakes in our
accounts for eternity, arising from forgetf ulness here, will be rectified when the mind
acts with its full power in the spiritual world. The stars come out by night that
were hidden by the day, and ten thousand thousand worlds of transactions and of
consequences will be revealed in the firmament of man's consciousness, when the
delusions of time and sense shall have given way to the realities of eternity. From
the experience of Niebuhr, the celebrated Danish traveller, Dr. Abercrombie relates
an instance of the vividness with which, as the light of the day of this world ii
retiring, the past realities, that are to encircle our being in the judgment, throng
opoQ the mind ; whether they be scenes of innocent delight, or of guilt and terror.
When old, blind, and so infirm that he was able only to be carried from his bed to
his chair, he used to describe to his friends the scenes which he had visited in his
early days, with wonderful minuteness and vivacity. When they expressed their
astonishment, he told them that as he lay in bed, all visible objects shut out, the
pictures of what he had seen in the East continually floated before his mind's eye,
so that it was no wonder he could speak of them as if he had seen them yesterday.
With like vividness the deep intense sky of Asia, with its brilliant and twinkling
hosts of stars, which he had so often gazed at by night, was reflected, in the hours
of stillness and darkness, on his inmost soul. Now these were simply the beautiful
images of nature, that, having once made their impressions on a sensitive soul,
could never be forgotten. But if pictures daguerreotyped, as it were, upon the soul
from abroad, can thus be reproduced after the lapse of a lifetime, as vivid as when
the soul first received into its depths, as in a mirror, the reflection of the glory of
God's universe, how much more certainly, with how much greater exactitude, must
everything which the mind itself has originated, every spontaneous movement of
thought and feeling, every development of character, be treasured in the memory,
to be reproduced when conscience calls for it 1 If Niebuhr's memory had been
filled with scenes of sin, or with the recollection of sensual and sinful pleasures,
instead of those exquisite images of Oriental scenery, how intensely painful would hia
old age have been in the reproduction of such accumulated forms of evil, with con
science passing judgment on them all 1 Sometimes the acquisitions, the knowledges,
of the earUest period of life, long utterly disused and forgotten, come suddenly and
spontaneously again into power and exercise, as indestructible possessions of the
soul. Sometimes it seems as if an invisible power were busy removing or replacing
at will, as in a camera obscura, the pictures in the memory. Sometimes those that
lie lowest, at the bottom of the pile, are placed uppermost, excluding all others, and
sometimes the last drawn are the last seen. But how easy for the Divine Being,
acting simply by the laws of the mind, to bid the soul stand still, and to draw forth
before it, plate after plate, the impressions of every moment, hour, day, week, of
existence, and let the conscience meditate upon it ! And what an employment for a
guilty and unpardoned soul t Even a single scene of guilt may fully arrest and
occupy the mind for almost any period. There are cases of persons, whose sane and
healthy action of mind has been disordered, having their consciousness arrested
npon one single event or idea, and remaining involved in that event, or revolving
that idea, for the period of near fifty years. This we call insanity. But suppose
an immortal mind to stand thus petrified as it were in the eternal world for a similar
interval of time, brooding in guilty consciousness over some one scene, idea, or act
of guilt. Would not this be one of the direst images by which the mind can body
forth its conceptions of the misery of hell ? When the missionary, Mr. Moffat, had
once been preaching to the natives in Africa, his attention was arrested by a young
man in the midst of a group that had gathered around him, to whom he was preach-
ing over from memory the sermon he had heard, imitating Mr. M.'s gestures, as
well as repeating his language, with great solemnity. He repeated the sermon
almost verbatim, and when Mr. Moffat remarked to him that he was doing what ha
himself could not have done, he did not appear conscious of any superior ability,
but touched his forehead with his finger, and remarked, " When I hear anything
great, it remains there." By "great," he evidently meant in the sense of solemnity
M connected with the soul's destiny in the eternal world. And indeed there it
«BAi>. rvi.] ST. LUKE. 259
nothing great but with reference to eternity, nothing worth preserving or remember-
ing but in its relation to that. But all things that have the stamp of that greatness
remain there, as the poor untutored negro observed, there in the mind, and can
ne^or pass from the memory. The instances of memory we have presented are
mi/st of them involuntary, spontaneous ; they are instances of power, of activity,
■which could not be checked or prevented. Had it been ever so much against the
will of the master of the faculty, that would have made no difference. The busy
operator, with the utmost indifference to the soul's wishes, would have brought out
and displayed the mind's innumerable stores. It is no matter whether they be full
of sin and shame, or such as the mind would delight to avouch and greet again as
its creations or possessions. The memory does not ask whether the mind be
pleased with them, but starts them into being. Nay, the more displeasing they are,
the more certain they are to be recalled ; for this is one manifest way in which the
law of association acts, and anything which the mind greatly fears, is for that very
reason held tight to it. If you put by an article of your experience, and say that it
is proscribed, debarred from remembrance ; if you say, I never wish to see that again,
let it be buried and never have a resurrection — it may be a single word, deed, look,
event, or incident — the very label which you put upon it, "never to be revealed," the
very burial service which you perform over it, the very act of your will, consigning
it to eternal banishment and forgetfulness, secure its eternal existence and power
over you. Your unwillingness to look at it compels you to look. Your dread and
unwillingness give it, in fact, an additional, morbid, torturing action within you,
find attraction over you. Hatred is, in some respects, a stronger bond than friend-
ship. What we hate and dread we remember with a dreadful energy, and so long
as the hatred and dread exist, the object of it cannot be forgotten. We have reason
to believe that even to a guilty soul nothing will be more dreadful, more hateful,
than the realities of past sins. The state of a man's system in health may not
attract his notice. It seems the very plenitude of health to be in such enjoyment
■oi it, that no particular sensations excite notice. But let there be a festering wound
in any organ in the system, and it shall excite more notice than the healthful state
of the whole system besides. If there could be such a thing as a coal of living fire
wound up as a ganglion in a man's nervous system, it would compel and concentrate
all his attention. But every sin, unforgiven, is such a coal of fire. The secretions
of evil, of guilt, in our experience, are secretions of irritating, painful action,
secretions of remorse, compelling the remembrance. The more painful they are,
the more we would forget them ; but of course the more we would forget them, the
more certainly we remember them. We can quicken memory, but we cannot dis-
possess it of any of its stores, we cannot make ourselves forget. The very attempt
at forgetfulness does but startle the memory. The involuntariness of memory is
the security for its fall and impartial action at the judgment. The involuntariness
of memory grows out of the nature of the law of association. By this law of our
teing, one thing, by having been connected with another, suggests and recalls it.
In this way all events and all thoughts may be so linked together that it one be
preserved the whole are inevitably in existence. Now there being a connection
between every thought and thing in God's universe, and some other thought or
thing, and between every experience in our nature and some other experience, it is
impossible, under this law, but that all should come to light, impossible that any^
thing whatever should be lost. If two persons, or things, or ideas, are seen but
•once in proximity or relation, the association may be weak ; one may not now
necessarily suggest the other. But if seen often, the association becomes so strong
as to be inevitable and irresistible. Thus, if a man be a notorious drunkard, every
time you see that man you will think of his habit of drunkenness ; or if a man be
a profane swearer, every time you see that man, or ever hear of him, you will think
of his habit of profane swearing. The thought of a man conspicuous in a page of
history which is well known, brings up the details of that history. What person
ever thinks of William Tell, without seeing the child, the arrow, and the apple ? If
there be an alarm-bell, which we are accustomed to hear rung only on occasions of
danger, the sound of the bell will always suggest the image of the danger ; so, the
moment we hear the fire-bell, the mind inevitably pictures the evil of which it is
the warning. In the country, when the bell tolls slowly and at measured intervals,
you instantly think of death and a funeral. On the other hand, the noise of sleigh-
bells brings to the mind all ideas of life and activity ; a bracing atmosphere, a fine
road covered with snow, the laughter of merry parties, the health and activity of
winter. Again, you can aoaroely hear the sound of the violin, but it suggests th«
S60 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. Jtvi.
danoe ; of the drum, but it brings before you all the excitement and fnry of war.
A case of surgical instruments teUa you of ghastly wounds. The smell of camphor
in a room makes you inquire if any one be ill ; so does the sight of a physician
entering the house. These are common instances of the operation of the law of
association, in regard to things seen or known in connection or relation. It is a
law, which, even viewed merely in an external operation, as a cord, binding our
knowledges in bundles, may be as powerful for evil as for good. We may lay hold
upon it for the accomplishment of a happy and useful training of the mind and
heart, or an education in all folly and misery. The law of association is at the
foundation of most of our prejudices and superstitions. Children, whose minds are
filled with nursery tales of ghosts and goblins, are afraid to be left alone in the
dark ; darkness has become associated in their mind with frightful images. Now
it is possible to conceive of its being associated with nothing but images of secarity
and repose. The degree of activity and wideness of sweep in this law, in different
minds, may make a genius out of one person, a dull plodder out of another. It has
much to do with the development and power of the imagination. The might and
majesty of its action, amidst sublime materials, may be seen in the poetry of Milton,
whose imagination combined, in such intensity and comprehensiveness, the associa-
tive and aggregative faculty. The constitution of the mind of John Foster was
remarkable in this respect. His associations were intensely vivid, so that words
affected him with all the power of realities. In one of his Essays he speaks of a
young person (and he is supposed to refer to himself, at a period when he was en-
chanted with the stories of Gregory Lopez and other recluses), with whom at any
time the word '• hermit "was enough to transport him, like the witch's broom-stick, to
the solitary hut, surrounded by shady, solemn groves, mossy rocks, crystal streams,
and gardens of radishes. The words "woods" and "forests" are said to have produced
in his mind the most powerful emotion. In one of his letters he says, " I have just
been admiring the marvellous construction of the mind, in the circmnstance of ita
enabling me, as I sit by my candle here, in a chamber at Chichester, to view almost
as distinctly as if before my eyes, your house, the bam, the adjacent fields, neigh-
bouring houses, and a multitude of other objects. I can go through each part of the
house, and see the exact form of the looms, tables, maps, cakes of bread, and so on,
down to my mother's thimble. Yet I still find myself almost three hundred miles
off. At present I take no notice of the things now about me ; but perhaps at soma
future time, at a still greater distance, I may thus review in imagination the room
in which I now write, and the objects it contains ; and I find that few places where
I have continued some time can be thus recollected without some degree of regret ;
particularly the regret that I did not obtain and accomplish all the good that was
possible at that place, and that time. Will it be so, when hereafter I recollect this
time, and this place ? " This is exceedingly striking, and we are here brought from
mere external things, whether of knowledge or imagination, to inward experiences,
the voice of conscience, the goings on of our inward and permanent being. Here
it is, and in the circle of the sweep of connection between the moral responsibilities
of that permanent being and the world around us, that the law of association acts
for eternity ; and if it be true, as Wordsworth declares, that the faculty of imagi-
nation was given us to incite and support the eternal part of our being, equally true
it is that the associative law and faculty bears reference to the same. It is with
reference to the responsibilities and realities of eternity, and to the materials which
we ourselves have gone on voluntarily providing for eternity, that it possesses such
indestructible and unlimited dominion. Without this law, the memory would be a
thing of chance, a perfect chaos. By this law, all things are connected, so con-
nected, that, begin at whatever part of the chain you may, be sure of whatever link
you please, all the rest will follow, or may be regained. There can be nothing lost,
nothing forgotten. But this law is not that of mere connection, by evident and
known links of circumstances ; it is also that of suggestion. One idea, or train of
ideas, that may have been introduced by direct connection with some present person
or thing, shall suggest to the mind another, by mere resemblance or contrast, or by
an abrupt transition, of which, at the time, we can give no account. The causes
by which the law of association is thus rendered active and powerful are multitudi-
nons almost beyond computation. And they respect almost equally the power and
activity of memory, and the processes of present thought. If I see a face resembling
that of a dear absent or departed relative or friend, I say, it reminds me of that beloved
individual ; it may also suggest to me a thousand busy thoughts in the present or for
the future. Now the occasions on which this suggestive power is exercised are as
«BiJ>. XVI. J ST. LUKE. 261
multiplied as the experiences of our being. The various innnmerable and intermin-
able relations between external things, cause and effect, resemblance and contrast,
nearness of time and place, position, preceding or succeeding, high or low, first or
last, order or disorder ; and in moral and intellectual processes and experiences,
the same and other relations, influenced and varied by everything that can have
power in building up our being, in developing our character; as the home and
discipline of childhood, the instructions and examples of the family circle, the tenor
of our pursuits and studies, the books read, the kind of minds conversed with, the
habits of sentiment, opinion, feeling, action, formed and indulged ; all these are
occasions and influences, on and under which the law of association works. The
part which this law of association, therefore, is to play in men's future judgment,
and in the determination of their state for eternity, is evident. Without it, except
by an external manifestation of things, as in a book, there could be no judgment,
and but a weak self-condemnation. If, for example, when a man sees a fellow-
being with whom, in time past, he has had transactions, the sight of that person
did not recall those transactions, if each particular were a thing to be remembered
by itself, and had no associating links of thought and feeUng, no power «f relation
to bring up other things, a man might meet a person whom he has greatly injured,
and yet not meet again the memory of that injury. A man might meet another,
against whom he has borne false witness, so as to fill the slandered man's life with
misfortune and misery, and yet might feel Utile or no compunction at the meeting,
because of the want of this law of association, whereby things that have been
together, or related together, suggest each other. Accordingly, because of the
'weakness of this law of association in some persons, there is a great defect in
memory; and of course the vividness of one's recollections must be greatly depen-
dent on the energy and power with which this law acts. A man's compunction or
remorse for sin will depend greatly on his remembrance of the circumstances and
feelings with which the sin was committed. And if by any means it could be
possible to evade this law of association, if you could break up the inevitable chain
that connects every part of a man's being with aU his feelings and memories, and
with him every creature and thing he has ever had to do with, if you could loosen
some link, and part the series, then a man's condemnation and misery on account
of sin might be cot so inevitable, that is, his self-condemnation, and his misery
from compunction and remorse. So much of the essence of this article of remorse
depends on the remembrance of things in their order and connection, on the
remembrance of associated feelings, on the remembrance of Uttle circumstances
that surrounded any act, and made up what might be called the scenery of it, that
if a man could succeed in getting rid of these, if he could break the links of associa-
tion, if he were not bound inevitably and for ever to them, or if he could make a
chaos or confusion out of them, he would be comparatively secure. But there is no
possibility of this. In being judged, a man is to be thrown back, not on the bare
recollection of his sins, but on all the circumstances and feeUngs in and with
which they were committed. Not merely the sin will be remembered, but all the
then reproaches of conscience, all the light under which it was committed, all the
self-deception exercised will be made plain, all the aggravations of the sin will
come to view, and all the dreadful feelings that followed it will be renewed and
deepened. Every sin of injury against others, against the feelings of others, against
the interests of others in any way, will be connected with all the materials of com-
punction and remorse that preceded, accompanied, or grew out of it. And some-
timee little circumstances, or what seemed httle at the time, shall have extra-
ordinary power, be invested with a world of feeling and of meaning. A single look, a
siogle word, a circumstance that passed like a flash of lightning, shall have mean-
ing and feeling enough connected with it to be dwelt upon for ever and ever. We
might consider this in the case of the murderer ; a dying word, a dying look of his
victim, shall have more horror to him in the recollection, than the bare remembrance
of his crime could ever have. And there may be cases in which the exercise of a
erael, severe, or hard-hearted disposition, the turning away from the cry of a
fellow-being in distress, the infliction of a pang on the feelings by a cruel or con-
temptuous word, shall be followed by the face of the man so grieved, by the pictnre
of the wounded spirit with the arrow festering in it, in the soul of the sinner, to dwell
there for ever. For it must be that every injniy shall have a time for its revenge ;
every violence done to the feelings, or the welfare of others, shall be perfectly
remembered, and in this very way memory shall have its revenge. So that a dying
murdered man, if he wished for eternal vengeance on his murderer, wished to make
2G2 ' THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, tvu
it secure beyond escape and for ever, and had the command over the mind of tha
assassin to write there whatever he pleased through eternity, need only say that
one word, " remember." And every poor, oppressed bondman, and every individual
helplessly borne down by a man greedy of gain, ar-d every creature, indeed, unjustly
treated in any way, need only say, " remember." For this law of association makes
such remembrance eternally perfect. And this law, though it be less active and
apparently less perfect now in some persons than in others, and sometimes exceed-
ingly deficient, yet is perfect and universal in the very structure of our being ; and
when the peculiar causes that now binder its perfect operation in some miuds shall
be removed, will bring everything together. We often look with surprise in this
world at some men's carelessness in regard to sin, at the hardness of their con-
science, at the utter absence of conviction. It is principally because this law of
association is not now in active operation in regard to the past. And hence a man
sometimes thinks he has escaped from his past sins, or that the remembrance of
them, if it comes, will not be so severe and terrible, the consciousness of them not
60 fresh, so lively, so powerful. But it will. And, moreover, there are things on
which, at the time, he dwelt but for a moment, flashes of thought and feeling, gone
as soon as experienced, and movements of the soul covered and put out of view by
other successive movements, on which he is to dweU, and which he is to experience
again, at leisure. Flashes of thought, feeling, judgment, that passed at the time
like lightning, although with a voice as of God's thunder ; he is to see them again
and deliberately ; he is to hear the peal again, and dwell upon it ; he is to listen to
the voice of conscience again, and dwell upon it. And he is to do this with larger
associations still, a more comprehensive circle of associated considerations, than he
then deemed himself encompassed by. His connections with the universe, his
place under God's government, his attitude in regard to God's law, his place under
the atonement, his relation to Jesus Christ, all his relations as a spiritual being, are
to be dwelt upon. How the law of God, and the character of God, and the weight
of his own infinite obligations to God were connected with his own sins, with every
one of them, he did not care to consider, when he committed them. What light
they threw upon them, how much more aggravated they made them than they were
when considered merely with reference to society or to one's self, he had not time,
in the whirl of sin, to think of. What they were in the light of the cross of Christ,
in reference to the suSering of Christ, in reference to the scheme of redemption,
their associations with this scheme, and the condemnation they draw for ever from
it, he had neither time nor inclination to examine. He would not have had
inclination, if he had had time ; and this was a part of the operation of the law o£
association, from which, above all else, if he had seen it, he would have desired to
be released. But he will have plenty of time for its consideration. And the law of
association in his mind \rill carry him, in all these directions, into an infinitude of
conviction and remorse. In the direction toward God, as well as toward men,
toward Christ as well as toward God, toward the law and the gospel, the associated
relations, consequences, and condemnation of his sins will be boundless and eternal.
This is the structure of our being. What subject, exclaimed Mr. Burke, on one
occasion, does not branch out into infinity 7 This is especially the case with the
moral relation of our being. We are fearfuUy and wonderfully made. How single
circumstances connect worlds of dreadful meaning, we sometimes see developed in
a striking manner. A man's sins in this world are often like old forgotten, buried,
coins. They have grown rusty and illegible. They are laid away in the mind like
the lumber in the shop of an antiquary. But tbey all have an image and super-
scription. They have dates and hieroglyphics, full of meaning. And there is a
process by which they may be restored. The rust can be rubbed from the surface,
and by fire, if no way else, the letters can again be read. So it is with men's for-
gotten sins. They are to have a resurrection. Some of them shall rise even with
the body, shall pass from this earthly body into that spiritual body, which is to
spring from it. For as the body that is laid in the grave is to be in some sense the
germ of that body which is to be raised, so the character of the body which is to be
raised shall be determined by the character of the body which is interred. He
that soweth to his flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption. Sin is the seed, sin and
death shall be the harvest. Neither can the sins, which are not written in a man's
constitution, be forgotten, any more than those which, in their consequences in hia
spiritual body, are to rise with him in the resurrection. All shall come to light.
The image and superscription shall be visible. The consideration of this law of
our nature suggests some solemn admonitions, not only with reference to th&
ST. LUKE. 28a
inevitable memory and production of &11 our past experience at the judgment, but
•with reference to the character we are forming now. What are our habits of
asBociation ? Do they bind us to God and salvation ? Are we linked by them to
the cross and the Saviour ? We have the power to connect ourselves everlastingly
with the elements of heaven or hell. A man may surround his soul with the
scenery of either world, may Uve with fiends or angels beforehand. With what
thoughts does he keep company ? What are the habitual trains of association in
his ideas and feehngs ? They bind him to themselves, whatever be their nature,
every day, month, year, more closely, more unalterably, more indissolubly. If they
are evil — and they are evil — if God be excluded from them, then they grow stronger
and stronger, till a man is taken in his own iniquity, and holden with the cords of
his sin. And at length it were as easy to change the very laws of nature as to
change the current of association, which has become indissoluble habit. Of what
infinite importance is it that the train of a man's habitual associations be elevated
and holy 1 Let him remember that his daily habits of association are his education
for eternity. They may grow up and steal upon him as imperceptibly in progress
aa the green blade steals from the ground and passes into the ripe full com in the
Bar, ready for the harvesting. But their daily tenor is developing and fixing hia
.character for eternity. Therefore, with what tender care and mercy does God
surround us with truths, providences, and infiuences, to win us to Himself, to gain
lor His love and grace the ruling place in our affections. (G. B. Gheever, D.D. )
The potoer of memory : — The completeness of passive memory to receive and retain
sverything that comes in contact with the mind, even though it enter consciousness
as faint as a ray of hght from a star so remote that it twinkles one second and
fades the next, is one of the interesting — shall I say startling ? — discoveries of
mental science. And the proof of this, though indirect, amounts to a demon-
stration. 1. A first fact is the wonderful power of recollection which some men
are known to possess. Sir Walter Scott repeated a song of eighty-eight verses which
he had never heard but once, and that, too, three years before. Woodfall, tho
stenographer, could report entire debates a week after they had been delivered in
the House of Commons, and this without any help from writing. But instances
like these need not be multiplied. In old age the scenes of childhood and youth
reappear vnth startling clearness, and ofttimes the sins of youth are recalled b.v a
terrified conscience. 2. A second fact is seen in the flood of memories which sudden
danger brings to consciousness — the chief events of life, and, among these, things
entirely forgotten. This is the experience of persons rescued from drowning or violent
death. Admiral Beaufort states that during the moments of submergence every
incident of his life seemed to glance across his recollection, not in mere outline,
but the whole picture filled up with every minute and collateral feature. (L. O.
Thompson.) The boon of forgetfulness : — Great sinners have even prayed for
madness as a blessing, because they knew that memory would perish with the
mind, of which it ia a part. But nature was ever saying to them, " Son,
remember." The intoxicating oap owes not a little of its fascination to its power
of drowning hatefol memories. Lord Byron says —
**I plunged amid mankind. Forgetfulness
I sought in aU, save where 'tis to be found.
And that I have to learn."
" Oh, give me the art of oblivion," cried Themistocles. A man once offered to
teach a philosopher the art of memory for five talents. " I will give you ten talents,"
was the reply, " if you will teach me the art of forgetting." Very touching is the
old-world fable that between earth and the happy plains of Elysium — the classical
heaven— the river Lethe flows, and that whoever tastes its waters forgets all hia
past. The heathens knew that there could be no happiness hereafter unless some-
how memory let go its hold of past sins. Gentle sleep owes its healing power to
this, that it helps us to forget. Oh, to bury our dead past as men bury their dead
out of their sight ; for one sin vividly remembered has sometimes power to make
the whole life bitter. "Forgetfulness," it has been said, " is the daughter of time,"
but our parable shows that she is not always the daughter of eternity, as forgetting
is impossible to the impardoned. {J. Wells.) You can't rub it out I — *' Don't
write there," said a little newspaper boy to a dandified youth, whom in the waiting*
room of a railway station he saw about to scratch something with hia diamond riiM
on a mirror that was hanging on the walL " Don't write there I " ** Why not t *
264 TEE BIBLICAL ILLVSTRATOh [chap. ivi»
' ' Because you can't rub it out ! " So would I have you, my anconverted hearer,
to be careful what you write, in your words and actions, on the tablets of your
memory. You can't rub it out ! and as you think of that surely you will agree
with me that " the time past of your lives may suffice to have wrought the will of
the Gentiles." {W. M. Taylor, D.D.) Power of memory : — It is the teaching of
modern science that no force is lost in the universe. It may be changed into other
forces, but its equivalent is perpetuated. Heat becomes motion, and motion stopped
becomes heat. Hence any change in the universe must affect every part of the
universe. The jar of the present moment shakes the world, and, Proctor says, all
worlds. By your voice you set in motion currents of air which meet on the other
side of the globe. No man can speak blasphemy or foulness even in privacy
without having the whole universe for an audience. We are moved upon by
physical influences, born ages ago, in the remotest domain of space. In like
manner the forces which originate in this world affect all worlds. Nothing is lost
in the hard domain of matter. Is it likely that anything is lost in the sensitive
realm of mind ? Let us not think that the mental history of our life is to be lost.
Great libraries have been lost and scholars have wept, but the book of the human
eoul has not yet been destroyed, and all its obscure passages will yet be illumined.
All that is needed is a sensation strong enough to bring the past to life. The
judgment bar of Christ will make us remember. What a terrible retribution would
be the giving of a lost soul to the contemplation of himself 1 With what anguish
would he look on his own vanquished years! "Sad memory weaves no veil to hide
the past." Hour after hour, year after year, the past Ufe is unfolded, and in the
midst of that past he beholds the form of Jesus and seems to hear His words of
sorrow and of doom : — " Ail thy life long have I stretched forth My hands to thee,
and thou wouldest not." A great gulf. — The bridgeless gulf: — I. In trying
solemnly to tpeak upon this flatter, I shall commence with this — tbebb is ko
PASSAGE FEOM HEAVEN TO HKLL — " They which would pass from hence to you,
cannot." Glorified saints cannot visit the prison-house of lost sinners. They did
both grow together until the time of the harvest ; it is not necessary, now that
harvest has come, that they should lie together any longer. It were inconsistent
with the perfect joy and the beatific state of the righteous, with its perfect calm
and purity, that sin should be admitted into their midst, or that they should be
permitted to find companionships in the abodes of evil. Those who are nearest
and dearest must be divided from you, if you perish in your sins. II. As we
cannot go from heaven to hell, so the text assures us, " Neitheb can they comb
TO us THAT WOULD COME FBOM THENCE." The siuuer canuot come to heaven for a
multitude of reasons. Among the rest, these : 1. First, his own character forbids
it. 2. Moreover, not only does the man's character shut him out, but also the
sinner's doom. What was it? "These shall go away into everlasting punishment."
If it is everlasting, how can they enter heaven ? 3. Moreover, sinner, thou canst
not go out of the prison-house because God's character and God's word are against
thee. Shall God ever cease to be just ? III. But now, once again to change the
subject for a few minutes, I have to notice in the third place, that while no persons
can pass that bridgeless chasm, so no things can. Nothing can come from hell to
heaven. Rejoice ye saints in light, triumph in your God for this — no temptation
of Satan can ever vex you when once you are landed on the golden strand ; yon are
beyond bowshot of the arch-enemy ; he may howl and bite his iron hands, but bis
bowlings cannot terrify and his bitings cannot disturb. IV. Again, we change the
strain for a fourth point, and this a terrible one. As nothing can come from hell
to heaven, so nothing heavenly can ever come to hell. There are rivers of life at
God's right hand — those streams can never leap in blessed cataracts to the lost. Not
a drop of heavenly water can ever cross that chasm. 1. See then, sinner, heaven
is rest, perfect rest — but there is no rest in hell ; unceasing tempest. 2. Heaven,
too, is a place of joy ; there happy fingers sweep celesti^ chords ; there joyous
spirits sing hosannahs day without night ; but there is no joy in hell. 3. Heaven
is the place of sweet communion with God. 4. There is no communion with God
in hell. (C. H. Spurgeon.) The impassable gulf:~TheTe is in a forest in
Germany a place they call the "deer-leap," two crags about eighteen yards apart,
between them a fearful chasm. This is called the " deer- leap," because once a
hunter was on the track of a deer ; it came to one of these crags ; there was no
escape for it from the pursuit of the hunter, and in utter despair it gathered itself
op, and in the death agony attempted to jump across. Of course it fell, and wat
dashed on the rocks far beneath. Here is a path to heaven. It is plain, it is safe.
CSAP. XVI.1 8T. LUKE. 28t
Jesns marks it oat for every man to walk in. Bat here is a man who says, '* I
won't walk in that path ; I will take my own way." He comes on until he confronts
the chasm that divides his soal from heaven. Now bis last hoar has oome, and
he resolves that he will leap that chasm, from the heights of earth to the heights of
heaven. Stand back, now, and give him full swing, for no soal ever did that
Buccessfully. Let him try. Jump ! Jump ! He misses the mark, and he goes
down, depth below depth, " destroyed without remedy." Men 1 angels 1 devils t
what shall we call that place of awful catastrophe ? Let it be known for ever as " the
sinner's death-leap." [De W. Talmage, D.D.) The state of the »oul after death : —
I. Dying does not suspend consciousness. The Bible knows nothing of " dormant
soals." Death takes down the scaffolding, but not the edifice. II. Dtino does
NOT EFFACE BEMEMBBANCE OF THE LiviNO. Thought spccds back to earth and
earthly friends. Those on earth may forget the spirit world, but those in that
world forget not earth. III. Dtino does not ohanob chabacteb. A physical
change cannot affect moral quality. IV. Dying bbinos condition and chaeacteb
into accobd. These two men, whose outward condition was so anlike, were equally
different in character. When death came, each went to his own place, one to be
«' comforted," because the germinant seeds of peace and love were in his own
heart ; the other to be " tormented," because the devouring flames of unbelief and
selfishness were in his own bosom. V. Dying kendees the condition bbsultino
FBOM CHABACTEB PERMANENT. Man may hope that although he die impenitent, he
will in the future life find some path to heaven. But the Bible points to none.
The rich man had new light, but it did not make him penitent. It did not humble
him for his 8in. It did not banish his unbelief. It did not expel his selfishness.
It did not fill his heart with love. It helped him to see, what perhaps he had
before disbelieved, that life on earth is the only time to prepare for life beyond the
grave. The only way to heaven is by coming into harmony with God. {P.B.Davis.)
The great gulf: — The gulf is not one of space or locality, but must be sought in
the souls of individuals. It is not of place, but of being. It existed before the
rich man and Lazarus died. Death did not create it. As in life, so in death, there'
can be no passing over it. Between the spiritually-minded man and the carnally-
minded man a gulf is fixed. One cannot be as the other : nothing is so impossible.
Between the pure wife and mother and the harlot that walks the streets a great gulf
is fixed. The gulf cannot be passed — one cannot go to the other. You say,
" Cannot the pure woman fall ? " She cannot fall, and remain what she is. To
fall would not be to cross the chasm ; to fall would be filling it up ; no gulf would
any longer exist ; she would have become even as the other. But look at it in this
way — each remaining what she is, could either transfer to the other her personal
qualities ? Could the one on the blissful side convey one drop of purity or joy of
womanhood to the other poor wretch in her flame of torment? Would not she
have to refuse for herself, and for all her sisters, a drop of water for the cooling of
her blistered tongue ? No, there can be no crossing ; only a filling up. And,
if I were disposed to use this parable on either side of the controversy in
reference to the future, I should say, in the case of the rich man, that process
had already begun. But I do not think it legitimate to ase it on either one
side or the other. The gulf does not symboUze fixedness of destiny; but the
dividing lines of good and evil character, and consequent misery and bliss. No
man can live in sin and selfishness, and reap ultimate advantage. A process
is going on in him as he thus lives, which separates him in ever greater
distance from the possibilities of spiritual peace and bliss. {W. Hubbard.)
If one went unto them from the dead. — Lazarus and his message : — 1. There is
something common to this life and that to come. Heaven will give as the full
gratifying banquet ; but here we have, as it were, the crumbs of the heavenly table,
not tossed to us disdainfully, but furnished to as compassionately that we may not
perish whilst we are waiting for the hour when all our holy appetites shall be
satisfied to the full. 2. Now concerning our estimation of the relative worth of
this life and the life beyond. " What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole
world and lose his own soul ? " — says Christ. " Then shall the righteous shine
forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father " — says Christ. Evidently, then,
oar Lord, whilst He had the warmest sympathies, the truest natural affections, and
the keenest eye for whatever gleamed forth of interest in human affairs— loving the
earth, though not " earthly " — evidently our Lord makes the preponderant motive
of life here, the expectation of complete and satisfying life hereafter. 8. Now
eonceming the law on which the decision turns as to where we shall be placed in ft
266 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap, m,
world to come. In Christ's last public parable, the test of the jndgment is Love.
The Gentile nations are brought before Him ; the sheep — those who are ready fof
the green pastures of the ancient but ever fresh kingdom — why are they ready ?
Because they did whatsoever good their hand found to do. If anybody wanted
help and needed pity, they brought help and did not spare their pity ; but the goats
were those who might have given help, but gave none ; who might have given pity,
but had none to give. They had no tears ready ; and they rather avoided a prison
if they had friends in it ; for who wants to have to do with friends whose fortunes
have fallen? Now how very simple all these tests are, but very searching; but they
are all comprised and infolded in this one word " love. " Hadst thou any real love ?
What other test could there be than this ? 4. Concerning then the changes and
stages of the world to come. Did our Lord say anything about a man getting a bad
place in the next world, and afterwards being better off ? No. Did He say anything
to make persons comfortable in the supposition that there was such a Divine mercy ;
that if they lived as they would, carelessly here, nevertheless the smart might not be
60 very keen hereafter ? Was it likely that our wise Lord would encourage us in the
too common spirit of postponement? Was it likely that our Lord, who was intent
upon the best, would allow people foolishly to congratulate themselves that they
might aim at something very far below the best, and that at least they would be
Eure to escape the worst ? The only security is this — faith in the heart, that life of
the Lord Jesus Christ, which purifies this world and every other : the one life by
which a man may be in heaven whilst on earth ; the one life by which the very
lowest who sit even upon the dunghill, dependent upon the crumbs, and often
weeping over their own sorrows, may have communion with God's holy, exalted
angels who soar in His presence, or rest at His feet, and who neither shed tears
nor suffer pain. (T. T. Lynch.) The sufficiency of the Divine revelation : —
J. ThEBE IB A BEVELATION GIVEN TO MAN, TO GUIDE HIU TO HAPPINESS. U. TbS
BEVELATION WHICH IS GIVEN TO MAN IS SUFFICIENT FOB HIS SALVATION. IIL II" THE
GIVEN BEVELATION IS NEGLECTED, AN EXTBAOBDINABY INTERPOSITION IS NOT TO BB
EXPECTED. IV. The neglect AND CONTEMPT OP THE EEVEALBD WOBO WILL PBOVE
THE INEVITABLE BUIN OP THE UNGODLY. (The Preochcrs' Treasury.) The moral
tffect of a visit from the dead : — The folly of demanding that one should visit us
from the dead, for the double purpose of proving the future state and preparing us
for it, will appear if you will look thoughtfully — 1. At the sort of witness and
testimony demanded. As to the witness, it is for " one from the dead," and his
proposed duty is to " testify " to the living. Not an angel ; but a dead man. And
he is to come back to earth not to work prodigies, but to bear witness. If such a
spirit were seized with either a voluntary or involuntary impulse to return to his
earthly theatre of action and begin life afresh, in what way would such a wanderer
make himself known to your senses ? Can you tell ? Now the first thing necessary
to your satisfaction would be to recognize him as a human soul, fresh from the fields
of immortality. If there should be more than one, you must know all of them to
be veritable witnesses in order to beheve them, and how will you settle this in each
case ? In this world a witness, oral or by parole, is always recognized through his
body. But the body which this spirit wore on earth lies unstirred in the sepulchre.
The general character of human spirits, and the possession of specific secrets for
their identification, are very insecure signs, on which we can place but slight
dependence. And does it mend the matter at all, even if his body should be raised
for this visit ? Here you see that the men who reject the evidence of miracle in all
ether cases insist upon the working of the most stupendous miracle possible, before
they will believe one word in this case. Supposing, then, that God had granted the
request of Dives by sending Lazarus back to the " five brethren," and they had
recognized him, how would his visit have acted upon their minds morally if they
were men of thought, reason, and common sense ? Let us see. Eight there the
thrilling spectacle of spectral testimony begins. Their very first thought would
relate to the reality of the witness himself ; whether he were an entity or a phantasm.
They wonld demand of him the proof that he had really lived and died, and visited
the shaded provinces of departed souls, that he had become known to their brother
there, and returned to this globe in a provable identity. They would then demand
proof that, as a witness, his own mind was not influenced by optical illusion,
spectral disease; that it was solid, sound, and well balanced, and so that his
narrative was not the fruit of an excited fancy. Nay, they would need to convince
themselves that their own brains did not reel before him in delusion. When all
this should be settled, then the real diffioultiei of the apparition witness would bat
CBip, XVI.] 8T. LUKE. 267
just begin, if he were not scoated »nd ridiculed nntil he were ready to abandon hia
own convictions and discredit his own story. The very attempt to express the first
sentence would confound him, because it would discover to him a set of ethereal
conceptions taken up into his own incorporeal existence, with which earth had no
analogies, and therefore has no words nor methods by which they can be intelligibly
stated or understood. 2. Testimony so given, and by such a deponent, would be
totally inadequate to its alleged purpose, both in its nature and effects. How can
the eye of the body fixed upon a corporal being convince the understanding about
the invisible things of the eternal world ? These are things of faith, not of sight,
like so many colours of the rainbow. K the risen Christ is no proof to the senses,
much less can one like ourselves from the dead be a convincing witness to warn us.
It is much more likely that we should want to kill him than to be ** persuaded "
by him ; just as the Jews callously wanted to kill Lazarus of Bethany when Jesus
had raised him from the dead. I can easily tmderstand how the presence of a man
raised from the dead might terrify a guilty sinner ; how the apparition might put
him under an appalling spell, so that his heart fluttered ; a prisoner under the
charms of magic ; but I cannot see how the bondage of evil habits could be broken,
or the deceptive charms of sin dissolved by such a startling apparition. Even the
pure presence of an angel stooping to an earthly mission has been so terrific to
holy men, that they have feared death in consequence. But how, if a ghastly
spectre should glare upon guilty and hardened men from the solitudes of eternity,
and address them in sepulchral tones ; surely their blood would curdle, their nerves
shrink, their hearts faint, and their life become ice. How can all this be related to
genuine repentance? (T. Armitage, D.D.) The claims of revealed truth: —
I. There exists a revelation from God, designed fob ihb guidance and
SALVATION OF MAN. II. ThIS REVELATION IS FULLY QCALIEIED TO ACCOMPLISH THE
PURPOSES FOB WHICH IT WAS GIVEN. IH. On THE REJECTION OP REVELATION, IT IS
NOT TO RE EXPECTED THAT ANT SUPERNATURAL VISITATIONS WOULD PRODUCE A SAVINQ
IMPRESSION OH THE HEART. 1. The cause which produces the rejection of the
message of God in His written Word, will operate also against the message which
might be taught by supernatural agency. 2. It is equally easy to explain away a
supernatural visitation, as it is to explain away the evidence of revelation. 3. The
inefficiency of supernatural visitations has been shown by experience. 4. It is the
positive arrangement of God, that His word, as given in the inspired reeord, and
proclaimed in the established ordinances of grace, shall be the only means of
persuasion and conversion ; and the promise of the Spirit's influence does not
extend to any other instrumentality. IV. The rejection op Divine revelation,
IB THE CAUSE OP FUTURE CONDEMNATION AND MISERY. (J. PaTBOTlS.) The Divine
authority and sufficiency of the Christian religion: — I. The suFFiciENcy o» the
STANDING REVELATION OP God'S WILL IN THE SCEIPTURES, TO BEING MEN TO BE-
PENTENCB. 1. The Scriptures give us sufficient instructions what we should believe,
or are a sufficient rule of faith. 2. The Scriptures give us complete directions in
matters of practice, or are a sufficient rule of life. 3. The Scriptures are attended
with sufficient evidence of their truth and divinity. 4. The religion of Jesus
proposes sufficient excitements to influence our faith and practice. II. The vanity
AND UNREASONABLENESS OF THE OBJECTION AGAINST THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION, AND OP
DEMANDING ANOTHEB. {President Davies.) The unreasonableness of unbelief: —
I. Consider the evidence op Divine truth presented by one risen prom the
DEAD. 1. The impressions made by one who was seen to rise from the grave, and
gave to the spectators his testimony concerning a future state, would undoubtedly
be great and solemn. 2. The evidence which would attend everything said by such
a person would be irresistible. II. Examine the evidence op Divine truth
furnished by the Scriptures, and the advantage which they possess fob con-
viNciNO AND persuading THE MIND. In this examination — 1. The thing that meets
ns is, that the Scriptures were written by God, and were therefore written in the
best manner that was possible to accomplish their end. The things which are
communicated in the Scriptures concerning our future existence are in their nature
the most solemn and impressive which can be conceived. They are such as God
thought it wisest and best to communicate, and are therefore certainly the wisest
and best possible. In tiieir own nature also, and as they appear in themselves
to our eyes, they possess an immeasurable solemnity and importance. 8. Beside
the things which a person risen from the dead coold unfold, the Scriptures afford
many others pre-eminently important and affecting. 4. All these things come
directly from God Himself, and are invested with His authority. 5 The Scriptures
269 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xrt.
were attested by miracles very numerons, and certainly not less solemn and im-
pressive than the resurrection of a man from the dead. III. Show that thb
DOCTBiNE JS TRDE, On this subject I observe — 1. That we ourselves do not
ordinarily dispute the truth of the scriptural declarations, nor the sufficiency of the
evidence by which they are supported ; and yet are in very few instances persuaded
to repent. 2. Those who were witnesses of these very miracles generally did not
repent. 3. Among all the persons with whom, while they were anxiously solicitona
about their salvation, I have had opportunity to converse, I do not remember even
one who ever mentioned his own indisposition to repent, as in any degree derived
from the want of evidence to support the truth of the Scriptures. Concluding
remarks : 1. It is manifest from these considerations that the reason why mankind
do not embrace the gospel is not the want of evidence. 2. From these observa-
tions, it is clear that no evidence will persuade a sinful heart. (T. Dwight, D.D.)
The sufficiency of the Divine revelation : — I. It is unreasonable to expect that
God should do mobb fob the conviction of men, than to affobd them a
STANDING BEVELATION OF HiS MIND AND WILL ; BDCH AS THAT OF THE HoLT SCRIPTUBES
IS. This is strongly implied in Abraham's first answer, " They have Moses and
the prophets, let them hear them " ; as if he had said — having such means of
conviction 80 near at hand, why should they desire and expect any other ? It is in
this case of the Scriptures, as in that of God's providence ; God does not commonly
prove His providence to men by extraordinary instances of His power, and by
changing the course of nature, to convince every man in the world that He governs
it ; but by standing testimonies of His wisdom, and power, and goodness ; by these
God does sufficiently satisfy considerate men of His government and care of the
world. The case is the same as to Divine revelation. We tempt God by demand-
ing extraordinary signs, when we may receive so abundant satisfaction in an ordinary
way. II. It is, upon the whole mattes, vebi imfbobable that those who beject
THIS public BSTELATION OF GoD, SHOULD BE EFFECTUALLY CONVINCED, THOUQH ONE
SHOULD SPEAK TO THEM FBOM THE DEAD. 1. Bccause, If such miraoles were frequent
and familiar, it is very probable they would have but very little effect ; and unless
we suppose them common and ordinary, we have no reason to expect them at all
2. Men have as great or greater reason to believe the threatenings of God's Word
as the discourse of one that should speak to them from the dead. 3. The vety
same reason which makes men to reject the counsels of God in His Word, would,
in all probability, hinder them from being convinced by a particular miracle. 4.
Experience does abundantly testify how ineffectual extraordinary ways are to cor
vince those who are obstinately addicted and wedded to their lusts. 6. An effectual
persuasion (that is, such a belief as produceth repentance and a good life) is the
gift of God, and depends upon the operation and concurrence of God's grace, which
there is no reason to expect either in an extraordinary way or in an extraordinary
degree, after men have obstinately rejected the ordinary means which God hath
appointed to that end. Concluding remarks : 1. Since the Scriptures are the public,
and standing revelation of God's will to men, and the ordinary means of salvation,
we may hence conclude that people ought to have them in such a language as they
can understand. 2. Let us hear and obey that public revelation of God's will,
which, in so much mercy to mankind, He hath been pleased to afford to us. P
Those who are not brought to repentance, and effectually persuaded by this clear
and public revelation, which God hath made of His will to men in the Holy Scrip-
tures, have reason to look upon their case as desperate. {Archbishop Tillotson.)
The sufficiency of Scripture : — I. At first bioht we mioht think it almost impos-
BIBLB FOB us NOT TO OBEY ONE BISINS UP FBOM THE QBAVE, AND STANDING BEFOBB U9
WITH ALL THE SIGNS AND KYSTEBIES OF A SPIRIT COME FBOM THE UNSEEN WOBLD. lu
most of US there is a shrinking fear of the supernatural as well as of wonderment,
and we can well understand the terror the night-spectre was adapted to produce in
the mind of Eliphaz, the friend of Job. The message may or may not be remem-
bered, but, in either case, evil does its work. The memory of the vision becomes
fainter and fainter, and the ring of the message dies away in the distance, until at
last it is heard no more, thought of and felt no more. Besides, what is simply
heard by the ear is apt to be twisted into some meaning of our own construction,
and, like tradition generally, be overloaded with strange fables and unnatural
descriptions. Hence we learn from the declaration of Abraham — II. Ths great
TALUS AND IMPORTANCE OF THE SACRED ScBiPTUBEB. They are ever before us, ever sa
plain and simple that " a wayfaring man, though a fool, need not err therein." To
ai we have not only the testimony of Moses and the prophets, but of our Lord Him-
«HAP. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 269
fielf. With the whole of Qod's moral revelation before as, bearing with it ths
«videnoe of the most ancient life, combined with the evidence of a life wherein
ancient and modern meet in harmony and truth, what need we more ? It may be
said to as, " If we believe not Christ, neither will we believe if one rose from the
dead," IL Why is this ? Why did Abraham fokesee thb inutility of oiviNa any
ADDITIONAL INFOBMATION BEYOND WHAT IS ALREADY GIVEN ? Why, if the Bible fails,
will a spirit from the dead fail also ? The answer is to be found in the intensity
and deep-rooteduess of man's selfishness. Herein is the problem of man's rejection
of the truth of God solved — herein is the mystery of oar unbelief and hardness of
heart explained. It was selfishness that made a wreck of Dives. He lived for him-
self, q,Dd in that life overlooked the claims of God and man ; he lived for " the good
things " of the world, and closed out from his conceptions and practical living the
" good things " of God. {W. D. Horwood.) Do we need a new revelation ? — I.
The Divine messaqe of the Bible is sufficient fob its pubpose. 1. The purposa
of revelation is moral and active. 2. Jesus Christ believed and taught the sufii-
«iency of revelation for this purpose. II. No supebnatubal mabvel will accouplisb
THIS POBPOSB MOBE EFFICIENTLY. 1. The great difi&culty to be overcome is not
intellectual, but moraL 2. The active and moral purpose of revelation cannot be
effected by any external supernatural event. (1) Do not place great reliance on the
bomiletical effect of lurid pictures of hell. They may deaden conscience while they
rouse fear. Dante is not sufficient without Moses and Christ. (2) Do not expect
too maoh from the curative effects of future punishment. (3) Do not regret tha
loss of miracles. Spiritualism has not proved itself to be a gospel of salvation for
character. (4) No longer wilfully refuse to obey the truth, which is able to make
us wise unto salvation. (W. F. Adeney, M.A.) Impotent desires in hell : — Is there
love in hell ? Do the spirits of the lost remember still those whom they have left
behind ? And can they feel indeed an interest about their. spiritual welfare ? Or,
are they words which do not bear upon the great point of the parable, and of which«
therefore, we are not to look for any parallel in the things of life ? Or, was it a
mere selfishness still, that he might escape his brothers' reproaches, when they
flhonld come to upbraid him for his bad example, that Dives said, " I pray thee
therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my father's house : for I have five
brethren, that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of
torment." I incline to think that if we are to apply the words to ourselves at all,
they convey to ns this fact— that in that wretched world, there may spring up
desires, good desires, but that it will be too late. For ever and for ever tiiose
desires may live, but never to be gratified. And who shall say what an amount of
torment might lie in an eternity of impotent and unsatisfied longings ? I can con-
ceive of nothing more horrible than to have continually aspirations after something
good, yet all the while the consciousness that that good, and after which we aspire,
is a thing utterly and eternally impossible. {J. Vauglian, M.A.) The request of
Dives for his five brethren: — I. Now it is admitted by this lost man that bepent-
ANCE is necessaby. 1. 1 remark, in the first place, that a messenger from the dead —
that is, from another world — could not give to you or to me, or to any one else,
information more distinct, more explicit, more comprehensive, on any subject that
it concerns man to know in order to his repentance and salvation, than the sacred
writings have already furnished. 2. Again, such a messenger could not aathenticat*
his mission and his message by evidence more clear, more satisfactory, more con-
vincing, than that by which the Divine authenticity of these writings are sustained.
3. Besides, that disposition of heart, which prevents your repentance under the
discoveries and the motives and the influences of revealed truth, would render you
impeni tent still, " though one rose from the dead." 4.. Besides these, there is
another consideration : all agents and instruments, ordinary or extraordinaty, can
only succeed as they are attended by the Divine blessing and influence. 5. If, how-
ever, these reasonings fail to produce conviction in any mind now before me, then
I have another species of evidence in reserve — most unbending ; and it is evidenca
derived from fact. The request has been granted ; the thing has been tried; and
it has utterly failed. U. Now what abe the fbactical conclusions at which wa
should abbivb fbom this subject ? 1. And the first is — the sufficiency of revealed
truth ; so that if persons are not awakened and brought to repentance and conver-
sion by its light and evidence and influence, all extraordinary methods and agencies
would be in vain. 2. Secondly, on the admission of the sutHciency of the Divine
revelation, then it follows that it is as unreasonable, as it is impious and ungrate-
ful, to desire and to wish for more. 3. Thirdly, as extraordinary messengers and
270 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip, xyv
agents would be useless, I infer that we are not to expect them. 4. Again : I draw
another conclusion — humbling, admonitory, and it is this. On the admission that
we have sufiBcient means of instruction and of repentance and of salvation fur-
iiished, then how inexcusable the folly and how aggravated the guilt of those who
Btill remain impenitent ! 5. And then finally, having yourselves experienced the
power and efiScacy of Divine truth, and having yourselves experienced repentance
unto life, and yourselves richly participating in the blessings of grace and salvation,
then be concerned (as it is meet and right and your bounden duty) for your fellow-
sinners, that they may be brought to repentance ; for your fellow-creatures, that,
they may be partakers with you of ' ' like precious faith " and love and life and
happiness and salvation. (R. Newton, D.D.) A preacher from the dead: — I.
First, it is thought that if one did come from the dead to preach, there would be h,
CONFIRMATION OF THE TRUTH OF THE GOSPEL, and a testimony borne at which jeering
infidelity would stand aghast in silence. Stop, we will see about that. 1. If, my
friends, the testimony of one man who had been raised from the dead were of any
value for the confirming of the gospel, would not God have used it before now ?
Now, God knoweth best ; we will not compare our surmises to Divine decision. H
God decided that resurrection men should be silent, it was best it should be ; their
testimony would have been of little worth or help to as, or else it would have been
borne. 2. But again, I think it will strike our minds at once, that if this very day
a man should rise from his tomb, and come here to affirm the truth of the gospel,
the infidel world would be no more near believing than it is now. Infidelity would
still cry for something more. It is like the horse-leech ; it crieth, •• Give, give I "
S. And besides, my friends, if men will not believe the witness of God, it is impoB-
Bible that they should believe the witness of man. II. It is imagined, however,
that if one of " the spirits of the just made perfect " would come to earth, even if
he did not produce a most satisfactory testimony to the minds of sceptics, Ha
WOULD YBT BE ABLE TO GIVE ABUNDANT INFORMATION CONCEBNINO THE KINGDOM OF
HEAVEN. Surely he would have brought down with him some handfuls of the
clusters of Eshcol ; he would have been able to tell us some celestial secrets, which
would have cheered our hearts, and nerved us to run the heavenly race, and put a^
cheerful courage on. Nothing more could we know that would be of any use.
Tattlers, idle curiosity people, and such like, would be mightily delighted with such.
a man. Ah 1 what a precious preacher he would be to them, if they could get him.
all the way from heaven, and get him to tell all its secrets out I But there the
matter would end. It would be merely the gratification of curiosity ; there would
be no conferring of blessing ; for if to know more of the future state would be a
blessing for us, God would not withhold it ; there can be no more told us. If what
you know would not persuade you, " Neither would you be persuaded though one
rose from the dead." III. Yet some say, •* Surely, if there were no gain i»
MATTER, TET THERE WOULD BE A GAIN IN MANNER. Oh, if such a Spirit had descended
from the spheres, how would he preach ? What eloquence celestial would flow
from his lips 1 " I do believe that Lazarus from Abraham's bosom would not be
80 good a preacher as a man who has not died, but whose lips have been touched
witii a live coal from ofF the altar. Instead of his being better, I cannot see thai
he wonld be quite so good. Could a spirit from the other world speak to you more
solemnly than Moses and the prophets have spoken ? Or could they speak more
solemnly than you have heard the word spoken to you at divers times already f
Ah ! but you say, you want some one to preach to you more feelingly. Then, sir,
yon cannot have him in the preacher you desire. A spirit from heaven could not
be a feeling preacher. It wonld be impossible for Lazarus, who had been in
Abraham's bosom, to preach to you with emotion. Such a preacher could not be a
powerful preacher, even though he came again from the dead. (<7. H. Spurgeon.)
The sufficiency oj the Bible : — It will be a solemn thought to-night, when, in your
own room, you open that holy volume, and think, "This Bible, that is being now
preached, this Bible which I am reading, is the highest, best, last, only means by
which God undertakes and promises absolutely to convert, teach, comfort, edify,
save me. What then 7 If the hearing and reading Godte Word have not turned
my heart, then the resurrection would not do it I nothing would do it I " And with
this conclusion, I am confident that all experience will agree. Great ^ events, sur-
prises, sorrows, bereavements, will, by God's grace, bring a man to his Bible, and
then his Bible will bring him to God ; and then it would seem as if those eventa
converted him ; but the truth is, that God's Word did the work— the rest only
brought him there. But let as understand dearly what this Book is. What is tha
CHAT. XVI.] ST. LUKE. 271
Bible ? It is the likeness which the Holy Spirit has tal?en of the mind of Christ.
And what is Christ ? The likeness of the mind of the Father. Then what is the
Bible? The exact and perfect transcript of the Spirit, as the Spirit is the perfect
transcript of Christ, and as Christ is the perfect transcript of the mind of God.
That is the Bible. No wonder then that whatever is to be done, it is this which
must do it. But now we are directed to the manner in which the Bible is to
be savingly used. " If they hear not " — that is, if they do not realize it even as if
they heard a voice — if they do not hear and obey — " Moses and the prophets, then
they would not be persuaded, though one rose from the dead." (J. Vaughan, M.A.)
Scripture-evidence sufficient to make men religious : — 1. God has given us sufmoient
EVrOENCB TO PBOVB THE TRUTH OF RELIGION, AND SUmCIENT ARGUMENTS TO BNFORCB
THE PRACTICE OF IT. God has givcn US all that evidence to prove the truth of
Christian religion, and all those arguments to enforce the practice of it, which it
was agreeable either to the wisdom of God to give, or the reason of men to expect.
1. As to the intrinsic evidence from the excellency of the nature of the thing
itself, the duties which Christian religion requires are such as are plainly most
agreeable to our natural notions of God, and most conducive to the happiness and
wellbeing of men ; and this is a proof which might alone be sufiScient to convince
a wise man that his religion was from God. 2. Besides the intrinsic evidence for
the truth of religion from the excellency of the nature of the thing itself, it is
moreover proved to be taught and confirmed of God by the most credible and satis-
factory testimony that was ever given to any matter of fact in the world. II.
The second general proposition I designed to speak to is that such men as will not
be persuaded to be sincerely religious by that evidence and those arguments which
Goil has afforded us, would not be persuaded bt ant other bvidencb or motivb
OF RELIGION WHICH THEIR OWN UNREASONABLE FANCY COULD SUGGEST TO THEM TO
DESIRE. III. In order to the making men truly religious, it is not necessary that
God should on His part work more miracles to give them greater convictions, but
only THAT THEY ON THEIR OWN PART SHOULD BECOME BEASONABLB PERSONS, LAY
ASIDE THEIR UNJUST PREJUDICES, AND FORSAKE THEIR UNREASONABLE LUSTS, WHICH
HINDER THEM FROM CONSIDERING THE TRUE FORCE OF THE ARGUMENTS OF RELIGION.
They have no concern for the interests of truth and virtue. The love of this
present world has blinded their eyes, and it is for that reason only that they receive
not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto them (I Cor. ii.
14). (S. Clarke, D.D.) I. First, then, let us consider whether thb evidencb
UPON which revelation stands BB in itself greater or MORE CONVINCING THAN THB
EVIDENCB OF ONE COMING FROM THB DEAD CAN BE. II. ThAT THB OBJECTIONS WHICH
rNBELIEVERS URGE AGAINST THE AUTHORITY OF REVELATION WILL LIB STRONGER AGAINST
THE AUTHORITY OF ONE COMING FROM THE DEAD. For, first, as to the nature of this
sort of evidence, if it be any evidence at all, it is a revelation, and therefore,
whatever has been said against the authority of revelation, will be applicable to
this kind of it. And, consequently, those who, upon the foot of natural religion,
stand out against the doctrine of the gospel, would much more stand out again<it
the authority of one coming from the dead. And whether it would weigh more
with the atheist, let any one consider. For no revelation can weigh with him ; for
the Being of God, which he disbelieves, is supported with greater arguments and
greater works than any revelation can be. And therefore, standing out against the
evidence of all nature, speaking in the wonderful works of the creation, he can
never reasonably submit to a less evidence. Let, then, one from the dead appear
to him, and he will, and certainly may, as easily account for one dead man's
recovering life and motion, as he does for the life and motion of so many men,
whom he sees every day. But, further, let us suppose a man free from all these pre-
judices, and then see what we can make of this evidence. If a dead man should come
to you, you must suppose either that he speaks from himself, and that his errand to
you is the effect of his own private affection for you, or that he comes by commission
and authority from God. As to the first case, you have but the word of a man for all
you hear, and how will you prove that a dead man is incaj/able of practising a
eheat upon you ? Or, allowing the appearance to be real, and the design honest,
do you think every dead man knows the counsels of God, and His will with
respect to His creatures here on earth ? If you do not think this, and I cannot see
possibly how you should think it, what use will you make of this kind of revela-
tion ? Should he tell you that the Christian faith is the true faith, the way to
heaven and happiness, and that God will reward all true believers, you would hay*
much less reason to believe him than now yoa have to believe Christ and Hia
272 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. rrw
apostles. Bat, on the other side, should yoa sappose this man tc come by tha
partioalar order and appointment of God, and conseqaently that what he says is tha
word and command of God, you must then be prepared to answer such objections aa
you are now ready to make against the mission and authority of Christ and His
apostles. First, then, we ask. How this commission appears ? If you say because
he comes from the dead, we cannot rest here, because it is not self-evident that
all who come from the dead are inspired. And yet farther than this you cannot
go, for it is not supposed that your man from the dead works miracles. The mis-
sion of Christ we prove by prophecies and their completion ; by the signs and wonders
He wrought by the hand of God ; by His resurrection, which includes both kinds,
being in itself a great miracle and likewise the completion of a prophecy. III. By
considering the temper of infidelity. For where unbelief proceeds, as generally it
does, from a vitiated and corrupted mind, which hates to be refcrmed, which reiects
the evidence because it will not admit the doctrine, not the doctrine beoauiie it
cannot admit the evidence ; in this case all proofs will be alike, and it will be
lost labour to ply such a man with reason or new evidence, since it is not want o(
reason or evidence that makes him an unbeliever. (T. Sherlock, D.D.) A
standing revelation the best meant of conviction : — I. To state and limit thk dob
aXTBNT OF IT. II. To CONFIRM THE TRUTH, SO STATED, BY TABIOUS ARGUMENTS AND
BEFiiSCTioNS. After which I shall — III. Deduce some inferences from it. As to the
extent of this assertion, we may observe — I. 1. That it is evidently to be under-
stood of such persons only as are placed in the same circumstances with the five
brethren in the parable ; such, consequently, as have been bom, where the trua
religion is professed, and bred up in the belief of it ; have had all the early pre-
judices of education on the side of truth, and all manner of opportunities and
advantages towards acquainting themselves with the grounds of it ; and yet, not-
withstanding all these advantages, have shut their eyes against it, and withstood
its force. 2. Neither is the assertion to be rigorously extended to all those who
have been educated under the influence of a Divine revelation, and yet lived in
opposition to the rules of it ; for there is great reason to believe that there ar«
many persons who, through the heat of their lusts and passions, through tha
contagion of ill example, or too deep an immersion in the affairs of life, swerve
exceedingly from the rules of their holy faith, and yet would, upon such an extra-
ordinary warning as is mentioned in the text, be brought to comply with them.
3. That even of these profiigate creatures themselves it is not said that so astonish-
ing a scene would make no manner of impression, would have no present influenoa
upon them ; but only that it would not produce a lasting effect, nor work an entire
conversion. II. Second general head to confirm by various arguments and rbfleo-
TiOMS. And — 1. We will suppose that such a message from the dead as that for which
the rich man here intercedes is really in itself an argument of greater strength and
force to persuade a sinner out of the error of his ways than any standing revela-
tion, however so well attested and confirmed. I wiU show, nevertheless, that it
would not be complied with. Because — (1) It is not for want of strength that tha
standing ordinary ways of proof are rejected, but for want of sincerity, and a
disinterested mind in those to whom they are proposed ; and the same want of
sincerity, the same adhesion to vice and aversion from goodness, will be equally a
reason for their rejecting any proof whatsoever. (2) A motive, however stronger
in itself than another, may yet make a weaker impression when employed, after
that the motive of less though sufficient strength hath been already resisted. For
the mind doth, by every degree of affected unbelief, contract more and more of a
general indisposition towards believing ; so that such a proof, as would have been
closed with certainty at the first, shall be set aside easily afterwards, when a man
hath been used to dispute himself out of plain truths, and to go against the light
of his own understanding. (3) The peculiar strength of the motive may of itself,
perhaps, contribute to frustrate the efficacy of it, rendering it liable to be sus-
pected by him to whom it is addressed. He is conscious how little he hath deserved
80 extraordinary a privilege. (4) How far these suspicions of his will be improved
and heightened by the raillery and laughter he will be sure to meet with on this head
from his old friends and companions. (5) Time and a succession of other objeota
will bring it about. Every day the impression loses somewhat of its force, and
grows weaker, till at length it comes to lie under the same disadvantage with the
standing proofs of tiie gospeL Hitherto I have supposed that the evidence of one
xisen from the dead hath really the advantage, in point of force and efficacy, of any
standing revelation, how well soever attested and confirmed ; and, prooeeding oa
'. XVI.] ST. LUKE, 27*
that sapposition, I have endeavoured to show that such evidence, however in itself
forcible, would certainly not be complied with. Bat the truth is, and, upon a fair
balance of the advantages on either side it will appear that the common standing
rules of the gospel are a more probable and powerful means of conviction than
anj such message or miracle : — 1. For this plain reason, because they include
in them that very kind of evidence which is supposed to be so powerful, and do,
withal, afford us several other additional proofs of great force and clearness. Among
many arguments by which the truth of our religion is made out to us, this is but
one, that the promulgers of it — Jesus Christ and His apostles — did that very thing
which is required to be done, raised men and women from the dead, not once only
but often, in an indisputable manner, and before many witnesses. 2. Another
great advantage which the standing proofs of the gospel have over such an extra-
ordinary appearance, that this hath all its force at once upon the first impression,
and is ever afterwards in a declining state, so that the longer it continues upon the
mind, and the oftener it is thought of, the more it loses ; whereas those, on the
contrary, gain strength and ground upon us by degrees, and the more they are
considered and weighed the more they are approved. 3. That, let the evidence of
eueh a particular miracle be never so bright and clear, yet it is still but particular,
and must, therefore, want that kind of force, that degree of influence, which
accrues to a standing general proof, from its having been tried and approved, and
consented to by men of all ranks and capacities, of all tempers and interests, of
all ages and nations. {Bishop Atterbury.) I. 1. One coming from the dead, angel
or man, cannot bring a doctrine more necessary, there being in the Scriptures
sufficient direction about the way to true happiness, for which we have not only
express testimony, but apparent reason and sensible experience. 2. Better argu-
msats cannot be urged, nor more persuasively. The gospel is " the wisdom of
God" (1 Cor. i. 24) ; and surely God knoweth all the wards of the lock, and what
kind of keys will fit the heart of man. What do we need more to move us ? Shall
Ood pipe to you in a sweeter strain than that of gospel grace or gospel promises ?
Is the giving Himself and His Christ a price too cheap to purchase your hearts ? or
must He thunder to you in a more dreadful accent than the horrors of everlasting
darkness? Oh 1 but one that cometh from the dead is supposed to testify his own
sight and knowledge, and so to speak more feelingly. And have not God's mes-
sengers some experience ? Cannot they say, We declare to you the things which
we have seen and heard and felt ? 8. It is not because he could propound these
truths with more certainty, for these things are already propounded to our
imderBtandings, and we have sensible confirmation. (1) They are propounded to
our understandings with a fair and full credibility. The holy Scriptures have in
themselves a self-evidencing light, by which they make it out to the consciences of
men that they are of God. (2) We have sensible confirmations. We are wrought
upon by sense. Now is not ordinarily the word as sensibly confirmed to us as it
would be by a vision or apparition from the dead ? (a) There is the holiness of
professors (1 Cor. xiv. 25). (b) There is the constancy of the martyrs that have
ratified this truth with the loss of their dearest concernments (Bev. zii 11). (c)<
Then there is the inward feeling of God's children ; they find a power in the wordy
convincing, changing, comforting, fortifying their hearts. They have answerable
impressions on their hearts (Heb. viii. 10). {d) Those that have no experience of
this have a secret fear of the power of the word (John iii. 20). («) There are also
outward effects of the power of the word ; its propagation throughout all the world
within thirty years or thereabout. (/) Then consider the many sensible effects of
the word, as the accomplishment of prophecies, promises, threatenings, and
answer of prayers. God's providence is a conunent upon Scripture. II. Against
it. ThEBB ABS KOBE BATIOMAIi PREJUDICES THAT LIB AGAINST ANT OTHBB WAT THAN
THIS WAT THAT OOD HATH TAKEN. As to instance in the matter in hand. 1. It is no
mean scruple about the lawfulness of hearkening to one that should come from the
dead, since they are out of the sphere of our commerce, and it is a disparagement
to the great doctor of the Church. Against consulting with the dead, see Deut.
zviii. 10-12, with 14, 15. 2. It is not so sure a way. How could we trust or believe
any one that should bring a message from the dead, since impostors are so rife ?
Satan can turn himself into an angel of light. 3. It is not so effectual a coarse as
some think. The Jews would not believe Lazarus, when, after he had been four
days dead, he was raised up again. 4. It is not so familiar a way, and therefore
not BO fit to instil faith, and reduce men to God's purpose by degrees, as
the written Word, to which we may have reooorse without affrightment, and
VOL. m. 18
«74 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [oHij. m.
that at all times. 1. That man is apt to indent with God abont believing
and repenting upon terms of his own making (Matt, xxvii. 42). God wiU not
always give sensible confirmation. 2. There lie more prejudices by far against
any way of oar devising than against the course which God hath instituted for the
furthering of our repentance. Man is an ill caterer for himself. All God's insti-
tutions are full of reason, and if we had eyes to see it we could not be better pro-
vided for. 3. God in giving the Scriptures hath done more for us than we could
imagine, yea, better than we could wish to ourselves. He hath certainly done
enough to leave us without excuse. Try what you can do with Moses and the
prophets. It is a great mercy to have a rule by which all doctrines are to be tried,
to have a standard and measure of faith, and that put into writing to preserve it
against the weakness of memory and the treachery of evil designs, and that trans-
lated into all languages. 4. That we are apt to betray present advantages by
wishes of another dispensation, as that we may have oracles and miracles. It is
but a shift to think of other means than God hath provided. Man is ever at odds
with the present dispensation. It is a sign the heart is out of order, or else any
doctrine that is of God would set it a-work. 5. Those that like not the message
will ever quarrel at the messenger ; and when the heart is wanting, something is
wanting. 6. How credulous we are to fables, and how incredulous as to undoubted
truths ; spirits and apparitions, these things are regarded by as, but the testimony
of the Spirit of God speaking in the Scriptures is little regarded. IH. How to
niPBovE THE SoBiPTUBES TO REPENTANCE. 1. Belie vo them as you would an oracle
or one from the dead. Consider the authority and veracity of God. The autho-
rity of God : God commandeth men to repent ; charge the heart in the name of
God, as it will answer to him another day. 2. Urge thy heart with it ; recollect
yourselves : "What shall we then say to these things ? " (Bom. viii. 31). {T, Man-
ton, D.D.) That a standing revelation of God is evidence sufficient for Divine
things : — 1. What we are to understand by a Divine revelation. 2. For the several
kinds of Divine revelations. That they were various the apostle to the Hebrews
tells as (chap. i. 1). And, therefore, in the third place, to show yoa what advan-
tages this standing revelation of the Scripture hath above private revelations made
to particular persons, and frequently repeated and renewed in several ages — 1. It
is a more certain way of conveyance of things, and more secure and free from im-
posture. 2. It is a more general and universal way of conveyance, which is
evident from the common experience of the world, who have pitched upon this
way of writing things in books, as that which doth most easily convey the know-
ledge and notice of things to the generahty of men. 3. It is a more uniform way
of conveyance — that is, things that are once written and propagated that way lay
equally open to all, and come in a manner with equal credit to all, it being not morally
possible that a common book that passeth through all hands, and which is of vast
importance and concernment, should be liable to any material corruption without a
general conspiracy and agreement, which cannot be bat that it must be generally
known. 4. It is a more lasting way of conveyance. 6. It is a more human way
of conveyance, which requires less of miracle and supernatural interposition for
the preservation of it. I come now to the fourth thing I proposed to be con-
sidered— namely, that there is sufficient evidence of the Divinity of the Scriptures.
Now for the Scriptures of the New Testament, I desire but these two things to be
granted to me at first — 1. That all were written by those persons whose names
they bear. 2. That those who wrote those books were men of integrity, and
did not wilfully falsify in anything. I should come now to the fifth and last
thing — namely, that it is unreasonable to expect that God should do more for
our conviction than to afford as a standing revelation of His mind and will,
such as the books of the holy Scriptures are. (Archbishop Tillotson.) OhosU
do not deter men from sin: — By a ghost we mean the spirit of man stripped of
its earthly appendages — without the material and visible conditions which dis-
tinguish his appearance among men. Now, it is not necessary for a man to go
oat of the world to realize this condition. The world is fall of such ghosts. They
are coming forth oat of the depth of their rain, their woe, and talking to as. But
who heeds them ? 1. See the ruined rich men — men of society, stripped of every-
thing that marked them among men. They are but ghosts stalking among us.
They talk to us of the folly, the vanity of riches, of the bitterness that comes with
ill-gotten gains. They speak of the torment at the end of every such course. Who
listens to these gibbering ghosts f Is there one man in a thousand who is tamed
from his ooarse ky what they say ? 2. Then there are the ghosts of those who hav*
«■!». XYi.] ST. LUKE. 275
been destroyed by intemperance. Oh, what hideous wrecks, ghosts — what testimony
they bear 1 They are dead, yet they speak ; but who listens ? The young man sees,
listens, and with a laugh turns to his glass. 3. So is it with the horrible evil of
licentiousness. We see all around us the haggard ghosts of men who were once
respectable, possessed of all that gives grace and symmetry and manhood to men,
now but a mass of putrid rottenness. These hideous ghosts, too, tell their warning
in vain in the ear of men. If one will not hear these, who come forth from the
dens of hell, neither will they be persuaded. He reasons from a wrong principle,
from a /alse knowledge of human nature, whp asserts that men would be convinced
by the testimony of the dead. 4. Look at the criminal classes. It has been
asserted that men have been made worse, instead of better, by observing the punish-
ment of criminals. Christ continually acted upon this knowledge of human nature .
When asked for a sign, something occult. He refused, saying no sign but that of
Jonah should be given. The story of Jonah teaches simple obedience. In con-
clusion : The Word is sufficient — 1. In its duties. A perfect rule of life. 2. In its
motives. 3. In its promises. {G, F. Kettell, D.D.) A spectre would not pro-
duce conviction in sinners: — Yon can hardly imagine it possible that the most
hardened of mankind would be proof against warning uttered by a spectral form,
coming mysteriously in the stillness of midnight — the form of a friend or a kinsman
well remembered, though long ago deceased — which should stand at your bedside,
and declare, in unearthly tones, the certain doom of the unrighteous ; and when
yoQ contrast with the message thus fearfully deUvered, the ordinary summons of the
gospel, whether as read or preached, you feel it, perhaps, little more than an
absurdity to contend that practically there is as much of power in the latter as in
the former. Yet we are persuaded — we are certain, that the parable put into the
mouth of Abraham may be vindicated by the most cogent yet simple reasoning.
Just consider that the effect of a messenger threatening us with punishment unless
we repent, depends chiefly on our assurance that it is actually a messenger from
God. Now tell me which is the strongest — the evidence which we have that the
Bible is God's Word, or that which we could be supposed to have that the grave haa
given up its tenant, and that the spectre has spoken to us truth ? You wUl hardly
say that there is room here for dispute ; you will hardly say that man could have a
better reason for believing what might be said to him by a departed friend or rela-
tion, than he has for believing what is written in the Bible. The evidence that ths
spectre was commissioned by God, could not surely be greater than that Christ and
the apostles were commissioned by God ; therefore the man who is not persuaded
by Christ and the apostles, might be expected to remain unpersuaded by the spectre.
He has no greater amount of evidence to resist ; why, then, is he more likely to
yield? But you may say, the messenger from the grave may not, indeed, have
greater credentials than Christ and His apostles, but those credentials are more
forced on the attention ; they are more addressed to the senses, and therefore, are
more likely to excite repentance. Now this seems very plausible. A man may quite
neglect the Bible ; he may not study its evidences ; and thus, whatever their strength,
they must be practically ineffectual. But he cannot be inattentive to the spectre.
The shadowy thing stands by him, causing his blood to run cold, and his knees to
tremble, and it speaks to him in thrilling accents, to which he cannot, if he would,
turn a deaf ear. We admit this, but we cannot admit that the words of the spectre
are more likely to make a permanent impression than of a living preacher speaking
in the name of God and that of Christ. The spectre speaks to me to«day ; addresses
itself to my senses, and thus takes, as you think the most effectual mode of pro-
ducing an impression. But what evidence shall I have to-morrow of the supernatural
visitation ? There will be nothing but the memory of the occurrence — there will
be no witness but my own recollection to which to appeal, and then how easy to
suspect that the whole was a delusion 1 How natural to call in question, whether
it has been more than a dream, more than the coinage of a disordered and over-
wrought mind 1 I have historical accumulated proof that Christ came forth from
the dead, and sent me a message which bids me forsake sin, but I should have no
such proofs in regard to the supposed spectre ; and, therefore, the almost certainty
is that however scared and agitated I might be at the moment when the apparition
stood before me, I should soon get rid of the impression 1 soon persuade myself that I
had been acted on by my own distempered fancy ; and, perhaps, laugh at my own
credulity. If I can despise Christ, who returned from the dead, though there is
given me irrefragable evidence of His return, why should I be expected to give heed
to Lazarus, who might indeed come back to me but leave no lasting proof that h»
178 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xti,
had deserted the grave ? No I no ! A bnried kinsman might come and preach to
yoQ, but you would not give heed, if you could be deaf to the voice of Moses and th«
prophets. Tou have as good grounds to believe me, while I am now speaking the
words of Christ, as you would have if I re-appeared after death, and came, in my
grave-clothes, to re-occupy this pulpit. Let it be so. Let there be re-enacted the
eoene in the cave of the Witch of Endor : " Call me up Samuel," said Saul, to thi»
poor woman, and " an old man cometh up, and he is covered with a mantle — "
Call up whom you will ; let any minister wbom you have been long accustomed to
hear, and whose voice has long been silent in death, Buddenly ra-appear, and assume,
for a moment, the office of a teacher, what a fearful silence, what a throbbing of
the heart, what terror of the spirit I He speaks in well-known accents ; he m^ea
you shudder, and you can scarcely bo control your agitation as to listen to his worda.
But what could he say which you had not already heard 7 What could he do more
than make the attempt to tell you what is delineated in the Bible f You remember
the description in the Book of Job of the appearance of the spectre — a description*
pronounced by one of the greatest writers in our language, "unequalled in fearful
sublimities." It is this : *' Then a spirit passed before my face ; the hair of my
flesh stood up ; it stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof : an image
was before mine eyes; there was silence, audi heard a voice, saying," — ^What did
it say ? With what marvellous and mighty tidings did this spectre come charged t
This is all it said : " Shall mortal man be more just than God ? Shall a man be
more pure than his Maker ? " Do we need a ghost to tell us that ? do we not know
that already 7 Oh ! the spectre might come ; but it could teU you nothing to make
heaven more attractive, or hell more terrible, than is delineated in the Bible —
nothing to make it more certain than it already is, that unless you repent, you shall
surely perish. Oh, no ; there could be no more powerful truth uttered ; no more
convincing evidence afforded than now that you are listening to me, who have never
entered the invisible world. It would give a solemnity — an awful onearthliness to
the ministry if it were conducted by a visitant from the separate state ; but the
pleasures and the business of life would produce gradually the same effect as now,
obliterating the impressions made by the solemn discourse. (H. Melvill, B.D.)
A eommon delusion exposed : — It is not necessary that these men snould expect some
one to rise from the dead in order to be hke Dives. That is only an accident of the
parable. The true likeness lies here — in thinking that God will deal with us in
some new way ; in a man's thinking that he may neglect his present means of
serving God, and of growing to love Him, and yet that in some way or other, over
and above these ordinary means, he shall be interfered for, and that work done in
him which is not to be done as things now are. One of the most common forms of
this delusion, which hes lurking in the heart of many a man, is to expect that death
will do it. Perhaps the man has seen death-beds ; and he knows very well that
upon a death-bed a man will begin to cry out, and that there will be a sort of show
of change sometimes coming from the man's excited feelings at such a time, which
is very often nothing more than his trying to deceive himself by putting on an
appearance of religion when he can have no more of this world. For the experience
of many death-beds has convinced me, as I believe it has convinced many others
who attend them, that, so far from the death-bed being the place where you will
see the greatest sincerity, there are very few places where you of tener see men
hypocrites, very few times and very few places, where men are more desperately
striving to deceive themselves, because they feel that now it is almost hopeless to
turn. And so the tempter comes to them with this deceit. They dare not look the
whole matter in the face ; they dare not see that it is everything which needs to be
changed within them ; and so they go on in a vain show deceiving themselves even
to the end. And yet I believe that Siis is lurking in the heart of very many of us
at this moment — " I cannot, so long as common life and its temptations are round
about me, I cannot shake off this worldliness ; but it will be altogether a different
thing when I come to the great reality of a death-bed." Another very common form
is, that men believe that old age will do it for them. They say, " My passions are
eo strong now that I am young ; but when I am older, when I have passed through
all this burning heat of life, and when I get to that time when everything fades
upon the senses, I rfiall find it comparatively easy to turn then, and then I will turn."
And others believe that some sudden sickness will do it, or that some sudden supply
cf serious thoughts will do it, or that some outward thing or other will convert them,
tnm them to God, and make it easy for them to begin to live heartily a religious
life. Oh ! I ask you as reasonable men, do not these deceits aboand amongst as f
nur. xvn.) ST. LUKE. 277
Have we not people who think, and who do not mind saying to themselves, that it
is their children, or their work, or their particular temper, or the people round about
jJiem, or the necessity of conforming to this or that evil custom — that it is some-
thing accidental which makes them sin, and that when this accident is removed,
then they shall begin to serve God in truth and verity ? And oh 1 have we not on
©very side of us delayers of repentance, and delayers in receiving the communion,
and delayers in leading a life of devotion — all hoping still to be better, all thinking
that some time or other there will be some alteration in their lives which will make
it easy for them to repent, and that then they too shall become saints and be saved ?
And, even, once more, in those who in the main are leading a life altogether of a
different diaracter from this, in those who are striving to serve God, yet are not
they too greatly hindered by this self-same temptation ? I ask you, have you not too
often secretly given way to the difficulties which prevent you from forming habits
of earnest prayer, which prevent you from leading a life of greater devotedness and
zeal, of greater self-denial and earnestness ? Are you not perfectly well aware that
you have often given secretly way to the continuance in you of some temptation,
which you know to be contrary to God's will, and which you are in a measure
striving against, which you do not altogether rule over, which you have not yet cast
out, or some evil habit, or some worldly desire or gratification ? And yet, how
exactly does our Lord's reproof apply to every one of these cases I That reproof is,
as I have shown you, that they have proof enough ; that they have the means, the
means which the wisdom of God sees to be fittest, and deems to be sufficient ; that
what they want is not more help from God, but the using the help they have got ;
that if they had more help from G jd, it would only expose them to a greater con-
demnation, for that those who do not yield to that help which is sufficient, would
not yield to any measure of help, and so that the only result of their having more
help would be that they would incur greater condemnation by sinning against
greater light, and being lost in spite of greater assistance. {Bishoj^ S, WiUter/oree.)
CHAPTER xvn.
Tebs. 1-4. It l8 Impossible but that offences will come. — Where $in oeeure, Ood
cannot wisely prevent it : — The doctrine of this text is that sin, under the government
of God, cannot be prevented. 1. When we say rr is rupossiBLS to prevent sik
DNDEB THE oovEBMMENT 07 Gk>D, the Statement still calls for another inquiry, viz. :
"Where does this impossibility lie f Which is true : that the sinner cannot possibly
forbear to sin, or that God cannot prevent his sinning ? The first supposition
answers itself, for it could not be sin if it were utterly unavoidable. It might be
his misfortune ; but nothing could be more tmjust than to impute it to him as his
crime. Let as, then, consider that God's government over men is moral, and
known to be such by every intelligent being. It contemplates mind as having
intellect to understand truth, sensibility to appreciate its bearing upon happiness,
conscience to judge of the right, and a will to determine a course of voluntary
action in view of God's claims. So God governs mind. Not so does He govern
matter. The planetary worlds are controlled by quite a different sort of agency.
God does not move them in their orbits by motives, but by a physical agency. I
said, all men know this government to be moral by their own consciousness. When
its precepts and its penalties come before their minds, they are conscious that an
appeal is made to their voluntary powers. They are never conscious of any
physical agency coercing obedience. Where compulsion begins, moral agency ends.
Persuasion brought to bear upon mind, is always such in its nature that it can be
resisted. By the very nature of the case, God's creatures must have power to resist
any amount of even His persuasion. There can be no power in heaven or earth to
ooeroe the will, as matter is coerced. The nature of mind forbids its possibility.
God is infinitely wise. He cannot act unwisely. The supposition would make
Him cease to be perfect, and this were equivalent to ceasing to be God. Here,
then, is the ease. A sinner is about to fall before temptation, or in more correct
language, is about to Txuh into some new sin. God cannot wisely prevent his doing
ML Now what shall be done t Bhall He let that sinner rush on to his ehosen sin
278 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRA.TOR. [chap, rm.
and self-wrought ruin ; or shall He step forward, unwisely, sin Himself, and inoar
all the frightful consequences of such a step ? He lets the sinner bear his own
responsibility. Thus the impossibility of preventing sin lies not in the sinner, but
wholly with God. Sin, it should be remembered, is nothing else than an act of
free will, always committed against one's conviction of right. Indeed, if a man did
not know that selfishness is sin, it would not be sin in his case. These remarks
will suffice to show that sin in every instance of its commission is utterly inezcas*
able. IL We are next to notice some objections. 1. " If God is infinitely wise
and good, why need we pray at all ? If He will surely do the best possible thing
always, and all the good He can do, why need we pray ? " Because His infinite
goodness and wisdom enjoin it upon us. 2. Objecting again, you ask why we should
pray to God to prevent sin, if He cannot prevent it ? We pray for the very purpose
of changing the circumstances. If we step forward and offer fervent, effectual
prayer, this quite changes the state of the case, 3. Yet further objecting, you ask
— " Why did God create moral agents at all if He foresaw that He could not
prevent their sinning ? " Because He saw that on the whole it was better to do so.
Concluding remarks : 1. We may see the only sense in which God could have
purposed the existence of sin. It is simply negative. He purposed not to prevent
it in any case where it does actually occur. 2. The existence of sin does not prove
that it is the necessary means of the greatest good. 3. The human conscience
always justifies God. This is an undeniable fact — a fact of universal consciousness.
(C. G. Finney, D.D.) The evil and danger of offences : — 1. The first is a time of
persecution. Offences wiU abound in a time of persecution to the ruin of many
professors. 2. A time of the abounding of great sins is a time of giving and taking
great offence. 3. When there is a decay of Churches, when they grow cold, and
are under decays, it is a time of the abounding of offences. Offences are of two
sorts. I. Such as abe taken only, and not given. The great offence taken was
at Jeens Christ Himself. This offence taken, and not given, is increased by the
poverty of the Church. These things are an offence taken and not given.
II. Thbee abb onrENCES given and taken. 1. Offences given: and they are
men's public sins, and the miscarriages of professors that are under vows and
obligations to honourable obedience. Men may give offence by errors, and
miscarriages in Churches, and by immoralities in their lives. This was in
the sin of David ; God would pass by everything but offence given : •' Because
thou hast made My name to be blasphemed," therefore I wiU deal so and so. So
God speaks of the people of Israel : these were My people, by reason of you My
name is profaned among the Gentiles. These are the people of the Lord ; see now
they are come into captivity, what a vile people they are. Such things are an
offence given. 2. Offences taken. Now offences are taken two ways. (1) As they
occasion grief (Eom. xiv.). See that by thy miscarriage thou " grieve not thy
brother." Men's offences who are professors, are a grief, trouble, and burden to
those who are concerned in the same course of profession. " Offences will come " ;
and therefore let us remember, that God can sanctify the greatest offences to our
humiliation and recovery, and to the saving of our Church. Such is His infinite
wisdom. (2) Given offences occasion sin. But offences given are an occasion of
sin, even among professors and believers themselves. The worst way whereby a
given offence is thus taken, is, when men countenance themselves in private sins
by others' public sins ; and go on in vices because they see such and such commit
greater. Woe nnto us if we so take offence. Again, a given offence is taken, when
onr minds are provoked, exasperated, and carried off from a spirit of love and
tenderness towards those that offend, and all others, and when we are discouraged
and despond, as though the ways of God would not carry us out. This is to take
offence to our disadvantage. I shall give you a few rules from hence, and so con-
clude, (a) The giving offence being a great aggravation of sin, let this rule lie
continually in your hearts. That the more public persons are, the more careful
they ought to be that they give no offence either to Jew or Gentile, or to " the
Church of Christ." (6) If what I have laid down be your first and your main
rule, I doubt where this is neglected there is want of sincerity; bat where it
is your principal rule, there is nothing but hypocrisy. Men may walk by this
rule, and have corrupt minds, and cherish wickedness in their hearts, (c) Be not
afraid of the great multiplication of offences at this day in the world. The truths
of the gospel and holiness have broke through a thousand times more offences.
(d) Beg of Ood wisdom to manage yourselves under offences : and of all things
take heed of that great evil which professors have been very apt to run into ; I
. xvu,] ST. LUKE. 279
mean, to receive and promote reports of offence among themselves, taking hold of
the least colour or pretence to report such things as are matter of offence, and give
advantage to the world. Take heed of this, it is the design of the devil to load
professors with false reports. (J. Owen, D.D.) Of the necessity of offences
arising against the gospel : — I. In the first place, it will be proper to consider what
THB PRINCIPAL OF THOSE OFFENCES ABB WHICH HINDER THE PROPAOATION OF THB
oosPEL OF TBUTH. And though everything that is faulty in any kind does in its
measure and degree contribute to this evil ; yet whoever considers the state of the
Christian world, and the history of the Church in all ages from the beginning, will
find that the great offences which have all along chiefly hindered the progress of
true Christianity, are these which follow. 1. Corruption of doctrine. The Jewish
believers, even in the apostles* own times, contended for the necessity of observing
the rites and ceremonies of the law of Moses ; and this gave just offence to the
Gentiles, and deterred them from readily embracing the gospel. After this, other
offences arose from among the Gentile converts, who by degrees corrrtpting them-
selves after the similitude of the heathen worshippers, introduced saist^ inA loiages,
and pompous ceremonies and grandeur into the Church, instead of trjr ^irtue and
righteousness of hfe. 2. The next is divisions, contentions, acd animosities
among Christians, arising from pride, and from a desire of dominioa, and from
building matters of an uncertain nature and of human invention upon the founda-
tion of Christ. The great offence, I say, which in all nationii and in all ages t^s
hindered the propagation of the gospel of truth, has been a hypocritical zeal to
secure by force a fictitious uniformity of opinion, which is indeed impossible in
nature ; instead of the real Christian unity of sincerity, charity, and mutual for.
bearance, which is the bond of perfectness. 3. The third and last great offence I
shall mention, by which the propagation of true religion is hindered, is the vicious
and debauched lives, not of Christians, for that is a contradiction, but of those who
for form's sake profess themselves to be so. II. Having thus at large explained
what is meant in the text by the word " offences," I proceed in the second place to
consider in what sense oub Savioub uust be understood to affirm that it is
IMPOSSIBLE BUT SUCH OFFENCES WILL COME ; Or, Bs it is expressed in St. Matthew,
that it must " needs be " that offences come. And here there have been some so
absurdly unreasonable as to understand this of a proper and natural necessity ; as
if God had ordained that offences should come, and had accordingly predestinated
particular men to commit them. But this is directly charging God with the sins of
men, and making ffim, not themselves, the author of evil. The plain meaning of
our Saviour, when He affirms it to be impossible but that offences will come, is
this only — that, considering the state of the world, the number of temptations, the
freedom of men's will, the frailty of their nature, the perverseness and obstinacy of
their affections ; it cannot be expected, it cannot be supposed, it cannot be hoped,
but that offences will come ; though it be very unreasonable they should come.
Men need not, men ought not, to corrupt the doctrine of Christ ; they need not
dishonour their religion by unchristian heats, contentions, and animosities among
themselves ; much less is there any necessity that they should Uve contrary to it,
by vicious and debauched practices ; and yet, morally speaking, it cannot be but
that all these things will happen. III. I proposed to consider in the third place,
WHT A PABTICCLAB WOB IB, BY WAY OF IMPHASIS AND DISTINCTION, DENOUNCED
AGAINST THE PERSONS BY WHOM THESE OFFENCES COME. Thus it appears plainly
in general, that the necessity here mentioned of offences coming, is no excuse for
those by whose wickedness they come. It is because they are offences of an ex>
tensive nature. IV. The infebences I shall dbaw from what has been said,
AJOB — 1. From the explication which has been given of these words of our Saviour —
••It is impossible but that offences will come" — we may learn, not to charge God with
evil, nor to ascribe to any decree of His the wickedness and impieties of men. 2.
Since our Saviour has forewarned us that it must needs be that such offences will
come as may prove stumbling-blocks to the weak and inattentive, let ns take care»
since we have received this warning, not to stumble or be offended at them. 3.
And above all, as we ought not to take, so much more ought we to be careful that
we never give, any of these offences. (S. Clarke.) On the vitiating influence of
the higher upon the lower orders of society : — If this text were thoroughly pursued
into its manifold applications, it would be found to lay a weight of fearful responsi-
bility upon as alL We are here called upon, not to work out our own salvation, but
to oompate the refiex infiuence of all our works, and of all our ways, on the principles
of others. And when one thinks of the mischief which this influence might spread
f80 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xwa,
aronnd it, even from Christians of chiefest reputation ; "when one thinks of th«
readiness of man to take shelter in the example of an ackno^fledged superior ; when
one thinks that some inconsistency of oars might seduce another into such an
imitation as oTerbears the reproaches of his own conscience ; when one thinks of
himself as the source and the centre of a contagion which might bring a blight
npon the graces and the prospects of other souls beside his own — surely this is
i-nough to supply him with a reason why, in working out his own personal salva-
tion, he should do it with fear, and with watchfulness, and with much trembling.
But we are now upon the ground of a higher and more delicate conscientiousness than
is generally to be met with ; whereas our object at present is to expose certain of
the grosser offences which abound in society, and which spread a most dangerous
and ensnaring influence among the individuals who compose it. Let us not forget
to urge on every one sharer in this work of moral contamination, that never does
the meek and gentle Saviour speak in terms more threatening or more reproachful,
than when He speaks of the enormity of such misconduct. There cannot, in truth,
be a grosser outrage committed on the order of God's administration, than that
-which he is in the habit of inflicting. There cannot, surely, be a directer act of
rebellion, than that which multiplies the adherents of its own cause, and which
swells the hosts of the rebellions. And, before we conclude, let us, if possible, try to
rebuke the wealthy out of their unfeeling indifference to the souls of the poor, by
the example of the Saviour. (T. Chalmers, D,D.) Our liability to cause others to
offend : — A father tells us how he once started alone to climb a steep and perilous
hiU, purposely choosing a time when his children were at play, and when he thought
that they would not notice his absence. He was climbing a precipitous path when
he was startled by hearing a little voice shout, " Father, take the safest path, for I
am following you." On looking down, he saw that his little boy had followed him,
and was already in danger ; and he trembled lest the child's feet should slip before
he could get to him, and grasp his warm Uttle hand. " Years have passed since
then," he writes, " but though the danger has passed, the little fellow's cry has
never left me. It taught me a lesson, the full force of which I had never known
before. It showed me the power of our unconscious influence, and I saw the
terrible possibility of our leading those around us to ruin, without intending or
knowing it ; and the lesson I learned that morning I am anxious to impress upon all
t« whom my words may come." (Archdeacon Farrar.) Cause of offence to the
young : — The owner of the famous Wedgwood potteries, in the beginning of thia
century, was not only a man of remarkable mechanical skill, but a most devout
and reverent Christian. On one occasion, a nobleman of dissolute habits, and an
avowed atheist, was going through the works, accompanied by Mr. Wedgwood, and
by a young lad who was employed in them, the son of pious parents. Lord C
sought early opportunity to speak contemptuously of religion. The boy at first
looked amazed, then listened with interest, and at last burst into a loud, jeering
laugh. Mr. Wedgwood made no comment, but soon found occasion to show his
guest the process of making a flne vase ; how with inflnite care the delicate paste
was moulded into a shape of rare beauty and fragile texture, how it was painted by
skilful artists, and finally passed through the furnace, coming out perfect in form
and pure in quality. The nobleman declared his delight, and stretched out his
hand for it, but the potter threw it on the ground, shattering it into a thousand
pieces. " That was unpardonable carelessness 1 " said Lord C , angrily. " I
wished to take that cup home for my collection! Nothing can restore it again."
" No. Ton forget, my lord," said Mr. Wedgwood, " that the soul of that lad who
has just left us came innocent of impiety into the world ; that his parents, friends,
all good influences, have been at work during his whole life to make him a vessel
fit for the Master's use ; that you, with your touch, have undone the work of years.
No human hand can bind together again what you have broken." Lord C ,
who had never before received a rebuke from an inferior, stared at him in silence ;
then said, " Yon are an honest man," frankly holding out his hand. " I never
thought of the effect of my words." There is no subject which many young men
are more fond of discussing than religion, too often parading the crude, half com-
prehended atheistic arguments which they have heard or read before those to whom
such doubts are new. Like Lord C , they "do not think." They do not,
probably, believe these arguments themselves, and they forget that they are in«
fusing poison into healthy souls, which no after-efforts of thciz* ean aver rcmovok
A moment's oarelessness may destroy the work of yean. (ChritUam Ag4.)
CBA». TTTL] ST. LUKE. 881
Vers. 5, 6. Increase oar fEdth. — Increated faith prayed for: — 1. Observe, that
faith is susceptible of being increased. 2. There are important reasons why an
increase of faith shoald be desired. (1) An increase of faith is connected with an
increase of holiness. (2) The increase of faith is connected with the increase of
comfort. (3) The increase of faith is connected with the increase of nsefulness.
(The Preaehen' Treasury.) Prayer for increase of faith: — I. Thb disciples ov
Chbist possess rAiTH. There can be no increase where there is no possession,
IL An incbeasb of tatch is possible. This will appear from — 1. The power and
goodness of its Author. 2. The progressive nature of religion. 3. The admonitions
of the Bible. 4. The experience of the saints. III. An incbbask op faitb_ is
OBXATLT TO BE DESIBED. We infer this — 1. From its nature. It is a Divine gift,
and its existence is attributed to the operation of God (Col. iL 12). That which
God works in us must be desirable: as He is an infinitely good Being, His works
must necessarily bear a resemblance to Himself. 2. From its effects. These refer
— (1) To our own personal salvation. We are justified by faith — saved by faith —
Christ dwells in our hearts by faith— we stand by faith— live by faith — walk by faith
— and have boldness of access to God by faith. (2) To the victories we gain over
our enemies. By the shield of faith we quench the fiery darts, &o. (Eph. vi. 16).
We conquer the world by faith (1 John v. 4). The ancient worthies by faith
*• subdued kingdoms," Ac. (Heb. xi. 33, 34). (3) To the moral influence of out
example. IV. Means should be oskd to seodbb an increase of faith. To
accomplish this object — 1. Study the character of its Author. Meditate on the
power, wisdom, and goodness of our Lord Jesus Christ. Think meanly of the
Saviour, and you will have little confidence in Him ; but think greatly and highly
of Him, and you will trust in Him heartily, and believe in Him fully. 2. Get a more
extensive acquaintance with the promises of God. 3. Be on your guard against
everything that will deaden or damp the ardour of your faith. ^ Carnal company,
worldly cares, spiritual supineness, filthy and foolish conversation — all tend to sap
the foundation of your faith, and destroy your dependence upon God. In conclu-
sion, we address a word — 1. To those who have no faith. 2. To those whose faith
has declined. 3. To those whose faith remains in full vigour. (Theological Sketch-
took.) Prayer for more faith :— A prayer adapted to every part of the Christian
life. L CONSIDSB THE GENERAL lUPOBT OF THB PBATER : " LOBD, INCBEASB OUB
rAiTH." 1. Faith has respect to revealed truth as its immediate object ; and in the
New Testament it more especially relates to Christ as the substance of all the
promises. 2. In praying for an increase of this principle, the apostles acknowledged
that their faith was weak. 3. In praying for more faith, they also acknowledged
their own insufficiency to produce it (Eph. ii. 8 ; Phil. ii. 13). 4. In directing their
prayer to Christ, they virtually acknowledge His Divinity. 5. This prayer might
in some measure be answered at the time, but was more especially so after our
Lord's ascension. II. The reasons which bbndbb this pbateb buitablb to all
Chbistians. If we are truly the followers of Christ, yet our faith is weak at best,
and needs to be increased, and that for various reasons — 1. On account of its
influence in obtaining other spiritual blessings, for they are bestowed according to
the measure of faith. 2. Its influences under dark and trying providences — Nothing
bat faith can snstain as under them (Psa. xovii. 2). 3. Its influence on the deep
mysteries of Divine tmth, which faith only can receive and apply. 4. The influence
of faith on our life and conduct renders this prayer peculiarly suitable and im-
portant. 5. Our spiritual enjoyments, as they are derived wholly from the promises,
are proportioned to the degree of faith. 6. Its importance in the hour of death
renders it unspeakably desirable. (Ihid.) The increase of faith : — I. The natubb
OF faith. An influential belief in the testimony of God. This necessarily implies
in all cases the absence of all indifference and hostility to the truth which is its
object, and also a state of heart or moral sensibility which is adapted to receive its
appropriate influence. It is easy to see what the character must be, formed by the
power of such a principle. Holiness, perfect holiness in man, in all its peace and
hopes and joys, is nothing more nor less than the truths of the gospel carried into
effect by faith. Let there be the impress of the gospel on the heart and life, and
what dignity and perfection of character — what noble superiority to the vanities of
the world — what lofty conceptions of God and the things of a f utture world — what a
lesemblance to the Son of God woald be furnished by such a man 1 Such is the
natore of fai^ II. Thb heans of its bxistenob. I. Prayer. The suppliant a4
Qod'i throne is surrounded by Divine realities. Nor is there a spot on earth
vksfe the tendencies of the naart to depart from God are mora «£teckQaUf
882 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap. xvn.
counteracted, and where the Bonl comes in more direct contact with the objecta
of faith, than the closet. Prayer directly leads to the mortifying of unbelief
in its very root and element, by opening a direct intercourse with heaven.
2. Our faith may be increased by examining the evidence of Divine truth. God
always deals with as as intelligent beings. 3. To the same end we must
cherish a deep and an abiding sense of the mean and degrading nature of earthly
things. 4. Closely connected with this subject is the kindred one of keeping
death and eternity continually in view. 5. Another means of increasing faith
is its repeated exercise, in retirement and meditation, as well as in the businesa
of life. 6. Important to the same end are just views of the truth and faithfulnesa
of God. God has given to His people exceeding great and precious promises. The
only ultimate foundation on which faith can rest in these promises is the un-
changeable truth of God. III. Consider the desibableness of incbbasino
ouK FAITH. This appears — 1. From the character it gives. All the defects and
blemishes of Christian character may be traced to the want or the weakness of faith
as their cause. It is through the imperfection of this principle that the charactei
of man is formed so much by the influence of objects that here surround him.
Every man is what his object is. 2. From the consolations which faith imparts.
It is not only the prerogative of faith that it adds to our peace and our joys in the
prosperous scenes of life. Its power is still more triumphant in scenes of affliction
and trial. To the eye of faith every event has a tendency and an aim. 3. From
the glory for which ii prepares. Preparation for the glory that shall hereafter be
revealed must be begun in this world. It must be begun in that character, which
is the only true appropriate preparation for the services and joys of heaven. If the
character be formed here by the exclusive influence of the objects of sense, if all the
desires and affections be confined to these, there can be nothing in the world of
spirits to meet and satisfy a single desire of the soul. The character, then, mast
be formed by other objects — the desires and affections of the soul mast be fixed on
things above — it must thus become capable of heavenly joys, or in vain were it
admitted into heaven itself. But it is by faith, and by faith only, that the influence
of these Divine and glorious realities can be felt in our present state. [N. W. Taylor,
D.D.) The necexsity of increased faith : — I. The object of the apostles*
BOLiciTUDB. Their "faith." 1. We ought, my friends, to be extremely careful of
our faith — both of its rightness and of its strength, first of all — when we consider the
position which faith occupies in salvation. Faith is the salvation-grace. We are
not saved by love ; but we are saved by grace, and we are saved by faith. We are
not saved by courage, we are not saved by patience ; but we are saved by faith.
That is to say, God gives His salvation to faith and not to any other virtue. 2.
Be anxious about your faith, for all your graces bang upon it. Faith is the root-
grace : all other virtues and graces spring from it. 3. Take heed of your faith,
because Christ thinks much of it. 4. Next, Christian, take good care of thy faith,
for recollect faith is the only way whereby thou canst obtain blessings. It is said
of Midas, that he had the power to turn everything into gold by the touch of his
hand ; and it is true of faith — it can turn everything into gold, bat destroy faith, we
have lost our all ; we are miserably poor because we can hold no fellowship with
the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ. 6. Next, my friends, take care of your
faith perpetually, because of your enemies ; for if you do not want faith when yott
are with friends, yon wiU require it when you have to deal vrith your foes. Faith
has quenched the violence of the flames, shut the mouths of lions, and out of weak-
ness it has made us strong. It has overcome more enemies than the whole host of
conquerors. Tell me not of the victories of Wellington ; mention not the battles of
Napoleon ; tell me of what faith has done 1 Oh 1 if we rfiould erect a monument to
the honour of faith, what various names should we carve on the mighty pedestal I
6. And now for a sixth reason. Take care of your faith, because otherwise yoo
cannot well perform your duty. Faith is the foot of the soul by which it can march
along the road of the commandments. Love can make the feet move more
swiftly, but faith is the foot which carries the soul. Faith is the oil enabling the
wheels of holy devotion and of earnest piety to move well, bat without faith the
wheels are taken from the chariot, and we drag along heavily. With faith I can
do all things, without faith I shall neither have the inclination nor the power to
do anything in the service of God. 7. Take care of your faith, my friends, for
it is very often so weak that it demands all your attention. II. The heabt's
WsiBE OF THE APOSTLES. They did not say, " Lord, keep our faith alive : Lord,
•nstain it as it is at present," but "Increase our faith." For they knew verj weU
MUP. xvn.] ST. LUKE. 883
that it is only by increase that the Christian keeps alive at alL Napoleon once
said, " I must fight battles, and I must win them ; conquest has made me what I
am, and conquest must maintain me." And it is so with the Christian. It is not
yesterday's battle that will save me to-day ; I must be going onwards. 1. " Increase
our faith " in its extent — the extent of what it will receive. Increase my faith and
help me to believe a little more. I believe I have only just begun to learn the ABO
of the Scriptures yet, and will constantly cry to the Lord, "Increase my faith,"
that I may know more and believe more, and understand Thy Word far better.
♦' Increase my faith " in its extent. 2. " Increase my faith " in its intensity. Faith
needs to bo increased in its power as well as in its extent. We do not wish to act
as some do with a river, when they break the banks, to let it spread over the pasture,
and so make it shallower ; but we wish, while it increases in surface, that it may
increase likewise in its depth. III. The Person to whom the apostles addressed
THEiB PBAYEB. The Lord. They went to the right Person. Let us do the same.
(C. H. Spurgeon.) Praying for an increase of faith : — L We should cbe this
FBATBB FOR THE INCREASE OF spiRiruAL KNOWLEDGE. Let any Christian examine
his own heart and he will see how sadly he needs this, how narrow is the limit of
his knowledge of Christ, how circumscribed his views of His love, His sympathy.
His compassion, His excellency ; how mean his apprehension of His power and
majesty and present glory. The excellency of Christ can only be communicated
now to the soul by the exercise of faith. II. And not only for the enlargement of
spiritual knowledge, but for establishment in grace as well, should this prayer be
used. That we may be established in the simplicity and fulness of the gospel. The
fulfilment of this prayer will bring this to pass ; it is included in the gift of increased
ffuth. Increase of faith brings clear views of the mercy of the gospel, it corrects
the natural uprisings of pride in our hearts, it checks the carnal reasonings of our
minds, it convinces of the absolute truth of all that the Bible teaches about our
need of the gospel. It will lead to the discovery of error, the detection of sophistry,
the avoidance of unscriptural teaching, however specious it may be. III. This
prayer should also be used in order that our perception of Satan's temptations
MA'S BE CLEAR. It is in proportion as our faith is increased, that " we are not ignorant
of his devices." [H. M. Baker.) The increase of faith .-—That " faith " is " a
gift of God" — as much a " gift " as any other sovereign act of His power — I need
not stay to prove. We have to do this morning with another thought — that the
growth and the " increase " of '* faith," at every successive stage, is a distinct act
of Almighty power. We know, indeed, that everything which is of God has in it
essential tendency, nay, an absolute necessity in itself to grow. If you do not
wilfully check the grace of God that is in you, that grace will, and must, in obedience
to the law of its being, increase. We lay it down, then, as a certainty that "faith"
is a thing of degrees. One believer never reaches the same degree in this life as
another. Each believer is in different states of belief, at different periods of his
own life. St. Paul speaks of a brother who is " weak in the faith " — St. Stephen
and St. Barnabas are commended as men " full of faith." But it is easy for us to
see traces of " increase of faith " in the lives of the apostles themselves. Have
not we seen progress in the mind of the St. Peter in the Gospels and the St. Peter
in the Epistles 7 In St. John also, from the time when he could call fire from
heaven, to the hour when he could stand so meekly at the cross's foot 7 You will
Bee the same in St. Paul's mind if you compare what he says of himself in his
Epistles to the Bomansand the Corinthians, which were his early Epistles, with his
triumphant assurance in his Epistles to Timothy, which were his last Epistles. If,
then, *' faith " be a thing capable of degrees, every man must be responsible for the
measure of his attainment of that grace in the sight of God. There are various
" degrees of faith " in the world ; but they are all placed in their various degrees
with distinct design. It is intended, in the Divine economy of God's Church, that
there should be " degrees of faith," to answer His purpose ; but that eternal purpose
of God is still coneistent with man's responsibiUty in the matter. The various
degrees make that beautiful variety, out of which God brings His own unity. They
give occasion for kind judgment, and Christian forbearance, and helpfulness one to
another, seeing that the man of " much faith " must not despise, but must recog-
nize as a brother, and help on, the man who is said to be a man of "little faith."
One man has '* faith " sufficient to lead him to entire separation from the world,
and to undergo great mortification — another has not got so far. Let the halting,
lingering one — &e soul that still keeps too much in this world — remember what the
apostle says, that it is "faitii " which " overcomes the world," and therefore let
S84 THE BIBLICAl ILLUSTRATOR. [ohaf. xm.
him praj, " Lord, increase my faith." One ean carry all mysteries, and Ukeg
mysteries — another loses his " faith " when he comes to mysteries. Bat he who
knows his own heart best, that man knows most how fitting the supplication is,
everywhere, " Lord, increase my faith." There are three reasons here why it ia
important to ask this petition. If any one of yon is without any promised blessing
of Ood, it is simply because he has not " faith " about the matter. Again, God has
established a direct proportion between a man's faith and a man's success : " accord-
ing to your faith be it unto you." And, once more, remember, there are degrees
in heaven ; and, according aswereach here " in faith" we shall reach there "in glory.'*
" Lord, increase our faith ! " The man simply says it, and there comes over his
mind such a sudden sense of God's amazing love to him, in the redemption ot
his soul, that everything else looks perfectly insignificant, in the thought of
his own acceptance with God. " Lord, increase our faith I " — and we have such
communion with things unseen, that death has no power. {J. Vaughan, M.A.)
The victoriotu power of faith : — Men are just like the disciples. They hear religion
preached ; they believe the things that are said ; and at times the truth glances
through the exterior coating and strikes their moral sense. The ideal of truth
presented to them seems beautiful and sweet. In a white light it is to them.
Thousands and thousands ot men there are who hear the gospel preached every
Sunday, and think there is nothing more beautiful than meekness, nothing more
beautiful than humility, as tbey are presented to them. These are excellent qualities
in their estimation. They believe in love. They believe in everything that is
required in a true Christian character. It meets their approval. Their reason
approves it. Their judgment approves it. Their taste approves it. Their moral
sentiments approve it. And yet, when they ask themselves, " How shall I practise
it ? " they fall off instantly, and say, " It is not possible for me. I never can do
it in the world." Take gentleness. Here is a great rude-footed, coarse-handed
man, gruff and impetuous, and careless of everybody, who sits and hears a discourse
on the duty of being gentle ; and as the various figures and illustrations are pre-
sented, he says, " Oh, how beautiful it is to be gentle I " But the moment he gets
out of the church, he thinks, " The idea of my being gentle ! I gentle ? i gentle?
Somebody else must do that part of religion. I never can. It is not my nature to
be gentle." Men have an ideal of what is right ; and they believe in the possibility
of its realization somewhere; but they do not think they are called to that thing.
They do not believe it is possible for them. There are avaricious men, I suppose,
to whom, on hearing a discourse on benevolence in a church, it really shines, and
who say, "Oh, this benevolence, though it is well-nigh impossible — how beautiful
it is 1 " But when it begins to come home to them, and the question is, " WiU yoo,
from this time forth, order your life according to the law of benevolence ? " they
fall off from that and say, " I cannot ; it is impossible." And if Christ were present
and such men were under the influence of His teaching, they would turn to TTim
and say, " Lord, if this is true, it is true, and I must conform to it ; but you must
increase my faith. I most have some higher power. I cannot do it without."
And Christ would encourage them, and say |not rebukingly, as it seems in tibe
letter, but very comfortingly), " Do not think it is so hard. It is difficult, but not ao
diffioult AS you suppose. Do not think it to be so impossible that I must work a
miracle for you before yon can accomplish it." If you have faith, if yon rouse up
those spiritual elements that are in you, if you bring them under the illumination
of God's own soul, and they are inspired by the Divine influence, there is that
power in you by which you can subdue all your lower nature, and can gain victories
over every single appetite and passion, and every single evil inclination and bad
habit. Let the better nature in man once more come into communion with Ood,
and it is mightier than the worse nature in man, and can subdue it. Tou will fail
of the secret and real spirit of this passage, if you do not consider its meaning as
not only an interpretation, but as an interpretation which is designed to give
courage and hope and cheer to those who desire to break away from bad tenden-
cies and traits, and to rise, by a true growth, into the higher forms of Christian
experience. Let us consider, then, the practical aspect of this matter. When •
strong nature is snatched from worldliness, and begins to live a Christian life,
what are the elements of his experience, reduced to some sort of philosophical ex-
pression r First, the soul ia brought into the conscious presence, and under the
recognized power, of the Divine nature. This is with more or less distinctness in
different individuals. Consider how men are brought to a reUgious life. One man
hM beaa • very worldly and oarelesa man, until, in the oniversal whirl of aflain,
CHAP. XVII.] ST. LUKE. 285
A slap of bankruptcy, like the stroke of waves against the side of a ship, smashes
into his concerns, and he founders. He saves himself, but all his property goes to
the bottom. And there he is, humbled, crushed, mortified. And it is a very
solemn thing to him. But he never had any preaching before that gave him such
a sense of the nnsatisfactoriness of this life. Others come into a religions life by
the power of sympathy. They are drawn toward it by personal influence. They
go into it because their companions are going in. In a hundred such ways as these
God's providence brings people into the beginnings of a Christian life. Bat when
a man has once come into it, his very first experience, usually, whether he be
exactly conscious of it or not, is the thought that he is brought into the presence
of a higher Being — a higher Spirit — than he has been wont to think was near him.
Ood begins to mean something to him. This sense of God's presence is that which
is the beginning of faith in him. It opens the door for the Divine power to in-
flame his soul ; that is, for the Divine mind to give strength and inspiration to the
nobler and higher part of his mind — to his reason ; to his whole moral nature ; to
that which is the best and highest in him. By the enlarging, by the education, by
the inspiration of a man's nature, in this direction, the beginnings of victory are
planted. And now, all the forces of a man's nature, and all the foregoing habits
of his life, beginning here, will soon be so changed as to come into agreement with,
his higher feelings which will be excited by the insbining of God's souL Men
think it is mysterious ; bat it is not mysterious. Take a person of some degree
of sensibility — a young woman, for instance — who has been living in a vicious
cirde of people. Her father and mother — emigrants— died on landing. She was
of good stock, and had strong moral instincts ; but she was a vagrant child, and
was soon swept into the swirl of poverty and vice. Although too young to become
herself vicious, yet she learned to lie, and steal, and swear — with a certain inward
compunction — until by and by some kind nature brought her ont of the street, and
out of the den, and into the asylum. And then, speedily, some childless Christian
woman, wantiug to adopt a child, sees her, and likes her face and make, and brings
her home to her house. This is almost the first time she has had any direct com-
merce with real truth and real refinement ; and at first she has an impulse of
gratitude, and admiration, and wonder ; and in the main she is inspired by a sense
of gladness and of thankfulness to her benefactress. But as she lives from day
to day, she does not get over all her bad tendencies. Because she has come to live
with and to be the daughter of this woman, she does not get over the love of lying,
and tricks, and dirtiness, and meanness, and littleness. The evil does not die ia
an instant from her nature. Yet there is the begirming of that in her which will
by and by overcome it. There is in her a vague, uninterpreted sense of something
higher and better than she has known before. And it is all embodied in her
benefactress. She hears her sing, and hears her talk, and sees what kindnesses
she does to others, and how she denies herself. And if she be, as I have supposed
her to be, a child of strong, origiual moral nature, she will, in the course of a year,
be almost free from the taint of corruption ; almost free from deceits ; almost free
from vices. And it will be the expulsive power of new love in her soul that will
have driven out all this vermin brood of passions. As long as she is in the
presence of this benefactress, she will feel streaming in upon her nature those
influences which wake up her higher faculties, and give them power over her lower
faculties. When men are brought into the Christian life, and they begin to come
into communion with God, the higher part of their nature receives such a stimulus
that it has power to dominate the lower part — to control pride ; to hold in restraint
deceits ; to make men gentle, and mild, and sweet, and forgiving, and noble, and
ennobling. The direct influence which the spirit of God has upon the human
soul, is to develop the good and expel the evil tendencies that are in it. There
will be a change in our outward conformities to society ; to institutions ; to new
duties. There will be the acceptance of standards of morality which before ^^e
have not accepted. But important as these things Eire, they are but auxiliaries.
There is this one work which the new life begins to accomplish — namely, the read-
justment of the forces of the souL It changes the emphasis. When, therefore, a man
enters into a Christian life, not only does he come into communion with God, bat
his nature is newly directed. He begins to make the upper, the truly spiritual, the
love-bearing elements in him dominate over the others. No man can change his
faculties, any more than he can change his bodily organization; and yet, his
disposition may be changed 1 The Lord says, " If you have faith as a grain of
mostard-seed, you can say to this sycamine tree, Be thoa plucked np hj the
286 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xm.
roots, and cast into the sea." Hard as it is to transplant the tree of your soolr
difficult as it is to sever the roots that hold it down, the Master says, ' ' There i&
power to do it." However many faults you may have, that branch their roots
out in every direction, and difficult as it is to transplant them by the ordinary
instrumentalities; nevertheless, faith in the soul will give you power to pluck
them up by the roots, and cast them from you, or transplant them to better
soil, where they will grow to a better purpose. I preach, not simply a free gospel,
but a victorious gospel. I preach a gospel that has been full of victories and noble
achievements, but that has not yet begun to show what its full power and what all
its fruits of victory are to be. No one, then, who has been trying to overcome
his faults, need despair. (U. W. Beecher.) Prayer for increate of faith: —
COKSIDEB THE INXBEASE OF TAITH AS IT REOABDS ITS PRINCIPLE. Faith may, in One
respect, be considered as a principle of grace in religion. There is a difference,
you know, between the faculties which are natural and a principle of religion —
such as faith, or love, or justice, or rectitude. The faculties, of course, would grow
spontaneously and naturally, though they may be encumbered by much ignorance
and want of tuition; yet that circumstance will not extinguish the faculties, and
instruction and tuition cannot raise them above their proper and natural level.
This, however, is not the case with religious principle : it may exist or it may not
exist, just according to circumstances ; and it may exist, unquestionably, in different
degrees of vigour and power, in the very same person, under different circumstances
and at different periods of life. 1. Faith, as a principle, must have means of exist-
ence. But that faith is, in one view of the case, the fruit of teaching, is evident
from this single fact — it rests, you know, upon knowledge : and it rests upon know-
ledge not the growth of the understanding and the judgment in their natural exercise,
but knowledge communicated to the soul by the teaching of the Spirit in the reve-
lations of God. Then, if the teaching, brethren, on which faith rests is imperfect,
of course the faith itself must be feeble and imperfect. There is one view, indeed,
in which the truth on which faith terminates, never can be supposed to be obscure,
or little, or imperfect at all, but another in which it may. The first case to which
I refer — I mean the first mode of instruction — is that which is communicated simply
from the Bible ; and the second case to which I refer is that of the ministry. But
it is evident that you may have a very clear statement of the truth ; it may be fully
exhibited — exhibited in all its just proportions, and yet, at the same time, there
may be an indisposition on the part of the hearer, or the reader, to receive that
truth which is thus proposed. There are two parts here : there is the truth as it
is proposed to us, and the recipient of the truth. Now, if the objects of faith are
ever so clearly and ever so f jlly exhibited ; if God, in the exercise of His grace
and mercy — Christ, in His Divine and atoning character — and you do not receive
these truths, it follows that you are destitute of faith ; and, if you receive these
truths but partially, you can have but a very partial and feeble faith. I think the
reason why faith is feeble, in the sense to which I have referred, and from this
Particular cause, is not so much the fault of the understanding, as the fault of the
eart — it is not an intellectual, but it is a moral cause. The Bible does not speak
of the head of unbelief wickedly departing from the living God, but it speaks of
the heart of unbelief wickedly departing from God. There may be an indisposition
in our hearts to receive the truth. Then here is the grand cause, I think, why
teaching, which is in itself adequate and perfect and true, produces very little faith
through an indisposition on the part of the hearer of the truth to receive it — and
its fruits caimot consequently be borne. Faith may be considered as a principle,
in another view of the subject, as the fruit and consequence of persuasion and of
promise ; but then the promise" may be imperfectly exhibited to us, or it may be
imperfectly entertained by us, and consequently, the faith which rests on promise
will be feeble on these accounts. If you seek the fulfilment of the promises of
God on any particular point, seeking a fitness in yourselves for their fulfilment,
and take your fitness to the promises, you may be assured of this — it will not be
accomphshed ; but if you look to Christ, and His merit, and His intercession, and
expect the fulfilment of the promises of God in the fitness of the Saviour's merit,
then you may receive those promises in all their fulness. When a mistake, respecting
the accomplishment of any promise of God is entertained — respecting the mode of
its fulfilment, the mistake generally refers to the sovereignty of God ; and we are
expecting, I think, from the sovereignty of God jast what God expects from our
own faith. I do not here speak of faith as a moral fitness ; no, bat as something
else — simple trast in the grace and promised provisions of the gospel. There is a
mu-, xvn.] ST. LUKE. 287
connection between the fulfilment of the promise on the part of God and the
exercise of faith on the part of the sinner. I shall not stop to reason why it is so
in the gospel: we find it is there. Our Saviour could not do, in certain circum-
etances, many mighty works, because of the unbelief of the people : our Saviour
cannot do now for us any of those great and mighty works which He hath promised
He will do, because of our unbelief. Here is God, in all the fulness and plenitude
of His affection — here is the Saviour, in all the infinitude of His merit — here is
the promise of life, in all its length and breadth, standing out to our view, exciting
oar confidence, winning our faith ; but, after all, so little is that faith, that we can
receive but little ; and God cannot, in the sovereignty of His mercy, accomphsh
what He is infinitely willing to do. Faith, as a principle, in another view of the
case, may be considered as the Holy Spirit's infiuence ; but then, that spiritual
influence may be but imperfectly submitted to on our part ; and if so, then of
course our faith will be weak. For, as faith is a religious principle, and a very high
rehgious principle, of difficult exercise and difficult existence, it will follow, that it
can only be exercised by the agency and the power of the Spirit of God resting
upon the soul. If I could be a believer naturally, I could be a Christian naturally
— I could be saved naturally, I could attain to holiness naturally — I could enjoy
the highest holiness and fehcity naturally. I should not be a dependent creature
at all, if I could believe naturally. No ; it is by various manifestations and — if
you wiU allow the expression, I use it in an innocent way — various impulses of the
Spirit of God on the mind, by which we are led to believe. The power to believe
is communicated by spiritual agency and influence ; the act of believing is the act
of the person who receives that influence. I think that the power of faith may
exist, and yet not be exercised, or, if exercised at all, exercised very improperly;
just as the power and volition of the limbs are distinct one from the other. I may
have the power of volition, and yet I may sit perfectly still at the same time. I
may not exercise the power I possess, or I may exercise it. You know there i3
a difference between a moral agent and a necessary agent. A necessary agent will
perform his actions necessarily. The inferior animals, who are destitute of reason,
of judgment, of will, of choice, why, of course, they are just what they are by the
instincts and impulses of nature, over which they have no control at all. But
this cannot be said of man : man, in any circumstances, must be considered a
moral agent; therefore the influences of the Spirit of grace are communicated,
you will perceive, to aid our infirmities and give us power to believe ; but the power
may exist, and yet the act may not exist. Is it not true that many minds are
visited by the Spirit of God with His illuminations and spiritual influences, and
yet faith is never put forth, so to speak, in any saving form ? For if saving faith
grows out of spiritual influence, it will follow that the presence of that spiritual
influence is necessary, in order to the exercise of faith ; and one of the great
reasons why our faith is so feeble — why we are rather shut up in the darkness of
unbelief so often — is, that we do not lay our hearts open to that spiritual influence
which is promised and which is vouchsafed to us. " Increase our faith." This is
the prayer of the text, that God would increase our faith ; and if faith cometh by
teaching — cometh from the promise of God — cometh from the spiritual influence,
let us receive the teaching simply — let us receive the promise as it is exhibited in
the Word — let us lay our hearts open to the influence of the Spirit of God ; and
that faith which appears a timid, feeble, cowardly thing, in our experience, will
grow and increase till it comes to be mighty and powerfvd. 2. I remark that the
exercises of faith may not be equal to the occasion calling for those exercises ; and
under these circumstances the faith wiU be felt as feeble, and the person possessing
it, as needing influence. Allow me to remark here, that many of the duties of
religion are, properly speaking, duties of faith. But the duty depending on us, on
the part of rehgion, or, if you please, on the part of God, mr.y be greater than the
faith ; and if it be, then, of course, feebleness will be felt on the part of the
Christian who has to do the duty. Those duties which I call duties of faith may
Tary ; and, in passing from one class of duties to another, the Christian may feel
that his faith and his grace, which were adequate and sufficient for the duties of
one state, are found not to be adequate or sufficient for the duties of another state.
Now I think this is often felt. For instance, Abraham, the father of the faithful and
the Mend of God, dwelling in patriarchal simplicity in the bosom of a happy family
— in sweet, hallowed, and sublime communion with God, having received the
•ooomplishment of the covenant blessings promised to him at various times and ia
wioos oircamstances ; and Abraham, offering his son Isaac, appears in very difle*
288 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cBii. xm.
rent circnmstances. The faith which was found sufficient for one circumstance,
would not be sufficient for the other. Jacob, dwelling in the land of promise, in
the midst of smiling fields, luxuriant corn, bleating flocks, flowing streams, and i*
smiling sky ; and Jacob, dwelling in the midst of famine, in the death of his flocks,
in the loss of Joseph his son, would be a man in very different circumstances. The
faith which would support Jacob's mind when his family was entire and happy
would scarcely support Jacob's mind when his favourite son was gone. Is it not
just BO now ? Here is the Christian youth, living in the bosom of his family,
cheered on in his piety by the advice, counsels, and prayers of his parents, all
zealous to make him happy, to make him secure, to make him useful, to make
him honourable : and the Christian youth goes out into the world, to meet its
buffetings, its toils, its anxieties, its frowns. There is a great difference between
that youth dwelling in the bosom of a happy family, and that man in the mida't of
the bUghting crosses of the world. The patience which would preserve that youth,
scarcely will preserve that man ; the faith which would soothe and make his soul
happy in favourable circumstances, will scarcely make him happy in the midst of
unfavourable. And submissiveness to the crosses of life must be sustained by
faith ; but the burden, you know, may be greater than the faith, and if it is found
to be 80, whatever our strength may be in other circumstances, still you will find
yourselves feeble then. I think there is more difficulty — much more difficulty — in
attaining to a quiet, resigned, patient spirit, in the midst of the troubles of life, than
there is in the discharge of the active duties of life. The faith which enables a
man to pass the common road of life in peace and happiness will scarcely be suffi-
cient to enable him to pass the valley and shadow of death without fear. We must
feel the touch of affliction, and the touch of death ; and, perhaps, the prayer of the
text may be very appropriate to us when we change circumstances, and we may
have to pray, ♦• Lord, increase our faith I " 3. And let me, thirdly and finally,
remark that the accidents to which our religious feelings and experience may be
exposed, in this state of probation and trial, may tend to weaken faith, and make
the prayer of the text necessary — " Lord, increase our faith 1 " The privilege of
justification may not be forfeited by the loss, we think, of many of its attendant
and accompanying privileges and joys. A man may retain his acceptance with
God, and yet he may lose very much of that comfort, peace, joy, love, and those
excesses of feelings which he enjoyed before ; for all these blessings flow from God,
and are immutable, in that respect, above all accident ; yet, let it be remembered,
that the recipient of the whole is the human heart ; and if these blessings are to
dwell in a sorrowful soul, they will receive some tint, some colouring, I think, from
the character of the soul receiving them. Now the difficulty of attaining confidence
in God, in the decay of our spiritual joys, will be evident from this fact. There
will be a great difficulty in maintaining that kind of faith in the promised pro-
visions of the grace and love of God, the death of Christ, and so on, necessary even
to preserve and keep the soul in spiritual life. Now, I say, the difficulty of maintaining
a firm, unshaken trust in God, in the midst of this wreck, though necessary, is very
difficult. How often is it tiiat the Christian feels like a timid seaman, when the
ship in which he first sails begins to rock, and the elements to howl, and the waves
to dash ! Fears arise, though the storm makes it necessary that he should have
more confidence, more courage, fortitude, calmness, than before. Yet so it is with
Christian life. It is extremely difficult to maintain confidence in the midst of the
storm, though that confidence is more necessary, and I dare say you will feel the
necessity of offering the prayer of the text, "Lord, increase our faith I" {J. Dixon,D.p.)
Increased faith the strength of peace principles : — It was not for tte sake of working
miracles that the apostles sought increased faith ; it was not in order to bear their
present or future trials ; neither was it to enable them to receive some mysterious
article of the faith ; but their prayer referred to a common everyday duty enjoined
by the gospel — the forgiving those who do us wrong. I. Lkx us consider the
fhaysb itself. Notice what this prayer confesses. 1. It confesses that they had
faith. 2. It confesses that while they had faith, they had not enough of it. 3.
That they could not increase their own faith. 4. j?hat the Lord Jesus can increase
faith, n. I want to show how the increase of faith bears upon our poweb to
FOBOiTB others. 1. Faith increases our confidence in Jesus, so that we shall not
suspect Him of setting us an impracticable task. 2. Between faith and forgiveness
a very close connection will be seen if we inquire what is the foundation of faith.
The mercy of God. 3. The joy of faith is a wonderful help to forgiveness. 4. A
•pirit of rest is created by faith, which greatly aids the gentle spirit. 6. Fkith,
OHAP. xvn.] ST. LUKE. 289
when it is strong, has a high expectancy about it, which helps it to bear with the
assaults of men of the world. A man readily puts up with the inconvenience of the
present, when he has great joys in store for the future. III. Notice how the Lobjd
jEstra Chbist amswebed tbe pbayeb fob incbeased faith. 1. By assuring them that
faith can do anything. 2. By teaching them humility. {C. U. Spurgeon.) An
increase of faith : — ^I. We pbat fob ak rNCBEASE of faith also that its object
UAT become uobb beaij. We hold spiritual things too loosely. II. An incbease or
FAITH will hakb THE GOSPEL A GBEATEB powEB IN ouB LIFE. We are tried by
various circumstances, and tempted by the world, the flesh, and the devil. When
we see Abraham on Moriah, Job on tbe top of the heap, Hezekiah on a bed of sick-
oess, Jeremiah in the dungeon, tbe three Hebrew youths before Nebuchadnezzar,
Daniel in tbe den, Paul fighting with wild beasts at Ephesus, and the martyrs in
the fiames, faith demonstrates the power and grace of God. Has it occurred to yoa
that trials and temptations are the best occasions to show Christ to the world ? In
the instances we have named, as well as in thousands of others, God's glory shone
brighter than in the temple strain, or the worship of the synagogue. III. We need
A 8TBONOEB FAITH TO PBEFABB US FOB THE UNKNOWN FUTUBE. (The Weekly PulpU.)
Only God can increase faith: — Faith is not a weed to grow upon every dunghill,
without care or culture : it is a plant of heavenly growth, and requires Divine
watching and watering. {C. H. Spurgeon.)
Yer. 6. Faith as a grain of mustard seed. — The force of faith : — We mast
not imagine that these words give any encouragement to an idle and childish
expectation of any startling and ostentatious outcome of a true faith in Jesus
Clurist ; as though God's grace could ever be used to win for any one the wonder
and admiration of His fellow-men, or displayed in any abrupt and fruitless
miracle, for our excitement or aggrandizement. It is a far higher and nobler
power which is really promised by our Lord even to the least measure of true faith
in Him : a power which is far more fruitful and more mysterious than the mere
working of a wonder which would only be like a conjuring trick on a large scale.
For what He really here teaches us, as though in a short and vivid parable, is this :
that since His coming upon earth, there is a new kind of force astir in the history
and in the souls of men — a force which in the speed and certainty of its action can
surpass all the ordinary means by which men scheme and work — a force which is
effective far beyond all likelihood that we can see in it, so that even its least germ
is able to achieve results of inconceivable difficulty and greatness : and for the
secret, the character, of this new force He points us to the one spring and motive
of the Christian life — to faith. Now, before we leave the outward form in which
this truth is taught us, let us notice one point in it : that it is to a seed that our Lord
compares the beginning of faith in a man's heart : to a grain of mustard seed :
which indeed is the least of all seeds : but when it is grown it is the greatest amongst
herbs, and becometh a tree, &o. He seems thus to teach us that all true faith is
ever and everywhere growing : not a dead, self-contained thing, but a seed, filled
with an almost infinite power of growth in strength and range and beauty. However
poor and mean and worthless it may seem, there is that in it which will in due
time and with due care force its way into the light and strive towards heaven itself,
till the little speck of hope becomes a branching, fruitful wealth of life and beauty,
a resting-place and shelter for those who hover round its boughs and find refresh-
ment and protection in its gentle strength. Now I ask you to consider whether we
ever meet with any character which does thus seem to escape from the ordinary
restrictions of cause and effect : to exert a force far beyond all the likelihood that
we can discover : and to achieve results which sober and practical men woold never
have expected from it 7 Is there any temper of mind and will which makes a way
through insuperable obstacles, and forces mountainous difficulties to yield it service
and obedience ? Well, in the first place, do we not see a strange foreshadowing of
euch supernatural effectiveness, and a wonderful contrast between what might
reasonably have been looked for and what is actually achieved, in the life and work
of men who have a large degree of faith in themselves ? Do we not see in what we
know of history and politics, and in our own experience too, that the men who do
great deeds, who leave a mark behind them, who bend stubborn circumstances to
their will, who influence other men (bearing into their hearts the passions or the
policy which they have themselves conceived), are always the men who have a firm
faith in their own judgment, and a resolute conviction that they will achieve what
they have set themselves to do : so that they are not always explaining and apolo*
TOL. m. 19 . .
290 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. rm.
gizing and qnalifying and standing on the defensive, bnt rather going straight
forward and fearlessly calling upon others to follow them ? But, secondly, there ia
a nearer refleotion of that which the text means, and a higher and more mysterious
efficacy, in the power which some can wield by faith in their fellow-men. I trust
we all know something of the stange influence by which some men seem able to
discover and dnw out and strengthen all that is good and hopeful in those with
whom they have to do. The change which is wrought by one who meets his fellows
with a simple, earnest trust and hope is just the contrary of that miserable atmos-
phere of dingy u>ivt and cold in which a cynic lives and thinks and acts : distrusting
and depreciating others till they cease to show him anything but those meaner,
harsher elements ia their character which he seems resolute and glad to find. There
can hardly be a happier or more fruitful and wonder-working life than his in whose
company men are AiyrajB stirred to brightness and unseliisbness just because he
always believes thai they are purer and better than they are : by whose trustful
expectation they are f^minded of what they once desired and hoped to be, so that
the long-forgotten ideal seems again to come within their reach, and they live, if
only for a while, by a Slight which they never thought to see again. For thus this
quickening and enlightening power of faith in our fellow-men changes the whole
air and aspect of a life : and he who is thus trustful and hopeful draws out in one
man the timid and hlddon germ of good, and engenders in another the grace and
warmth which his faith presumes ; and the dullest heart is startled into sympathy
with the charity which btd^eveth all things, and hopeth all things : so that every,
where this faith is greeteu by the brightness which itself calls out, as the son ifl
welcomed by the glad colouiv which sleep until he comes. (F. Paget, D.D.)
Vers. 7-10. But which c^ you, having a servant plowing or feeding cattle. —
The ploughing servant ; — The one thing on which our Lord wishes to concentrate
our attention is not the spirit \a which God deals with His servants, but rather the
spirit in which we should setv« Qod — not what God thinks of our work, but rather
how we should regard it oursu^es. The Christian belongs to God ; therefore God
has a right to all the service h« can render. And, when he has rendered it all, ha
may not indulge in self-complacency as if he had done anything extraordinary, or
had deserved any special commendation ; for even at the best he has done no mora
than he ought to have done, since soul, body, and spirit, in all places and in all
cases, everywhere and at all tinue, he is the property of God. I. The comtimuocs
OBUGATioM OF THE Chbistiai? ufe. The Christian's " day " is not one merely of
twelve hours ; but throughout thd twenty-four he most be ready for any emergency,
and must meet that at the moment when it rises. Always he is under obligation
to his Lord ; and " without haste," but also " without rest," he must hold himself
absolutely at the disposal of his Master. AU his time is his Lord's; he can never
have " a day off." He is to be alvreys waiting and watching until death. IL Thb
gpiBiT iM WHICH SUCH DEMANDS ocQHT TO BE MET BT cs. 1. We must meet them
with patience. No murmuring or whimpering over our lot, as if it were tremen-
dously hard, and as if we were undergoing a species of martyrdom. 2. And then,
on the other side, we are not to stroke ourselves down complacently after we have
met the demand upon us, as if we had done something extraordinary. Pride after
toil ia just as much out of place here as murmuring under toil. 3. We are not to
think about ourselves at all, but of Qod, of what He has been to us and what H&
has done for us, and of what we owe to Him ; and then, when we get to a right and
proper estimate of that, our most arduous efforts and our most costly saciifices will
seem so small in comparison, that we shall be ready to exclaim, " We are unprofit-
able servants 1 All that we have done does not begin to measure the greatness of
our indebtedness to Him for whom we have done it ! " 4. Thus, in order to
comply with the exactions of the Christian life, in the spirit which this parable
recommends, we have to become reconciled to God through Jesus Christ. It is the
sense of redemption and the consciousness of regeneration whereby we have
become no longer servants, but sons, alone, that will impel us to reckon ourselves
as not oor own, and to do without a murmur, and without the least self -complacency,
all that God requires at our hands. When the life of a beloved son is hanging ia
the balance, no one can persuade his mother to take rest. You may tell her that
others are watching, that everything is being done that can be done, that it is her
" duty " to take a respite ; but you might as well speak to the deaf, for she is his
mother, and her mother-love will not let her be content with less than her own
personal ministry to her boy. Bnt does she think then of doing merely her da^
«K&p. xvn.] ST. LUKE. 291
to him? Is she measuring her oondnct then hj any standard of rectitade*
Nothing of the kind I She has risen above all standards and all duty. So with
ourselves and the service of God. Love lifts us above legalism. (W. M. Taylor,
If.L.) The parable of the unprofitable tervant : — I. The nature of the sebvich
<JoD REQUiBEs. That we do His bidding. 1. This He has revealed in His Word.
2. For this He has given us the capacity and powers which are essential. The
obedience He claims must possess the following characteristics, (1) It must be the
obedience of love. (2) It must be spiritual. (3) It must have respect to all His
commandments. (4) It must be constant. (5) It must be persevering fidelity unto
death. II. The suppobt He gives in it. This is implied in His sitting down to
*• eat and drink" (vers. 7, 8). Notice — 1. God gives ability for the service. 2. Ha
provides daily food for the soul. 3. He gives satisfaction and peace in the service.
ni. The Divine independency with bespect to this sebvice. Doth the master
" thank that servant because he did the things that were commanded," Ac. (ver. 9) ?
Now the force of this will be seen when it is remembered — I. That no man can go
heyond the Divine claims in his obedience. 2. God's goodness to man is ever
beyond the services He receives from him. 3. That man's best services are, in
consequence of his infirmities, frail and imperfect. Learn — 1. How necessary is
humility even to the most ezalted saints. 2. In all our obedience, let us set the
glory of God before us. 3. Those who refuse to obey the Lord must finally perish.
{J. Burns, D.D,) Extra service : — Axe these indeed the words of Him who said,
" Henceforth I call you not servants, but friends " ? This is a picture of a hard,
unlovely side of life — a slave's life and a slave's service, without thanks or claim
for thanks. We ask, I repeat, and not unnaturally, where such a representation of
Christian service fits into that sweet and attractive ideal which Christ elsewhere
gives us under the figure of the family relation — sons of God, confidential friends
■ot Christ. We hasten to say, No ; but it will require a little study to discover why
we may say no, and to fix the place of this parable in relation to others of a
happier tone. 1. Observe, in the first place, that it is not unusual for our Lord to
draw a disagreeable picture in order to set forth His own love and grace. [Unjust
judge. Churlish man refusing bread to neighbour.] We must not be repelled by a
figure, therefore. Let us try to see what facts and conditions of Christian service
are intended to be expressed by this parable. The parable answers to the fact in
being a picture of hard work, and of what we call extra work. The service of
God's kingdom is laborious service — service crowded with work and burdens,
Christ nowhere represents it as easy. No Christian can shut himself up to a little
-routine of duty, and say, I will do so much, within such times, and no more. So
long as a man's work is merely the carrying out of another's orders, it will tend to
t»e mechanical and methodical : but the moment the man becomes identified in
spirit with his work ; the moment the work becomes the evolution of an idea, the
expression of a definite and cherished purpose ; the moment it becomes the instru-
ment of individual will, sympathy, affection ; above all, the moment it takes on the
character of a passion or an enthusiasm — that moment it overleaps mechanical
trammels. The lawyer is not counting the number of hours which duty compels
him to work. He would make each day forty-eight hours long if he could. He
iias a case to gain, and that is all he thinks of. Tiie physician who should refuse
io answer a summons from his bed at the dead of night, or to visit a patient after
a certain hour of the day, would soon have abundance of leisure. Pain wiU not
measure its intervals by the clock, fever will not suspend its burning heats to give
the weary watcher rest : the affliction of the fatherless and widow knocks at the
doors of pure and undefiled religion at untimely hours. Times and seasons, in
short, must be swallowed up in the purpose of saving Ufe and relieving misery. I
need not carry the illustrations farther. You see that the lower a type of serrice,
the more mechanical and methodical it is ; and that the higher types of service
develop a certain exuberance, and refuse to be limited by times and seasons. 2. A
second point at which the fact answers to the parable, is the matter of wages ; that
is to say, the slave and the servant of Christ have neither of them any right to
thanks or compensation. What God may do for His servants out of His own free
grace and love, what privileges He may grant His friends, is another question ; but,
on the hard business basis of value received, the servant of God has no case.
What he does in God's service it is his duty to do. " God," as Bengal remarks,
" can do without our usefulness." God has no necessary men. 3. Now, then, we
teach the pith of the parable. It is spoken from the slave's point of view ; it dealt
with service of the lower, mechanical type. Now the moment a man puts himseli
192 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. icn^e. »m
on that lower ground, and begins to measure out his times and degrees of serrioe,
and to reckon what is due to himself, that moment he runs sharply against this
parable. That moment Christ meets his assertion of his rights with this unlovely
picture. The parable says to him, in effect, " If you put the matter on the business
basis, on the ground of your rights and merits, I meet you on that ground, and
challenge you to make good your claim. I made you : I redeemed you, body and
8oul, with My own blood. Everything you have or are, you owe to My free grace.
What are your rights ? "What is your ground for refusing any claim I may see fit
to make upon you ? "What claim have you for thanks for any service you may
render Me at any time ? " And the man cannot complain of this answer. It is
indeed the master's answer to a slave ; but then, the man has put himself on the
slave's ground. To the servile spirit Christ asserts His masterdom. He has no
word of thanks for the grumbling slave who grudges the service at his table after
the day's ploughing ; but to the loving disciple — the friend to whom His service is
joy and reward enough, and who puts self and all its belongings at his disposal —
it is strange, wondrous strange, but true, nevertheless, that Christ somehow slips
into the servant's place. Strange, I repeat ; but here is Christ's own word for it :
" Let your loins be girded about, and your lights burning." Here is a picture ol
night-work, you see. "And ye yourselves like unto men that wait for their lord,
when he will return from the wedding ; that when he cometh and knocketh, they
may open unto him immediately." Here are the servants, weary, no doubt, with
the day's work, but waiting and watching far into the hours of rest for their
master, and flying with cheerful readiness to the door at his first knock. "What
then ? " Blessed are those servants, whom the master when he cometh shall find
watching : verily I say unto you, that he shall gird himself, and make them to sit
down to meat, and will come forth and serve them." The amount of the matter
is, that for him who gives himself without reserve to Christ's service, Christ pat»
Himself at his service. "When he accepts Christ's right over him with his whole
heart, not as a sentence to servitude, but as his dearest privilege, counting it above
all price to be bought and owned by such a Master, he finds himself a possessor as
well as a possession. " All things are yours, and ye are Christ's." {M. R. Vincent,
D.D.) Tlie Christian's obligation to God : — The instruction of this parable
supposes — I. That the masteb hebe descbibed is the heavenly Lord and Master
or va ALL — THE God that made us and the Eedeemeb that died eob us. II. Thb
6EBVICES WHICH WE ARE TO BENDEB TO THIS DiVINE LoRD. 1. The text takeS it fof
granted that we are engaged spontaneously and habitually in serving this great Master
according to our several stations in His household. 2. But besides this there is a
further idea in the service described in the parable — that of duties succeeding each
other without intermission. 3. The text also conveys the idea that the good servant
postpones personal ease or indulgence to his master's command and interest. HI.
The low estimate which the Christian forms of himself after all he has done ob
can do fob his heavenly Lord. Doth your goodness extend to the infinite Creator ?
Do your minute services at all weigh in the view of the infinite fulness of eternal
glory, and the majesty of Him that sits upon the circle of the heavens ? (D. Wilson,
M. A.) The spirit of a true servant of God : — " People talk of the sacrifice I have
made in spending so much of my life in Africa. Can that be called a sacrifice which
is simply paid back as a small part of a great debt owing to our God, which we can
never repay ? Is that a sacrifice which brings its own blest reward in healthful
activity, the consciousness of doing good, peace of mind, and a bright hope of a
glorious destiny hereafter ? Away with the word in such a view and with such a
thought 1 It is emphatically no sacrifice. Say, rather, it is a privilege. Anxiety,
sickness, suffering, or danger, now and then, with a foregoing of the common con-
▼eniences and charities of this life, may make us pause, and cause the spirit to waver,
and the soul to sink ; bat let this be only for a moment. All these are nothing
when compared with the glory which shall hereafter be revealed in and for us. I
never made a sacrifice. Of this we ought not to talk, when we remember the great
sacrifice which He made who left His Father's throne on high to give Himself for
us." (Dr. Livingstone.) The dutiful servant : — "We used to be roused and stirred
by the clarion call of duty, as well as soothed and comforted by the tender breathing*
of love. And here the call comes to us loud and clear, waxing even louder as we
listen and reflect. " Do your duty ; and when you have done it, however laborious
and painful it may be, remember that you have only done your duty. Do not give
yourselves airs of complacency, as though you had achieved some great thing. Do
not give yourselves air of martyrdom as though some strange thing had happened
CBAF. rra.] ST. LUKE. 293
to yon. Neither pity yourselves, nor plnme yourselves on what you have done or
borne. Do not think of yourselves at all, but of God, and of the duties you owe to
Him. That you have done your duty — let this be your comfort, if at least you can
honestly take it And if you are tempted to a dainty aud effeminate self-pity for
the hardships you have borne, or to a dangerous and degrading self-admiration foi
the achievements you have wrought, let this be your safeguard, that you have dona
no more than your duty." It is in this strain that our Lord speaks to us here. 1.
And is it not a most wholesome and invigorating strain, a strain to which all in us
that is worthy of the name of man instantly and strongly responds ? The very
moment we grow complacent over our work, our work spoils in our hands. Our
energies relax. We begin to think of ourselves instead of our work, of the wonders
we have achieved instead of the toils which yet lie before us and of how me may
best discharge them. So soon as we begin to complain of our lot and task, to
murmor as though our burden were too heavy, or as though we were called to bear
it in our own strength, we unfit ourselves for it, our nerves and courage give way ;
oar task looks even more formidable than it is, and we become incapable even of
the little which, but for our repugnances and fears, we should be quite competent to
do. 2. And then how bracing is the sense of duty discharged, if only we may indulge
in it. And we may indulge in it. Does not Christ Himself teach us to say, " We
have done that which it was our duty to do *' ? He does not account of our duty as
we sometimes account of it. If we are at work in His fields. He does not demand of
QB that we should plough so many acres, or that we should tend so many heads of
cattle. All that He demands of us is that, with such capacities and opportunities as
we have, we should do our best, or at lowest try to do it. Honesty of intention,
purity and sincerity of motive, the diligence and cheerfulness with which we address
ourselves to His service, count for more with Him than the mere amount of work we
get through. The faithful and industrious servant is approved by Him, however
feeble his powers, however limited his scope. And He would have us take pleasure
in the industry and fidelity which please Him. He would have us account, as He
Himself accounts, that we have done our duty when we have sincerely and
earnestly endeavoured to do it. 3, We need not fear to adapt any part of this
parable to our own use, if only we take to ourselves the parable as a whole. For, in
that case, we shall not only add, " We are unprofitable servants," so often as we
Bay, " We have done that which it was our duty to do " ; we shall also confess
that every moment brings a fresh duty. We shall not rest when one duty is dis-
charged, as though our service had come to an end ; we shall be content to pass
from duty to duty, to Jill the day of life with labour to its very close. We shall not
be content only, but proud and glad, to wait at our Master's table after we have
ploughed the soil and fed the cattle. And even when at last we eat and drink, we
Bhall do even that to His glory — eating our bread with gladness and singleness of
heart, not for enjoyment alone, but that we may gain new strength for serving Him.
(S. Cox, D.D.) We are unprofitable servants. — The inevitable itnperfectness of
human works : — Life is a work, a service. Our best works are but faulty. This
consideration ought— I. To lead tjb to humblino views of all otm wobk. II. To
OtJABD VB FBOM DISCODKAOEMENT IN VIEW OF THE FELT FAULTINE88 OF OUB SEBVICE.
III. To PBBVENT V8 FBOM TOO GBEAT CONFIDENCE IN THE MEEIT OF OUB PEEF0BMANCE8.
IV. To BTIMCLATB DB TO DILIOENCE, SEEING THAT WHEN WE HAVE DONE THE UTMOST
otJB WOBK IS TET BUT IMPERFECT. Mark the great claims upon us for labour. 1.
From the great Master of all, the doing of whose will is necessary for the welfare
of His entire household. 2. From the world, in order to promote its benefit by onr
culture, instruction, and example. 3. From our own life, that its best interests
and happiness may be secured. {Ajion.) The Scripture-doctrine of the un-
profitableness of man's best performances, an argument against spirittuil pride ; yet no
excuse for slackness in good works and Christian obedience : — I. I propose to explain
WHAT THE PHEA8E OB TITLE OF UNPBOFITABLE BEBVANT8 HEBE 8TBICTLT MEANS. II. I
proceed now, secondly, to consider how much it conceens, and how fitly it becomes,
SUCH unpbofitable sbevantb to make theib humble acknowledgments befobe God,
or THE WOBTHLES8NESS OF ALL TEEiB 8EBVICEB ; worthless, I mean, with respect to
God, not otherwise : for they are not worthless with respect to angels, or to other
men ; more especially not to our own souls, but that, by the way, only to prevent
mistakes. III. I proceed now, thirdly and lastly, to observe, that such huhblb
AOKNOWLBDOMENTS AS I HAVE BEEN HEBE MENTIONIKO, MUST NOT HOWEVEB BE SO 0NDXK-
STOOD AS TO AFFOBO ANT EXCUSE OB COLOUB FOB BLACKNESS IN OUB BOUDEN DUTIES ; Ot
4or pleading any exemption or discharge from true Christian obedience. ID'
294 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xvn.
Waterland, D.D.) Reliance on reUgiout observances : — Now of course there is a
danger of persons becoming self-satisfied, in being regular and exemplary in
devotional exercises ; there is danger, which others have not, of their bo attending
to them as to forget that tbey have other duties to attend to. I mean the danger,
of which I was just now speaking, of having their attention drawn off from other
duties by their very attention to this duty in particular. And what is still most
likely of all, persons who are regular in their devotions may be visited with passing
thoughts every now and then, that they are thereby better than other people ; and
these occasional thoughts may secretly tend to make them self-satisfied, without
their being aware of it, till they have a latent habit of self-conceit and contempt
of others. What is done statedly forces itself upon the mind, impresses the
memory and imagination, and seems to be a substitute for other duties ; and what
is contained in definite outward acts has a completeness and tangible form about it,
which is likely to satisfy the mind. However, I do not think, after all, that there is
any very great danger to a serious mind in the frequent use of these great privileges.
Indeed, it were a strange thing to say that the simple performance of what God has
told us to do can do harm to any but those who have not the love of God in their
hearts, and to such persons all things are harmful : they pervert everything into evil.
1. Now, first, the evil in question (supposing it to exist) is singularly adapted to be
its own corrective. It can only do us injury when we do not know its existence.
When a man knows and feels the intrusion of self-satisfied and self-complacent
thoughts, here is something at once to humble him and destroy that complacency.
To know of a weakness is always humbling; now humility is the very grace needed
here. Knowledge of our indolence does not encourage us to exertion, but induces
despondence; but to know we are self-satisfied is a direct blow to self-satisfaction.
There is no satisfaction in perceiving that we are self-satisfied. Here then is one
great safeguard against our priding ourselves on our observances. 2. But again, if
religious persons are troubled with proud thoughts about their own excellence and
strictness, I think it is only when they are young in their religion, and that the
trial will wear off ; and that for many reasons. Satisfaction with our own doings,
as I have said, arises from fixing the mind on some one part of our duty, instead of
attempting the whole of it. In proportion as we narrow the field of our duties, we
become able to compass them. Men who pursue only this duty or only on that
duty, are in danger of self-righteousness ; zealots, bigots, devotees, men of the
world, sectarians, are for this reason self-righteous. For itie same reason, persons
beginning a religious course are self-righteous, though they often think themselves
just the reverse. They consider, perhaps, all religion to lie in confessing themselvea
sinners, and having warm feelings concerning their redemption and justification —
and all because they have so very contracted a notion of the range of God's
commandments, of the rounds of that ladder which reaches from earth to heaven.
But the remedy of the evil is obvious, and one which, since it will surely be
applied by every religious person, because he is religious, will, under God's grace,
effect in no long time a cure. Try to do your whole duty, and you will soon cease
to be well-pleased with your religious state. 3. But this is not all. Certainly this
objection, that devotional practices, such as prayer, fasting, and communicating,
tend to self-righteousness, is the objection of those, or at least is just what the
objection of those would be, who never attempted them. When, then, an objector
fears lest such observances should make him self-righteous, were he to attempt
them, I do think he is over-anxious, over-confident in his own power to falfil them ;
he trusts too much in his own strength already, and, depend on it, to attempt them
woald make him less self-righteous, not more so. He need not be so very fearful o(
being too good ; he may assure himself that the smallest of his Lord's command •
ments are to a spiritual mind solemn, arduous, and inexhaustible. Is it an easy
thing to pray ? And so again of austerities ; there may be persons so constituted
by nature as to take pleasure in mortifications for their own sake, and to be able to
practise them adequately ; and they certainly are in danger of practising them for
their own sakes, not through faith, and of becoming spiritually proud in con-
sequence : but surely it is idle to speak of this as an ordinary danger. ^ And so
again a religious mind has a perpetual source of humiliation from this consciousness
also, viz., how far his actual conduct in the world falls short of the profession
which his devotional observances involve. 4. But, after all, what is this shrink-
ing from responsibility, which fears to be obedient lest it should fail, but cowardice
and ingratitude ? What is it bat the very conduct of the Israelites, who, whea
Almighty God bade them encounter their enemies and so gain Canaan, feared th*
«HAP. ivn.] ST. LUKE. 895
80DB of Anak, because they were giants ? To fear to do oar daty lest we should
l)eoome self-righteous in doing it, is to be wiser than (Jod ; it is to distrust Him ; it
is to do and to feel like the unprofitable servant who hid his lord's talent, and
then laid the charge of his sloth on his lord, as being a hard and austere man. At
best we are unprofitable servants when we have done all ; but if we are but unprofit-
able when we do our best to be profitable, what are we, when we fear to do our best, but
-unworthy to be His servants at all ? No 1 to fear the consequences of obedience is to be
■worldly-wise, and to go by reason when we are bid go by faith. {J. H. Newman, D.D.)
Unprofitable servants: — A sentence which requires thought. At first sight we
might be inclined to say, "If a servant does all which he is deputed to do, can
that servant in any way be an unprofitable servant ? " But look at the matter a
little more closely, and see how the balance lies. All service is a covenant between
two parties. The servant covenants to do certain works, and the employer cove-
nants to provide for his servant certain wages, food, and accommodation. If the
Agreement be a just one, and if both do their duty according to the agreement,
neither can truly say he is a gainer or a loser in respect of the other. What the
servant gives in work he receives back in money, food, and accommodation. What
the master pays he receives back in the benefit and comfort which he derives from
the servant's work. Each gets back what he gave; his own in another shape.
But how is it between a man and his Creator ? Let me for a moment suppose a
case — quite impossible I fear — but the case of a man who has fulfilled all the ends
for which he was created. How does the case now stand ? God has endowed that
man with life, and all its powers of body, mind, and soul; with all its influences
and opportunities ; and God has watched over him and kept him and blessed him.
Now if that man be a kind and useful man to all his fellow-creatures with whom
he has to do, and if he uses rightly all his possessions, and if he honours God and
loves his neighbour, that man has done his duty. But is God the gainer ? He has
only received back His own. It is all His own property. His gift ; it is but His
right. The creature hath done his duty ; but the Creator has not benefitted. How
can a man be " profitable " to his Creator? But "profit" is to have your own
back with increase ; and if that be profit, there is no profit here. The man is still,
in reference to his master, "an unprofitable servant." Now let us look at it as a
matter of fact. So far are we, even the best of us, from having "done all these
things " which are commanded of us, and so fulfilled our duty, that the question is.
Have we realJy kept any one single commandment that God ever gave ? Or put it
in another way, in which Christ placed it. Is there a person in the world to whom
your conscience will tell you that you have really done your whole duty in everything ?
{J. Vaughan, M.A.) The defects of our performances an argument against pre-
sumption : — I. Teos utmost we can do is no moke than oub bounden duty. Our
creation places us under a debt which our most accurate services can never
discharge. Alas 1 all we do, or all we can suffer in obedience to Him, can bear no
proportion to what He has done and suffered for us. And if our best services
caimot discount His past favours, much less can we plead them in demand of Hia
future. And therefore whatever farther encoxiragement He is pleased to annex to
our obedience, mast be acknowledged as a pure act of grace and bounty. II. Aiteb
WB BAvs DONE ALL, WE ABE UNPBOFiTABLB. God is a being infinitely happy in the
enjoyment of His own perfections, and needs no foreign assistance to complete His
fruitions. No — oar observance of His commands, though by His infinite mercy it
be a means of advancing our own, is yet no addition to His felicity, which is the
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever, and consequently our most dutiful perform-
ances cannot lay any obligation of debt on our Creator, or presume upon any
intrinsic value which His justice or gratitude is bound to reward. III. The
PEBFOEMANCB ITSELF CANNOT BE INSISTED ON AS AN ACT STBICTLY OUH OWN, BUT
UU8T BE ASOBIBED TO THE ASSISTANCE OF DiVINE OBACE WOEKINQ IN US ; and that
all the value of it is derived from the mediation and atonement of Christ. It is
His Holy Spirit that kindles devotion in our breast, infuses into us good desires, and
enables us to execute our pious resolutions. This single reflection should, methinks,
be Buffioient to subdue every high and insolent conceit of our own righteousness,
that in our best performances to God we give EUm but of His own, and that even
our inclination and ability to serve Him we receive from Him. To our Redeemer
only belongs the merit and glory of our services, and to us nothing but the grati*
tnde and humility of pardoned rebels. {J. Rogers, D.D.) The praise of service
belongs to Ood : — Here is a little stream trickling down the mountain side. As it
proceeds, other streams join it in succession from the right and left until it
296 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha». xni.
becomes a river. Ever flowing, and ever increasing as it flows, it thinks it will make
a great contribution to the ocean when it shall reach the shore at length. No,
river, you are an unprofitable servant ; the ocean does not need you ; could
do as well and be as full without you; is not in any measure made up by
you. True, rejoins the river, the ocean is so great that all my volume
poured into it makes no sensible difference ; but still I contribute bo much,
and this, as far as it goes, increases the amount of the ocean's supply. No : this
indeed is the seeming to the ignorant observer on the spot ; but whoever obtains
deeper knowledge and a wider range, will discover and confess that the river is an
unprofitable servant to the sea — that it contributes absolutely nothing to the sea'a
store. From the ocean came every drop of water that rolls down in that river's
bed, alike those that fell into it in rain from the sky, and those that flowed into it
from tributary rivers, and those that sprang from hidden veins in the earth. Even
although it should restore all, it gives only what it received. It could not flow, it
could not be, without the free gift of all from the sea. To the sea it owes its exist-
ence and power. The sea owes it nothing ; would be as broad and deep although
this river had never been. But all this natural process goes on, sweetly and
beneficently, notwithstanding : the river gets and gives ; the ocean gives and gets.
Thus the circle goes round, beneficent to creation, glorious to God. Thus, in the
spiritual sphere — in the world that God has created by the Spirit of His Son —
circulations beautiful and beneficent continually play. From Him, and by Him,
and to Him are all things. To the saved man through whom God's mercy flows,
the activity is unspeakably precious : to him the profit, but to God the praise. {W.
Arnot.) The creature has no absolute merit : — I. In the first place, he must bo
eay, and so feel, because he is a created being. Mere dead matter cannot exert
any living functions. The saw cannot saw the sawyer. The axe cannot chop the
chopper. They are lifeless instruments in a living hand, and must move as they
are moved. It is impossible that by any independent agency^ of their own they
should act upon man, and make him the passive subject of their operations. But
it is yet more impossible for a creature to establish himself upon an independent
position in reference to the Creator. Every atom and element in his body and BOnl
is originated, and kept in being, by the steady exertion of his Maker's power. If
this were relaxed for an instant he would cease to be. Nothing, therefore, can be
more helpless and dependent than a creature ; and no relation so throws a man
upon the bare power and support of God as creaturely relation. II. In the second
place, man cannot make himself " profitable " unto God, and lay Him under obli-
gation, because he is constantly sustained and upheld by God. III. In the third
place, man cannot be " profitable " to God, and merit His thanks, because all his
GOOD WOEKS DEPEND UPON THB OPEBATION AND ASSISTANCE OF THE HoLT SpIBIT.
Our Lord's doctrine of human merit is cognate with the doctrine of Divine grace.
1. In the first place, we see in the light of our Lord's theory of human merit, why
it is impossible for a creature to make atonement for sin. 2. In the second place,
we see in the light of this subject why the creature, even though he be sinlessly
perfect, must be humble. 3. And this leads to a third and final inference from
the subject, namely, that God does not require man to be a "profitable"
servant, but to be a faithful servant. Whoever is thus faithful will be re-
warded with as great a reward as if he were an independent and self-sustain-
ing agent. Nay, even if man could be a " profitable " servant, and could
bring God under obligation to him, his happiness in receiving a recompense
tinder such circumstances would not compare with that under the present
arrangement. It would be a purely mercantile transaction between the parties.
There would be no love in the service, or in the recompense. The creature
would calmly, proudly, do his work, and the Creator would calmly pay him his
•wages. And the transaction would end there, like any other bargain. But now,
there is affection between the parties— filial love on one side, and paternal love on
the other ; dependence, and weakness, and clinging trust, on one side, and grace,
and almighty power, and infinite fulness on the other. God rewards by promise
and by covenant, and not because of an absolute and original indebtedness to the
creature of His power. And the creature feels that he is what he is, because ol
the grace of God. {W. O. T. SJiedd, D.D.) Unprofitable servanU ;— Ai.O.E.,
in " Triumph over Midian," writes : " You have not your due," were the words
which a wife addressed to a husband, who had been deprived of some advantage
which she considered to have been his right. " May God be praised that I have
»ot my due I " he replied. " What is my due as a sinner before God ? What ii
«BAP. xvn.] ST. LUKE. 297
my due from a world which I have renounced for His sake ? Had I chosen my
portion in this life, then only might I complain of not receiving my due." Our
Duty : — The faithful performance of duty in our station, ennobles that station
whatever it may be. There is a beautiful story told of the great Spartan Brasidas.
When he complained that Sparta was a small state, his mother said to him : " Son,
Sparta has fallen to your lot, and it is your duty to adorn it." I (the Earl of
Shaftesbury) would only say to all workers, everywhere, in all positions of life,
whatever be the lot in which you are cast, it is your duty to adorn it.
Vers. 11-19. Ten men that were lepers. — The ten lepers: — I. Theib obiqinaii
CONDITION. Defiled. Separated. U. Their application to Christ. 1. Observe
the distance they kept from His person, 2. The earnestness of their prayer. 3.
The unanimity of their application. 4. The reverence and faith they evinced.
III. The core wrought. IV. The thanks rendered by the Sajiaritan and thb
INGRATITUDB OE THE NINE. 1. The wiUiugness and power of Christ to heal. 2. The
application to be made. 3. The return He demands of those He saves. 4. The
commonness of ingratitude. (J. Bums, D.D.) The ten lepers: — I. The stort
■NoouBAOES WORK ON FRONTIERS AND BORDERS. Jesus met the lepers " in the midst
of" — that is, probably, along the frontier line between—" Samaria and Galilee,"
on His way east to the Jordan. Their common misery drew these natural enemies,
ths Jews and the Samaritans, together. The national prejudice of each was
destroyed. Under these circumstances the border was a favourable retreat for
them. The border population is always freer from prejudice and more open to
influence. XL The stort shows that there is a sense in which impenitent men
CAN PBAY. The lepers prayed. That weak, hoarse cry affectingly expressed their
sense of need — one characteristic of true prayer. Their standing afar off further
expressed their sense of guilt — another characteristic of acceptable prayer. Their
disease was a type of the death of sin. Their isolation expressed the exclusion of
the polluted and abominable from the city of God. HI. Tede stort shows that
there is a sense in which God answers the praters of impenitent men. IV.
The stobt shows how the tobm of obedience mat exist without its spirit. V.
The stort shows us that a degree of faith mat exist without love, and so
without saving power. There was a weak beginning of faith in all the ten. It is
shown in their setting out without a word, though as yet unclean sed, for Jerusalem.
This must have required faith of a high order. If it had worked by love all would
have been saved. This was one trouble with the nine, and the radical one — they
did not love. Calvin describes their case, and that of many like them. " Want
and hunger," he says, " create a faith which gratification kills." It is real faith,
yet hath it no root. VI. The stobt shows us the sin of ingbatitudb, and the
PLACE which gratitude FILLS WITH GoD. The Samaritan was the only one who
returned, and he was the only one saved. " Birth did not give the Jew a place in
the kingdom of heaven ; gratitude gave it to a Samaritan." Blessings are good, but
not for themselves. They are to draw us to the Giver, they are tests of character.
True gratitude to God involves two things, both of which were found in the leper,
1. He was humble ; he fell at Jesus' feet. He remembered what he had been when
Jesus found him, and the pit whence he was digged. If blessings do not make us
humble, they are lost upon us. 2. Gratitude involves, also, the exaltation of God.
The leper glorified God. A German, who was converted, expressed himself afterward
with a beautiful spirit of humility and praise : " My wife is rejoicing," he said, " I
am rejoicing, my Saviour is rejoicing." On another occasion he said, •• I went
this evening to kiss my little children good-night. As I was standing there my
wife said to me, ' Dear husband, you love these our children very dearly, but it is
not a thousandth part as much as the blessed Saviour loves us.' " What spirit
should more characterize God's creatures than gratitude ? What should we more
certainly look for as the mark of a Christian ? God blesses it. He blessed the
leper ; He cleansed the leprosy deeper than that in his flesh, the leprosy of sin.
The nine went on their way with bodies healed, but with a more loathsome disease
still upon them, the leprosy of ingratitude. We classify sins. " We may find by
and by that in God's sight ingratitude is the blackest of all." There is an applica-
tion of this truth to Christians which we should not miss. Gratitude gives con-
tinual access to higher and higher blessings. The ungrateful Christian loses
spiritual blessings. H we value the gift above the Giver, all that we should receive
in retoming to Him we lose. {O. R. Leavitt.) The ten lepers : — I. The blessim»
VHIOH THXT ALL BECBiYED. 1. A healthy body. 2. Restoration to society. 8. B«-
298 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xvn.
admission to the sanctuary. II. The behattoub of the nine. III. The losb
BtlBTAlNED BY THE NINE IN CONSEQUENCE OE THEIR INGEATITUDE. LcSSOnS 1. Ill the
bestowment of His grace, God is no respecter of persons. 2. Our Lord regards
moral and religious obligations as more important than those which are positive
and ceremonial. 3. Answers to prayer should be received with thanksgiving.
(F. F. Goe, M.A.) The lepers: — Affliction quickens to prayer; but those who
remember God in their distresses often forget Him in their deliverances. 1. Observe
the condition in which Jesus found the applicants. 2. Observe the state in which
Jesus left them. 3. Their subsequent conduct. I. The great evil and peevalenct
CF INGRATITUDE. 1. It is & sin 60 Very common that not one in ten can be
found that is not guilty of it in a very flagrant manner, and not one in ten thousand
but what is liable to the charge in some degree. It is a prevailing vice among all
lanks and conditions in society. 2. Common as this sin is, it is nevertheless a sin
of great magnitude. Should not the patient be thankful for the recovery of hig
health, especially where the relief has been gratuitously afforded ? Should not the
debtor or the criminal be thankful to his surety or his prince, who freely gave him
his liberty or his life ? (1) It is a sin of which no one can be ignorant; it is a sin
against the light of nature, as well as against the law of revelation. (2) Ingratitude
carries in it a degree of injustice towards the Author of all our mercies, in that it
denies to Him the glory due unto His name, and is a virtual impeachment of His
goodness. (3) Unthankfulness brings a onrse upon the blessings we enjoy, and
provokes the Giver to deprive us of them. 11. Consider the means bt which this
EVIL MAT BE PREVENTED. 1. Be clothed with humility, and cherish a proper sense of
your own meanness and nnworthiness. 2. Give every mercy its full weight. Call
no sin small, and no mercy small. 3. Take a collective view of all your mercies,
and you will see perpetual cause for thankfulness. 4. Consider your mercies in a
comparative view. Compare them with your deserts : put your provocations in
one scale, and Divine indulgences in another, and see which preponderates.
Compare your afflictions with your mercies. 6. Think how ornamental to religion
is a grateful and humble spirit. 6. There is no unthankfulness in heaven. {B.
Beddowe, M.A.) The ten lepert ; — 1. The first thing I would have you notice is,
that the ten were at first undistinguishable in their misery. That there were dif-
ferences of character among them we know ; that there were differences of race, of
education, and training, we know too, for one at least was a Samaritan, and under
no other circumstances, perhaps, would his companions have had any dealings
with him ; but all their differences were obliterated, their natural antipathies were
lost, beneath the common pressure of their frightful misery — their very voices were
blended in one urgent cry, " Jesus, Master, have mercy upon us." •• One touch of
nature," says the great poet, " makes the whole world kin " : true, and alas I never
so true as when that touch of nature is the sense of guilt. This is the great
leveller, not only of the highest and lowest, but of the best and worst, effacing all
distinctions, even of moral character ; for, when one attempts to weigh one's sin
and count it up, it seems impossible to establish degrees in one's own favour — one
feels as if there were a dreadful equality of guilt for all, and one was no better than
another. 2. I would have you notice, in the second place, the apparent tameness
of their cure. Our Lord neither lays His finger on them, nor holds any conference,
but merely tells them to go and show themselves to the priests, according to the
letter of that now antiquated and perishing law of Moses. Never was so great a
cure worked in so tame a fashion since the time of Naaman the Syrian ; well for
them that they had a humbler spirit and a more confiding faith than he, or they,
too, would have gone away in a rage and been never the better. Now, I think we
may see in this a striking parable of how our Lord evermore deals with penitent
sinners. He does not, as a rule, make any wonderful revelation of Himself to the
soul which He heals; there is no dramatic "scene" which can be reported to
others. There is, indeed, often something very commonplace, and therefore disap-
pointing, about His dealings with penitents. He remits them to their religious
duties — to those things which men account as outward and formal, and therefore
feeble, which have indeed no power at all in themselves to heal the leprosy of sin,
such as the means of grace, the ministry of reconciliation. In these things there
is no excitement ; they do not carry away the soul with a rush of enthusiasm, or
fill it with a trembling awe. 3. And, in the third place, I would have you notice
the unexpected way in which He addressed the one who came back to express his
heartfelt gratitude. •' Arise, go thy way, thy faith hath made thee whole." Now,
it is obvious that these words were just as applicable to the other nine as to him.
CBAi, xvnO ST. LUKE. 299
for they, too, had been made whole, and made whole by faith ; all had believed, all
had started ofif obediently to show themselves to the priests, and all alike had been
cleansed through faith as they went. Does it not seem strange that He took no
notice of the gratitude which was peculiar to the one to whom He spake, and only
made mention of the faith which was common to them all ? Did He not do it
advisedly ? Did He not intend us to learn a lesson thereby ? We know that this
story sets forth as a parable our own conduct as redeemed and pardoned sinnere,
We know that the great bulk of Christians are ungrateful ; that they are far more
concerned in lamenting the petty losses and securing the petty gains of life, than
in showing their thankfulness to God for His inestimable love. What about them?
Will unthankful Christians also receive the salvation of their souls 7 I suppose so.
I think this story teaches us so, and I think our Lord's words to the one that
returned are meant to enforce that teaching. All were cleansed, though only one
gave glory to God ; even so we are all made whole by faith, though scarcely one in
ten shows any gratitude for it. The ingratitude of Christian people may indeed
mar very grievously the work of grace, but it cannot undo it. " Thy faith hath
made thee whole " is the common formula which includes all the saved, although
amongst them be found differences so striking, and deficiencies so painful. There
are that use religion itself selfishly, thinking only of the personal advantage it
will be to themselves, and of the pleasure it brings within their reach. But these
are certainly not the happiest. Vexed with every trifle, worried about every diffi-
culty, entangled with a thousand uncertainties, if all things go well they just
acquiesce in it, as if they had a right to expect it ; if things go wrong they begin at
once to complain, as though they were ill-used ; if they become worse, then they
are miserable, as though aU cause for rejoicing were gone. Now, I need not remind
you how fearfully such a temper dishonours God- When He has freely given us
an eternal inheritance of joy, a kingdom which cannot be shaken, an immortality
beyond the reach of sin or suffering, it is simply monstrous that we should murmur
at the shadows of sorrow which fleck our sea of blessing, it should seem simply in-
credible that we do not continually pour out our very souls in thanksgiving unto Him
that loved us and gave Himself for us. But I will say this, that our ingratitude is the
secret of our Uttle happiness in this life. Our redeemed lives were meant to be
like that summer sea when it dances and sparkles beneath the glorious sun;
instead of which they are like a sullen, muddy pool upon a cloudy day, which gives
back nothing but the changing hues of gloom. It is not outward circumstance, it
is the presence or absence of a thankful spirit which makes all the difference to
our lives. Gratitude to God is the sunshine of our souls, with which the tamest
scene is bright and the wildest beautiful, without which the fairest landscape is but
sombre. (JR. Winterbotham, M.A.) Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity : — Three
impressive and instructive pictures are described in this gospel I. A conqbeoation
OF BUTFEBEES, whom affliction influenced to much Beeming goodness and piety.
It is a beautiful and comforting truth, that there is no depth of suffering, or
distance from the pure and the good to which sin may banish men in this world,
where they are debarred from carrying their sorrows and griefs in prayer to God.
A man may be guilty, leprous, cast out, cut off, given up as irretrievably lost ; and
yet, if he will, he may call on God for help, and the genuine, hearty, earnest, and
real cry of his soul wUl reach the ear of God. II. A mabvellous intebfeeencb of
Divine poweb and obacb for their relief, very imsatisfactorily acknowledged and
improved. Dark-day and sick-bed religion is apt to be a religion of mere con-
straint. Take the pressure off, and it is apt to be like the morning clond and the
early dew, which '* goeth away." Give me a man who has learned to know and
fear God in the daytime, and I shall not be much in doubt of him when the night
comes. But the piety which takes its existence in times of cloud and darkness,
like the growths common to such seasons, is apt to be as speedy in its decline as it
is quick and facile in its rise. There are mushrooms in the field of grace, as well
as in the field of nature. III. An ikstancb of IiOnelt oBATrnmE, resulting in
most precious blessings superadded to the miraculous cure. There was not
only a faith tc get the bodily cure, but a faith which brought oat a complete
and practical discipleship ; an earnest and abiding willingness, in prosperity
as well as in adversity, to wear the Saviour's yoke. (J. A, Seits, D.D.)
Onlp trutt Him: — As these men were to start straight away to the priest with all
their leprosy white upon them, and to go there as if they felt they were already
healed, lo are yon, with all your sinnership upon yon, and your sense of condemna-
iion heavy on yoor sonl, to beliete in Jesus Christ jnst as yoo are, and yon shaU
300 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xm.
find everlasting life npon the spot. I. First, then, I say that we are to believe in
Jesus Christ — to trust Him to heal us of the great disease of sin — though as yet wa
laay have about us no sign or token that He has wrought any good work upon as.
We are not to look for signs and evidences within ourselves before we venture oar
eouls upon Jesus. The contrary supposition is a soal-destroying error, and I will
try to expose it by showing what abe xhb bioms that abs couuonly looebo fob bt
V£N. 1. One of the most frequent is a oonscioasness of great sin, and a horrible
dread of Divine wrath, leading to despair. If yea say, " Lord, I cannot trust Thee
unless I feel this or that," then you, in eSeot, say, *'I can trust my own feelings,
but I cannot trust God's appointed Saviour." What is this but to make a god out
of your feelings, and a saviour out of your inward griefs ? 2. Many other persons
think that they must, before they can trust Christ, experience quite a blaze of joy.
" Why," you say, "must I not be happy before I can believe in Christ?" Must
you needs have the joy before yoa exercise the faith ? How unreasonable I 8. Wd
have known others who have expected to have a text impressed upon their minds.
In old families there are superstitions about white birds coming to a window before
a death, and I regard with much the same distrust the more common superstition
that if a text continues upon your mind day after day you may safely conclude tha:
it is an assurance of your salvation. The Spirit of God often does apply Scriptura
with power to the soul ; but this fact is never set forth as the rock for us to build
upon. 4. There is another way in which some men try to get oft believing in Christ,
and that is, they expect an actual conversion to be manifest in them before they
will trust the Saviour. Conversion is the manifestation of Christ's healing power.
But you are not to have this before yoa trust Him ; you are to trust Him for this
very thing. II. And now, secondly, I want to bring forward what thb bbason
la fob odb believiko in Jesus Cbbist. No warrant whatever within ourself need
be looked for. The warrant for our believing Christ lies in this — 1. There is Qod'i
witness concerning His Son Jesus Christ. God, the Everlasting Father, has sec
forth Christ " to be the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but also for
the sin of the whole world." 2. The next warrant for our believing is Jesui>
Christ Himself. He bears witness on earth as well as the Father, and His witness
is true. 3. I dare say these poor lepers believed in Jesus because they had heard
of other lepers whom He had cleansed. HL What is thb isscb of this kind or
FAITH THAT I HAVB BBEN PBEACHiMQ? This trusting in Jesus withoot marks,
signs, evidences, tokens, what is the result and outcome of it ? 1. The first thing
that I have to say about it is this — that the very existence of snch a faith aa
that in the soul is evidence that there is already a saving change. Every man
by nature kicks against simply trusting in Christ; and when at last he yields
to the Divine method of mercy it is a virtual surrender of his own will, the
ending of rebellion, the establishment of peace. Faith is obedience. 2. It will
be an evidence, also, that you are humble; for it is pride that makes men
want to do something, or to be something, in their ovm salvation, or to be saved
in some wonderful way. 3. Again, faith in Jesus will be the best evidence that
yon are reconciled to God, for the worst evidence of year enmity to God is that
you do not like God's way of salvation. (C H. Spurgeon.) The ten lepers: — L
A WBETCKED coMFANT. II. A soBPBiSED OOMPANT. 1. The occBsion of the surprise.
(1) They suddenly met Jesus, (a) Life is full of surprises, (b) To meet Jesus is
the best of all life's surprises. 2. The effects of this surprise. (1) Hope was en-
kindled within them. (2) Prayer for mercy broke forth from them. (3) Healing of
their dreadful malady was experienced by them. III. An UNOBATEFni. coupant. 1.
Consider the number healed. 2. The cry which brought the healing. 8. The
simultaneousness of the healing. 4. The ingratitude of the healed. (1) Only one
returned to acknowledge the mercy. (2) This one a stranger. (3) The angratefal
are those of the Master's own household. (4) Are these representative facts? 5.
Consider the special blessing bestowed on tne grateful sool. (1) Not only healed
in body, but also in soul. (2) Soul-healing ever requires personal faith. (D. C.
Hughes, M.A.) The ten lepers : — I. Theib application. It was — 1. Unanimotu.
2. Earnest. 3. Eespectful and humble. IL Theib cube. 1. A wonderful manifes-
tation of Christ's power. He is a rich Saviour, rich in mercy and rich in power.
2. Great faith and obedience exhibited on their part. III. The thankfdlnbbs
MANIFESTED BT ONE OF THESE HEALBO HBN. 1. Prompt. 2. Warm, hearty, earnest.
3. Humble and reverential. More so, observe, than even his prayer. When he
eried for mercy, he stood ; when he gives thanks for mercy, he falls down on his
face. The thankfnlnesa of this man was elevated also. It was acocmpanied with
«HAP. XVII.J ST. LUKE. 801
high thoughts of God, and a setting forth, as far as he was able, of God's glory.
He is said in the text to have " glorified God." And observe how he blends together
in his thankfulness God and Christ. He glorifies the one, and at the same time ha
falls down before the other, giving Him thanks. Did he then look on our Lord in
His real character, as God 7 Perhaps he did. The wonderful cure he had received
in his body, might have been accompanied with as wonderful an outpouring of
grace and light into his mind. God and Christ, God's glory and Christ's mercy,
were so blended together in his mind, that he could not separate them. Neither,
brethren, can yon separate them, if you know anything aright of Christ and His
mercy. (C. Bradley, M.A.) The ten lepers: — 1. Look at the afflicted objects. 2.
Observe the direction of the Divine PhysicJfen. The Saviour, by sending the lepers
to the priest, not only honoured the law which bad prescribed this conduct, but
secured to Himself the testimony of the appointed judge and witness of the cure;
for, as this disease was considered to be both inflicted and cured by the hand of God
Himself, and as He had cured it, He thus left a witness in the conscience of the
priest, that He was what He professed to be. 3. Follow these men on the road, and
behold the triumphant success of Christ's merciful designs. Christ's cure was not
only effectual, but universal. No one of the ten is excepted as too diseased, or too
unworthy; but among all these men there is only one that we look at with
pleasure. He was a stranger. 4. Contemplate more closely the grateful Sama-
ritan. What a lovely object is gratitude at the feet of Mercy 1 5. But what a
contrast is presented by the ungrateful Jews. 6. Tet how gently the Saviour rebukes
their unthankfulness. He might have said — " What 1 so absorbed in the enjoyment
of health as to forget the Giver ! Then the leprosy which I healed shall return to
you, and cleave to you for ever." But, no; He only asks — "Are there not found
any that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger? " And, turning to the
man prostrate in the dust at His feet, Jesus said, " Arise, go to thy house, thy faith
hath made thee whole." Concluding lessons — 1. This subject shows the compassion
of the Saviour. 2. Let each ask himself, " Am I a leper? " 3. See the hatefulness
of ingratitude. {T. Oibson, M.A.) Oratitude for Divine favour t : — I. Wk abb con-
TiSTJAijiT BECErviNO FAVoxiKS FBOM GoD. No crcature is independent. All are daily
receiving from the Father of lights, from whom "cometh every good and perfect
gift," and " vrith whom there is no variableness, nor shadow of turning." Our bodies,
with all their powers ; and our souls, with all their capacities, are derived from Him.
But whilst the beneficence of the Supreme Being is, in one sense, general ; it is, in
another, restricted. Some are more highly favoured than others. Some have ex-
perienced remarkable interpositions of Divine providence. Some have been raised
up from dangerous illness. Some have been advanced in worldly possessions. Some
are the partakers of distinguished privileges. Such are those who are favoured
<with the dispensation of the gospel. II. That these favoubs should induce
A suiTABUt BGTCBM. 1. Gratitude will not be regarded as unsuitable. We always
«xpect this from our fellow-creatures who participate in our bounty. 2. Com-
mendation is another suitable return. Make known the lovely character of your
merciful Bedeemer to others. 3. Service is another suitable return. " Wherefore,
we receiving a kingdom which cannot be moved, let us have grace whereby we may
serve God acceptably, with reverence and with godly fear." 4. Humiliation is a
suitable return. This Samaritan prostrated himself before his Divine Healer. How
unspeakable is the felicity of that man, who, deeply humbled uuder a sense of the
manifold mercies of God, can lift up his eyes to the great Judge of quick and dead,
and say in sincerity, '• Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor my soul lofty, neither do
I exercise myself in great matters, nor in things too high for me ; I have surely
behaved and quieted myself as a child that is weaned of its mother : my soul is even
as a weaned child ! " 5. Honour is a suitable return. This Samaritan was not,
perhaps, acquainted with our Lord's divinity ; but he regarded Him as some extra-
ordinary personage, and, as was customary in such cases, he prostrated himself
before Him, as a token of great respect and veneration. Entertain the most exalted
conceptions of Him ; you cannot raise your thoughts too high : •• He is God over aU,
blessed for ever." III. That this betubn is too cohuonlt keolbctsd. The
cause of this forgetfulness is to be traced, in general, to the infiuence of inward
depravity ; and nothing is a clearer proof of the corruption of our nature ; but there
•re other causes, co-operating with this, of which we may mention two. First : Worldly
prosperity. Honey does not more powerfully attract bees than affluence generates
danger. Secondly : Worldly anxiety is another cause of this forgetfulness. IV. Wa
MAT 0B8SBVB, THAT TO MKOLKCT A BETOBM Of OBATITODS TO GoD IB HZOHLT BBPBUOdl-
809 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOB. [chap, mt
BIBLE. Nay, it is exceedingly sinful. What insensibility does it argne, and whal
criminality does it involve 1 It is a virtual denial of the Divine providence. {p>id.}
The earnestness of personal necessity : — One fact is brought most powerfully Defor»
as here, and that is — 1. The personal necessity of these ten men. So strong was
it that it gained a victory over national prejudices of the fiercest kind, and we find
the Samaritan in company with the Jew. Amongst men not conscious of a
common misery, such a union might have been looked for but in vain ; the Jew
would have loathed the Samaritan and the Samaritan would have scorned the Jew.
And there is too much reason for supposing that a want of personal religion is the
canse of much of that fierce estrangement which characterizes the different parties
and denominations of the religious world in the present day. Did men realize
their common sinfulness, the deep necessity which enfolds them all, we can well
believe that much of the energy which is now wasted in profitless controversy and
angry recrimination, would be spent in united supplication to the One, who alone
can do ought for the sinner in his need. 2. Again we see how personal necessity
triumphs over national prejudice, in the fact that the Samaritan is willing to caU
upon a Jew for safety and for help. Under ordinary circumstances he would have
held no communion with Him at all, but the fact that he was a leper, and that
Jesus could cure him, overcame the national antipathy and he joins his voice with
that of all the rest. And surely thus also is it with the leper of the spiritual world ;
when he has been brought truly to know his state, truly to smart under its degra-
dation and its pain, truly to believe that there is One at hand by whom he can be
healed, the power of the former pride and prejudice becomes broken down, and h&
cries out in earnest to the long-despised Jesus for the needed help. 8. We have
now seen the power of personal necessity in overcoming strongly-rooted prejudice ;
let us next proceed to consider it as productive of great earnestness in supplication.
The supplication of these men was loud and personal ; they lifted np their voices^
and fixed on one alone of Jesu's company as able to deliver them, and that one'
•was Jesus Christ Himself. And we can well understand how this plague-strickea
family united their energies in a long, earnest cry to attract the attention of the
One that alone could make them whole. Theirs was no feeble whisper, no dull and
muffled sound, but a piteous, an agonizing call which almost startled the very air
as it rushed along. Nor can we marvel if God refuse to hear the cold, dull prayers
which for the most part fall upon His ear ; they are not the expressions of need,
and therefore find little favour at His hands ; they come to Him like the compli-
ments which men pay to their fellow-men, and meaning nothing, they are taken for
exactly what they are worth. 4. And mark, how by the loudness of their cry these
unhappy men expose their miserable state to Christ — the one absorbing point which
they wished to press upon His notice was the fact that they were all lepers, ten
diseased and almost despairing men. In their case there was no hiding of their
woe, they wished the Lord to see the worst. (P. B. Power, M.A.'^ He was a
Samaritan. — The Samaritan's gratitude: — It is necessary to^ notice the saving
element in this man's gratitude. We can imagine the other nine saying to him as
he turned back, " We are as grateful to God as you are, but we will return our
thanks in the temple of God. There are certain acts of worship, certain sacrifice*
ordained in the law by God Himself. In the due performance of these we will
thank God in His own appointed way. He who healed us is a great Prophet, but
it is the great power of God alone which has •leansed us." Now the Samaritan
was not content with this. His faith worked by love, taking the form of thankful-
ness. He at once left the nine to their journey, and, without delay, threw himself
at the feet of the Lord. He felt that his was not a common healing — not a healing
in the way of nature, by the disease exhausting itself in time. It was a super-
natural healing, through the intervention of a particular servant of God ; and this
servant (or, perhaps, he had heard that Jesus claimed to be more than a servant,
even the Son of God) must be thanked and glorified. If God had healed him in
the ordinary course, the sacrifices prescribed for such healing would have sufficed.
But God had healed him in an extraordinary way— by His Son, by One who was
far greater than any prophet ; and so, if God was to be glorified, it must be in
connection with this extraordinary charmel of blessing, this Mediator. {M. F.
Sadler.) Gratitude heightens th' power of erjjoyment : — Man's gratitude is, I
have often thought and said, a sixth sense ; for it always heightens the power ol
enjoyment. Suppose a man to walk through the world with every sense excited to
its utmost nerve : let there be a world of dainties spread before him and around
him, and the aromas of all precious fragrances steeping his seuFes iu delicious and
CHAP, xm,] ST. LUKE. 808
exquisite enjoyment ; let the eye be gladdened and brighten over the knowledge,
and the hand tighten over the grasp of present and actual possession ; yet let him
be a man in whose nature there wakes no keen sensation of grateful remembrance,
and I say that yet the most delightful sensation is denied him. _ Grateful thankful-
ness is allied to — nay, forms an ingredient in — the very chief of our deepest
enjoyments; and purest springs of blessedness. Gratitude gives all the sweet spice
to the cup of contentment, and the cup of discontent derives all its acid from an
imgrateful heart. (E. P. Hood.) Unexpected piety : — " And he was a Samari-
tan." Thus frequently, in like manner, have we been surprised at the finding of
gratitude to God in most unexpected places and persons. We have often seen that
it is by no means in proportion to the apparent munificence of the Divine bounty.
It is proverbial that the hymn of praise rises more frequently from the peasant's
fireside than from palace gates — more frequently from straitened than from
abounding circumstances. "Wherefore let us ourselves adore the exalting graces of
the Divine goodness, which makes the smallest measure of God's grace to outweigh
the mightiest measure of circumstantial happiness. As long as God merely gives^
the gilded shell — the scaffolding of the palace — He gives but little ; and it has been
frequently said that He shows His disregard of riches by giving them to the worst
of men frequently ; but to possess a sense of His mercy and goodness, that exceeds
them all. (Ibid. ) Ingratitude fw Divine favours : — The Staubach is a fall of
remarkable magnificence, seeming to leap from heaven ; its glorious stream remind*
one of the abounding mercy which in a mighty torrent descends from above. la
the winter, when the cold is severe, the water freezes at the foot of the fall, and
rises up in huge icicles like stalagmites, until it reaches the fall itself, as though it
sought to bind it in the same icy fetters. How like this is to the common ingrati-
tude of men 1 Earth's ingratitude rises up to meet heaven's mercy ; as though the
very goodness of God helped us to defy Him. Divine favours, frozen by human
ingratitude, are proudly lifted in rebellion against the God who gave them. {C. H.
Spurgeon.) Where are the nine 7 — Ingratitude towards God: — L The ionomint
OF iNGBATiTUDE. 1. The Ungrateful Christian acts against the voice of hi»
conscience. (1) Natural reason acknowledges the duty of gratitude. (2) The
general consent of mankind brands with infamy the ungrateful. 2. Ingratitude
sinks the human being below the level of the brute creation. 3. Ingratitude is
infinitely ignominious, because directed against God. (1) God exhorts us so often
to be grateful. (2) His beneficence is unlimited. (3) All His benefits are gratuities.
(4) The ungrateful man denies, in fact, the existence of God. II. Thb pbbnicious
CONSEQUENCES OF INGBATITUDE. 1. Temporal consequences. (1) God threatens to
deprive the ungrateful of the blessings received (Luke ix. 26). God has ever been
the absolute owner of whatever He gives ; and He gives and takes according to Hia
good pleasure, (a) He threatens so to direct events that His gift shall become a
curse instead of a blessing to the ungrateful receiver, (b) To refuse whatever he
may ask for in future, (c) To send chastisements upon him so as to convince him
that He is the Lord. (2) God fulfilled His threatenings (a) on our first parents ;
(6) on Israel ; (c) on Nebuchadnezzar, (d) Your ovm life and the life of your
acquaintances will bear similar testimony. 2. Everlasting consequences. If the
sinner remain ungrateful to the end of his earthly life, he will be deprived of all
Divine gifts for all eternity. He will be deprived— (1) Of the Word of God, instead
of which he will incessantly hear only the words of Satan. (2) Of the celestial
light against which he closed his eyes ; in punishment of which he will be buried
in everlasting darkness. (3) Of the Beatific Vision, instead of which he will
behold only the vision of devilish deformity. (4) Of the sacramental means of
ealvation. (5) Of heavenly peace and joy. (Horar.) The causes of ingratitude : —
"The nine, where?" Thus Christ with censure, sadness, surprise inquires.
There are more than nine sources of ingratitude. But there are nine, and each of
these men may represent some one. I. One is OAiiiiOUS. He did not feel hi»
misery as much as some, nor is he much stirred now by his return to health.
Sullen, torpid, stony men are thankless. Callousness is a common cause of
ingratitude. II. One is thoughtless. He is more like shifting sand than hard
stone, but he never reflects, never introspects, never recollects. The unreflecting
are ungrateful. III. One is pboud. He has not had more than bis merit in being
healed. Why should he be thankful for what his respectability, hia station,
deserved? Only the humble-hearted are truly grateful. lY. One ia envious.
Though healed he has not all that some others have. They are younger, o>
BtroDger, oz have more friends to welcome them. He is envious. Envy turns bou
804 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [oHi». rm,
themilkofihankfuInesB. V. One is cowardly. The Healer is scorned, persecuted,
hated. The expression of gratitude may bring some of such hatred on himself.
The craven is always a mean ingrate. VI. One is OALcnLATiNO the result of
acknowledging the benefit received. Perhaps some claim may arise of discipleship,
or gift. VII. One is worldly. Already he has purpose of business in Jerusalem,
or plan of pleasures there, that fascinates him from returning to give thanks.
VIII. One is obeoabious. He would have expressed gratitude if the other eight
would, but he has no independence, no individuaUty. IX. One is PRocRASTniATiNO.
By and by. Meanwhile Christ asks, " Where are the nine ? " {Vrijah R. Thonuu.)
The sin of ingratitude : — There are, speaking broadly, three chief reasons fof
onthankfulness on the part of man towards Ood. First, an indistinct idea or an
under-estimate of the service that He renders ua ; secondly, a disposition, whether
voluntary or not, to lose sight of our benefactor ; thirdly, the notion that it doea
not matter much to Him whether we acknowledge His benefits or not. Let us take
these in order. I. There is, first of all, the disposition to make light op a
BLESSINO OB BENEPiT RECEIVED. Of this the nine lepers in the gospel could hardly
have been guilty — at any rate, at the moment of their cure. To the Jews especially,
as in a lesser degree to the Eastern world at large, this disease, or group of diseases,
appeared in their own language to be as a living death. The nine lepers were more
Erobably like children with a new toy, too dehghted with their restored health and
onour to think of the gracious friend to whom they owed it. In the case of some
temporal blessings it is thus sometimes with us : the gift obscures the giver by its
very wealth and profusion. But in spiritual things we are more likely to think
chiefly of the gift. At bottom of their want of thankfulness there lies a radically
imperfect estimate of the blessings of redemption, and until this is reversed they
cannot seriously look into the face of Christ and thank Him for His inestimable
love. II. Thanklessness is due, secondly, to losino sight op our benepactor, and
OP THIS THE NINE LEPERS WERE NO DOUBT GUILTY. Such a thanklessness as this
may arise from carelessness, or it may be partly deliberate. The former was
probably the ease with the nine lepers. The powerful and benevolent stranger who
had told them to go to the priests to be inspected had fallen already into the back-
ground of their thought, and if they reasoned upon the causes of their cure they
probably thought of some natural cause, or of the inherent virtue of the Mosaio
ordinances. For a sample of thanklessness arising from a careless forge tfulnesa of
kindness received, look at the bearing of many children in the present day towards
their parents. How often in place of a loving and reverent bearing do young men
and women assume with their parents a footing of perfect equality, if not of some-
thing more, as if, forsooth, they had conferred a great benefit upon their fathers
and mothers by becoming their children, and giving them the opportunity of
working for their support and education. This does not — I fully believe it does
not — in nine cases out of ten imply a bad heart in the son or daughter. It is
eimply a form of that thanklessness which is due to want of refection on the real
obligations which they owe to the human authors of their life. III. Thanklessness
is due, thirdly, to the utilitarian spirit. If prayer be efficacious the use of it is
obvious ; but where, men ask, is the use of thankfulness ? What is the good of
thankfulness, they say, at any rate when addressed to such a being as God i If
man does us a service and we repay him, that is intelligible: he needs our repay-
ment. We repay him in kind if we can, or if we cannot, we repay him with our
thanks, which gratify his sense of active benevolence — perhaps his lower sense of
self-importance. But what benefit can God get by receiving the thanks of creatures
whom He has made and whom He supports ? Now, if the lepers did think thus,
our Lord's remark shows that they were mistaken — not in supposing that a Divine
Benefactor is not dependent for His happiness on the return which His creatures
may make to Him — not in thinking that it was out of their power to make Him
any adequate return at all — but at least in imagining that it was a matter of
indifference to Him whether He was thanked or not. If not for His own sake, yet
for theirs, He would be thanked. To thank the author of a blessing is for the
receiver of the blessing to place himself voluntarily under the law of truth by
acknowledging the fact that he has been blest. To do this is a matter of hard
moral obligation ; it is also a condition of moral force. " It is very meet, right,
and our bounden duty, that we should at all times, and in all places, give thanks
unto Thee, O Lord, Holy Father, Ahnighty Everlasting God." Why meet f Why
right ? Because it is the acknowledgment of a hard fact — the fact that all things
some of Ood, the fa«t that ws are utterly dependent upon Him, the fact that all
CHAP, xvu.] ST. LUKE. 80&
existence, all life, is bnt an outflow of His love ; because to blink this fact is to fall
back into the darkness and to forfeit that strength which comes always and every-
'where with the energetic acknowledgment of truth. Morally speaking, the nine
lepers were not the men they would have been if, at the cost of some trouble, they
had accompanied the one who, " when he saw that he was healed, turned back,
and with a loud voice glorified God, giving Him thanks." {Canon Liddon.}
Praite neglected:—!. The sinquiaritt of thankfulness. 1. Here note — there
are more who receive benefits than ever give praise for them. Nine persons healed,
one person glorifying God ; nine persons healed of leprosy, mark you, and only one
person kneeling down at Jesus' feet, and thsmking Him for it ! 2. But there is
something more remarkable than this — the number of those who pray is greater
than the number of those who praise. For these ten men that were lepers all
prayed. But when they came to the Te Deum, magnifying and praising God, only
one of them took up the note. One would have thought that all who prayed would
praise, but it is not so. Cases have been where a whole ship's crew in time of
storm has prayed, and yet none of that crew have sung the praise of God when the
storm has become a calm. 3. Most of us pray more than we praise. Tet prayer
is not so heavenly an exercise as praise. Prayer is for time ; but praise is for
eternity. 4. There are more that believe than there are that praise. It is real
faith, I trust — it is not for me to judge it, but it is faulty in result. So also among
ourselves, there are men who get benefits from Christ, who even hope that they are
saved, but they do not praise Him. Their lives are spent in examining their own
skins to see whether their leprosy is gone. Their religious life reveals itself in a
constant searching of themselves to see if they are really healed. This is a poor
way of spending one's energies, n. The chabactebistics of true thanej-ulmess..
1. Living praise is marked by individuaUty. 2. Promptness. Go at once,
and praise the Saviour. 3. Spirituality. 4. Intensity. '• With a loud voice."
5. Humility. 6. Worship. 7. One thing more about this man I want to notice as
to his thankfulness, and that is, his silence as to censuring others. When the
Saviour said, " Where are the nine ? " I notice that this man did not reply. But
^e adoring stranger did not stand up, and say, " 0 Lord, they are all gone off to
the priests : I am astonished at them that they did not return to praise Thee ! "
O brothers, we have enough to do to mind our own business, when we feel the grace
of God in our own hearts ! UL The blessedness of thankfulness. This man
was more blessed by far than the nine. They were healed, bat they were not
blessed as he was. There is a great blessedness in thankfulness. 1. Because it is
right. Should not Christ be praised? 2. It is. a manifestation of personal love.
8. It has clear views. 4. It is acceptable to Christ. 6. It receives the largest
blessing. In conclusion : 1. Let us learn from all this to put praise in a high
place. Let ns think it as great a sin to neglect praise as to restrain prayer.
2. Next, let ns pay our praise to Christ Himself. 8. Lastly, if we work for Jesus,
and we see converts, and they do not turn out as we expected, do not let us be cast
down about it. If others do not praise our Lord, let us be sorrowful, but let us not
be disappointed. The Saviour had to say, ••Where are the nine?" Ten lepers
were healed, but only one praised Him. {C. H. Spurgeon.) God look* after " the
nine*': — I. Christ has a perfect knowledge of all upon whom He confers
SPECIAL OBAOB AND BLESSINO, AND A PERFECT BECOLLECTION OF THE KIND AND HEA8UBB
OF His BE8TOWMBNT8. II. WhILB THE 80LITART GRATEFUL SOUL WILL BE AHPLT
BSWARDED BT JeSUS, THE MULTITUDE OF INQRATES WILL BE INQUIRED AFTER AND DEALT
WITH BY Him. {J. M. Sherwood, D.D.) But where are the nine f : — I. There are
many men even now who, like the nine thankless lepers, have faith enough fob
THE health or the body, or even for all the conditions of outward comfort and suc-
cess, but have not faith enough to secure the health and prosperity of the soul.
That is to say, there are many who believe in so much of the will of God as can be
expressed in sanitary laws and in the conditions of commercial success, but who do
not believe in that Will as it is expressed in the laws and aims of the spiritual life.
St. John's wish for his friend Gains (3 John 2) is a mystery to them ; and it may
be doubted whether they woold care to have even St. John for a friend if he were
constantly beseeching God to give them health of body only in proportion to theii
health of soul, and prosperity in business only in proportion to their growth in faith
and righteousness and charity. IL If we look at the case of these nine lepers a
little more closely, we shall find only too much in ourselves and our neighbonrs to
^TPT.ATn THEiB ingbatttude, or, at least, to make it both credible and admonitory to
na. 1. They may have thought that they had done nothing to deserve thdr
fOL. m. 20
3W THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xvo-
horrible fate, or nothing more than many of their neighbours, who yet passed them
by as men accursed of God; and that therefore, it was only just that they should
be restored to health. 2. They may have thought that they would at least make sura
of their restoration to health before they gave thanks to Him who had healed them.
3. They may have put obedience before love. Tet nothing but love can save.
4. The nine were Jews, the tenth a Samaritan ; and it may be that they would not
go back just because he did. No sooner is the misery which had brought them
together removed, than the old enmity flames out again, and the Jews take one
road, the Samaritan another. When the Stuarts were on the throne, and a eted-
fast endeavour was made to impose the yoke of Bome on the English conscience.
Churchmen and Nonconformists forgot their differences ; and as they laboured in s
common cause, and fought against a common foe, they confessed that they were
brethren, and vowed that they would never be parted more. But when the danger
was past these vows were forgotten, and once more they drew apart, and remain
apart to this day. 5. Finally, the nine ungrateful, because unloving, lepers may
have said within themselves, " We had better go on our way and do as we are bid,
for we can be just as thankful to the kind Master in our hearts without saying so
to Him ; and we can thank God anywhere — thank Him just as well while we are
on our way to the priests, or out here on the road and among the fields, as if we
turned back. The Master has other work to do, and would not care to be troubled with
our thanks ; and as for God — God is everywhere, here as well as there." Now it
would not become us, who also believe that God is everywhere, and that He may be
most truly worshipped both in the silence of the heart and amid the noise and
bustle of the world, to deny that He may be worshipped in the fair temple of
nature, where all His works praise Him. It would not become us to deny even that
some men may find Him in wood and field as they do not find Him in a congrega-
tion or a crowd. But, surely, it does become us to suggest to those who take this
tone that, just as we ourselves love to be loved and to know that we are loved, so
God loves our love to become vocal, loves that we should acknowledge our love for
pirn ; and that, not merely because He cares for onr praise, but because our love
grows as we show and confess it, and because we can only become •* perfect " as we
become perfect in love. It surely does not become us to remind them that no man
can truly love God unless he love his brother also ; and that, therefore, the true
lover of God should and must find in the worship of brethren whom he loves hia
best aid to the'worship of their common Father. He who finds woods and fields
more helpful to him than man is not himself fully a man ; he is not perfect in the
love of his brother ; and is not, therefore, perfect in the love of God. (S. Cox,
D.D.) ImpedimenU to gratitude : — The moment when a man gets what he wants
is a testing one, it carries a trial and probation with it ; or if, for the instant, his
feeling is excited, the after-time is a trial. There is a sudden reversion, a reaction
in the posture of his mind, when from needing something greatly, he gets it.
Immediately his mind can receive thoughts which it could not entertain before ;
which the pressure of urgent want kept out altogether. In the first place, hia
benefactor is no longer necessary to him ; that makes a great difference. In a
certain way people's hearts are warmed by a state of vehement desire and longing,
and anybody who can reheve it appears like an angel to them. But when the
necessity is past, then they can judge their benefactor — if not altogether as an
indifferent person, if they would feel ashamed of this — still in a way very dif-
ferent from what they did before. The delivery from great need of him is also the
removal of a strong bias for him. Again, they can think of themselves immediately,
and their rights, and what they ought to have, till even a sense of ill-usage, arises
that the good conferred has been withheld so long. All this class of thoughts
springs np in a man's heart as soon as he is reheved from some great want. While
lie was suffering the want, any supplier of it was as a messenger from heaven.
Now he is only one through whom he has what rightfully belongs to him ; his bene-
factor has been a convenience to him, but no more. The complaining spirit, or
sense of grievance, which is so common in the world, is a potent obstacle to the
growth of the spirit of gratitude in the heart. So long as a man thinks that every
\0BB and misfortune he has suffered was an ill-usage, so long he will never be
-properly impressed by the kindness which relieves Imn from it. He will regard
this as only a late amends made to him, and by no means a perfect one then.
And this qnemlouB temper, which chafes at all the calamities and deprivations of
life, as if Uving under an unjust dispensation in being under the rule of Providence,
ia mneh too prevalent a one. Where it ia not openly expressed it ia often secretlj
aBAP. rm.] ST. LUKE. 807
fostered, and aflFects the habit of a man's mind. Men of this temper, then, are not
grateful ; they think of their own deserts, not of others' kindness. They are jealous
of any claim on their gratitude, because, to own themselves grateful would be, they
think, to acknowledge that this or that is not their right. Nor is a sullen temper
the only unthankful recipient of benefits. There is a complacency resulting from
too high a self-estimate, which equally prevents a man from entertaining the idea
of gratitude. Those who are possessed with the notion of their own importance
take everything as if it was their due. Gratitude is essentially the characteristic of
the humble-minded, of those who are not prepossessed with the notion that they
deserve more than any one can give them ; who are capable of regarding a service
done them as a free gift, not a payment or tribute which their own claims have
extorted. I will mention another failing much connected with the last-named
ones, which prevents the growth of a grateful spirit. The habit of taking offence at
trifles is an extreme enemy to gratitude. There is no amount of benefits received,
no length of time that a person has been a benefactor, which is not forgotten in a
moment by one under the infiuence of this habit. The slightest apparent offence,
though it may succeed ever so long a course of good and kind acts from another,
obliterates in a moment the kindnesses of years. The mind broods over some pass-
ing inadvertence or fancied neglect till it assumes gigantic dimensions, obscuring
the past. Nothing is seen but the act which has displeased. Everything else is
put aside. Again, how does the mere activity of life and business, in many people,
oust almost immediately the impression of any kind service done them. They
have no room in their minds for such recollections. [Canon Mozley .) Gratitude
is a self-rewarding virtue : — How superior, how much stronger his delight in God's
gift, to that of the other nine who slunk away. We see that he was transported,
and that he was filled to overflowing with joy of heart, and that he triumphed in
the sense of the Divine goodness. It was the exultation of faith ; he felt there was
a God in the world, and that God was good. What greater joy can be imparted to
the heart of man than that which this truth, thoroughly embraced, imparts ?
Gratitude is thus specially a self-rewarding virtue ; it makes those who have it so
far happier than those who have it not. It inspires the mind with lively impres-
sions, and when it is habitual, with an habitual cheerfulness and content, of which
those who are without it have no experience or idea. Can the sullen and torpid
and jealous mind have feelings at all equal to these f Can those who excuse them-
eelves the sense of gratitude upon ever so plausible considerations, and find ever
such good reasons why they never encounter an occasion which calls for the exer-
cise of it, hope to rise to anything like this genuine height of inward happi-
ness and exultation of spirit ? They cannot ; their lower nature depresses them
and keeps them down ; they lie under a weight which makes their hearts stagnate
•nd spirit sink. They cannot feel true joy. They are under the dominion of
vexatious and petty thoughts, which do not let them rise to any large and inspiriting
view of God, or their neighbour, or themselves. They can feel, indeed, the eager-
ness and urgency of the wish, the longing for a deliverer when they are in grief, of
a healer when they are sick ; but how great the pity I how deep the perversity !
that these men, as it were, can only be good when they are miserable, and can
only feel when they are crushed. (Ibid.) Instancet of ingratitude: — What
then, brethren, is the conclusion from the whole subject? Why, that the man
who contents himself with one act of dedication to God's service, however sincere,
and there stops ; one who is content with a few proofs of obedience and
faith, however genuine, with a few tears of godly sorrow, however penitent —
content with such things, I say, and there stops ; such an one will neither have
the approval of his Saviour while he lives, nor the comforts of his reUgion
when he comes to die. Time will not allow me to enlarge on the signs
of this spiritual declension, too often, it is to be feared, the foreruimer of a final
faUing away from God. Of such perilous condition of soul, however, I could not
point out a surer sign than ingratitude. Every day we live gives back to activity
and life some who had been walking on the confines of the eternal world, who had
well-nigh closed their account with this present scene; and here and there ws
behold one resolving to perform his vows, coming back to glorify God, and deter-
mined henceforth to live no more onto himself, but imto Him that died and rose
again. But why are these instances of a holy dedication to God's service after a
recovery from sickness so few 7 " Were there not ten cleansed ? but where are the
nine f " Again, sometimes we witness the spectacle of a highly privileged Ohristiau
family. In the life of the parents is seen a holy and consistent exhibition of Christiaa
808 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xm.
character ; the incense of prayer and praise bams brightly and purely on the family
altar, and every arrangement of the household seems designed to remind us that
God is there. We look for the fruits of this. The parents are gone to rest ; they
are safe and happy, and at home with God ; and of the children, perhaps, there are
one or two that follow their steps, viewing religion as their chief concern, making
the glory of God the aim of all they say or do, and the promises of God more than
their necessary food. But why are the rest of the children living, as it were, on
their parents' reputation, content with reaching a certain point in the Christian
race, and that point not a safe one— one which leaves them to be saved only by fire,
only rescued as brands from the burning — ten indeed were cleansed ; " but where
are the nine t " Again, we look upon an assembly of Christian worshippers. They
listen with interested and sustained attention ; the breath from heaven seems to
inspire their worship ; and wings from heaven seem to carry the message home :
here and there is a heart touched, a reed bruised, a torpid conscience quickened
into sensibility and life, but the others remain as before, dead to all spiritual
enimation, immortal statues, souls on canvas, having a name to live but are dead.
Whence this difference ? They confessed to the same leprosy, they cried for the
same mercy, they met with the same Saviour, and were directed to the same cure,
and yet how few returned to their benefactor. One, two, or three in a congregation
may come and fall at the feet of Jesus, but there were thousands to be cleansed ;
where are the ninety times nine ? But take a more particular illustration. Once
a month, at least, in every church, passing before our eyes, we look upon a goodly
company of worshippers ; they have been bowing with reverence before the foot-
stool of the Bedeemer ; they have been singing their loud anthems to the praise of
the great Mediator; they have been listening to the word of life with all the
earnestness of men who were ignorant, seeking knowledge ; guilty, desiring pardon ;
hungry, wanting food ; dying, imploring life ; but, mark you, when the invitations
of the dying Saviour are recited in their ears, when the commemorative sacrifice of
Christian faith and hope is offered to them, when mercy in tenderest accents pro-
claims to every penitent worshipper, •* Come unto Me all ye that are weary and
heavy laden, and I will give you rest," then many who seemed to be in earnest are
in earnest no longer ; the memorials of the Saviour's death and passion are spread
before them in vain, and all we can do is to look with sorrow on the retiring throng
and exclaim, " There were ten that seemed to be cleansed, but where are the nine? "
(D. Moore, M.A.) Thanksgiving : — Ingratitude 1 — there is a fault we all of ua
easily recognize and heartily condemn. And even in a matter where it would seem
almost incredible, even in a matter such as that brought before us by the miracle
of the ten lepers, even in the matter of recovered health, there is strange room for
ingratitude. Who can believe it, even of himself ? who can believe the quickness
with which the memory of sickness, and of all its prayerful longings, can be wiped
out of our hearts when once the tide of returning strength has swept up again into
our veins ? It is the natural that so beguiles us. Health is our natural condition,
and there is a strange sway exercised over our imagination and our mind by all
that is natural. The natural satisfies and calms us by its very regularity. Its
response to our expectations seems to give it some rational validity. It is right,
for it is customary ; and its evenness and sequence smother all need of inquiry. It
was this which bewildered us in sickness — that it had wrenched us out of our
known and habitual environment ; it had thrown ns into uncertainty ; we
could not tell what the next minute might bring ; we had lost standard, and
measure, and cue ; we had no custom on which to rely. And then, in our distress
and in onr impotence, we learned how our very life hung on the breath of the Most
High, in whose hands it lay to kUl or to make alive ; then we knew it, in that awful
hour of withdrawal. Bat, with health, the normal solidity returns to the fabric of
life ; the all-familiar walls range themselves around us ; the all-famihar ways
stretch themselves out in front of our feet ; we can be sure of to-morrow, and can
count and can calculate, not because the usual is the less wonderful, but smiply
because it is the usual. We move in it unalarmed, unsurprised, and God seems
again to fade away. There are other matters which occupy their attention : the
wonder of the feeling of new life ; the sense of delicious surprise ; the desire to see
whether it is all true, and to experiment, and to test it. And, then, their friends
are about them, their friends from whom they have been parted for so many bitter
years ; they are being welcomed back into the brotherhood of men, into the warmtl»
and glow of companionship. " Oh, come with us," many voices are crying ; " wc-
are so glad to have you once more among as 1 " It is not said in the stoiy that they
CBXt. xm.] ST. LUKE. tOI
did not feel grateful : grateful, no donbt, with that vague, general gratitude to God
the good Father, with which we, too, pass out of the shadows of sickness into the
recovered life, under the sun, among our fellows. They may well have felt genial,
grateful ; only they did nothing with their gratitude, only it laid no burden of duty
upon them ; it was not in them as a mastering compulsion which would suffer
nothing to arrest its passionate will to get back to the feet of Him before whom it
had once stood and cried, " Jesu, Master — for Thou alone canst — do Thou have
mercy on me." "When He smote them they sought Him." It aU happens, we
know, over and over again with us. We are, most of us, eager to find God when
we are sick, when the normal round of life deserts us, and by its desertion frightens
and bewilders us ; but so very few of as can retain any hold on God in health, in...
work, in the daily life of the natural and the constant. And by this we bring our
faith under some dangerous taunts. Who does not know them ? The taunt of the
young and the strong : " I feel the blood running free, and my heart leaps, and my
brain is alive with hope ; what have you to tell me, you Christians, with your
message for the sick and for the dying ? I have in me powers, capacities, gifts ;
and before me lies an earth God given and God blessed ; and you bring me the
religion of the maimed, and the halt, and the blind, a religion of the outcast and
the dif^aced, a religion of hospitals and gaols ; what is all this to me 7 " And the
taunt of the worker : " I have will, patience, endurance, vigour ; by this I can win
myself bread, can build myself a house, can make my way." Those taunts are very
r^, and living, and pressing : how shall we face them f First, we will be perfectly
clear that for no taunts from the young, the successful, and the strong, and for no
demands either from the workers or the wise, can we for one moment forget or
forego the memory of Him who was sent to heal the broken-hearted, and to comfort
the weary and the heavy-laden ; and who laid His blessing upon the poor, and the
hungry, and the unhappy. No, we will withdraw nothing. But have we no living
message for the strong and the young, for the happy and the wise ? In what form,
let us ask, ought religion to offer itself to these 7 Thanksgiving 1 That is the note
of faith by which it employs and sanctifies not only the poverty and the penitence
of sinners, but also the gladness of work and the glory of wisdom. And has our
Christian faith, then, no voice of thanksgiving ? Nay, our faith is thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving ! — this is our worship, and in the form of thanksgiving our religion
embraces everything that life on earth can bring before it. Here is the religion of
youth, the religion of all the hope that is in ns. Let it, in the name of Christ, give
thanks. Union with Christ empowers it to make a thank-offering of itself; to
bring into its worship all its force, its hope, its youth, and its vigour. Youth and
hope — they need religion just as much as weakness needs consolation, and as sin
needs grace ; they need it to forestall their own defeat, that they may be caught in
their beauty and in their strength before they pass and perish, and so be offered as
a living thank-offering ; that they may be laid up as treasures, eternal in the heaven,
where "rust can never bite, nor moth corrupt, nor any thieves creep in to steaL"
Thanksgiving I It is the religion for wealth, and for work, and for the present
hour. It redeems wealth by ridding it of that terrible complacency which so
stiffens and chokes the spiritual channels that, at last, it becomes easier for a camel
to get through a needle's eye than for a rich man to find his way into the kingdom
of heaven. And it redeems work by purging it of pride and of selfishness, and by
rescuing it from dulness and harshness. And, again, it is by thanksgiving that
religion closes with the natural and the normal, and the necessary. Thanksgiving
asks for no change, it looks for no surprises, it takes the fact just as it stands, as
law has fashioned it, and as custom has fixed it. That and no other offering is
what it brings. Are you fast bound in misery and iron ? Give thanks to God, and
you are free. The very iron of necessity is transfigiured by this strange alchemy of
thanks into the gold of freedom and gladness. Nothing is impossible to the spirit
of praise, nothing is so hard that Christ cannot uplift it for us before God, nothing
BO common that He will think it unworthy of ]^s glory. (Canon Seott Holland,
M.A.) Words of encouragement to disappointed workers : — '* Oh," says one, " I have
had so little success ; I have had only one soul laved I " That is more than you
deserve. If I were to fish for a week, and only catch one fish, I should be sorry ;
but if that happened to be a sturgeon, a royal fish, I should feel that the quality
made op for lack of quantity. When yon win a soul it is a great prize. One soul
brought to Christ— can you estimate its value? If one be saved, you should ba
grat^nl to your Lord, and persevere. Though yon wish for more conversions yet,
yon will not despond so long as even a few are saved ; and, above all, you will not
310 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xtu.
be angry if some of them do not thank you personally, nor join in Church-fellowship
with you. Ingratitude is common towards soul-winners. (C H. Spurgeon.)
Health more than sickness a reason for gratitude : — Ungrateful to God ? I fear so ;
and more ungrateful, I fear, than those ten lepers. For which of the two is better
off, the man who loses a good thing, and then gets it back again, or the man who
never loses it at all, but enjoys it all his life ? Surely the man who never loses it
at all. And which of the two has more cause to thank God ? Those lepers had
been through a very miserable time ; they had had great affliction ; and that, they
might feel, was a set-off against their good fortune in recovering their health.
They had bad years to balance their good ones. But we — how many of us have
had nothing but good years ? In health, safety, and prosperity most of us grow
np ; forced, it is true, to work hard : but that, too, is a blessing ; for what better
thing for a man, soul and body, than to be forced to work hard? In health,
safety, and prosperity ; leaving children behind us, to prosper as we have done.
And how many of us give God the glory or Christ the thanks? {C.Kingsley,
M.A.) Human ingratitude : — A pious clergyman, for more than twenty years,
kept an account of the sick persons he visited during that period. The parish
was thickly peopled, and, of course, many of his parishioners, during hia
residence, were carried to their graves. A considerable number, however,
recovered ; and, amongst these, two thousand, who, in immediate prospect of
death, gave those evidences of a change of heart, which, in the judgment of
charity, were connected with everlasting salvation supposing them to have died
under the circumstances referred to. As, however, the tree is best known by
its fruits, the sincerity of the professed repentance was yet to be tried, and all
the promises ai^d vows thus made, to be fulfilled. Out of these two thou-
sand persons (who were evidently at the point of death, and had professed true
repentance) — out of these two thousand persons who recovered, two, only two ;
allow me to repeat it — two, only two — by their future lives, proved that their
repentance was sincere, and their conversion genuine. One thousand nine hun-
dred and ninety-eight returned to their former carelessness, indifference, and sin-
fulness ; and thus showed how little that repentance is to be depended upon, which
is merely extorted by the rack of conscience and the fear of death. '• Were there
not ten cleansed 7 but wh«re are the nine ? "
Vers. 20, 21. The kingdom of God Is within you, — The kingdom of God : — It is a
kingdom of the mind, the will, the feeling, and the conduct. " My kingdom is not
of this world," formed in a material fashion, resting on visible forces, but within,
seated in the heart, the intellect, and feeling. Give over, then, straining your eyes
investigating the heavens, the kingdom of God is among you ; the words will bear
this rendering, being almost identical in meaning with the words found in John'a
Gospel (chap, i., verse 26), translated thus — " In the midst of you standeth One
whom ye know not." The laws and principles of the kingdom were fully incor-
porated in Christ, they evolved out of His Person like light from the sun. He
informs them that the kingdom is already present with them, that it had actually
commenced its operations, and that its spiritual vibrations were then felt. What,
then, is this kingdom? 1. It is a kinr^dom of new convictions producing new
conversions and outward reforms. It deals with these three forces of the human
character — impulse, will, and habit. Once it gets a proper hold of these powers
it makes the character an irresistible force. When religious impulse is grasped
by the will and transformed into life, the character is such that the gates of
hell cannot prevail against it. 2. It is the kingdom of life, or a living kingdom
here, rather than an earthly kingdom yonder. It is new life kindling new ideas
and forming fresh habits. Sometimes it steals in upon the mind as silently as
light. Look at the woman of Samaria, how natural, the new ideas were
deposited into her mind, and with what marvellous rapidity they changed the
current of her thoughts and the habits of her life. 3. It is a kingdom of new
impressions concerning self, God, man, life, time, and eternity. No person ever
equalled the founder of Christianity as an impression-maker, impressions of the
highest and purest type were set in motion, as reconstructive agencies by Him ;
and they are still at work leavening society, and they are divinely destined to
continue until the whole universe of God is entirely assimilated with the Divine
nature, and thus cause righteousness and holiness to shine everlastingly through-
out God's dominion. 4. It is the kingdom of love — love revealed in the light of
the Fatherhood of God, God being known as a Father, naturally oreateg a filial
«BAf . XTII.J ST. LUKE. 811
reverence in man, which at once becomes the mightiest force in reclaiming the
lost. Like creates like is a recognized principle in ancient and modem philosophy,
as well as in Christian theology, (J. P. Williams.) The kingdom which cometh
not with observation : — These words of our Lord open to ns an abiding law of His
kingdom ; an enduring rule of that dispensation under which we are. 1. It is " a
kingdom " ; most truly and really a kingdom. Nay, even in some sort a visible
kingdom ; and yet at the very same time it is — 2. A kingdom " which cometh not
by observation " ; unseen in its progress, seen in its conclusion ; unheard in its'
onward march, felt in its results. Let us, then, follow out a little more into detail
this strange combination of what might almost seem at first sight direct contra-
dictions. I. And first see how beuabeably this was the charactbb of its openinq
OM this babth. It was then manifestly a " kingdom." The angels bore witness
of it. Their bright squadrons were visible upon this earth hanging on the out-
skirts of Messiah's dominion. They proclaimed its coming : ♦• Unto you is born this
day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." *• Glory to God in
the highest ; peace on earth, good-will towards men." Nay, the world felt it r
*• Herod was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him." The instincts of the unbelieving
monarch made him tremble before the King of Saints. It was " a kingdom "
which was coming. Yet it " came not with observation." The King of Israel was
born obscurely. Angels appeared to herald Him ; yet none save shepherds saw
them. There was veil enough over each circumstance of His life to make the dull
eye of the world miss the true meaning of characters it could not help seeing. And
afterwards, in the life of Christ, it was the same. The world was stirred, troubled,
uneasy, perplexed. It felt that it was in the presence of a strange power. An unde-
fined, unknown, yet real presence was with it. But it knew ffim not. It was as
if some cloud was shed round Him through which the world could not pierce.
" The kingdom " was even now amongst men, and yet its coming was unseen. II.
And so, ATTKE THE DEATH AOT) ASCENSION OF ChBIBT, " THE KINGDOM " WENT ON.
Still it came, reaching to every part of the earth, but never "with observation."
III. Once more ; see how this is still ik each heabt the law of its estab-
lishment. There also none can ever trace its beginnings. Some, indeed, may
temember when first they felt its life within them, when first they were inly con-
scious of its power — though this is far from universally the case where it is most
truly planted — but even in these cases, this consciousness was not its true beginning;
any more than the first faint upgrowth of the tender blade is the beginning of
its life ; any more than the first curling of the water is the breath of heaven
which it shows: no; life must be, before it is able to look back into itself and
perceive that it does live. Being must precede consciousness. And as it is at
first given, so does it grow. It is the receiving a life, a being, a breath. It is
the passing over us of God's hand, the in-breathing of His Spirit. This is its
secret history; and this men cannot reach. And yet it is "a kingdom" which
is thus set up. Wheresoever it has its way, there it will be supreme. It makes
the will a captive, and the affections its ministers, and the man its glad
vassal. Though it " cometh not with observation," yet it is indeed *' a kingdom."
Now, from this it behoves us to gather two or three strictly practical conclusions — 1.
This is a thought full of fear to all ungodly men. Depend upon it this kingdom
is set up. It is in vain for you to say that you do not perceive it, that you see
it not, nor feel it ; this does not affect the truth. It is its law that " it cometh
not with observation " ; that from some it always is hidden. Tour soul had — if
you be not altogether reprobate, it still has, however faintly exercised — the organs
and capacities for seeing it. But you are deadening them within yourself. 2. This
is a quickening thought to all who, in spite of all the weakness of their faith,
would yet fain be with our Lord. Is this kingdom round about ns ? Have we
places in it 7 How like, then, are we to His disciples of old ; trembling and crying
out for fear as He draws nigh to us I How like are we to those whose eyes were
holden, who deemed Him *' a stranger in Jerusalem " 1 How do we need His
words of love ; His breaking bread and blessing it ; His making known Himself
unto ns ; His opening our eyes 1 How should we pray as we have never prayed
before, " Thy kingdom come I " 3. Here is a thought of comfort. How apt are
we to be cast down ; to doubt our own sincerity, to doubt His working in us, to
doubt the end of all these tearS; and prayers, and watchingsl Here, then, is
eomfort for our feeble hearts. Small as the work seems, unobserved as is its
growth, it is a kingdom. It is His kingdom. It is His kingdom in us. Only
believe in Him, and wait upon Him ; only endure His time, and follow after Him,
312 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. ivn.
and to you too it shall be manifested. {BisJiop Samuel Wilberforce.) OocPi
hingdom without observation : — 1. The manner in which the gospel was first intro-
duced was without external show and ostentation. Worldly kingdoms are usually
erected and supported by the power of arms. 2. The external dispensation of
Christ's kingdom is without ostentation. His laws are plain and easy to be under-
stood, and delivered in language level to common apprehension. The motives by
which obedience is urged are pure and spiritual, taken not from this, but the future
world. His institutions are few and simple, adapted to our condition, and suited
to warm and engage the heart. 3. The virtues which the gospel principally incul-
cates are without observation, distant from worldly show, and independent of
worldly applause. 4. As the temper of the gospel, so also the operation of the
Divine Spirit in producing this temper, is without observation. It is not a tempest,
an earthquake, or fire ; but a small, still voice. It is a spirit of power, but yet a
spirit of love, and of a sound mind. The fruits of it, like its nature, are kind and
benevolent. They are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, meekness, and
goodness. 5. The blessings of God's kingdom are chiefly invisible, and without
observation. The rewards which the gospel promises are not earthly and temporal,
but heavenly and spiritual. They are not external power, wealth, and honour; but
inward peace, hope, and joy here, and everlasting felicity hereafter. We will now
attend to the reflections and instructions which our subject offers to us — 1. If the
kingdom of God is now among us, we are all without exception bound to acknowledge
it, and submit to it. 2. We learn that it concerns every one, not only to submit to
God's kingdom, but to submit to it immediately. 3. We are here taught that we
have no occasion to run from place to place in order to find the grace of God, for
we may obtain it in any place where His Providence calls us. For the Spirit is not
confined to certain places, its influences are not at human disposal, nor do its
operations come with public observation. You are to receive the spirit in the hearing
of faith. Its influence on the heart is not like an overbearing storm, but as the
gentle rain on the tender herb, and the dew on the grass. 4. We leam from our
subject that true religion is not ostentatious. It seeks not observation. The true
Christian is exemplary, but not vain. He is careful to maintain good works, but
affects not an unnecessary show of them. 5. It appears that they only are the true
subjects of God's kingdom who have experienced its power on their hearts.
6. As the kingdom of God comes not to the heart \rith observation, we
are incompetent judges of the characters of others. {J. Lathrop, D.D.)
The secret workings of Divine grace : — The workings of God's grace are, for the
most part, not only loeyond, but contrary to our calculation. It is not said that
" the kingdom of God is not with observation," but •' the kingdom of God cometh
not with observation." And the principle is this — that the greatest and plainest
effects are produced by causes which are themselves unnoticeable. God is mount-
ing up to His grand design ; but we cannot see the steps of His ascent. If yon
pass from the history of the Church to any other province in God's empire, you will
find them aU recognizing the same law. It seems to be the general rule of all that
is sublime, that its motions shall be unseen. Who can discern the movements of
the planets — whose evolutions we admire, whose courses guide our path ? The day
breaks and the day sets ; but who can fix the boundaries of the night, the boundaries
of the darkness ? You may watch the departing of summer beauty — as the leaves
are swept by the autumn wind — but can the eye trace its movements ? Does not
everything — in the sky and in the earth — proclaim it — as all nature follows its
hidden march — that •' the kingdom of God cometh not with observation " f Or, let
any man amongst you, read but a very few of the leading passages of his own life,
and let him observe what have been the great, deciding events of his history — deter-
mining, if I may so speak, the very destinies of his forces. Were they those he
anticipated ? Did his great joys and sorrows rise in the quarters from whence he
expected them to rise? Did not the great circumstances of his life arise from
events quite unexpected ? And did not those things which he counted little, greatly
rise and extend themselves — for evil or for good ? And what does all this attest--
in providence and in nature — but that " the kingdom of God cometh not with obser-
vation " ? But we are now led to expect, by what we have read, and what we have
seen, and what we have felt, in outward things, that we shall find the truth of the
text, also, when we come to the experience of a man's soul ; and that the '* kingdom
of God cometh not with observation." A very pious mother is deeply anxions about
the soul of her son. Her fond affections, her holy influences, her secret prayers —
have all been bearing to that one point, of her child's conversion to God, for tokdj
our. xm.] ST. LUKE. aii
years. But have that mother's prayers died, because those lips are hushed ? " Has
God forgotten to be gracious," when man ceases to expect ? Nay — in Hia own way,
and in His own hour, '« the kingdom " oomes. {J. Vaughan, M.A.) Quiet growth,
of the Church :— In his other work, the Acts of the Apostles, St. Luke beautifully
illustrates these words of our Lord. The Book of the Acts gives us the history of
the early Christian Church for about two-and-thirty years after the death of Christ.
It may well surprise a thoughtful reader of this book to remark how little progress
Christianity seems to have made at the end of that period, so far as the outward
life of man was concerned. Nothing amounting to a great social change is here
recorded. The Church bad not put down heathen sacrifice, nor demolished a single
idol temple. Scarcely yet did men's public and social life show any traces of it.
The gospel had as yeti no local habitation ; in looking down upon the crowded
dwellings of the great eitiea of the empire, you would not as yet have seen a spire.
Nay, nearly three centuries elapsed after the period described in the Acts of the
Apostles, before buildings gave any note of the great moral revolution which had
taken place in the minds of men ; before the Basilica was diverted from its original
purpose as a court of justice to the great end of Christian worship, and in the semi-
circular recess, where the prastor and his assessors had sat to lay down the law of
the empire, now the bishop and his attendant presbyters were installed around the
holy table, to expound the higher law of the kingdom of heaven. But yet, though
the visible impression made by Christianity upon human life and manners was thus
slight during the period referred to, we may be quite sure that the gospel was then
fermenting with peculiar power in the hearts and minds of men. If the kingdom
of God did not come with observation, this was no proof at all that it was not within
men — that it was not in the very centre of their inner life. If the powers that be,
and the wise men after the flesh, at first thought it beneath their notice ; if Trajaa
and Pliny regarded Christians merely in the hght of an obstinate and eccentric set
of fanatics ; this was no proof that a great social revolution was not preparing in
the lower strata of society, and eating away, like subterraneous volcanic fire, tha
cmst upon which existing institutions stood. The mustard-seed had been cast into
the earth, and it was swelling and bursting beneath the soil. The leaven had been
thrown into human nature ; and its influences, though noiseless and unseen, were
aabtlely and extensively diffusing themselves through the whole lump. Christ's
religion was to win its way noiselessly, like Himself. Because its blows against
existing institutions were so indirect, because they were aimed so completely at the
inward spirit of man, the great men and the wise men after the flesh completely
overlooked them, and dreamt not how they were undermining the whole social fabria
of heathenism. The scanty notices of Christianity by authors contemporary with
its rise have been thoughtlessly made a ground of objection against it by sceptics.
The believer will rather see in this fact a confirmation of the Lord's profound word.
The kingdom of God was not to come, and it did not come, with observation. {Bean
Goulbum.) Secrecy of Divine visitations: — Such has ever been the manner of
His visitations, in the destruction of His enemies as well as in the deliverance of
His own people ; — silent, sudden, unforeseen, as regards the world, though predicted
in the face of all men, and in their measure comprehended and waited for by Hit
true Church. See Luke xvii. 27-29 ; Exod. xv. 19 ; Isa. xxxvii. 36 ; Acts xii. 23 ;
Isa. XXX. 13 ; Luke xvii. 35-36. And it is impossible that it should be otherwise,
in spite of warnings ever so clear, considering how the world goes on in every age.
Men, who are plunged in the pursuits of active life, are no judges of its course and
tendency on the whole. They confuse great events with little, and measure the
importance of objects, as in perspective, by the mere standard of nearness or
remoteness. It is only at a distance that one can take in the outlines and features
a whole country. It is but holy Daniel, solitary among princes, or Elijah the recluse
of Mount Carmel, who can withstand Baal, or forecast the time of God's providences
among the nations. To the multitude all things continue to the end, as they were
from iht beginning of the creation. The business of state affairs, the movements
of society, the course of nature, proceed as ever, till the moment of Christ's coming.
** The snn was risen npon the earth," bright as usual, on that very day of wrath in
which Sodom was destroyed. Men cannot believe their own time is an especially
wicked time ; for, with Scripture unstudied and hearts untrained in holiness, they
have no standard to compare it with. They take warning from no troubles or
peiplexities, which rather carry them away to search out the earthly causes of them,
and the possible remedies. Pride infatuates many, and self-indulgence and luxury
work their way unseen, — like some smouldering fire, which for a while leaves the
814 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xvn.
outward form of things unaltered. At length the decayed mass cannot hold together^
and breaks by its own weight, or on some slight and accidental external violence.
(J. H. Newman, D.D.) The coming of the kingdom to individuals : — Truly, at a
christening we may well reflect that the kingdom of God comes " not with observa-
tion." And if in later years, as too generally is the case, the precious grace thus
given is lost and sinned »way, and nothing but the stump or socket of the Divine
gift remains without its informing, spiritual, vital power, then another change ia
assuredly necessary, which we call conversion. And what is conversion? Is it
always a something that can be appraised and registered as having happened at this
exact hour of the clock — as having been attended by such and such recognized
eymptoms — as announced to bystanders by these or those conventional or indispen-
sable ejaculations — as achieved and carried out among certain invariable and easily
described experiences ? Most assuredly not. A conversion may have its vivid
and memorable occasion, its striking, its visible incident. A light from heaven
above the brightness of the sun may at midday during a country ride flash upon
the soul of Saul of Tarsus ; a verse of Scripture, suddenly illuminated with new and
unsuspected and quite constraining meaning, may give a totally new direction to
the will and the genius of an Augustine; but, in truth, the type of the process oi
conversion is just as various as the souls of men. The one thing that does not vary,
since it is the very essence of that which takes place, is a change, a deep and vital
change, in the direction of the will. Conversion is the substitution of God's will as
the recognized end and aim of life, for aU other aims and ends whatever ; and thus,
human nature being what it is, conversion is as a rule a turning " from darkness to
light, and from the power of Satan unto God," that a man may receive forgiveness
of his sins and an inheritance among them that are sanctifled. And this great
change itself, most assuredly, •' cometh not with observation." The after-effects,
indeed, appear — the spirit of self-sacrifice, the unity of purpose which gives meaning,
solemnity, force to life, the fruits of the Spirit — love, joy, peace, long-suffering,
gentleness, goodness, in such measure as belongs to the requirements of the
individual character. Certainly, when the kingdom of God has come into a
Boul the result may be traced easily enough, but the kingdom of God cometh in
this case, too, at least, as a general rule, " not with observation." (Canon Liddon.)
Religion is an inward principle, and cannot he forced : — Men love excitement, and
to be able to say, " Lo, here is Christ I or, lo, there 1 " and they will eagerly run »fter
the preacher who can best minister to this love of excitement. But religion is an
inward principle, a work of personal self-denial and effort. Vegetation as a
general rule, is more advanced by the gentle dews and moderate showers than by
torrents of rain or the bursting of water-spouts ; so is the work of salvation, by the
daily dews of Divine grace, more than by extraordinary revivals. Let us not dis-
parage revivals, for some truly deserve the name ; but let us be assured that the
work of God is not confined to them, and we fear is not often in them at all — that
churches may have some piety which have no great annual season of excitement —
that the best state of things is, where no communion passes without the adding of
faithful souls — that all healthy growth in nature and grace is gradual and from
within — and that " the kingdom of God cometh not with observation." (W. H.
Lewis, D.D.) The kingdom within: — I. Eeligion is an inwabd and spibituaii
PBiNciPLE. It is, says our Saviour, " within you." This is a representation which
differs from the ordinary opinion of men. I! it be within us, then — 1. It is not
determined by geographical boundaries, by latitude or longitude. 2. It does not
consist in an observance of ordinances. This is a representation which accords
with what we find in the sacred pages. God forms His estimate of the characters ol
men, not by their actions, or their language, or their opinions, or by anything of a
merely outward nature ; but by the temper and frame of their hearts. II. Tbdb
RELIGION SUBJECTS THE SOUL TO THE AUTHOBITT AND BEI6N OF GoD. 1. It is Spoken
of as a kingdom. Now a kingdom is not a scene of anarchy and rebellion ; it is dis-
tinguished by order and due subordination. 2, But this is not all. Not only is
there subordination, but all is under the immediate control of God. (1) God is
the author and preserver of that spiritual and Divine principle in which true
religion consists. (2) God has appointed all the means by which it is maintained.
8. Mere necessary submission is not enough. It implies a voluntary subjection of
the heart to the authority of God. (Dr. Harris. ) The kingdom of God : — I. The
text is a wabning against illusobt views of beligion. There is a form of evil
in our own day against which we make a strong protest. There are men in our midst
vbo say, " Lo here ; or, lo there." At last the trath has been discovered. Jacob it
•HAP. xvn.] 8T. LUKE. 815
oome to Bethel, and has dreamed a marvellous dream. We speak of men who bow
seeds of discord through pretended light and holiness. They disturb the peace of
the church, and lead the unwary astray. II. The great truth which our text sug-
gests is THE SPIRITUAL KATUBE OF THE KINGDOM OF GoD, yea, the rcign of God in
men's hearts and lives. The Jews expected a startling demonstration of the super-
natural to their material advantage ; Christ effected a moral reformation, and laid the
foundation for a spiritual commonwealth. We quote the opening sentences of
"Christus Consummator," a recent work of great beauty by Canon Westcott:
" Gain through apparent loss ; victory through momentary defeat ; the energy of a
new Ufe through pangs of travail — such has ever been the law of spiritual progress.
This law has been fulfilled in every crisis of reformation ; and it is illustrated for
our learning in every page of the New Testament." Such, in a few words, is the
basis of that empire of truth which the Son of God founded, and is now enlarging
by His Word and Spirit. III. In conclusion, observe how emphatic the Saviour is
in directing the attention of His hearers to the fact, that the kinqdom of god is
MOT AN expectation, bdt A BBAUTV IN THE SOUL — " the kingdom of God is within
you." The seat of the government is in the heart. {The Weekly Pulpit.) The
inner heaven : — It is evident that a •• kingdom " necessarily implies a ruling power,
and entire subordination to the governing principle. But many minds (might I not
almost say most?) have not even this. There is no governing principle at all, unless
it be to please self ; and a kingless heart must be a weak and miserable thing 1
There is sure to be disorder, and confusion, and wretchedness — where there is
anarchy; and a man's heart is of that character — so impulsive, bo restless; bo
sensitive to influences of every kind ; so capricious ; so many coloured, that it
actually requires a controlling rule which should be a sovereign over it. Nothing
else will do. A multitude of rulers could not answer the purpose. They would only
weaken and distract. There must be One, and that One supreme, and absolute,
and alone. Now it is Christ's promise that He will come into every heart who is
willing to receive TTim. He comes a King. Now see what follows. Christ was a
Saviour before He was a King. He rose from His cross to His throne. " He
humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.
Wherefore God also hath highly exalted Him, and given Him a name which is
above every name. He enters therefore the heart a Saviour- King. What, then, is
the first thing which He brings 7 What is the first act of sovereignty— what the
ground of His kingdom? Pardon, peace, and rest to the soul. It cannot be
but that the first discovery, and on every fresh realization of such a fact as that,
there must be great joy. " Can it be true ? 0 what a happiness I What perfect
joy 1 He is mine and I am His, and nothing shall ever divide us." So peace makes
joy ; and joy and peace, uniting, make love. Oh 1 it is a strangely-beautiful
♦' kingdom " where love — love in high authority — love in power — love in awe —
issues its mandates ; and love, love in expectation, love in perfect accord, love
eager on the wing, gives constant echo to every will of His Sovereign's heart. But
are there no laws in that •• kingdom " of peace and love ? The strictest. No man
— such is the constitution of our nature — no man could be happy who is not ruled,
and ruled with a very firm hand. We all like, we all require, and we all find it
essential to our being to be under authority and restraint ; and the more imperative
the power, so it be just and good, the happier we are. These are the essentials, the
very characteristics of the inner kingdom which is now in every believer's soul ; only,
that which is here, is only the dim reflection of all which is so perfect there ; stiU,
it is the same heaven in both worlds. And a man that has once that " inner
heaven " in his heart, how independent he is of all accidents, and of all external
circumstances. Surely, when death comes, it will be a very little step to that
" kingdom " indeed, and to his kindred above. (J. Vaughan, M.A.) Where f»
tht heavenly kingdom: — If you ask me what my definition of the kingdom of heaven
is, if you ask me where I place it, I will tell you. Show me a man who is just, who
is honest, who is benevolent, who is charitable, who loves his God, who loves his
fellow-men ; show me such a man ; yea, bring him here, stand him by my side,
and I care not what be the colour of skin, nor what be his name, or the name of
his nation, or what his social standing, or what his financial position, or what be
the degree of his intellectual development ; I will point my finger at that man's
breast, and say: "There, within this man's breast is the kingdom of heaven." If
yoo ask me again to show you the kingdom of heaven, I will say : " Bring me a
woman that is pure, that is affectionate, that is loyal to her sense of duty, that is
sympathetic and charitable of speech, that is patient, whose bosom is full of love
S16 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. 'cnAS. Tva,
for the Divine Being and for those of her race with whom she ia brought in oontaot ;
yea, bring that woman here, stand her by my side ; and I care not whether she be
Caucasian or African, whether she be of this nation or of that, care nothing aboat
her intellectual development ; and I will tell you that the kingdom of heaven ia
within that woman's soul." Aye, within such a man and such a woman is a kingdom
boundless in extent, perpetual in its expression of power, majestic in its appear-
ance, indefatigable in its energy, Divine in its quality — a kingdom of which there
can be but one king, and that is God ; a kingdom for the sovereignty of which there
is bnt one being fitted — the Infinite Spirit. And this, as I understand it, is tha
glory of man and the glory of woman : that within them there is a realm of capa-
city, of faculty, of sense, of aspiration, of sentiment, of feeling, so fine, so pure, so
noble, so majestic and holy, that its natural king is Infinite Love. It was to intro-
duce Himself to this realm, to establish Uis throne and possess it in this kingdom,
that Jesus, the Son of God and the Son of Man, alike conjoining in Himself tha
Divine and the human in harmonious conjunction, representing the sympathy of
the lower and the majesty of the higher world, descended to this earth, and is to-
day seeking through the operation of His Spirit, entrance to possession. It ia over
this kingdom within. He reigns, if He reign at all. It is within this kingdom that
He energizes. It is out of this kingdom that His glory has to proceed. Not in that
which is nominal and technical ; not in that which is verbal and formal ; not in
that which is in accordance with custom and tradition, is the Saviour present. And
they who look for Him in these things shall not find Him ; but they who search
to discern Him in spirit and life, in holy expression of consecrated faculty
in the energy of capacities dedicated to God, shall find EUm, and they shall find thak
in these He ia all in alL {W. M. Hay Aitken, M.A.)
Vers. 22-24. One of the days of the Son of Man. — Mistaken desires for Jesus : — L
Jesus foreshadows a chamge of feelino on the past of His discipIiBb ih
REFERENCE TO His APPEARING. They wiU desire to see one day a visible appear-
ance of the Son of Man. If you have the spirit of Jesus, if He has come to you so
that you know Him to be your Saviour and Friend, you cannot be free from such
changes of feeling in reference to Him. No. There come to you times in which
you think, " Surely my life in Christ is not pouring on me so clearly and warmly
as it might do." You are inclined to murmur out such plaints as, "I cannot see
His face, though I have eagerly looked for it ; waiting to catch some beams of the
wondrous glory resting on it, and be able to say, ' It is the Lord,' I want to feel His
strong hand holding me up ; but I do not grasp it, though I stretch out mine before,
behind, on each side. My prayer this morning was that I might find to-day to be
a day for a personal and new contact with Jesus." So there is a sense in which
your feeling in reference to Him is somewhat changed. The day has come " when
ye desire to see one of the days of the Son of Man." U. Jesus foreshadows eebs
THE FAILURE OF SUCH DESIRES FOR His APPEARING. ** Ye shall uot See it." He docs
not want His people to indulge in vain dreamy longings. He does not want to
frustrate hopes that at the bottom might express loyalty to Him, but are mistaken
as to the way in which their purport is to be achieved. He could not grant that
which would not be for the honour of God ; that which would be to the hurt of
those who desired only one day of the Son of Man. HI. Jesus foreshadows bbbb
THAT THERE WILL BB FALSE ANNOUNCBMBNTS HADE IN RBFEBBNCB TO HiS APPEARING.
" They shall say to you, ' See here 1 or see there ! ' " From history we find that there
has hardly ever been a time of special trouble in the world, hardly ever a time of
formality and deadness in the Church, but men have risen up to declare that tho
Son of Man was just coming, and that plans should be adopted to meet Him, Bat
that is not the kind of expectation I want to warn you against ; it is not the one
that you are most in danger of succumbing to. But is there not a tendency to
gather religious meetings under the idea that because you thus gather together
Jesus will manifest Himself ? Is there not a tendency to believe that, if voa can
get up a great organization to carry out a Christian purpose, obtain plenty of
money, and seem to succeed outwardly, Jesus ia there ? Is that not saying, " See
here, see there" ? Against all that sort of thing His words are meant to bear. You
may gather meetings ; you don't necessarily gather with Christ. You may get
wealth to support your efforts ; that is not a proof that Christ approves them. Yoa
may find numbers to sustain certain plans ; that is no pledge, on the part of thoa«
numbers, that they are moving under the leading of Christ. You mast learn that
there is no power of life in those things by themselve?. I do not despise meetings,
CHAP, xvii.] ST. LUKE. 317
wealth, or nntubera. There is • certain value to be attached to them ; bat that
value is just equivalent to any number of cyphers, good for something when you
put one, two, or other numeral before them. So gather all kinds of people, money,
and meetings ; but until you put Christ into them they are of no real value. It is
the power of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus that is to be desired, not the power
of external agencies. Pray that your heart may be brought more and more into
sympathy with His, and that you may more and more clearly know that you are
living on the Son of God by faith. Then you will not need anybody to point out
the Son of Man to you when He comes. You do not need anybody to tell you that
there is light in this place — you know it ; and when Christ appears. His servants
vnll know it without going by the reports of others, without following any one.
We shall know it by the power He Himself will exert. Meantime we have to walk
by faith, and not by sight. (D. G. Watt, M.A.) And why not: — While the Lord
was yet on earth the days of the Son of Man were but lightly esteemed. The
Pharisees spoke of them with a sneer, and demanded when the kingdom of God
should come. " Is this the coming of Thy promised kingdom ? Are these fisher-
men and peasants Thy courtiers ? Are these the days for which prophets and
kings waited so long ? " " Yes," Jesus teUs them, " these are the very days. The
kingdom of God is set up within men's hearts, and is among you even now ; and
the time will come when you will wish for these days back again, and even those
who best appreciate them shall ere long confess that they thought too little of them,
and sigh in their hearts for their return." 1. We are bad judges of our present
experiences. 2. We seldom value our mercies till we lose them. I. Consider thb
IMMEDIATE iNTEBPBETATioN of the text. 1. Our Lord meant that His disciples
would look back regretfully upon the days when He was with them. In a short
time His words were true enough, for sorrows came thick and threefold. At first
they began to preach with uncommon vigour, and the Spirit of God was upon them.
But by and by the love of many waxed cold, and their first zeal decUned ; persecu-
tion increased in its intensity, and the timid shrank away from them ; evil doers
and evil teachers came into the Church ; heresies and schisms began to divide the
body of Christ, and dark days of lukewarmness and half-heartedness covered them.
2. These disciples would look forward sometimes with anxious expectation. " If
we cannot go back," they would say, " Oh that He would hurry on and quickly
bring us the predicted era of triumph and joy. Oh for one of the days of the Son
of Man." IL An adapted intebpretation bditablk to bblievebs at this pbesenx.
MOMENT. 1. Days of holy fellowship with Jesus may pass away to our deep sorrow.
While the Beloved is with you, hold Him, and do not let Him go. He will abide
if you are but eager for His company. 2. Days of deUghtful fellowship with one
another. Let us labour in love, zeal, humility ; for a continuance of these all our
life long. 8. Days of abundant life and power in the Church. HI. A meaninq
ADAPTED TO THE UMCONVEBTED. When OH your death-bed you will be willing to
give all you possess to be able once again to hear the voice of God's minister
proclaiming pardon through the blood of Jesus. Emotions formerly quenched will
not come back ; you resisted the Spirit, and He will leave you to yourself ; and yeb
there will be enough, perhaps, of conscience left to make you wish you could again
feel as when almost persuaded to be a Christian. (C. H. Spurgean.) Days of holy
privileges : — Two kinds and sets of days are here contrasted : coming days and days
that are now. The general thought is very natural and very human. It might be
•aid to almost any one at certain periods of life, that he will one day be looking back
npon that period with regretful fondness, even though it may not be entirely bright
or altogether enjoyable while it is passing. Days of childhood, though many
restrictions have fettered, and many faults may have saddened them; days of
school life, though often complained of at the time as days of burdensome lessons,
arbitrary rules, and irritating punishments ; days of early struggle, and hope long
deferred, in the practice of a profession ; days of uncertain health or variable
spirits, while opinion, faith, and habit, are anxiously shaping themselves, and the
aspects and prospects of life are in many ways both gloomy and formidable ; of all
these, and many other examples might be added to them, it might yet be said with
great truth by an experienced looker-on to the person passing through them : •• Days
will come when ye will be desiring to see one of these days over again, and when,
alas, you shall not see it 1 Yes, you may well prize, while you have them, the days
that are now, though they may be very far from perfect, either in opportunity or in
•ircomstance ; for assuredly you will one day be desiring one of them back no
teats and no prayers of yours will be of any avail to recall it." When oar Lord
81 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. rvn.
said here to His disciples : " The days will come when ye will desire to see one ot
these days " — " days of the Son of Man," He calls them — " and ye shall not see it/'
there was a solemnity and a pathos in the prediction far beyond the universal
experience of which we have spoken. There was much to make the days of that
time far from enjoyable. They were days of unrest ; they were days of toil ; they
were days of anxiety; they were days also of perplexity and bewilderment ii*
spiritual things. They were very slowly and very intermittently realizing very
elementary conceptions. They had no such hold of great hopes or great faiths as
might have made their heaven all brightness, whatever their earth might be.
They were always disappointing their Master by some expression which betrayed
ignorance, or by some proposal which threatened inconsistency, which must have
made, we should have thought, the very memory of those days of the Son of Man
a bitterness rather than a comfort. Yet it is quite plain that our Lord looked upon
those as in some sense happy days for them. " The days will come when ye will
desire to see one of them, and sorrow because ye cannot." " Can ye make the
children of the bride-chamber fast while the bridegroom is with them ? " And in
that last clause He touches the one point which makes those happy days for them,
whatsoever their drawbacks, and whatsoever their discomforts ; it was the personal
presence of the loved and trusted Lord. In that one respect they would be losera
even by the accomplishment of redemption. " A little while," He said, as the end
drew on, " a little while, and ye shall not Bee Me, and verily I say unto you, thai
then ye shall weep and lament, while the world is rejoicing, then ye shall be sor-
rowful, though at last your sorrow shall be turned into joy." Yes ; when He speaks
of a sorrow in separation, and then of a joy growing out of it, He combines in a
wonderful and a merciful way the natural and the spiritual, recognizes the difficulty
of rising into the higher heaven of faith, and yet points us thither for the one real
and one abiding satisfaction. We have had no such personal experiences as these
which the text tells of — none of those company ings with Jesus, as He went in and out
among the disciples. It is only from afar off that we can contemplate that living
companionship. It is only by a remote emulation that we can desire one of those
days of the Son of Man. In the hope of catching some distant ray of that glory
travellers have sometimes sought the land of Christ's earthly sojourn, if so be they
might live themselves back into the days of His ministry and of His humanity.
But others, with a truer and a deeper insight, have sought their inspiration in the
holy Gospels, have read and pondered those four sacred biographies till they could
see and hear Him in them, without those distractions of surrounding imagery and
scenery which can but divert the soul from that heavenlier wisdom. •' He is risen ;
He is not here." It is not in hallowed ground, any more than in imaginative
dreaming, that we shall find, in this far-off century of the gospel, the best and
most life-like conception of what the text calls " the days of the Son of Man."
Bather shall we seek to frame our idea of them — first, in the most human and
personal contact with such wants and woes as He came to seek out and to minister
to ; and, secondly, in the diligent study and imitation, so far as we may, of those
characteristics and those ministries which, in our own day and generation, make
the nearest approach, however distant it must be, to the character and ministry
below of the Divine Son Himself. To acquaint ourselves, not as unooncemed
hearers, but as sorrowing sympathizers, with the actual condition at our very door»
of the toilers and sufferers by whose labour — alas 1 too often by whose sacrifice —
tbs wealth and luxury, nay, the comforts and conveniences of the higher English
life, are made what they are ; not to shrink from the contemplation with a senti-
mental repugnance, but to compel ourselves to take notice of it, and to encourage
by word and deed, by giving and feeling, all the serious enterprises by which
English manliness, and EngUsh philanthropy, and English Christianity, late or
early seek and strive to grapple with it. Thus, on the one side, we shall be realiz-
ing the days of the Son of Man. For this was the earth which He came to save,
and this was the man whom He took upon Him to deliver. True, He did not
become Himself the denizen of an overgrown city. He did not take our flesh in
the midst of that swarming hive of humanity, imperial Bome. He did not wait
for that latest age which should develop into its gigantic proportions such a metro-
polis as this London. But no monstrous growth and no uttermost corruption was
out of the ken and scope of His incarnation. The days of the Son of Man are
wherever Christ and misery stand face to face. Whosoever tries to bring Jesoi
Christ into one lodging-house or one alley of sinning, suffering London, is doing:
more to realiie to himself, and to others, the ministry of the Saviour, than if Ha
HHAT XTU.] ST. LUKE. 81S
tried to track His earthly footsteps through Palestine, or to picture in vivid imagi-
nation the very occupations and employments of the days of His flesh. (Dean
Vaugban.)
VerB. 26, 27. As It was in the days of Noe. — WTierein are we endangered by things
lawful f — I. When do lawful things become sin to us ? 1. When they become
hindrances in our way to heaven, instead of helps as they were intended to be. 2.
When our hearts are wrapped up in them. 11. How we huli jddge of oub heabts,
and know when they miscabbt and offend in the pdksuit, use, and bnjoyment of
LAWFUL THINGS. 1. When our desire of, and endeavours after, worldly things grow
strong and vehement and very eager and impatient. 2. When you have raised
expectations and hopes of great contentment and satisfaction from your comforts.
3. When the obedience and willing submission of the soul is brought off to any
worldly comfort, and the soul stoops to its sceptre, and the faculties, like the
centurion's servants, do as they are bid. Such comforts which are slavishly obeyed
are sinfully enjoyed. 4. When the soul groweth very tender and compassionate
towards such a comfort, and begins to spare that above other things ; then that
becomes a lust, and lust is very tender and delicate, and must be tenderly used. 5.
When the care, anxiety, and solicitude of the soul runs out after the comforts of
this life, saying, " What shall I eat? what shall I drink? How shall I live and
maintain my wife and children ? what shall I do to get, to keep such or such a
fthing ? " 6. That comfort which thou art not dead unto, neither is that dead to
thee, thou wilt hardly enjoy with safety to thyself, or thou wilt part withal but upon
severe terms. 7. If, after God hath been weaning us in a more special manner by
His word and rod, and taking off our hearts from our worldly comforts, yet the strong
bent of the soul is towards them, it argues much carnal love to them that we are
not crucified to those comforts. HI. What abb the sins that attend the
IMMODEBATE SINFUL USE OB ABUSE OF LAWFUL COMFORTS ? I wiU COnfiuC mySClf tO the
sins in the text. 1. The first sin in their eating and drinking, etc., was sensuality.
2. Pride, ease, and idleness generally go together. 3. Security follows. (H.
Wilkinson, D.D.) The revelation of the Son of Man : — The revelation of the Son
of Man is an event which takes more shapes than one in this passage. 1. First
our Lord indicates that it implies a period of danger in one place and of the
possibility of escape in another place — of safety in the field and not in the house, of
pafety without, but not within. The revelation of the Son of Man thus takes the
shape of a critical period, such as might happen during a siege, or the destruction
of a dwelling or of a whole city — where life would be in peril within the walls, but
might be saved beyond the walls, and where safety lay only in immediate flight :
lingering would be ruin, a quick departure from the doomed city the only way of
escape. That is one aspect of the revelation of the Son of Man. And Christ exhorts
His disciples, and all who hear Him, to escape with their lives — to escape with the
higher life, the better life. Let not the love of property interfere with the love of
life ; lose all rather than lose hfe ; and let not the love of the lower life interfere
veith the preservation of the higher life — the life of the spirit, the true life of man.
Lose life itself rather than lose that ; for in preserving that, all is preserved. 2,
Then our Lord speaks of the day of the Son of Man — or, altering the phraseology,
of the night of the Son of Man — when He is revealed. In that night there shall be
two in one bed — the one taken and the other left ; two women grinding at the mill —
the one taken and the other left ; two men in the field — the one taken and the other
left. It is a time of separation which is indicated ; the figure of the siege
disappears, and new figures take its place. It is a time, though not of apparent
outward danger, yet of judgment ; but on what principle the judgment takes place,
these words do not of themselves determine. For aught that appears, it may be a
separation of accident or of caprice ; it is a separation, anr! that is all we know.
But when the disciples say further, " Where, Lord ? " He utters a proverb which
casts light on the judgment and also on the siege and separation : " Wheresoever
the body is, thither wiU the eagles be gathered together," a parable that may have
been old or new, it matters not ; the meaning is plain, and it is twofold. (1) It
evidently means that the judgment is one which is trae to nature. Oar Lord gives'
the principles on which the judgment or separation proceeds. It is the dead
carcass on which the eagles prey. It is the corrupt city, the corrupt State, the
corrupt heart, on which judgment is pronounced : the judgment is not one of
accident or caprice, but of truth, of righteousness. That is the principle ot
separation and jud^ent And (2) in answer to the question "Where, Lordf **
320 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. (.chap, xth,
JesuB gives, I think, another lesson on this matter, — viz. , that this revelation of the
Son of Man is not a single and solitary act of judgment at some future and
far-distant day, but that it is a revelation often made — made, now on a country, now
on a people, now on a Church, now on a system. The revelation of the Son of
Man is not a thing of time and place, it is an eternal law in the dispensation of
Ood. The judgment of God is proceeding every day ; it is proceeding quietly and
onseen. It is only now and then that men's eyes are open to behold it, and then
the judgment is revealed. But it is not the less true that God's judgment proceeds
day by day, whether it is seen and revealed or not. Corruption shall bring about
its own recompense — not at a particular time or place; not in some one notable
instance years or centuries hence, but wheresoever the oaroass ia, there will the
eagles be gathered together. (A. Watson, D.D.)
Ver. 32. Remember Lot's wife. — Almost tared, yet lost: — ^Lot's wife — a name-
less sinner in a half -forgotten agel I. What is tbbbb to beueivibeb in tioi
CASK OF lot's wife? See Gen. xix. 26. So soon and so sudden is her dis-
appearance from the stage of history. She only appears long enough to disappear
again. She is like a spectre, rising from the earth, moving slowly across our
field of vision, and then vanishing away. Hence her history is all concentred
in a single point, and that the last. It has no beginning, and no middle, but an
end — a fearful end. Its course is like that of the black and silent train, to which
the match is at last applied, and it ends in a fash and an explosion. 1. The first
distinctive feature in the case of Lot's wife is, that she was almost saved. The
burning city was behind ; she had been thrust out from it by angelic hands, her
husband and her children at her side ; the chosen refuge not far off, perhaps in
sight ; the voice of the avenger and deliverer still ringing in her ears. 2. But,
though almost saved, she perished after all. What I want you to observe is not the
bare fact that she perished, as have millions both before and since, but that she
perished as she did, and where she did. Perdition is indeed perdition, come as it
may, and there is no need of fathoming the various depths of an abyss, of what is
bottomless. But to the eye of the spectator, and it may be to the memory of the
lost, there is an awful aggravation of what seems to be incapable of variation or
increase in the preceding and accompanying circumstances of the final plunge. He
who sinks in the sea without the hope or opportunity of rescue may be sooner
drowned than he who for a moment enjoys both ; but to the heart of an observer
bow much more sickeuing and appalling is the end of him who disappears with the
rope or plank of safety within reach, or in his very hand, or of him who slips into
the bubbling waters from the surface of the rock which, with his failing strength,
he had just reached, and on which for a moment of delicious delusion he had wept
to imagine himself safe at last 1 3. Another distinctive feature in the case of Lot's
-wife is, that her destruction was so ordered as to make her a memorial and a
warning to all others. The pillar of salt may have vanished from the shore of the
Dead Sea, but it is standing on the field of sacred history. The Old and New
Testaments both give it place ; and as it once spoke to the eye of the affrighted
Canaanite or Hebrew, who revisited the scene of desolation, so it now speaks to the
memory and conscience of the countless multitudes who read or hear the law and
gospel. II. Of what use can the beoollegtion bb to tjs ? 1. We, like Lot's wife,
may be almost saved. This is true in a twofold sense. It is true of outward
opportunities. It is also true of inward exercises. 2. Those who are almost saved
.may perish — fearfully perish — finally perish — perish in reach, in sight of heaven —
yes, at the very threshold of salvation. Whatever "looking back" may have
denoted in the type, we know full well what may answer to it in the antitype.
Whatever may have tempted Lot's wife to look back, we know the multiplied
temptations which lead sinners to do likewise. And this terrible example cries
aloud to those who are assailed by lingering desires for enjoyments once abandoned,
or Dy sceptical misgivings, or by evil habits unsubdued, or by disgust at the
restraints of a religious life, or by an impious desperation such as sometimes urges
us to eat and drink, for to-morrow we die ; — to all such this terrible example cries
aloud, " Remember Lot's wife " — her escape and her destruction. 3. They who
are, like Lot's wife, almost saved, may not only, like her, be destroyed in the very
tmoment of deliverance but, like her, so destroyed as to afford a monumental
warning to all others that the patience and long-suffering of God are not etemaL
God has made all things for Himself, even the wicked for the day of evil. They
who will not, as " vessels of meroy," glorify His wisdom and His goodness, moat
eHAP. XTn.] ST, LUKE. 821
and will " show His wrath and make His power known," as " vessels of wrath fitted
to destruction." They who will not consent to glorify Him willingly must be
content to glorify Him by compulsion. This is true of all who perish, and who,
therefore, may be said to become •' pillars of salt," standing, like milestones, all along
the broad road that leadeth to destruction, solemn though speechless monitors of
those who throng it, and planted even on the margin of that great gulf which is
£xed for ever between heaven and hell. Bat in another and a more affecting
cense, it may be said that they who perish with the very foretaste of salvation on
their lips, become "pillars of salt" to their successors. What a thought is this
— that of all the tears which some have shed in seasons of awakening, and of all
their prayers and vows and resolutions, all their spiritual conflicts and apparent
triumphs over self and sin, the only ultimate effect will be to leave them standing
by the wayside as " pillars of salt," memorials of man's weakness and corruption,
and of God most righteous retributions. Are you willing to live, and, what is more,
to die, for such an end as this? {J. A. Alexander, D.D.) LoVa wife: — I. Heb
ADVANTAQES. 1. She had a pious husband. 2. She had heavenly visitors. 3. She
had Divine warning. 4. She had seen the wicked punished. II. Heb offence.
1. She acted under the impulse of feeling. 2. She acted under the impulse of
unbelief. 3. She acted under a disregard of law. 4. She acted in contempt of
warning. IH. Heb pdnishment. She was punished — 1. Suddenly. 3. Seasonably.
8. Bighteonsly. 4. Exemplarily. IV. The wabninq administered. "Eemember" —
1. Not to delay. Flee at once. 2. Not to hesitate. Look not back. 3. Not to
draw back. Danger is behind. In conclusion : 1. See here a monument of Divine
wrath. 2. See here a beacon to warn coming generations. {A. Macfarlane.}
Seasonable truths in evil times : — I. What aee we to remember about Lot's wife ?
Her sin, and her punishment. A sudden and a deadly stroke was dealt her, for her
ein of apostasy. II. Why abb we to bemeubeb Lot's wife ? 1. Because her
example is recorded for that purpose. 2. For our warning. 3. That we fall not
into the same condemnation. HI. How abe we to bbmembeb Lot's wife? 1.
Eeflectively. 2. Meditatively. 3. With holy fear, reverence, and adoration. IV,
What and when is the bpeciu: time that Lot's wife is to be remembered bt us f
It is good to remember her frequently ; but we are in a special manner to remember
Lot's wife in the time of declining, in declining times remember her that you do not
decline. Thus our Saviour Christ brings her in for to be remembered by us, that
we do not look back, as she looked back. We are to remember her in times of
security, of great security. She is to be remembered by us also, in time when God
doth call upon His people by His dispensations to go out of Sodom, and make no
delay ; for so our Saviour also presses it to you, " Let not him that is on the house-
top go down," Ac, but •' remember Lot's wife." God would have no delay then :
so when God calls upon a people to come out of Sodom; make no delay, but
" remember Lot's wife." Thus we see what the time is. V. What good shali. wf
GET by bememberinq Lot's WIFE ? Is there any good to be gotten by remembering
Lot's wife? Yes, much every way : Something in a way of instruction, something
in a way of caution. 1. If this story of Lot's wife be true, and do live in our
memory, then, why should not we stand and admire, and say, Lord, how unsearch-
able are Thy judgments, and Thy ways past finding out ? Here are four, and but
four that came out of Sodom, and yet one of the four were destroyed. God may
deliver our family in the time of common calamity, and yet some of our house may
suffer. God in thfe mid&t of judgment doth remember mercy ; in the midst of
mercy He remembers judgment. 2. If this story of Lot's wife be true, and do live
in our memory, then here we may learn by way of instruction, and see how far a
man or woman may go in religion, and yet come short at the last. 3. If this story
of Lot's wife be true, and do Ufe in our memory ; then you may learn and see by
way of instruction } that the best relations will not secure from the hand of God,
if we continue evil. 4. If this story of Lot's wife be true, and do indeed live in our
memory, then here you may see what an evil thing it is to look back upon that;
which God hath delivered us from. 5. If this story of Lot's wife be true, and live
in our memory ; here we may learn by way of instruction, that former deliverance
will not secure us from future destruction : she was delivered with a great deliver-
ance, '«nd yet destroyed with a great destruction. 6. If this story of Lot's wife be
true, and live in our memory, then here we may learn by way of instruction : it is
ill sinning when God is punishing ; it is good begging while God is giving : but oh,
it is ill sinning while God is punishing. 7. If this story be true, and live in your
memory, then here you may leai-n, that those that are exemplary in sinning, Ehall
VOL. ni. 21
322 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. tto.
be exemplary in punishing. 8. If this story of Lot's wife be trne, and do live in
our memory ; then here we may see what an evil thing it ia to mischoose in our
choosing time. 9. If this story of Lot's wife be true, and do live in our memory ;
then here we may see by way of instruction, that though God will lay out an
hiding-place for ffia people, in times of public calamity ; yet if they sin in the way,
they may perish or miscarry in the very face of their hiding-place. 10. If this
story of Lot's wife be true, and do live in our memory ; then here we may learn by
way of instruction, that it is possible that a religious family may have a black
mark of God's indignation. 11. And the main of all is this. If the story of Lot's
wife be true, and do live in our memory : oh, what an evil thing is it to look back,
and to decline in declining times. How quick was God with Lot's wife for looking
back. She never sinned this sin before ; it was the first sin that ever in this kind
she committed ; and she might have said : " Why, Lord, it is the first time that ever
I committed it, and indeed I was taken before I was aware thus to look back : I did
not consider well of what I did." But God turned her presently into a pillar of
salt ; God was quick with her. Why ? For to show thus much, God will be quick
with apostates. And thus I have given you these things by way of instruction.
12. As many I might give you in a way of caution, but to instance only in one.
If this story of Lot's wife be true, and do live in our remembrance ; by way of
caution, why should we not all take heed how we look back to worldly interests, in
the day when the Son of Man shall be revealed, or in this day of the gospel when the
Son of Man is revealed. You see what became of Lot's wife for her looking back ;
and therefore why should we not all of us take heed how we look back or decline,
in this day that the Son of Man is revealed ? VI. You will say. What sham, wb do
THAT WB MAY NOT DECLINE ; what shall we do that we may so remember Lot's wife,
that we may not decline, or look back in declining times ? 1. If you would not
look back in declining times, shut your eyes and your ears against all the allurements
andthreatenings of the world. 2. If you would not look back in declining times,
consider, in the fear of the Lord, what an evil thing it ia to look back. Thereby
you lose all you have wrought, thereby you will lose all your losses. There is much
gain in losing for Jesus Christ. By looking back you will lose all the losses and the
gain thereby. Thereby you will lose the testimony of your own integrity. Yet,
saith God, Job held fast his integrity. Thereby, also, you will lose the comfort of
those glorious times that are to come. (W. Bridge}. Remember Lot's wife : —
I. What cikcbmstances in the conduct of Lot's wife to live in ouk remembrance ?
1. Her sin. (1) Inordinate worldly attachment. (2) Carelessness. (3) Ingratitude.
(4) Disobedience. 2. Her punishment. (1) Immediate. (2) Aggravated. Better
for her to have perished in Sodom than on liie way to Zoar. (3) Signal. A monu-
ment before the world of God's power and faithfulness, and His righteous dis-
pleasure against apostasy. II. Let us draw near and read the inscription on this
MOHUMENT. 1. The danger of apostasy. 2. Past and present mercies are no
security for future safety, unless suitably improved. 3. The evil of worldly attach-
ments, in. With what sentiments ought we to remember Lot's wife ? 1. With
gratitude for our own preservation though we have acted a similar, nay, a more
guilty part. (1) She was warned once ; we have been warned a thousand times.
(2) She looked back ; but have not we turned back ? (3) She looked back once ;
we have both looked and turned back over and over again. (4) We have looked
back and turned back, although we had her example of warning before our eyes.
2. To increase our salutary fears. {W. Atherton.) A woman to be remembered : —
L Thb religious privileges which Lot's wife enjoyed. The mere possession of
religious privileges will save no one's soul. Men need besides, the grace of the
Holy Ghost. II. The sin which Lot's wife committed. *• She looked back."
That look was a little thing, but it revealed the true character of Lot's wife. Little
things will often show the state of a man's mind even better than great ones, and
little symptoms are often the signs of deadly and incurable diseases. A straw may
show which way the wind blows, and one look may show the rotten condition of a
sinner's heart (Matt. v. 28). 2. That look was a little thing, but it told of dis-
obedience in Lot's wife. When God speaks plainly by His Word, or by His
messengers, man's duty is clear. 8. That look was a little thing, but it told of
proud unbelief in Lot's wife. She seemed to doubt whether God was really going
to destroy Sodom : she appeared not to beheve there was any danger, or any need
for such a hasty flight. But without faith it is impossible to please God. 4. That
look was a little thing, but it told of secret love of the world in Lot's wife. Her
heart was in Sodom, though her body was outside. She had left her affectiona
iiHAi. xni.] ST. LUKE. 823
^behind when she fled from her home. Her eye tamed to the place where her
treasure was, as the compass- needle tarns to the pole. And this was the crowning
point of her sin. III. The punishment which Goo initjctei) on Lot's wife. 1. A
learfal end. 2. A hopeless end. Conclusion : Suffer me to wind up all by a few
direct appeals to your own heart. In a day of much light, and knowledge, and
profession, I desire to set up a beacon to preserve souls from shipwreck. I would
fain moor a buoy in the channel of all spiritual voyagers, and paint upon it,
" £emember Lot's wife." (1) Are you careless about the second Advent of Christ ?
Alas, many are ! They live like the men of Sodom, and the men of Noah's day :
they eat, and drink, and plant, and build, and marry, and are given in marriage,
and behave as if Christ was never going to return. If you are such an one, I say to
you this day. Take care: "Remember Lot's wife." (2) Are you lukewarm, and
cold in your Christianity ? Alas, many are 1 They try to serve two masters : they
labour to keep friends both with God and mammon. If you are such an one, I say
to you this day, Take care : " Remember Lot's wife." (3) Are you halting between
two opinions, and disposed to go back to the world ? Alas, many are I They are
afraid of the cross : they secretly dislike the trouble and reproach of decided
rehgion. They are weary of the wilderness and the manna, and woald fain return
to Egypt, if they could. If yoa are such an one, I say to you this day, Take care :
"Remember Lot's wife." (4) Are you secretly cherishing some besetting sin?
Alas, many are 1 they go far in a profession of religion ; they do many things that
■are right, and are very like the people of God. But there is always some darling
evil habit, which they cannot tear from their heart. BUdden worldliness, or
«ovetousness, or lust, sticks to them like their skin. They are willing to see all
their idols broken, but this one. If you are such an one, I say to yoa this day. Take
care: *• Remember Lot's wife." (5) Are you trifling with little sins ? Alas, many
are 1 They hold the great essential doctrines of the gospel. They keep clear of ail
.gross profligacy, or open breach of God's law ; but they are painfully careless about
Uttle inconsistencies, and painfully ready to make excuses for them. " It is only
« httle temper, or a little levity, or a little thoughtlessness, or a little forge tfulness."
U you are such an one, I say to you this day, "Take care: 'Remember Lot's wife.' "
iBisliop Ryle.) A solemn warning : — 1. It is a solemn warning, when we think of
the person Jesus names. He does not bid us remember Abraham, or Isaac, or
Jacob, or Sarah, or Hannah, or Ruth. No : He singles out one whose soul was lost
for ever. He cries to us, "Remember Lot's wife." 2. It is a solemn warning,
when we consider the subject Jesus is upon. He is speaking of His own second coming
to judge the world : He is describing the awful state of unreadiness in whichmany will
be found. The last days are on His mind, when He says, "Remember Lot's wife."
3. It is a solemn warning, when we think of the person who gives it. The Lord Jesua
is full of love, mercy, and comparison : He is one who wiU not break the bruised
jeed nor quench the smoking flax. He could weep over unbelieving Jerusalem, and
pray for the men that crucified Him ; yet even He thinks it good to remind us of
lost souls. Even He says, " Remember Lot's wife." 4. It is a solemn warning,
when we think of the persons to whom it was first given. The Lord Jesus was
speaking to His disciples : He was not addressing the scribes and Pharisees, who
hated Him, but Peter, James, and John, and many others who loved ELim ; yet even
to them He thinks it good to address a caution. Even to them He says, " Bemem-
her Lot's wife." 5. It is a solemn warning, when we consider the manner in which
it was given. He does not merely say, " Beware of following — take heed of imita-
ting— do not be like Lot's wife." He uses a different word : He says, " Remember."
He speaks as if we were all in danger of forgetting the subject ; He stirs up our lazy
memories; He bids us keep the case before our minds. He cries, "Remember
Lot's wife." [Ibid.) Remember Lot's vaije: — I. Remembbb Lot's wipe, and
LEABN THE PEBiLS OF WORLDLINESS. How terrible her fate 1 What could be more
awful? 1. It was dreadful physically. She lost her life. 2. It was dreadful
socially. Her husband was made a widower, her daughters orphans. 3. It was dread-
ful spiritually. She died in the very act of disobedience. Worldiness was at the
root of her sin. She looked back with regret at the valuable possessions that were
t)eing abandoned. Let us beware. Prosperity is perilous. Gain and godliness are
irequently divorced. U. Reueubeb Lot's wife, and see how possible it is to
BEGIN WELL AND END ILL. Some are like certain African rivers of which we have
read. Rising in some secluded and rocky upland, they increase in volume and
beautj as they flow along. Their course is marked by fertility on either aide. Bat
instead of rolling on till they reach the ocean and help to swell its waters, the/
824 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chaf. xtii,
gradually sink and are lost in the sand of the desert. Esau ; Saul ; Solomon ;
Judas. Let us not be high-minded, but fear. Let us watch and be sober. III.
Kemembkb Lot's wife, and behold the folly and sin op delay. She lingered
and perished. Had she not hesitated, she had not been destroyed. Decision ia
essential to success in all departments of hfe. " Despatch is the soul of business.'^
A wealthy man was once asked the secret of his prosperity. His answer was signi-
ficant : " I always recollect what my father said to me when I was a boy — If yoo
have a thing to do, go and do it." No doubt this had much to do with his accumu-
lation of riches. So, too, salvation must be gone about at once. It is no matter
for delay. •' No hurry " is Satan's masterpiece. It is the almost universal sin.
Hear the confession of an old man: — "When I was young, I said to myself, ' I
cannot give up the world now, but I will do it by and by. When I have passed the
meridian of life, then I shall be ready to attend to the concerns of my soul.' But
here I am, an old man. I feel no readiness nor disposition to enter upon the work
of my salvation. In looking back I often feel that I would give worlds if I could
be placed where I was when I was twenty years old. There were not half as many
difiBculties in my path then as there are now." An artist once requested that he
might be allowed to take the Queen's likeness. Time and place were fixed. Her
Majesty was there to the moment. He was not. When he came he found, instead
of the royal lady, her message. She left word that she had been, gone, and should
not return. The King of kings offers to give us His image. He wishes us to
resemble Him. The Incarnate One says, " Follow Me." But He has appointed the
period and the locality in which we are to obtain this Divine likeness — the present
world and the present time. " Seek ye the Lord while He may be found." (T. R.
Stevenson.) The doom of the lingerer ; — I. With begabd to her sin, the stat©
of mind discovered, and the aggravations with which it was attended. Thus, w©
cannot fail to see in it a low and debased degree of earthly-mindedness, a heart
fixed and bent on getting its worldly stuff — ready to incur difficulty for it, danger for
it — ay, and the anger of God for it. In this particular connection, the warning of
her example seems to be proposed in the text In that day, when the signs of an
advent Saviour are upon you, be not anxious about your worldly possessions. Let
the things that are in the house remain in the house, the things that are left in th©
field be left in the field. " Remember Lot's wife." Again, there was in this sin of
Lot's wife the crime of disobedience, with all its actual accompaniments of defiant
rebellion and contemptuous unbelief. She had been especially charged that she must
not look back, and she did look back ; she had been told she must escape for her life,
and she loitered even behind her husband. See how many things meet here — th©
authority of God is spurned, the word of the angel is disbelieved, the wisdom or ne-
cessity of the command is questioned, and the impious prerogative laid claim to —
" Our eyes are our own ; we may look on what we will : who is Lord over us ? " Now
it is easy to see what gives to those offences against a positive precept their character
of deep offending. In the case of offences against the principle or spirit of a law, a
treacherous and facile conscience will raise a cavil, and even make for itself excus©
to the conscience, as not able to do this, when command takes the form of " Do this "
or •' Refrain from that. " We are then made to feel that we are brought face to face
with God ; we are confronted with the broad, plain letter of His written law. Room
for mistake or cavil or misinterpretation, there is none ; we must offend with our
eyes open, and cast ourselves headlong into the depths of presumptuous sin. But
once more, there was in the sin of the woman much of deep and signal
ingratitude. Her life had been one of marked and distinguishing mercies.
Solemn warning this, to all of us who have been brought up religiously ; for
those who have in early hfe enjoyed great spiritual oijportunities : it seems that
when such people fall, none fall so low ; the light that was in them becomes darkness,
and, as our Lord teaches, there is no darkness so thick as that. It is like being
borne away to perdition on the wings of God's mercy. II. On the awful pcnish-
UENT with which the wife of Lot was visited I will only insist as showing how
peculiarly aggravated in God's sight must have been the nature of Her sin. Her end
was marked by all those circumstances of anger and terror which seem to foreclose
all hope. First, it was that which we pray against in our Litany as sudden death ;
that is, not sudden in the sense of being wholly unlooked-for — that may be a great
blessing — but sudden as unprepared- for — sudden, as finding us with nothing ready
for our meeting with God, with our hearts yet in the world, and our faoes turned that
way. III. Now to gather up a few practical lessons from our subject. 1. " Remember
Lot's wife" as an example of the folly, the danger, the wickedness of trifiing with what
CHAP xvn.] ST. LUKE. 321
yon know to b« wrong, of committing little sins, breaking little precepts, and going
on to Satan's ground only a very little way. All little sins, all slight tamperings
with conscience, all partial returns to once forsaken evil, all compromises with a
renounced and repented habit, are as first steps to a hopeless and disastrous fall.
Like Lot's wife, we may only intend to look and look, and then turn back again.
But we find we cannot turn back ; the witchcraft of an evil nature is at work within
us ; we have seven wicked spirits to contend with now, where, before, we had but
one, and bo by little and Uttle we are led within the charmed circle of evil till there
is no going back and no escaping. 2. " Remember Lot's wife" as an example of the
possibility of falling from the most hopeful spiritual condition. How confidently
Bhould we have argued of her state ; how confidently might she have argued of her
own, when, of four persons to be saved out of those vast populations, she was
chosen as one. 3. " Eemember Lot's wife " as a warning to us that there must be no
delays, no baitings, no slackened diligence, in running the race that is set before
as. "Escape for thy life" — life spiritual, life temporal, life eternal — lose one and
yoa lose all ; and you may lose all by becoming weary and faint in the running.
(D. Moore, M.A.) Lot's wife: — L Consider, in the first place, the hopefci.
OPPORTUNITY ; or. Lot's wife fleeing from Sodom. It has been thought — and
there is considerable reason for the thought — that she was a native of Sodom.
When Lot separated from Abraham and went to live at Sodom, we read
nothing of his having a wife or children ; this is one reason for conjecturing
that he married after he came to live at Sodom. Another is her evident attach-
ment to Sodom, which, though to be accounted for on other reasons, may have
been all the stronger, if that were the place of her nativity and early life. A
third reason is, that Lot's " easily besetting " sin, which was covetousness and love
of the world, would probably have tempted him to form such a connection with one
of the daughters of Sodom, on account of some supposed worldly advantage. Oh !
let not Christians despise the word of warning, whispered by the mere probability
that Lot married a native of Sodom — an unconverted and worldly-minded person.
But although worldly-minded herself, her husband was a religious person, and she
had many opportunities of redeeming her character and turning to the Lord. Yet
she rejected them. When the testing-time came, she preferred the world to God.
IL The sebious oftence ; or Lot's wife looking back. The world is the great clog
upon the wheels of piety. IIL The kemarkable punishment. {J. Hambleton,
M.A.) Remember Lot's wife : — Separation is the only way of escape. We must
flee from the world, or perish with it. I. Remember that this woman was Lot's
WIFE. 1. She was united in the closest possible bonds to one who, with all his
faults, was a righteous man ; and yet she perished. 0 ye children of godly parents,
I beseech you look to yourselves that ye be not driven down to hell from your
mother's side. 2. Being Lot's wife, remember that she had since her marriage
shared with Lot in his journeys and adventures and trials. If you cling to the
world and cast your eye back upon it you must perish in your sin, notwithstanding
that you have eaten and drank with the people of God, and have been as near to
them in relationship as wife to husband, or child to parent. 3. Lot's wife had also
shared her husband's privileges. She received the merciful warning to escape as
well as her husband, and she was urged as much as he to flee from the wrath so near
at hand. Thus is it with many of you who are enjoying all sorts of Christian
frivileges and are yet unsaved. 4. Lot's wife had shared in her husband's errors.
t was a great mistake on his part to abandon the outwardly separated life, but she
had kept to him in it, and perhaps was the cause of his so doing. I suppose he
thought he could live above the world spiritually, and yet mingle with its votaries.
n. " Eemember Lot's wife," and recollect that she went some wat towards being
8A.VED. III. Remember that though she went some way towards escape shb did
actually perish through bin. 1. The first sin that she committed was that she
lingered behind. 2. Having slackened her pace, the next thing she did was she
disbelieved what had been told her. Faith may be as well exhibited by not looking
as by looking. Faith is a look at Christ, but faith is a not looking at the things
which are behind. She saw the bright dawning and everything lit up with it, and
it came across her mind — " It cannot be true, the city is not being destroyed. What
a lovely morning I Why are we thus running away from house, and goods, and
friends, and everything else on such a bright, clear morning as this f " She did not
truly believe, there was no real faith in her heart, and therefore she disobeyed the
law of her safety and turned her face towards Sodom. 3. Having got so far a*
lingering and doubting, her next movement was a direct act of rebellion — she tamed
826 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. XTik
her head : she was bidden not to look, but she dared to look. Bebellion is as maoh
seen in the breach of what appears to be a little command as in the violation
of a great precept. You will be judged according to the going of your heart II
yonr heart goes towards the mountain to escape, and if you hasten to be
away with Christ to be His separated follower, you shall be saved : but it
your heart still goes after evil and sin, His servants ye are whom ye obey,
and from your evil master you shall get your black reward. IV. Bemember
that HEB DOOM WAB TEBBiBLB. 1. Bemember that she perished with the same doom
as that which happened to the inhabitants of [Sodom and Gomorrah, but that
doom befell her at the gates of Zoar. 2. The worst point, perhaps, about the
perishing of Lot's wife lay in this, that she perished in the very act of sin, and had
DO space for repentance given her. It is a dreadful thing to die in the very act of sin,
to be caught away by the justice of God while the transgression is being perpetrated.
(C. H. Spurgeon.) Lot's wife: — L Of heb sin — she looked back. "What
fault was there in that ? you will say. I answer — 1. There was disobedience in it,
because it was against the express command of God, given by an angel, '* Look not
behind thee " (Gen. xix. 17). 2. There was unbelief in it ; not believing the words
of the angel, God's messenger, who had assured her in the name of God that Ha
would destroy Sodom, " Hasten hence, lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the
city " (Gen. xix. 13). Now she would look back, to see whether the prediction and
warning were true. An unbelieving heart will easily be perverted and enticed into
a rebellion against God, and those that cannot trust God will not be true to Him.
3. There was worldliness in it, or an hankering of mind after what she had left in
Sodom ; and so this looking back was a look of covetousness, a kind of repent-
ance that she had come out of Sodom ; for people are wont to look back who are
moved with a desire and remembrance of their former dwelling. So Lot's wife
looked back because she had left her heart behind her. There were her kindred,
and friends, and country, and that pleasant place which was as the garden of God
(Gen. xiii. 10). From thence this woman came, and thither she would fain go
again ; as if she had said, And must I leave thee, Sodom, and part for ever from
thee 1 Affectation of worldly things draweth ua from ready obedience unto God
(Phil. iii. 8). 4. There was ingratitude for her deliverance from that dreadful and
terrible burning which God was bringing upon the place of her abode. It is said,
" The Lord was merciful to him " (Gen. xix. 16). He could not pretend to it out
of any merit, and might have smarted, for his choice showed weakness in not rest-
ing on God's word : " I cannot escape to the mountain, let some evil take me, and I
die " (ver. 19). Only this God required at his hands, that he and his family should
make haste and begone. Now, to disobey God in so small a matter was in her great
ingratitude. The sins of none are so grievous to God as of those that have received
much mercy from Him : " After such a deliverance as this, should we again break
Thy commandments ? " (Ezra ix. 13, 14). Oh ! think what it is to despise the
mercy of Christ, who came from heaven to deliver us ; and shall it be slighted ?
II. Of heb jcnouENT — she was turned into a pillar of salt. 1. It was sudden.
Sometimes God is quick and severe upon sinners, surprising them in the very act
of their sin ; as Lot's wife was presently turned into a pillar of salt. So Zimrl
and Cosbi unladed their lives and their lusts together (Numb. xxv. 8) ; and Herod
was smitten in the very act of his pride (Acts xii. 23) ; " The same hour was the thing
fulfilled upon Nebuchadnezzar" (Dan. iv. 33) ; "In that night was Belshazzar the
king of the Chaldeans slain " (Dan. v. 30). Thus many times judgment overtaketh
the wicked in the very instant of their sin ; and God will give the sinner no time.
Therefore we should not tempt and presume upon His patience. Surely it is the
greatest mercy to have grace to repent ; but it is also a mercy to have space to repent.
But God's patience must not be wearied. 2. It was strange. For here a woman ia
turned into a pillar of salt. Strange sins bring on strange punishment. The stupid
world is not awakened by ordinary judgments, but looks upon them as some chance
or common occurrence ; and therefore God is forced to go out of the common road,
and diversify His judgments, that by some eminent circumstance in them He may
alarm the drowsy world to take notice of His hand. 3. It was shameful ; for she is
made a public and lasting monument of shame to herself, but of instruction to os.
I must show how profitable it is for as to meditate on this instance, even for all
those who are called from wrath to a state of rest and glory. 1. That it conoemeth
Boch not only to consider the mercies of God, but also riow and then the examples
of EUb justice, that "we may serve Him with fear, and rejoice with trembling"
(Psa. ii. 11). We are in a mixed estate, and therefore mixed affections do beslL
amu rra.] ST. LUKE. 82T
As we are to cherish the spirit or better part with promises and hopes of glory, by
which the inner man is renewed day by day, so we are to weaken the pravity cf the
flesh by the remembrance of God's judgments, not only threatened, but also
•ctually inflicted;; for instances do much enliven things. Now, what was doae to
them may be done to us — for these judgments are patterns of providence — and
if we would blow off the dust from the ancient providences of God, we may easily
read our own doom or desert at least. The desert of sin is still the same ; and
the exactness of Divine justice is still the same ; what hath been is a pledge and
instance of what may be. 2. That not only modem and present, but ancient and
old judgments are of great use to us, especially when like sins abound in the age we
live in, or we are in danger of them as to our own practice. If others have smarted
for disobeying God, why not we, since God is impartially and immutably just,
always consonant and agreeable unto Himself ? His power is the same, so is Hia
justice and holiness. 3. This particular judgment is monumental, and so intended
for a pattern and spectacle to after ages ; and it is also here recommended by the
Lord Himself— "Remember Lot's wife." He exciteth ua to look upon this pillar,
and therefore certainly it will yield many instructions for the heavenly life. (1)
This seemeth to be a small sin. What 1 for a look, for a glance of her eye, to be so
suddenly blasted into a pillar of salt I This seemeth to be no great fault ; but it
teaches us that little faults in appearance many times meet with a great judgment.
There may be much crookedness in a small line ; and the matter is not so much to
be regarded as the majesty and authority of God that commandeth — as in garments
the dye is more than the stuff. But that I may at once vindicate God's dispensa-
tion, and enforce the caution, I shall prove — (a) That sin is not to be measured by
the external action, but by the circumstances, (i) This woman's sin is greater
than at first appeareth. For here was — (i.) A preferring her own will before the
will of God. God said, Look not back ; but she would look back, (ii.) There was
a contempt of the justice and wrath of God, as if it were a vain scarecrow : "Do
we provoke the Lord to jealousy? are we stronger than He?" (1 Cor. x. 22). (iii.)
Here is also a contempt of the rewards of obedience, as in all sin (Heb. xii. 15, 16).
(iv, ) There was an abuseof the grace offered for her escape and deliverance (Rom. ii. 4).
All these four things are in every deliberate sin, seem it never so small, (c) Because
we think we may preserve the smaller sins for breed, and that God is more severe
in remembering these than we are faulty in committing them. Therefore think of
and seriously consider that small sins are the mother of great sins, and the grand-
mother of great punishments. As little sticks set the great ones on fire, and a wisp
of straw often enkindleth a great block of wood, so we are drawn on by the lesser
evils to greater, and by the just judgment of God suffered to fall into them, because
we made no conscience of lesser. The lesser commandments are a rail about the
greater, and no man grows downright wicked at first, but rises to it by degrees.
(2) This was a sin conomitted by stealth. As she followed her husband, she would
eteal a glance, and look towards Sodom ; for it is said, " His wife looked back from
behind him " (Gen. xix. 26). God can find us out in our secret sins ; and therefore we
should make conscience, as not to sin openly, so not by stealth. In short, to be an
open and bold sinner in some respects is worse than to be a close and private
sinner, because of the dishonour done to God, and the scandal to others, and the
impudence of the sinner himself ; but in other respects secret sins have their aggra-
vations, (a) Because if opens sins be of greater infamy, yet secret sins are more
against knowledge and conviction. (6) This secret sinning puts far more respect
upon men than God ; and this is palliated atheism. (3) The next lesson which we
learn hence is, that no loss of earthly things should make us repent of our obe-
dience to God, but that we should still go on with what we have well begun, with-
oat looking back. " No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back,
is fit for the kingdom of God " (Luke ix. 62). From the whole — 1. Remember that
in getting out of Sodom we must make haste. The least delay or stop in the course
of our flight may be pernicious to us. 2. That tiU our resolutions be firmly set
for God and heaven, and there be a thorough bent and bias upon our hearts, and
the league between us and our secret lusts broken, after we have seemed to make
some escape, we shall be looking back again — *' For where our treasure is, thei« out
heart will be " (Matt. vi. 21). 3. That to look back, after we have seemed to escape,
doth involve ns in the greatest sin and misery. The apostle tells as (2 Peter iL
SO, 21). 4. That if we would not go back, we must not look back. Evil is best
stopped at first ; tiie first breakings off from God, and remitting oar seal and
watUkfaliMSS. He that keeps not a house in constant repair will be in danger of
828 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xvn.
having it fall down npon him. So, if we grow remiss and careless, and keep not •
constant watch, temptations will increase ppon us. (T. Manton.) Remember
Lot's wife : — 1. Kemember Lot's wife, in the hour of conviction of sin. The Holy
Spirit strives. The danger of damnation is seen and felt as never before. " Up !
flee for your life ! " is the voice of the Spirit. Delay, hesitation, casting longing
looks back on a life of sin, then, may be fatal. You may lose the golden oppor-
tunity. 2. Bemember Lot's wife in the hour of fiery temptation. The only safety
is in precipitate flight. Escape from the presence of the tempter. To parley, to
hesitate, to cast a look at the proffered bait, is all but certain ruin. 3. Bemember
Lot's wife, when any question of duty is pressed upon you. This woman had no
excuse for hesitation or reluctance. A clear. Divine call to duty cannot be trifled
with without incurring fearful risk, if not of the loss of life physical, at least life
spiritual. 4. Bemember Lot's wife, amid the assaults of unbelief. 5. Note what
Christ says in Luke ix. 62, " No man, having put his hand to the plough, and look-
ing back," Ac. (1) He is not intent on the work in hand. (2) His earthly ties and
interests are stronger than those which pertain to heavenly things. (3) He haa
really surrendered himself to temptation. (Anon.) A danger-signal: — Over
sand-bars and hidden rocks in the sea are sometimes placed buoy-bells, which are
rang by the action of the waves. So God has set great danger-signals in the sea
of time. Such is the story of Sodom and Lot's wife. 1. Bemember her surround-
ings. Sin is often seemingly beautiful and attractive. Beware of the alluring
power of evil associations. 2. Bemember her danger. This world is a Sodom, and
against it has been declared the condemnation of God's law. 3. Bemember her
warning. Sacrifice everything. Look not back for companions or possessions.
Delay not for a better opportunity, for greater conviction, <ftc. Linger not in the
plains of a professed morality. 4. Bemember her delay. Procrastination is most
perilous. 5. Bemember her disobedience. 6. Bemember her doom. Disobedience
develops into the deadly fruit of death. {O. Elliott.) The danger of looking
back : — There is a story of a high mountain on whose top was a palace filled with
all treasures, gold, gems, singing birds — a paradise of pleasures. Up its sides men
and women were climbing to reach the top ; but every one who looked back wa8
turned into stone. And yet thousands of evil spirits were around them, whispering,
Bhouting, flashing their treasures, singing love-songs to draw their eyes from the
treasure at the top, and to make them look back ; but every one that looked back
was tmmed into stone. So is every one who is seekmg heavenly treasures tempted
by earthly music and sinful joys; but whosoever yields is lost. (JF. Baxendale.)
Punishment of LoVs wife : — As might be expected, conjecture haa been busy aa to
the manner in which this transformation was effected. There is no harm in anch
epeculations, if they are not allowed to go farther than this, that they only seek to
account for a result by natural agents, where natural agents would be sufficient —
that they acknowledge the interfering hand of God in the matter, whether He
create for the purpose a new thing in the earth, or merely press into EUs service
the means and agency which exist already. In the present instance, it does not
eeem an impossible tiling that judgment upon Lot's wife should have been brought
about by natural causes ; in other words, that in consequence of her standing still
too long, she might get covered with the sulphureous matter which was being
rained &om heaven, and this, congealing and encrusting upon her person, would
make her appear as a pillar of salt. In fact, of the leading features of the pheno-
menon, traces remain in the physical geography of the neighbourhood to this day.
Thus, of the petrifying qualities of the waters of the Dead Sea we have many
trustworthy accounts ; whilst, as illustrative of the saline property of the waters,
one of our great Eastern travellers tells us, that after bathing in them he found a
thin crust of salt upon his face, and a similar crust left npon the shore wherever
the waters had overflowed. By natural agents or by a miracle, however, it is certain
that Lot's wife has been made to stand in the midst of that awful plain, a petrified
monument of God's displeasure against backsliders, for upwards of two thousand
years; for, " I have seen it," said Josephus, "and it remains at this day." The
testimony of later Christian travellers as to the identity of the scene we should
have to receive with more caution. Stones with the Jews, we know, were a kind of
standing revelation. The story of them was handed down from father to son with a
jealous reverence ; so that it is not nnlikely that among our Lord's hearers were
men who, in common with Josephus, had visited this heaven-blighted spot, and on
whose minds these words would tell with solemn force—" Bemember Lot's wife."
(D. Moore, M.A.) Bo not run any risk: — On the coast of Normandy, where Mont
OTAP. Tva.] 8T. LUKE. 824
St. Michael stands, the sea goes out about five miles, and comes in like a race-horse.
In 1875, two ladies were at some ruins on the sands. " Come away," said the
elder, " don't run any risk." " Jast let me finish this sketch," replied the other, au
English young lady. While she sketched, the tide rushed in, and she was drowned.
Ver. 33. Shall lose it. — Life through death : — I. It ib commonlt beqijired of tjs to
SACBiFicB A LOWER GOOD, IN ORDER TO GAIN A HIGHER. Not always, but almost alwavs.
The good things of this world are of several sorts, very unlike one another. Consider
the sensualist, the man of pleasure, what is called the man of the world. Now it is
idle to say, that the pleasures of sense are not real pleasures. Pleasure is not
altogether out of the question amongst higher things, as is proved by such examples
as those of Pericles, Caesar, and Bonaparte ; but pleasure supreme is simply fatal to
a great career. It may give you an Alcibiades, but never a Leonidas. So, too, of
money. Here again it is i^e to say that money is of no account. All that is
higher, and all that is lower, must be cheerfully given up. Money must be the one
thing he goes for. This, indeed, is the price of money, as of everything else ; and
he must pay it. But, at all events, he must give up the lower good. He must not
be a man of the world. He must be abstemious in eating ; temperate in drinking ;
temperate in all things. He must rein in his appetite. Good personal habits —
habits of self-restraint, must be well established. And so of fame. But neither
the scholar, the artist, nor the orator, must be idle, or avaricious. The love of
pleasure and the love of money are both of them fatal to these higher aims.
Learning grows puny and trivial, when waited on by sensual delights ; while the
love of gain eats into it like rust. So, too, of art. Growing either voluptuous, or
sordid, it falls like an angel from heaven. And so of eloquence. It flies from lips
that are steeped in pleasure ; it will not quiver in fingers that clutch at gold. The
ambition of scholarship, of art, of eloquence, is a lofty ambition, and it will not
tolerate much baseness. The scholars of antiquity were, for the most part, severe
and temperate men. The scholars of the Middle Ages were the cloistered and
ascetic monks. The votaries of art, too, with rare exceptions, have wasted away in
martyrdom to their calling. Thus it is that the Temple of Fame keeps • stem
sentinel standing ever at her gateway of Corinthian brass. And every comer is
challenged with such questions as these : Canst thou live on bread and water ? Art
thou willing to be poor ? If not, avaunt 1 And so of all sorts of earthly good.
Each sort has its price ; and may be taken at that price. But two or more sorts
may not ordinarily be taken by one and the same purchaser. The lower must be
sacrificed to the higher. The coarser must give place to the finer. Such as the
well-established method of our ordinary life. Every step of our earthly progress is
a sacrifice. We gain by losing ; grow by dwindling ; live by dying. Our text, it is
plain, is but an extension of this well-established method to the entire range and
circle of our interests. What is seen to be true of earthly advantages considered
in reference to one another, is here declared to be true of all these advantages
together, when considered in relation to the life eternal. This world and the next
world are set in opposition to each other. Body and soul are put at variance. And
all that a man may win of worldly good, it is taught, he must be ready to sacrifice.
If need be, in order to save his soul. You may call the demand a hard one ; but
all the analogies of our ordinary life endorse and favour it. In many dark corners
of the earth are sitting men to-day, who have abandoned almost everything for
Christ. And their feeling is that they have barely done their duty : that a necessity
is laid upon them ; that they must suffer for Christ ; and by and by die for Him.
And the stern warrant for it all is in our text : " He that findeth his life, shall lose
it ; and he that loseth his life for My sake, shall find it." God be praised, if we,
in our sphere, are spared the fullest execution of this warrant. The spirit of it,
however, we may never wish to escape. Our hearts are to hold themselves always
ready for the fiercest discipline. Personal ease and comfort, houses and lands,
friends, reputation, and even life itself, are to be reckoned cheap. We are to hold
them in low esteem. So relaxed must be our grasp, that the slightest breath of
persecution may suffice to sweep them swiftly and clean away. II. The second law
referred to, and the counterpart of the one we have now considered, is this : Bt
FIRST SECURING THE HIGHER GOOD, WE ARE PREPARED PROPERLT TO EN JOT THE LOWER,
AND ABE MORE LiBELT TO BECDRK IT. The principle is, that no worldly good of any
sort can be well secured, or properly enjoyed, if pursued by itself and for its own sake.
This may be seen in our most ordinary life. The man, whose aim is pleasure, may
indeed, secure it for a while ; but only for a while. It soon palls upon his genees, disgusts
830 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xth.
and wearies him. It is easy of proof, that more is really enjoyed, more of mere pleasure
is there, among business men, in the brief intervals of business, than among those
with whom pleasure may be said to be a profession. Pleasure, in a word, is far
sweeter as a recreation than a business. And so of gold. The man who strains
all his energies of soul and body to the acquisition of it, never properly enjoys it.
He enjoys the activity which the chase imposes upon him ; but not the gold
itself. He best enjoys gold, because he best knows the uses of it, who is occupied
by higher thoughts and aims. It is God's decree, that gold shining useless in a
miser's coffers, shall never gladden the one who gathered it. And so also of fame.
If pursued for its own sake, the chase is often a bootless one. Selfish ambition
almost always betrays itself, and then it provokes men to defeat and humble it.
General Zachary Taylor, the twelfth President of the United States, spent forty years
of his life in comparatively obscure, but very faithful service, at our Western out-
posts ; receiving no applause from the country at large, and asking for none ; intent
only upon doing promptly and efficiently the duties laid upon him. By and by
events, over which he had exercised no control, called him into notice upon a broader
theatre. And then it was discovered how faithful and how true a man he was. The
Republic, grateful for such a series of self-denying and important services, snatched
him from the camp, and bore him, with loud acclaim, to her proudest place of
honour. And this was done at the cost of bitterest disappointment to more than
one, whose high claims to this distinction were not denied, but who had been known
to be aspiring to the exalted seat. And so through our whole earthly life — in all
its spheres, and in all its struggles. To lose is to find ; to die is to live. It is so
in our religion. We begin by abjuring all; we end by enjo^ng all. Am I charged
with preaching that " gain is godliness " ? Not so, my fnend. But godliness is
gain. It begins by denouncing and denying all ; it ends by restoring all. First it
desolates ; then it rebuilds. Its mien, in approaching us, is stern and terrible.
It blights onr pleasures ; strips us of our possessions ; smites our friends ; and lays
our vaunted honours in the dust. And then, when all is done, when the desolating
work is finished, when our very lives are spent and worried out of us, the scene
changes as by a miracle, and all is given us anew. God, we find, is not merely in
all ; but He includes all, is all. And we learn, assuredly, from our own blessed
experience, that " no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly."
Nay, it is of the very essence of our religion to forget and deny ourselves. Two
remarks seem to grow naturally out of our subject. 1. We may learn the great
mistake committed by men of the world in their chase after worldly good. They
make it an end. 2. We may learn why it is the happiness of Christians is so imperfeoL
{B. D. Hitchcock, D.D.)
Yer. 84. The one shall he taken, and the other shall he left — One taken,
and the other left : — Every great act of God has the effect of dividing, separating,
and judging men. So great are the diversities among men, so various their
characters, so various by nature, and so endlessly varied by education and habit,
that, when God acteth before them in any great or signal way, forthwith those
who seemed to be much alike, are found to be really very different. The
mercy that is balm to one, is poison to his next neighbour ; the trial, which to one
is easy and simple, is to his neighbour destruction and inevitable woe. To be born
in a Christian country, to be the son of careful and godly parents, to be baptizea
in infancy, to be trained in the knowledge of God, to have natural abilities, to have
education, to have station, or wealth, all these things have this effect of dividing
men, and trying their hearts. To those who are obedient, and endeavour to please
God, all these things are high blessings, choice gifts of God. Each of them enables
a man to render God better service, to please Him better, to do more good, and to
make higher attainments of holiness and happiness. But to the disobedient they
are all so many downfalls. Every such thing brings out more, and makes more
conspicuous and hopeless the inner disobedience ; each one of them exhibits more
strikingly the spirit of inward rebellion, which, but for these things, might have been
comparatively unseen. Illness tries ns ; health tries ns ; every day, as it passes,
tries us in innumerable ways ; tries, and trains ns ; tries what we are now, and
tries whether we vrill be better ; furnishes matter for our judginent, and gives na
the means of improvement, so that judgment may not be our rain. And so we go
on being tried, being balanced, and sifted, and searched, thousands of times, many
times more than we suppose or conceive, every d&j of our life. We think of the
great trials, but the Uttle ones, which we do not tmnk of, try ob still more. It is
CHAP. XTU.] ST. LUKE. 831
very observable tVat, in the account given of the judgment-day by our Lord in the
Gospel of St. Matthew, the doom of the righteous and wicked is made to
depend on grounds wholly unexpected by each. They are alike represented as
exclaiming, in astonishment and surprise, "Lord, when saw we Thee anhungered,
or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison ? " Full of fears, no doubt,
and hopes about things which they do remember, nothing doubting that this or that
great act (as they think it), is to be the one on which everything is to turn, for weal
or woe, they seem alike struck with astonishment to find that things which they
have wholly forgotten, which they neither observed when they happened, nor can
recall since, have been laid up in the mind of the Judge, to be the ground of their
last and inevitable doom. " Lord, when saw we Thee an hungered, or athirst, or
sick, or in prison, and ministered, or ministered not unto Thee ? " this, I say, is
one of the striking things revealed of that awful time. And another is, the altera-
tion which that day shall make ; when last shall be first, and first last ; when not
only the ranks of the earth shall be in many instances reversed, but when the
estimations of the earth shall be found to be entirely mistaken ; apparent saints
taking their place among the hypocrites departing to everlasting fire ; publicans
and sinners, purified by repentance, their robes washed in the blood of the Lamb,
entering, among the blessed, into the joy of their Lord. And the text teaches us
a third and different lesson still ; how those who have been side by side upon earth,
alike in condition, opportunity, and encouragement, to all human sight much alike
in mind or temper ; not much unlike, perhaps, in apparent earnestness and
spiritual attainment, shall then be found, one on the right hand, and one on the left
hand ; one be taken, taken to joy, caught up to meet the Lord in the air, so as to
be ever with Him ; and the other left, to woe and despair for ever. Children of one
family, bred alike, and taught alike, who have learned to say the same infantine
prayers, have known the same friends, read the same books, loved the same plea-
sures ; if one is earnest in his prayers, and, in his secret obedience, serves God
faithfully, and the other persists in unfaithfulness and disobedience, — shall it not
surely be so with them, that one shall be taken in that day, and the other left ?
What, then, shall we do ? With this reality of trial on us, and this reality of judg-
ment before ns, the one more searching than we can trace, the other likely to be
more unexpected than we can foresee, how are we to walk to be safe ? how to pass
through the present trial, how to meet the future judgment ? Simply by turning
with all oar hearts and souls to our duties, and our prayers. We do not need any
particular excitements of mind, or any particular glow of sentiments ; we want to
be in earnest, and the good Spirit of our God, by which we were sealed in baptism
nnto the day of our redemption, will help us to our safety. (Bishop Moberly.)
The great divUion : — 1. The meaning of the text being established, we have next to
inquire what the lessons are which it is designed to teach us. When it is con-
sidered in relation to its context, it becomes plain that the primary intention of the
passage is to denote the suddenness with which the day of the Lord will come upon
the iiSiabitants of the earth. '• Of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the
angels of heaven, but My Father only." There will be no perceptible check or
change in the current of hmnan affairs to warn us of its coming. Men will be
engaged to the very last in the ordinary occupations of life, "as in the days of
Noe" and " as in the days of Lot," "eating and drinking, marrying and giving in
marriage." Nor shall the great and final partition of good and evil be preceded or
prefigured by any partial and gradual severance. Men and women shall be united
in their daily tasks, and even in the most familiar intercourse of domestic life,
between whom there shall be a great gulf fixed in that day. 2. There is a further
lesson which may be derived from the text, and which it is also without doubt
intended to convey. It is one which is set forth more or less plainly in other
places of Holy Scripture. The children of this world and the children of light
cannot be absolutely distinguished, so long as we see through a glass, darkly. Our
estimate of another's character is after all nothing better than an inference from
phenomena, and our powers of inference are at least as fallible in this as in all
other matters. The warmest friendships, the most endearing ties, can afford us no
unmistakable guarantee that those with whom we are thus outwardly united, are
both almost and altogether such as we are. 3. There is, however, a third inference
to which we are naturally led by the words before us, and to which I desire particu-
larly to direct your attention at present. However closely and undistinguishably
men are mingled together in this world, however various, minute, and delicate art
Hit thftdet of character by which they are severally differenced, however hope*
332 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xnf.
Ies8 it may appear, I will not say for man, but for Absolute Wisdom and Absolut*
Justice, to draw a broad line between the children of this world and the children of
light, the text seems to imply, what we are elsewhere taught, that they will ulti-
mately be divided into two and only two classes. But I think the text goes beyond
this, at all events in the way of implication. For it not only tells us that such a
sharp line as I have described will ultimately be drawn between the evil and the
good, but it seems also to tell us that the line exists already, although we may be
unable to discern it. For inasmuch as it represents the day of judgment as coming
upon men unprepared, discovering them in the midst of their daily avocations,
finding persons of the most opposite characters united in the closest intercourse
without a suspicion of their incompatibility, and then at once awarding to every
man his everlasting doom ; is it not reasonable to infer that the grounds of that
award exist already, although they are not in every instance cognizable by us ? At
this point, however, we are met by a difficulty. Our experience of the world and
of human life appears to teach us a different lesson. No doubt there are good men
and there are bad men on the face of the earth — good men who are acknowledged
to be BO even by those who are far otherwise, and bad men who are confessed to be
so even by themselves. But the great mass of mankind seems to belong to au
intermediate and indifferent body, consisting of those who are neither saints nor
reprobates, neither fit for eternal life nor deserving of eternal death. The longer th«
world lasts, the more complicated the developments of society become, the more
does this appear to be the case. The visible confusion of the moral world may
only serve to cover a clear and well-defined line of demarcation. And, as much, on
the one hand, that is outwardly and materially honest, and just, and pure, and
lovely, and of good report, when traced to its true source would be found to be of
the earth, earthy; so we must remember that *'the Lord knoweth them that
are His " ; that, " the kingdom of God," which •• is within " us, " cometh not with
observation " ; and that as " the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest
the sound thereof, bat canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth ; so is
every one that is bom of the Spirit." But we shall do well to recollect, in addition,
that we see men ordinarily in a transitional and undeveloped state. The good oi
the evil that is in them may not have had time to come to a head, or may be over-
shadowed by old habits which hang about a man like parasites, but which can
hardly be said to form a part of his proper self. But as each man's probation
draws near its close, it may be that his character is altogether simplified and
stereotyped. Then it is that the awful decree goes forth : " He that is anjust, let
him be unjust still." Mere experience, then, can decide nothing against the teaching
of holy Scripture on this point, although it may not actually confirm it. On the
other hand, it is worthy of observation, that a great thinker, whose name marks
an era in the history of modem philosophy, in endeavouring to frame a religious
system a priori, was led to a result altogether coincident with the doctrine uider
consideration. After raising the two following questions : first. Whether man can
be neither good nor evil ? and then. Whether man can be partly good and partly
evil ? he decides against the former, in opposition (as he confesses) to the prinid
facie dictates of experience, upon the ground that moral neutrality in any voluntary
act is an impossible conception ; and he disposes of the latter, by observing that no
act has any intrinsic moral worth, unless it spring from a deliberate adoption of the
moral law as oor universal principle of action. I have cited this writer's testimony
mainly because he cannot be accused of any undue partiality towards the distinctive
peculiarities of the Christian system. But it is not difQcult to translate his argu-
ments into Scriptural language. For, on the one hand, it is our Lord Himself who
proposes the dilemma, "Either make the tree good, and his fruit good; or else
make the tree corrupt, and his fruit conrupt " : and, on the other, His apostle tells
OS that "Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet ofifend in one point, he is
guilty of all." {W. B. Jones, M.A.) Divine sovereignty in the death of men : —
I. What is implied in God's acting as a sotebeion. 1. His acting as a sovereign
implies that He always acts after the counsel of His own will, without consulting
the will, or pleasure, or counsel of any other being. 2. His acting as a sovereign
implies that He always acts not only without the counsel, but without the control,
of any created beings. II. In what bkspects He acts as a sovbbeion in taeino
AWAY THE LIVES OF MEN. Here It may be observed — 1. That He acts as a soTereign
in respect to appointing the time of every one's death. 2. God acts as a sovereign in
determining not only tixe time, bat the place of every one's deaith. 8. Gk>d acts as
a sovereign in respect to the means of death. 4. God acts as a sovereign in regard
flHAP. xra.] ST. LUKE. 333
to the circamstances of death. He takes one, and leaves another, under the very
same circumstances. He takes one, and leaves another, according to the order in
which He has been pleased to place their names in death's commission, regardless
of all exterior circumstances or distinctions. 5. God acts as a sovereign in calling
men oat of the world, whether they are willing or unwilling to leave it. 6. God
displays His awful sovereignty by calling men out of time into eternity, whether
they are prepared or not prepared to go to their long home. HI. Why God acts as
A 80VEBKIGN IN THIS VEBT IMPORTANT CASE. Several plain and pertinent reasono may
be mentioned. 1. Because He has an independent right to act as a sovereign in
taking away the lives of men. He is the former of their bodies, and Father of their
spirits. In Him they hve, and move, and have their being. 2. God acts as a
sovereign in the article of death, because He only knows when and where to put a
period to human life. 8. Another reason why God disposes of the lives of men as
a sovereign, in all those ref^pects which have been mentioned, is because He is
under indispensable moral obligations to dispose of His own creatures in the wisest
and best manner. Application : 1. If God acts as a sovereign in taking away the
lives of men, then the aged have great reason of gratitude for the continuance of
life. 2. If God acts as a sovereign in taking away the lives of men, then they ought
to maintain a constant and realizing sense that their lives are uncertain. 3. If God
acts as a sovereign in taking away tiie lives of men, then they ought to avoid every
mode of conduct which tends to stupify their minds, and create an insensibility to
the uncertainty of life. 4. If God acts as a sovereign in taking away the lives of
men, then it is not strange that He causes so many sudden and unexpected deaths.
6. It appears from what has been said that there is a solid foundation for the most
cordial and unreserved submission under the heaviest bereavements. They come
from the hand and heart of a holy, wise, and benevolent Sovereign, who has a right
to take one, and leave another, and who never afflicts willingly, or grieves the
children of men. {N. Emmom, D.D.) Eternal separation: — The Bev. Dr. Wither-
spoon, formerly president of Princeton College, America, was once on board a
packet-ship, where, among other passengers, was a professed atheist. This unhappy
man was very fond of troubling every one with his peculiar belief, and of broaching
the subject as often as he could get any one to listen to him. He did not believe in
a God and a future state, not he 1 By and by there came on a terrible storm, and
the prospect was that all would be drowned. There was much consternation on
board, but not one was so greatly frightened as the professed atheist. In this
extremity he sought out the clergyman, and found him in the cabin, calm and
collected in the midst of danger, and thus addressed him : '• Oh, Doctor Wither-
spoon ! Doctor Witherspoon I we are all going ; we have but a short time to stay.
Oh how the vessel rocks! We are all going! Don't you think we are, doctor?"
The doctor turned to him with a solemn look, and replied in broad Scotch, " Nae
doubt, nae doubt, man, we're a' ganging ; but yon and I dinna gang the same way."
{W. Baxendale.)
Ver. 87. Wheresoever the tody la. — GocCt judgments : — The twofold inquiry
tha* always greets the prophet is Where? and When? These two questions
are prompted by curiosity and self-interest. The passionate desires of human
nature to know the future are testified to by the whole history of superstition and
imposture. Even inspired prophecy has been treated in the spirit of this desire.
Onr Lord teaches ns how such questions should be answered, and how such a spirit
should be dealt with. He does not answer the " Where " and " When " ; not even
in the revelation to His beloved disciple does He do so. I. Observe how in a tebt
REAL SENSE Hs DOES AMSWEB THE QUESTIONS. The auswer in effect is this : My judg-
ment shall come upon the earth as come the vultures upon the dead by an unerring
and terrible instinct. So truly then as there is ripeness for judgment, and wherever
there is that ripeness, there shall come the judgment of the day of the Lord. XL
Mark what these wobds tell ns concebnino the obeat laws or God's judohent.
These judgments are not arbitrary judgments, but are joined to the oSence by a
natural and necessary law. Where there is ripeness for them there is no escape
from them ; but they only fall where there is that ripeness. We learn also, that
before the last and crowning judgment there must be many lesser and preliminary
days of judgment. III. Whebb abe we to look fob signs of oub Lobo's
coming ? Not to the heavens far off, but at the dead thing which lies, it may be,
St your very feet. Can we discern here and there the corpse that calls and the
«^agles of judgment that come at its calling. In the case of individuals it is not
8S4 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [caiT. xvn,
wise to judge ; but Tvith families, churches, nations, there is no judgment sound
but a presentj'udgment. The practical lesson is, "Judge therefore, yourselves^
brethren, that ye be not judged by the Lord." {Bishop Magee.) The carcat*
and the eagles : — In the sphere of human life, that which is the life of things
is their use. When that is spent, all things else conspire to have them not
only disabled but abolished. On sea and land where man is not, it may be only
contingent, though usual, that where the carcass is, there the eagles are gathered
together ; but where man is, it is certain. Steam and electricity are new ideas,
new forces by which man has extended his command over material resources indis-
pensable for his existence. As surely as these new ideas are introduced, there i»
found to be implied in them destruction as well as creation. A host of things in
which there was life because there was use become refuse and old lumber — hand-
looms, wooden ships, mail coaches — and with regard to them the question is how
they are to be got rid of. A new gun is invented in America or in England, and all
the stands of arms in all places of arms throughout the world become lumber until
they have undergone a process of conversion which is a process of destruction.
Belshazzar's feast is not a spectacle pleasing to gods or men, that small part of
mankind excepted for whom the lights flare upon rude riot and excess. It may b»
a product of civilization and of national struggles and aspirations. It is noi
exuberant life, but rampant disease and corruption, and as such it is marked for
dissolution and destruction. Always when it is at its height there is to be seen the-
handwriting on the wall, telling that tyranny and oppression have but their day,
that they are weighed in the balance and found wanting, that the next thing to
heedless excess is destruction. The doctrine of constitutional liberty gains a
footing in a country ignorant of it before — the result, if not at once, inevitably is,
that institutions, laws, privileges, class distinctions, offices and officers, lose what
vitahty they had, and with regard to them, as with regard to all that is dead, the
question is, what is the swiftest and most effectual method of destruction. la
every department of human life the same process is at work, that which lives and
grows necessitating the dissolution and removal of that which is useless and
corrupt. In this view of it, the process is a necessary part of the fulfilment of the
Divine order on the side of progress and improvement. It is beneficent. Thai
which so often makes it seem other than beneficent — and this too has to be recog-
nized as a fact — is the redundance of vested interests — it is that in so many
instances the interests and affections of men and nations are Unked rather with
what may have been once good than with that which being better is destined to
•iiiasolve and to replace it. This is why destruction which goes along with creation
ia so often a painful and terrible experience. It is not unfortunate or unnecessary
for mankind that Belshazzar and his courtiers should have but their day, or rather
their night ; but, when the handwriting on the wall makes its appearance, th»
mighty king and his court cannot well be expected to welcome it. There is
comfort and satisfaction for a benevolent and thoughtful mind in the reflection
that the sanatory arrangements of the universe are as wonderful as any of the other
arrangements in it ; but for men and nations whose habits and feelings are
involved in the existence and perpetuation of what is opposed to them and incon-
sistent with them, these arrangements cannot but be felt to act often in a harsh,
peremptory, ruthless, unsparing manner. It is well, however, to accustom our-
selves to look at them in the proper light, namely, as beneficent, not only that we
may not miss or misread a great deal which is written for our learning in the pages
of history, but that in the changing fashions of our theology we may be always
mindful of one thing, to recognize God as not a God of the dead but of the living.
(J. Service, D.D.) The gathering of the eagles : — It will be necessary here to
compare the ancient and modern interpretations of the verse — " for wheresoever
the carcass is, there will the eagles be gathered together." 1. The generally
received modern interpretation sees here the great law of Divine judgment con-
densed into one terrible image. The " carcass," according to this, is the putrid
carrion ; the " eagles " are, strictly speaking, vultures. Thus, to the modern mind,
we have here the condensed image of the continuous judgment of God. In hot
countries God has so moulded the instincts of the winged scavengers of cliff and
peak, that far away, as they wheel and circle over the awful depths into which the
traveller looks vdth reeling brain, they scent the slain in battle, or the bodies that
taint the air. So, wherever there is a body of moral and spiritn^ death — something
rotten in Church or State — the vultures of judgment, the punishers and avenger*
that belong to it in the very nature of things, come mysteriously from their placea.
CHAP, xvu.] ST. LUKE. 83S
and with boding voices, deepening npon the breezes, gather round the spoil. So
with Jerusalem falling to pieces in its last decomposition and self-dissolution. Tha
flap of avenging wings was heard overhead by prophetic ears. The vultures were
■wheeling on the steaming air, under the vault of the Syrian sky, barking in the far
mountain glens, and collecting together to gorge themselves upon the "glittering
rottenness." This view is not only rhetorically powerful, but something more and
higher. 2. Notwithstanding this, the ancient interpretation represents more truly
the Divine thought in the symbol of the eagles and their food. And so this image
of the eagle belongs to the glorious Lord and to His Christ. And His people are as
His eaglets — nay, themselves eagles of God. Is it not written — "Ye have seen how
I bare yoa on eagles' wings " t And more fully — " As an eagle stirreth up her nest,
fluttereth over her young, taketh them, beareth them on her wings : so the Lord
alone did bear him." Is not the Church the woman to whom were given " the
wings of the eagle, that great eagle," which is Christ? Even here and now,
wherever the corpse is, wherever Jesus is evidently set forth crucified, there,
mysteriously raised above earthly things, made lofty and royal in their graces,
Christ's eagles "gather round" Him who is the spiritual food and the life eternal
of all such eagles. The meaning, then, on the whole, according to this interpreta-
tion, is as follows : The '• carcass " — the corpse of Jesus Christ as crucified — that
is the meeting-point of human souls, the centre of attraction in the world of spirits.
The Lord of nature, in the Book of Job, says of the eagle, His creature — " she
abideth upon the rock, . . . from thence she seeketh the prey ; her eyes behold
afar off . . . where the slain are, there is she." The Lord of grace adds His appli-
cation— as the eaglets gather round the corpse, so the souls of men, and especially
of the elect, gather round Jesus. Ay, and round Jesus, not always as the eternal
Word, not always as in His glory, but in the pathetic beauty of His weakness^
staggering under the weight of His cross. Nay more, dying, with the red drops of
the Passion apon His brow ; dead — nay, fallen in His sacred helplessness. There
are mysterious instincts in every heart that turn to Jesus crucified. Keen and
swift as eagles for the prey are Christians for the Lord who died. It is the same
underlying thought with that noble utterance in the twelfth chapter of St. John.
There the few Greeks are to that prophetic eye the first shoreward ripple of the
great springtide of humanity which is to break in thunder at His feet. Ths
lifting up a few feet above the soil of Golgotha becomes, by a majestic irony, the
elevation above the earth, the centre of attraction for uncounted souls. " I, if I
be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto Me." So He seems to promise
— •' I, if I be fallen upon the earth, the helpless, lifeless, ruined thing which men
call a corpse, will yet gather round Me every eagle that clasps the crag, or soars
upward with the sunlight in his glorious eye." {Bp. Wm. Alexander.) The
gathering of the eagles : — 1. These words have many meanings for us. First we may
think of them as referring to the fall of Jerusalem. There indeed was the body,
the dead corrupt body of the Jews, who had refused to hear the message of salva-
tion, and had taken and slain the Son of God outside the wall of their fated city.
And where the body was, there were the eagles gathered together. That enemy, of
which the prophets had spoken long ago, had come, and encompassed Jerusalem in
on every side. The Boman eagles glittered upon their helmeis, and flashed upon
their standards. They set up their banners for tokens, even within the sacred
courts of the temple, and so was fulfilled the prophecy of the " abomination of
desolation standing in the holy place." 2. Again, we take the words of the text as
applying to the hour of death, and first of the death of the body. Whoever has
stood at a good man's death-bed must feel that the dying man is not alone, nor
allowed in that last hour for any pains of death to fall from God. Where that
poor woni-ont body Mes, there are the eagles of God's host gathered together,
strengthening, comforting the dying man, ready to bear his soul as swift as on
eagles' wings to Paradise. There is a beautiful fancy of the East which makes
Asrael, the angel of death, speak thuS' to a dying saint : —
** * Thon blessed one,' the angel said, * I bring thy time of peace.
When I have touched thee on the eyes, life's latest ache will cease ;
God bade me come as I am seen amid the heavenly host, —
No enemy of awful mould, but he who loveth most.' "
So looks the Christian on death, as being a fair and gracious messenger from God,
bringing to the captive liberty, and to the weary rest ' Wheresoever the body ist
836 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xvns,
thither will the eagles be gathered together." 8. Theae words are terribly true of Qim
death of the godless and impenitent. Jalian, the apostate emperor, took for his creat
an eagle pierced through the heart by an arrow feathered from his own wing, and aa
a motto the words, " Our death flies to us with our own feather." So every sinner
who dies impenitent knows that the arrow of remorse which pierces him is of his
own making, that the dark spectres, which are gathered like eagles around him, are
of his own inviting. 4. Once more, and in another and brighter sense, we will take
the text as applying to the Blessed Sacrament of the altar ; so it has always been
understood by the old writers of the Church. One of them says —
" Where the sacred body lieth, eagle souls together speed ;
There the saints and there the angels find refreshment in their need.
And the sons of earth and heaven on that one Bread ever feed."
When we kneel at that altar and receive the Body of our Lord, we are not alone.
The very word "Communion " teaches us that we are encompassed by a great cloud
of witnesses. Not only are we in that Sacrament made one with Christ, and with
all true members of His Church, but we join in the work of saints and angels, and
they take part with us. Thus we say, " With angels and archangels, and all the
company of heaven, we laud and magnify Thy glorious name." *' Wheresover the
body is," wheresoever the Body of Jesus Christ is present in the Sacrament, there
will the faithful worshippers be gathered together Uke eagles, and there too will be
high and holy ones present, although unseen by us, making the altar a ladder
between earth and heaven, and the angels oX God asoending and descending upon
it. (H. J. Wiltnot Buxton, M.A.)
CHAPTER XVm.
Ybbb. 1-8. Men ought always to pray, and not to faint— TR* itrange weapon —
All-prayer : — While Christian was in the Palace Beautiful, they showed him all the
remarkable objects in the armory, from the ox-goad of Shamgar to the sword of
the Spirit. And amongst the arms he saw, and with some of which he was arrayed
as he left the place, was a single weapon with a strange, new name — " All-prayer."
When I was a child, I used to wonder much what this could have been — its shape,
its use. I imagine I know something more about it in these later years. At any
rate, I think Bunyan found his name for it in one of the New Testament Epistles :
•' Fraying always with all prayer and supphcation in the Spirit " (Eph. vi. 18). It
BO happens, also, that we have two parables of our Lord given us in the
eighteenth chapter of Luke to one end, " that men ought always to pray, and
not to faint." One of these parables teaches the lesson of importunity, the
other teaches the lesson of sincerity. And it does not need that we draw from
this collocation the subtle suggestion that want of importunity and want of
sincerity are what weaken the weapon of all-prayer, and render faint the heart of
the Christian who wields it. We know that we do not pray always, and that we do
not always pray. I. Let us take up this matter of imfobtunity in the outset. At
first sight it gives perplexity to some students of the Bible. We must notice that
Christ does not identify His Father, the " Hearer of Prayer," with this judge in the
parable in any sense whatsoever. The very point of the illustration turns upon
his superiority. God is just, and this man was unjust. This petitioner was a
lonely widow and a stranger ; God was dealing with EQs own elect. The woman
came uninvited; Christians are pressed with invitations to ask, and knock, and
seek. The unjust judge never agreed to listen to the widow ; God has promised,
over and over again, that it shall be granted to those that ask. The judge may
have had relations with this woman's adversary which would complicate, and, in
some way, commit him to an onnecessary quarrel in her behalf, if his office should
be exercised in defence ; God is in open and declared conflict, on His own account,
with our adversary, and rejoices to defeat his machinations, and avenge His own
chosen speedily. Hence, the whole teaching of the story is directed towards out
enoouragement thai: If we would persist with a wicked judge that regarded
«HA». xvin.] ST. LUKE. 837
nobody, God nor man, then turely we would press our prayers with God. What is
the duty then? Simply, go on praying. II. Let us move on to consider, in the
second place, this matter of sincebitt in prayer, suggested by the other parable.
To men of the world it must be a subject of real wonder and surprise, to use no
more disrespectful terms, why so many petitions offered by the people of God prove
fruitless. To all this, Christiana ought to be able to reply that prayer follows laws
and respects intelligent conditions, just as every other part of God's plan of
redemption does. We are accustomed to say to each other that God always hears
prayer. No, He does not. The wisest man that was ever inspired says distinctly,
" He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be
abomination." And in the New Testament the apostle explains the whole anomaly
of failure thus : " Ye ask and receive not, because ye ask amiss." For one thing,
celf-conceit destroys all sincerity in prayer. For another thing, spite against others
destroys all sincerity in prayer. Listen to the Pharisee's preposterous com-
parison of himself in the matter of money and merit with the publican almost
out of sight there in the corner. Inconsistencies in life also destroy sincerity in
prayer. Purity from evil is a prime condition of success. (C. S. Robinson, D.D.)
The duty of persevering in prayer : — I. Oob duty. That which is here inculcated
impUes that we pray — 1. Statedly. 2. Occasionally. There are many particular
occasions which require us to pray. (1) Prosperity, that God may counteract its
evil tendency (Prov. xxx. 9). (2) Adversity, that we may be supported under it
(James v. 13). (3) Times of public distress or danger, to avert the calamity
(2 Chron. vii. 14). 3. Habitually. We should maintain a spiritual frame of mind.
To pray thus is our duty ; " We ought," <fec. (1) It is a duty we owe to God. He,
our Creator, Preserver, and Redeemer, has commanded it. (2) We owe it also to
our neighbour. The edification of Christ's mystical body depends, not only on the
union of every part with the head, but on the whole being fitly framed together,
and on every joint supplying its proper nourishment {Eph. iv. 16: Col. ii. 19).
But if we be remiss in prayer, we shall be incapable of administering that benefit,
which other members have a right to expect from us. (3) We owe it to ourselves.
A " spirit of supplication " is as necessary to the soul, as food to the body. Nor
can we feel any regard for our souls, if we do not cultivate it. U. Thb niFFicuLTrES
THAT ATTEKD IT. When We Set ourselves to the performance of it, we shall find
difficulties — 1. Before we begin to pray. Worldly business may indispose our
minds for this employment, i'amily cares may distract and dissipate our thoughts.
Lassitude of body may unfit us for the necessary exertions. We may be disabled
by an invincible hardness of heart. A want of utterance may also operate as a
heavy discouragement. 2. While we are engaged in prayer. The world is never
more troublesome than at such seasons. The fiesh also, with its vilest imaginations,
will solicit our attention. Nor will Satan be backward to interrupt our devotions.
3. After we have concluded prayer. When we have prayed, we should expect an
answer. But worldliness may again induce a forgetfulness of God. Impatience to
receive the desired blessings may deject us. Ignorance of the method in which
God answers prayer may cause us to disquiet ourselves with many ungrounded
apprehensions. UnbeUef may rob us of the benefits we might have received
(James i. 6, 7). Whatever obstructs God's answers to prayer, disqualifies us for
the future discharge of that duty. (Theological Sketch-book.) The nature and
duty of prayer : — I. Thb natube of pbateb. 1. An expression of our sense of
Ood's infinite superiority. 2. An expression of our dependence upon God. 3. A
declaration of our obligation to God. 4. A declaration of our faith in God's ability
to grant us anything our circumstances may require. There are several things
necessary to constitute true prayer, and which form its constituent parts. (1) Faith
is one essential. (2) Sincerity is another ingredient in true prayer. (3) Humility.
II. We notice thb duty of pbaybb. Prayer is a duty, if we consider it — 1. As a
Divine injunction. 2. It appears a duty, if we consider God as a prayer-hearing
God. 3. It is a duty, if we consider the beneficial effects of prayer. {1) Prayer
brings great benefits to ourselves. It brings ua into closer communion with Christ.
(2) Prayer is a powerful antidote to, and one of the most effectual safeguards
against, worldly-mindedness. (3) By prayer we get divinely enlightened. (4) Prayer
brings with it advancement in personal holiness. (5) Prayer is a powerful stimulant
to every Christian grace. He who lives in the habitual exercise of sincere and
earnest prayer cannot remain in a lukewarm, inactive, lethargic state. {Essea
Remembrancer.) Men ought always to pray : — Why ? 1. Because the King wills
it. Because it is an edict of eternal wisdom and truth, the command of absolute
VOL. lu. 22
S38 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip xvm.
righteousness and justice, the direction of infinite goodness and love. 2. Becaas«
it is an instinct and faculty of our nature, part and parcel of our mental manhood;
and as the all-wise Creator has endowed us with the power, and not only the
power, but the tendency to pray, we cannot and do not fulfil His will, or rightly use
our capabilities, unless we pray. 3. Because it is a privilege, a precious privilege
conferred. The maker of the machine can mend and manage it ; and He who
created us — body, mind, and spirit — invites us to bring our bodily needs, hunger,
thirst, aches, pains, and infirmities ; our mental cares, griefs, doubts, perplexities,
and depressions ; our spiritual wants, fears, forebodings, sins, and wealmess — to
Him in prayer. 4. Because our state and condition is one of perpetual peril, and
weakness, and need. The sin on our conscience condemns us, and we cannot undo
it. We all get the heartache, and we cannot cure it. We can neither condone our
offences, nor lighten our conscience, nor carry our sorrows, nor hush our com*
plainings, nor dry our tears I 5. Because in the infinite love and mercy of Qod to
poor sinners a new and living way hath been opened for as into the presence of
God, so that not only doth the sinner gain a hearing, bat he has an infinite
guarantee that his prayers shall prosper, and his petitions shall be fulfilled.
6. Because our needs, our perils, our personal insufiiciency, are "always" with ns ;
because the throne of prayer is always accessible, and the Hearer of prayer is always
willing ; and because the power and privilege of prayer has a direct connection
with the whole sphere of our daily life, and the whole circle of our daily needs.
7. Because no really earnest and reliant prayers can possibly be in vain. We are
apt to faint in our petitionings if the gift we seek is long delayed. (J. J. Wray.)
Prayer: — The " ought" of Christ outweighs all the objections of infidelity, and is
stronger than the adverse conclusions of a material science. 1. Prayer should be
constant. " Can we, indeed," says Augustine, *' without ceasing bend the knee,
bow the body, or lift up the hands 7" If the attitude and the language of prayer
were essential to its being truly offered, the command of Christ would seem to b;
exaggerated. But understand it as the sonl's attitude to God, and it is no
exaggeration. " That soul," says Dr. Donne, ♦• which is ever turned toward God,
prays sometimes when it does not know that it prays." The testimony of the
Christian father accords with this. After admitting that formal, oral prayer must
have its pauses and intermissions, Augustine says, " There is another interior
prayer without intermission, and that is the longing of the heart. Whatever else
thou mayest be doing, if thou longest after the Sabbath of God, thou dost not
intermit to pray." Thus the whole life becomes, what Origen conceived the life of
the Christian should be, "one great connected prayer." The importance of
constancy in it arises from the place it holds in man's spiritual life. Prayer is to
the soul what the nerves of the body are to the mind — its medium of communication
with a world that else were unperceived and unrealized. 2. Prayer should be earnest.
There is danger of our prayer degenerating into a dead form, or perfunctory service —
worse than no praying at all. The simple remedy is to deepen the desire or sense of
need which prompts to prayer, and is the essence of prayer. " If thou wishest not to
intermit to pray," says one of the Christian fathers, "see that thou do not intermit
to desire. The coldness of love is the silence of the heart ; the fervency of love
is the cry of the heart." This warmth of desire is the product of a clear persuasion
of the value of prayer as a means of help and strength. 8. Another quality of
true prayer is, patient confidence in God. " Shall not God avenge His own elect
•which cry day and night unto Him, though He bear long with them." There are
two sure and solid grounds of confidence. One is found in God's righteous
character, by which He is constrained to rectify wrong and establish the right ;
and the other is found in His positive love for the suppliant. 4. One other
quality should mark true prayer, namely, humility. {A. H. Currier.)
The necessity of praying always, and not fainting : — Our Lord Jesus Christ has
kindly intimated to all that have business at the court of heaven the necessity of
so managing themselves that they still hang on there, and not faint, whatever
entertainment they meet with during the dependence of their process. I. The first
thing to be considered, is, odb Lobd's kind intimation or this way of His Fatheb's
430DRT. 1. I shaU show the import of Christ's making this intimation to petitioners
at EUs Father's court. (1) The darkness that is naturally on the minds of poor
einners, with respect to heaven's management about them. We may say, as
Jer. V. 4, " Surely these are poor, they are foolish ; for they know not the way
of the Lord, nor the judgment of their God." (2) Christ's good-will to the sinner'g
business going right there (Exod. zxviii. 29). (3) That our Lord sees sinners ar*
«HiP. xvni.] ST. LUKE. 83f
in hasaxd of fainting from the entertainment they may meet with daring the
dependence of their process (Heb. xii. 3). (4) That they that shall hang on, and not
faint, shall certainly come speed at length. 2. The weight and moment of this
intimation. This will appear, if it is considered in a fourfold light. (1) Jesos
Christ, who makes it, has experienced it in EUs own case. Now, if this was the
manner with the great Petitioner, how can we expect it should fare otherwise with
us ? (2) He is the great Prophet of heaven, whose office it is to reveal the manner
of the court to poor sinners. (3) He is the only Intercessor there, the Father's
Secretary, the Solicitor for poor sinners there. II. The second thing to be con-
sidered, is, THB WAY or THE COOBT OF BEATEN, IN TBTSTIHa PETITI0NEB8 WITH
BOWa HABDSHIPS, DUBINO THE DEPENDENCE OF TBEIB PBOCESS. Here I shall givO
you — 1. A swatch of that way ; and — 2. Some reasons of that way, whereby to
account for it in a suitableness to the Divine perfections. 1. (1) Oft-times there is
deep silence from the throne (Matt. xv. 23). (2) Oft-times they get a very angry-
like answer. The woman of Canaan got a couple of them, one on the back of
another : '* But He answered and said, I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the
house of Israel. It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs "
(Matt. XV. 24, 26). (3) Disappointed expectations are a piece of very ordinary enter-
tainment there : " We looked for peace, but no good came : and for a time of health,
and behold trouble " (Jer. viii. 16). (4) Many a time, looking for an answer.
Providence drives a course apparently just contrary to the granting of their petition ;
60 is fulfilled that Psa. Ixv. 5, "By terrible things in righteousness wilt Thou
answer us, O God of our salvation." (5) Oft-times the Lord, instead of easing the
petitioner, lays new burdens on him : " We looked for peace, but no good came ;
and for a time of health, and behold trouble" (Jer. viii. 15). Instead of curing the
old wound, there are new ones given. 2. (1) This way is taken with petitioners in
the court of heaven ; for thereby God is glorified, and His attributes more illustrated
than otherwise they would be. In this view of it, Paul welcomes it in his own
case, though it was hard to sense : " And He said unto me. My grace is sufficient
for thee : for My strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly, therefore, will
I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me "
(2 Cor. xii. 9). (2) Hereby the state of petitioners is tried, and a plain difference con-
stituted between hypocrites and the sincere : " He that shall endure unto the end,
the same shall be saved " (Matt. xxiv. 13). (3) Hereby the graces of believing peti-
tioners are tried, both as to the reality and strength of them ; particularly tiieir
faith and patience (1 Pet. i. 6, 7). (4) Hereby believers are humbled, and taught
that they hold of free grace. The exalting of grace is the great design of the whole
contrivance of the gospel. (5) This way is taken for honour of the word:
*• Thou hast magnified Thy word above all Thy name " (Psa. cxxxviii. 2). (6) It
is taken to make them long to be home. UI. The third thing to be considered, is,
THE DUTY OF THB PETITION EBS TO HANG ON, AND NOT TO FAINT, WHATEVER THEY
MEET WITH. We may view it in these things following, 1. They must never lift
their process from the court of heaven : " Lord, to whom shall we go ? Thou hast
the words of eternal life " (John vi. 67, 68). 2. They must never give over praying,
bat " pray always." And Satan sometimes plies distressed souls to give up with it,
as what they may see they will do no good with, for that God will not hear them.
But that is a deceit of hell which ye must never yield to. 3. They must carry all
their incident needs in new petitions to the same throne of grace, where the former
petition may have been long lying, and still unanswered; and so pursue all
together. The latter must not drive out the former, nor the former keep back the
latter. It is one of the ways how the Lord keeps His people hanging about His
hand without fainting, by sending them several loads above their burden ; which
loads He takes oft soon at their request ; and so makes them go under their burden
the more easily. These short incident processes, that get a speedy answer, confirm
their faith and hope in waiting on for the answer of the main. 4. They must
continue in the faith of the promise, never quit the gripe of it ; but trust and
believe that it shall certainly be accomplished, though the wheels of providence
should seem to drive oat over it and in over it (Bom. iv. 19, 20). Consider —
1. If ye faint and give over, your suit is lost, ye have given up with it. 2. He is
well worth the waiting on. (1) Though He is infinitely above us. He has waited
long on us. (2) The longer you are called to wait for a mercy, ye will readily find
it the more valuable when it comes. (3) His time will be found the due time
(Gal. vi. 9) ; the best chosen time for the mercy's coming ; witness the time of
Isaac's birth. (4) Ye shall be sure of some blessed offallings, while ye wait oa
840 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. {chap, rmu
(Psa. xxvii. 14). 4. They have waited long, that have lest all, by not having
patience to wait a little longer (Exod. zxxii. ; 1 Sam. xiii. 8, 10). Therefore " lei
patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing "
(JameB i. 4) ; •' for in due season ye shall reap, if ye faint not " (Gal. vi. 9). (T.
Boston, D.D.) Petitioners at the court of heaven encouraged ; or, the happy issue
of praying always, and not fainting : — I. First, I shall show what is that tbbat-
MENT PETITIONEBS MAX MKET WITH AX THE CODBT OF HEAVEN, TTNDEB WHICH THET
WILL BE IN HAZABD OF FAINTING. I mentioned several particulars at another occa-
sion ; I offer now only three things in general. 1. The weight and pressure of
their heavy case itself, whatever it is, may be long continued, notwithstanding all
their addresses for help. 2. There may be no appearance of relief (Psa. Ixxiv. 9).
8. They may get incident weights laid on them, as a load above their burden
(Psa. Ixix. 26). These are like drops poured into a full cup, ready to cause it run
over ; like smart touches on a broken leg, inclining one readily to faint. II. The
second thing to be spoke to, is, wht petitionees abe in hazabd of fainting fbou
SUCH treatment at THE couBT OF HEAVEN. 1. Natural weakness. " All flesh i»
grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field " (Isa. zL 6). On this
very view the Lord "pities His children" (Psa. ciii. 13, 14). 2. Conscience of
guilt : " My wounds stink, and are corrupt ; because of my foolishness " (Psa.
xxxviii. 6, 6). Guilt is a mother of fears, and fears cause fainting. 3. Un>
acquaintedness with the methods of sovereignty : " Thy way is in the sea, and Thy^
path in the great waters, and Thy footsteps are not known " (Psa. Ixxvii. 19).
4. A strong bias to unbelief and walking by sense, quite contrary to our duty and
interest (2 Cor. v. 7). We are apt to be impressed more with what we see and feel
in Providence, than what we hear from the Word. III. The third thing to be con-
sidered is, WHEBEFORE THE LoBD GIVES SUCH TBEATMENT TO ANY OF HiS PETITIONEBS.
Negatively. 1. It is not for mere will and pleasure. Satan will be ready to suggest
this, and pose the party with such questions as these. For what use is all thift
delay f 2. It is not because He has no pity on you, nor concern for you under
your burden. 3. It is not to signify to you that you should give it over, and
trouble Him no more with your petition ; as the hasty unbelieving heart is ready
to take it, and to give over duty because there is no sensible appearance of success:
" I said I will not make mention of Him nor speak any more in His name" (Jer.
XX. 9). 4. Lastly, It is not because He is resolved not to hear you at any rate, cry
as long as ye will. But positively, in general, it is for holy, wise, becoming ends;
it is necessary for His glory and your case. But particularly — 1. It is for the
honour of the man Christ. It contributes to it — (1) In that thereby the petitioners
are conformed to His image, in the suffering part thereof. (2) Thereby He gets
the more employment as the great Intercessor, and is more earnestly applied to
than otherwise He would be. Longsome pleas give the advocates much ado ; and
longsome processes at the court of heaven bring much business to the Mediator,
and so much honour. (3) It affords Him the most signal occasion of displaying
His power in combating with and baffling the old serpent, next to that He had on
the cross (2 Cor. xii. 9). 2. To magnify the promise. 3. To keep up the mercy,
till that time come, that, all things considered, will be the absolutely best time for
bestowing it (John xi. 14, 15). IV. The fourth thing to be spoke to is, What i»
THE iMPOBT OF THIS INTIMATION MADE FOB THIS END ? It imports — 1. That sinners
are ready to take delays at the court of heaven for denials. 2. That importunity
and resolute hanging on, and repeated addresses for the supply of the same need,
are very welcome and acceptable to Christ and His Father. There is no fear of
excess here ; the oftener ye come, the more resolute ye are in your hanging on, the
more welcome. 3. That the faith of being heard at length, is necessary to keep
one hanging on without fainting (Psa. xxvii. 13). 4. That th^ hearing to be got at
length at the court of heaven is well worth the waiting on, be it ever so long. It
will more than counterbalance all the fatigue of the process, that is kept longest in
cepejidciice. V. The fifth thing in the method is, the ceetaintt of bdch peti-
TioNEBS BEING HEABD AT LENGTH. 1. They Bic doubtlcss God's owu children,
elect believers, whatever they think of themselves (Luke xvii. 7). 2. The nature,
name, and promise of God, joins to insure it. He is good and gracious in His
nature (Exod. xxxiv. 6-9). 3. Such prayers are the product of His own Spirit in
them, and therefore He cannot miss to be heard (James v. 16). 4. Our Lord Jesna
has given His word on it, and so has impawned His honour they shall be heard :
•• I tell you that He will avenge them speedily." VI. Sixthly, How they shall bs
BXABD TO theib heabt's CONTENT. 1. They shall at length see that their prayers
CHAP, ivm.] ST. LUKE. 841
have been accepted. I do not say they shall at length be accepted, but they shall
Bee they have been so. 2. They shall get an answer of their petitions to their
heart's satisfaction (Matt. xv. 28). " The needy shall not always be forgotten : the
expectation of the poor shall not perish for ever " (Psa. ix. 18). 3. They shall be
fuUy satisfied as to the long delay, and the whole steps of the procedure, however
perplexing they were before (Kev. xv. 3). 4. They shall get it with increase
according to the time they waited on, and the hardships they sustained during the
dependence of the process. The fruit of the promise, the longer it is a-ripening,
the more bulky it is. 6. Lastly, their spiritual enemies that flew thick and strdng
about them in the time of the darkness, shall be scattered at the appearance of this
light (1 Sam. ii. 6). VII. Seventhly, How it shall be speedily, notwithstanding
THE LONG DELAY. 1. It shaU be speedily in respect of the weight and value of it
when it comes : so that the believer looking on the return of his petition, with an
eye of faith perceiving the worth of it, may wonder it is come upon so short ou-
waiting (2 Cor. iv. 17). 2. It shall come in the most seasonable nick of time it
can come in {Gal. vi. 9), when it may come to the best advantage for the honour
of God and their good : and that which comes in the best season, comes speedily.
To everything there is a season ; so fools' haste is no speed. 3. It shall come as
soon as they are prepared for it (Psa. x. 17). 4. It shall not tarry one moment
beyond the due and appointed time (Hab. ii. 3). 6. Lastly, it will be surprising,
as a glaring light to one brought out of a dungeon, though he was expecting it.
{Ibid.) The necessity of prayer : — I. With regard to the necessity of prayer, the
GERM OF THIS AS OF OTHEB BEVEALBD DOCTBINES, IS TO BE FOUND IN ODB NATDBE, and
affords one illustration of the truth of that profound exclamation, " 0 testimony of a
Boul, by nature Christian 1 " Of moral truth there is an inward engraving, a light,
which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. " The virtues," says a
modem writer, " were like plants half developed in some gloomy shade, till Christ
poured His sunshine upon them, and made them flourish with luxuriance." It is
important, then, to ground the necessity of prayer on the dictates of nature as well
as on the teaching of Bevelation, thereby resting it on a double authority, each of
which lends support to the other. For anything to be original in our nature, it
must possess certain properties ; in looking back to the beginning of our race it
will present itself without any external origin, and it will continue to exist under
conditions most diverse and at all times. We examine, then, the history of the
past, we take up the book which contains the first records of our race in order to
discover whether this communing with God existed from the first — to see what the
first human souls did. All the elements of prayer were present in Adam's inter-
course with his Maker ; man, rational and dependent ; God, Almighty, Omniscient,
and Good ; and — communications between the two. We trace the instinct of
prayer continuing in faUen man, else it might have been supposed that it was a
part of his supernatural equipment, and had no foundation in his natural Ufe. In
Adam's sons this instinct survived ; Cain and Abel offered sacrifices, and sacrifices
are the outward expression of prayer ; there was an ascent of the mind to God, a
real ascent at least in one case, for " by faith Abel offered unto God a more
excellent sacrifice than Cain." In an unfallen state, the instinct of the soul was to
turn to the Author of its life, with joy and thankfulness ; in a fallen state, (he
instinct of the soul is to turn to Him through its need of pardon and its sense of
weakness ; but in both states there is the instinct to turn to Him, though the
leading reasons for doing so may be different. Looking back, then, into the past
by the light of the only record which can safely guide us, we find the practice of
prayer from the first without any external command or origin, and therefore it
preserves one mark of an instinct of nature. But an instinct to be acknowledged
must not only be able to claim antiquity on its side but also miiversality. That
which is a genuine part of human nature will always be a part of human nature.
Ii that which marked human life in its earlier stages, disappears in times of
advanced civilization and culture, it may be doubted whether it was a pure instinct
of our nature, and be attributed either on the one side to an original revelation or
on the other to a defective or barbarous condition. It must, however, be admitted
that in matters of religion, the mark of antiquity in an instinct has a special value ;
we can see in it " natural religion " before it has been tampered with. If we want
to learn the habits of an animal, we must see it in its native freedom, and not only
after it has been trained and domesticated. The instinct of prayer, however, doea
not lack the second property, Qniversality ; we find it both in the highest and
lowest atatea of civilization, in places and races widely sundered both in poaitioa
843 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. lynt.
and circnmstance. If we examine the practices of barbarous nations ; if we torn
to the ancient religions of the East ; if we look at Greece and Rome in the pleni-
tude of their intellectual power, we find that in some fonn or shape the necessity of
prayer and homage to a superior Power is admitted, and in no nation is the instinct
entirely obliterated. In the root of human nature there is a sense of dependency,
and a sense of guilt ; natural religion is based on these two, the correlativeo of
which are prayer and atonement — the actions respectively proper to the frail, and
to the sinful. It is useless to speak of th.e instinct of prayer as of something
imported into our nature : that which is simply imported does not make its home
so fixed and sure, that no lapse of time or change of circumstances has the power to
dislodge it. I have dwelt at some length on the instinctive character of prayer,
because on it I first ground its obligation ; we ought to pray out of deference to an
instinct with which God has endowed us, for by our higher intuitions and instincts
He expresses His will, and to neglect to act in accordance with them, is to disobey
His voice within us. Moreover, this instinct of prayer is an imperious one ; it ia
one which will assert itself, even when it has been set aside, and its presence
denied. There are moments in life when men are superior to their own principles,
and human systems fail to silence the deep cry of the heart ; when men pray who
have denied the power of prayer. " That men ought always to pray," then, is the
teaching of nature, and prayer as a matter of natural religion is an express duty.
II. We pass now from the sphere of the natural to the super-natural, from nature
to grace, to find anotheb basis foe the necessity of prateb. Prayer meets us with a
two-fold claim in the domain of revealed religion ; it is necessary as a means of
grace, it is necessary also as a fulfilment of an express command of God ; these are
two sides, the one objective, the other subjective, of the same truth. It will be
observed, that the necessity of prayer viewed in this connection is derived from the
prior necessity of grace. •' Every man is held to pray in order to obtain spiritual
goods, which are not given, except from heaven ; wherefore they are not able to be
procured in any other way but by being thus sought for." In the New Testament,
that grace is a necessity for the supernatural life is an elemental truth. Grace ia
to that life what the water is to the life of the fish, or the air to our natural life —
something absolutely indispensable. " Being justified freely by His grace." " By
grace ye are saved." " By the grace of God I am what I am ; and His grace which
was bestowed upon me was not in vain." " Grow in grace." " He which hath
begun a good work in you will perform it." In following the operations of grace
from the commencement of the spiritual life to its end, five effects have been
enumerated — it heals the soul, it produces a good will, it enables the good which
was willed to be brought about in action, it makes perseverance in good possible, it
leads to glory. Thus grace is, from first to last, the invisible nonrishment of the
soal'B life, and prayer is the means in man's own power of gaining grace ; it is
through prayer that the different effects of grace are wrought in us. We ask God
for spiritual healing — *' Heal my soul, for I have sinned against Thee." " 0 cleanse
Thou me from my secret faults." We need Divine help for resisting temptations —
" When Christ was baptized and prayed, the heavens were opened, showing that
after Baptism pra\er is necessary to man in two ways, to overcome the inward
proneness to evil) and the outward enticements of the world and the devil."
Temptations to be resisted with sanctifying effect must be resisted in the power of
prayer ; slight temptations may perhaps be vanquished by natural effort, or over-
thrown by an opposite vice, but such victories are not registered in heaven. Again,
in order to advance in the spiritual hfe, in the development of virtues, prayer is a
necessity — the apostles prayed, "Lord, increase our faith." The increase of the
interior life simply consists in the growth of different virtues and graces, and these
virtues are formed by the combined action of grace and free-will ; these are the two
factors, the raw material so to speak, from which the fabric is manufactured. A
continaal supply of grace is needed for the increase of each virtue, and therefore
prayer is needed, not only in general, but also with definite reference to the support
of the virtue which we have to exercise, or in which we are most conscious of
defect. He says " prayer and grace are of the same necessity ; grace is necessary
for salvation, hence it ought to follow that prayer also is necessary ; but why should
prayer be ordained in relation to eternity, unless it be for the sake of obtaining
grace ? " There are, however, two limits to the power of prayer which we must not
forget in its relation to grace. Prayer is itself dependent on grace in the spiritual
hfe, and an act of prayer for grace is a correspondence with a grace which has
been already given. "The Spirit," St. Paol says, "also helpeth our infirmities:
«HAP. snn.J ST. LUKE. 841
for we know not what we should pray for as we ought." •' Grace," St. Chrysostom
asserts, " precedes our prayers always." The good thought or desire is a touch from
another world ; the angels of God descended as well as ascended on " Bethel's
Stair." The beginnings of life, whether natural or supernatural, are from God ;
but the continuation and increase of life depend also on human co-operation.
Again, prayer as a means of grace must not take the place of Sacraments. The
revelation which proclaims the necessity of the one, also asserts the obligation of
the other. Prayer is the respiration of the soul ; Sacraments, its medicine and
food; both alike necessary, though the one constantly, the other occasionally.
III. The obligation to pray is not, however, to be viewed sijiply in reference to
GOB OWN BENEFIT. Prayer is also an act of religion, an act of obedience to a Divine
precept which we should be bound to perform, even if no gi-ace came to us from its
performance. This objective view of the necessity of prayer is one less familiar,
but hardly less important. Now from this doctrine flow two results. The omission
and neglect of prayer involve not only a loss of grace, but constitute a distinct sin ;
it is a sin against religion, and against charity. Religion is a moral virtue, whose
province it is to show due honour and reverence to Almighty God ; to cease to pray
therefore, is to fail to exercise a moral virtue, and that the highest. What justice
is towards the creature, religion is towards God — that by which we seek to give Him
His due. To neglect prayer, is also to sin against charity. Charity presents three
objects — God, ourselves, others — all of whom are to be loved : but when prayer is
omitted we fail in the exercise of the love of God, for we desire to hold converse
with those whom we love ; the love of our neighbour we fail in also, for he needs
our prayers ; and the love of our soul we fail in, by the neglect of a duty upon
which our spiritual life depends. It remains for us to notice when this precept of
prayer is binding, so that the omission of it becomes a sin. When Christ says,
•• men ought always to pray," it is evident that He does not mean that no other
duty shoiSd be fulfilled ; but that at all times, whatever we are doing, the spirit of
prayer should be preserved. IV. We have now to view the necessity of prater kb a.
TBANSFORMiNo INFLUENCE. Those who do not admit that prayer has power with God,
yet acknowledge that it has power with us, and allow that it possesses a reflex
influence on those who use it. The soul by communing with God becomes like
God, receives from His perfections supplies of light, of power, and love according
to its needs. The subjective effects of prayer are as manifold as the Divine per-
fections. It is said that constant intercourse between creatures causes them to
resemble one another, not only in disposition and habits, but even in features. _ Old
painters always made St. John like unto his Master in face. They instinctively
imagined, that closeness of communion between the beloved disciple and his Lord
had occasioned a hkeness in features and expression. The flrst basis of its obliga-
tion will remind us that we must not regard oar nature as entirely corrupt, and its
voice as always misleading, but that in it, fallen as it is, there are vestiges of its
original greatness, and intuitions and instincts which are to as an inward revelation
of the mind and will of God. The second reason for the necessity of prayer, will
explain perhaps the cause of weakness in the hoar of temptation — our lack of
grace. Farther, we mast be careful to regard prayer not only as a means of grace
bat as a duty, and thus folfil it without reference to oar own deUght or profit in the
act. If, again, we complain of oar earthliness and worldliness, and the difficulty
which we have in fetching our motives of action from a higher sphere, may it not
be that we have failed to realize the importance of prayer in its subjective effect
npon character, and have thought to gain a ray of heavenly brightness without the
habitual oommnning with God upon the Mount? (W. H. Hutchings, M.A.)
Necetiity of prayer : — Prayer is natural to men. The knowledge of our own
weabaesa is soon forced upon as, but with this conviction there comes another, the
sense of dependence on One — great, loving, and wise. Out of these springs the
necessity of prayer, which is the language of the frail to the mighty — the confession
of need, and the instinct of trust. Every known religion attests this irresistible
impulse to pray. Men, indeed, will be found to deny, or to undervalue the evidence
of this instinct of prayer ; but there are times which wring prayer from prayerless
lips ; times of danger, when all classes find prayer the most appropriate and natural
utterance of their lips ; times of heart-fear, when the whole spirit sends up from
the depths of confusion and darkness an exceeding bitter cry, wherein terror and
doubt mingle with the unquenchable instinct of prayer; times when, perhaps,
death is approaching, and the dark, unexplored confines of the other world begin
to loom vast and vague upon on awakening conscience, and the firm citadel ot
E44 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chat. xvm.
Btoutly maintained unbelief is swept away, and prayer rushes forth in such •
despairing shriek as burst from the lips of Thistlewood — " 0 God, if there be a
God, save my soul, if I have a soul 1 " It is not the approach of danger or the
feeling of fear only which calls forth prayer. The irresistible disposition it
experienced under the influence of feelings widely different from fear. The con-
templation of the universe, and the incomprehensible Being who embraces all
things, so wrought upon the mind of Bousseau that, in the restlessness of his
transports, he would exclaim, " 0 great Being 1 O great Being I " The majesty
and splendour of nature, brightening and kindling under the beams of the sun,
rising upon the rocky heights of Jura, and circling the sky with flame, filled the
Boul of Voltaire with such awe that he uncovered his head, and, kneeling, he cried,
" I believe — I believe in Thee ! O mighty God, I believe 1 " If the language of
prayer is thus natural to all men, and forced at times from reluctant lips, it is
natural, with an inexpressible sweetness, to hearts accustomed to communion with
God. The cultivated instinct becomes a rich enjoyment, and an unutterable relief.
The high duty becomes the highest privilege. (Bishop Boyd Carpenter.) Times
unfavourable to prayer: — There are times when prayer is natural to the moat
careless ; but there are also times when all things tend to deaden the spirit of
prayer in the most thoughtful and prayerful of God's children. Such times are
times of great and extensive activity, when pleasure is busy, and even enjoymenta
are full of toil. In the ceaseless industry of business and gaiety, amusement
becomes hard work. Hard work brings weariness, and weariness is followed by
an indisposition for any exertion of the spirit. Such, too, are times of a widespread
feeling of uneasiness, when a vague apprehension seems to have seized hold upon
th« minds of all classes, and a strange sense of insecurity begets an unreasoning
and universally felt fear. Such are times of noisy religionism and demonstrative
piety, when the minds of men are galvanized into an unnatural activity through
the spirit of an unwholesome rivalry ; when convictions are degraded into opinions,
and toil dwindles into talk, and organized Christian effort is strangled in discussion ;
when an impracticable tenacity of trifles and a stupendous disregard of principles
throws the appearance of vitality over a degenerate and dead pietism. In such
times the lulling influences of a strained activity, an undefined terror ; and a self •
asserting, heart-distracting zealotism steal over the spirits of the most watchful of
Christ's servants, and often diminish insensibly their vigilance and earnestness in
prayer. A convergence of such times into one period Christ described, and on the
description He founded His warning that " men ought always to pray." [Ibid.)
Patient prayer : — One day, returning home from a morning meeting of the Holiness
Convention, I came across a little boy standing at a house door, and crying bitterly.
I tried to comfort him, but he only cried the more. Just then his mother came
out, and when I inquired what was wrong with him, I found he was crying because
his mother would not give him his breakfast before the right time. Similarly, we,
as God's children, often make bitter repinings, and have hard thoughts about the
Lord, because He does not answer our prayers at the time, and in the way that we
expect. His ways are not as our ways, nor is His time always our time ; but that
in some way or other, and in the right way, and at His own time — not a moment
too soon, not a moment too late — He will perform that which is good for us and
to His glory. {J. G. Forbes. ) Constant exercise in prayer : — ^When a pump is
frequently used, but little pains are necessary to obtain water ; the water pours
out at the first stroke, because it is high ; but if the pump has not been used for
a long time the water gets low, and when you want it you must pump a long while,
and the water comes only after great efforts. It is so with prayer. If we are
instant in prayer, every little circumstance awakens the disposition to pray, and
desire and words are always ready. But if we neglect prayer it is difficult for ua
to pray. Shall we pray, or shall we not f — A distinguished man of science, an
Englishman, was reported in the newspapers the other day to have said to an
assembly in the American capital, " I am not a praying man." He was not
bemoaning himself, or making confession of sin, or even uttering regret. If he
did not speak boastfully, he certainly spoke without any sense of shame, and
apparently with some degree of superiority over the commonplace and lag-behind
people who still think it right to pray. Another distinguished man, an Englishman
likewise, not a man of science, but a man of profound thought, was asked on his
deathbed how he felt, and hia reply was, "I can pray, and that's a great thing."
In his judgment prayer was the highest service to which a whole man can giva
bimaelf : not something to be left to the ignorant and feeble, but to be risen to.
CHAP, xnn.] ST. LUKE. 845
and aspired after by the greatest intellect and the most illumined mind. Which
of the two was right ? Which of them possessed the truest conception of the whole
duty and privilege of man ? I. Let us see what may, justifiably ob unjustitiablt,
INDDCK A MAN TO TAKE THE POSITION INTOLVED IN THE AVOWAL, "I am DOt a praying
man." 1. He may take this position who is conscious of no want which scientifia
Btudy and material good cannot satisfy. But what shall we say of such a man as
this ? Ib be a true type of our common humanity, or of our most educated
humanity ? Or, rather, is he not less than a man — only part of a man ? The
intellect is not the soul, and intellectual pleasure cannot satisfy the soul, or, if
there be some souls which profess to be satisfied with it, it only proves how untrue
Bonis may be to their own highest capacities. 2. He may take this position who is
separated from mankind by the non-possession of anything of the nature of a
religious faculty. An old Greek said, " You may find peoples without cities, without
arts, without theatres ; but you can find no people without an altar and a God."
An Englishman, not a believer in Christianity, said that *' upon accurate search,
religion and faith appear the only ultimate differences of man " — those which
distinguish him from a brute. 3. He who has ascertained that God cannot, con-
Bistently with His own laws, or will not, for some other reason, hear prayer, may
take the position implied in the saying, " I am not a praying man." But where
is such a man to be found ? To know that God cannot answer prayer consistently
with His own laws, implies a knowledge which is properly Divine. 4. He who
would justify his position must be conscious that he has no sins to be forgiven.
And if any one should aver that his conscience acquits him, we should say (1 John
i. 8, 10). 5. The man who would justify himself in saying, " I am not a praying
man," must have already attained all moral excellence, or be conscious of power
to attain it by his unaided efforts. In this matter we discern the blindness that
has fallen on men. They can see very clearly the power that is needed to produce
physioal results, but not that which is needed to produce moral. And in this they
only prove how much sense has acquired dominion over them. II. The reasons
FOB NOT PBAYINO WHICH MEN, IP HONEST ABOUT THEMSELVES, WOULD AVOW. 1. Prayer
la distasteful to them. They have no heart for it. This is a sure sign of being
spiritually out of health. Seek the aid of the Healer of souls. 2. They feel that
prayer is inconsistent with their habits of life. Then change those habits. " Wash
you, make you clean." {J. Kennedy, D.D.) Hindrances to prayer : — 1. There
is the objection that, God having infinite wisdom to determine what is best, and
Almighty power to accomplish His decree, there is nothing for His creatures to do
but submit with reverence and trust. If prayer cannot change His mind, it is
useless, and, moreover, an impertinence ; if it could, it would be a loss, since it
would involve a sacrifice of greater wisdom to less — a result which can only be con-
ceived of as a punishment. The answer to this is, that God in giving human beinga
a real freedom, a power to choose whether certain events shall be one way or the
other, has really, so far as we can see, for wise purposes, limited His own. In
short, there is a margin of greater or less good, of manageable error, of permissible
evil, which God can set apart for our freedom to exercise itself in, without the
world escaping His controL The premise, therefore, from which this objection
starts, that " whatever is, is best," is not true in the large sense of those words.
Whatever is is best under all the circumstances, under the circumstances of our
crime, negligence, or error, but not the best that might have been had we reached
forth our hand to take what lay within our power. It may be better if we do not
pray, that we should miss some blessings God has in reserve for those who seek
Him in love and trust, but this is not the best that might have been. It is the
will of God in relation to our negligence ; but our trust and importunity would
have called into action a higher and more generous law of His loving nature. 2.
The next objection is that of the imagination filled and overpowered by the thought
of the vastness of the material universe. "Do yoo suppose," men ask, "that a
petty, individual life, a worm crawling on the surface of one of His smallest
planets, can be an object of particular consideration and interest to the Almighty
Creator ? " Why not T Is the Almighty Ruler compelled to distinguish between
imperial and provincial cares like an earthly monarch ? Because He is here with
some suffering infant, taking its inarticulate moan into His mighty and pitiful
heart, is He less in the planet Neptune, oris His power withdrawn from the glowing
masses of future worlds ? There is no egotism in thinking that man — any man —
is more important in the Divine regard than a mass of matter, however long it has
lain under th« Creator's eye, and however much it may impose upon oar imagination.
346 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTEATOR. [chap, xntu
3. Practical hindrances to prayer are found where the speculative barriers we have
been considering do not exist. Mental indolence is one of the greatest of these
hindrances, and mental indolence is a much more prevalent and serious fault than
bodily indolence. No one can really pray without using his understanding, engaging
his affections, and making an effort of will. Prayer is work, and hard work. We must
go to the Saviour, and ask His aid. " Lord, teach as to pray." (£. W. Shalders, B.A.)
Belief in prayer the outcome of need realized: — As to the so-called scientific
challenge to prove the efficacy of prayer by the result of simultaneous petition. A
God that should fail to hear, receive, attend to one single prayer, the feeblest or
worst, I cannot believe in ; but a God that would grant every request of every man
or every company of men, would be an evil God — that is no God, but a demon.
That God should hang in tbe thought-atmosphere, hke a windmill, waiting till men
enough should combine and send out prayer in sufficient force to turn His outspread
arms, is an idea too absurd. God waits to be gracious, not to be tempted. " But if
God is BO good as you represent Him, and if He knows all that we need, and better
far than we do ourselves, why should it be necessary to ask Him for anything ? " I
answer, What if He knows prayer to be the thing we need first and most ? What
if the main object in God's idea of prayer be the supplying of our great, our endless
need — the need of Himself ? What if the good of all our smaller and lower needs
lies in this, that they help to drive us to God ? Hunger may drive the runaway
child home, and he may or may not be fed at once, but he needs his mother more
than his dinner. Communion with God is the one need of the soul beyond all other
need ; prayer is the beginning of that communion, and some need is the motive ol
that prayer. Our wants are for the sake of our coming into communion with God,
our eternal need. In regard, however, to the high necessities of our nature, it is in
order that He may be able to give that God requires as to ask — requires by driving
us to it — by shutting us up to prayer. For how can He give into the soul of a man
what it needs, while that soul cannot receive it ? The ripeness for receiving is the
asking. The blossom-cup of the soul, to be filled with the heavenly dews, is its
prayer. When the soul is hungry for tiie light, for the truth — when its hunger has
waked its higher energies, thoroughly roused the will, and brought the soul into its
highest condition, that of action, its only fitness for receiving the things of God,
that action is prayer. Then God can give ; then He can be as He would towards
the man ; for the glory of God is to give Himself. We thank thee, Lord Christ, for
by Thy pain alone do we rise towards the knowledge of this glory of Thy Father and
our Father. (G. Macdonald,LL.D.) Tht adaptability of nature to prayer: — A water-
fall is a scientific object only in a very rude way. But when every drop of its waters
has been manipulated and controlled by the human will till the mills of a Lowell or a
Lawrence display from every spindle and shuttle the presence of human intelligence
and power, then the untamed river begins to sparkle with the brilliancy of science,
and to murmur its praises from every ripple. That is, the more mind-power is
mingled with matter-power, the more scientific is the compound result. The ani>
formity of the waterfall is far less scientific than the diversity of the waterwheel.
Automatic mechanisms, machines that adjust themselves to change, throwing
themselves out of gear at the least obstacle or breakage, ringing a bell as a sign&I
of distress, increasing or diminishing combustion, changing position, as in the case
of a lathe to meet aU the convolutions of a gan-stock, have a far higher scientifio
character than a carpenter's drawing-knife, or a housewife's spinning-wheel, which
display less of diversity and more of uniformity. It was once supposed that the
solar system is so balanced that the loss of a grain of weight, or tbe slightest change
of motion, would dislocate and destroy the whole system. It was a higher science,
not a lower, that has since taught as that exact uniformity is by no means
necessary to the stability of the system, but that oscillation and change are fully
provided for in the original plan. The principle holds good that the modifications
of a mind-power introduced into a material mechanism advance its scientific rank,
and increase rather than diminish the proof of the presence of law and order in its
working. I was riding, a few years since, about one of the rural cities of the State
of New York with one of the most distinguished preachers at the metropolis. We
were speaking of the curious fallacies involved in Tyndall's famous prayer-gauge
eonandrom. Just then we drove up to the city water-works. I told him that if h«
would go in with me I thought we could find a good illustration of the manner in
which God may answer prayer without interfering with any of the laws of nature.
The point, let us remember, is, that the power of an intelligent will can be so
introduced among the forces of matter as to have perfect uniformity in the working
OBAP. rvra.] 8T. LUKE. S4T
of those forces, while diversity appears in their results. The building we entered
was furnished with a HoUey engine. As we stood by the steam gauge we observed
constant and considerable changes in the amount of steam produced. As there waa
no cause apparent in or about tbe engine itself, we asked for an explanation.
" That," said the engineer, " is done by the people in the city. As they open their
faucets to draw the water the draft upon our fires is increased. As they close them,
it is diminished. The smallest child can change the movements of our engine
according to his will. It was the design of the maker to adjust his engine so that
it should respond perfectly to tbe needs of the people, be they great or small." Just
then the bell rung, the furnace- drafts flew open, the steam rose rapidly in the gauge,
the engineer flew to his post, the ponderous machinery accelerated its movement.
We heard a general alarm of fire. " How is that? " we asked. " That," he said,
"was the opening of some great fire-plug." " And how about the bell? What did
that ring for ? " "That," he said, " was to pat us on the alert. You saw that the
firemen began to throw on coal at once. A thousand things have to be looked after
wben there is a great fire. It won't do to leave the engine to itself at such times."
In a moment there came a lull. The great pumps moved more deliberately. In
another minute a roar of steam told us the safety-valve had opened, and soon the
great engine had returned to its ordinary, sleepy motion. •' Wonderful," said my
friend ; " the whole thing seems alive. I almost thought it would start and run to
the fire itself." " I think this one of the grandest triumphs of science," said the
engineer, as he bade me good-bye. The illustration is a good one, but others of the
eame sort are at our hand on every side. The uniformity of nature is, in fact, one
of its lesser attributes. Its great glory is in its wonderful adaptability. Its greatest
glory is its unlimited capacity to receive mind-forces, and to mingle them with its
matter-forces in perfect harmony, and in infinite variety of combination. If human
science has been able to do so much to overcome the eventless uniformity of nature
in its wildness and crudenese, shall we deny to the Divine omniscience the power
to effect the slightest modifications necessary in answering the prayers of His
children ? Nay, shall we deny to Him the power so to adjust the original mechanism
o£ the universe that prayer with its appropriate action may directly modify that
mechanism, as the child's thirst and his little hand can open a faucet and change
the action of the great water-works miles away. Or, is it at all unscientific to
believe that other intelligent ageuts may, in answer to prayer, be " caused to fly
Bwiftly," as the httle bell aroused the engineer. Or can science offer any valid
objection if we say that God Himself holds the forces of nature in His own hand,
waiting, for high moral reasons, ** to be inquired of by the house of Israel to do
these things for them " ? {Prof. J. P. Gulliver.) Prayer answered after death : —
Let me teU you that if any of you should die with your prayers unanswered, you
need not conclude that God has disappointed you. I have heard that a certain
godly father bad the nnhappiness to be the parent of some five or six most
graceless sons. All of them as they grew up imbibed infidel sentiments, and
led a libidinous life. The father who had been constantly praying for them,
and was a pattern of every virtue, hoped at least that in his death he might
be able to say a word that should move their hearts. He gathered them to
his bedside, but his nnhappiness in dying was extreme, for he lost the light of God's
countenance, and was beset with doubts and fears, and the last black thought that
haunted him was, " Instead of my death being a testimony for God, which will win
my dear sons, I die in such darkness and gloom that I fear I shall confirm them in
their infidelity, and lead them to think that there is nothing in Christianity at all."
The effect was the reverse. The sons came round the grave at the funeral, and
when they returned to the house, the eldest son thus addressed his brothers : — " My
brothers, throughout his lifetime, our father often spoke to us about religion, and
we have always despised it, but what a sermon his deathbed has been to us 1 for if he
who served God so well and lived so near to God found it so hard a thing to die, what
kind of death may we expect ours to be who have lived without God and without
hope ? " The same feeling possessed them all, and thus the father's death had
strangely answered the prayers of his life through the grace of God. You cannot
tell but what, when you are in glory, you should look down from the windows of
heaven and receive a double heaven in beholding yotu: dear sons and daughters con-
verted by the words you left behind. I do not say this to make you cease pleading
lor their immediate conversion, but to encourage you. Never give up prayer, never
be tempted to cease from it. (C. H. Spurgeon.) Prayer u vmnly : — •• Men ought
to pray." Let none misunderstand as when we lay stress on the word ** men," 01
348 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, rvm,
ooarse, Christ does not mean one sex merely ; He immediately afterwards speaks of
" a certain widow." His reference is to the human race at large. We are assared
by Paul that in Him there is " neither male nor female." Nevertheless, we eagerly
take advantage of the word thus used by oar Saviour that we may affirm and main-
tain the manliness of prayer. The assertion is far from unnecessary, and every one
who is acquainted with public opinion will, we think, agree with us. Is there not
a notion abroad that prayer is a somewhat feeble, sentimental, effeminate pursuit 7
Are we not often reminded by travellers on the contii^ent of the fact that churches
and cathedrals are chiefly filled by women ? Sandy Mackaye, in " Alton Locke,"
describes a certain congregation as made up of " babies and bonnets," and wa
know what the inference is. Dr. J. Martineaa felicitously speaks of those who
regard it "a fond superstition and womanly weakness to ask God anything."
Don't we all recollect the account given of Tom Brown when, on arriving at school,
he was pelted, chaffed, and ridiculed, because he kneeled beside his bedf
Perhaps the last-named incident is more significant than any or the whole of th«
preceding ones, since there is nothing about which boys are so ambitious as to seem
manly. The occurrence is, therefore, a feather which, as it flies, shows the way
of the wind. The idea that prayer is unworthy of us as men is utterly unreason-
able and untrue. Is it not manly to do right? No one disputes ii. We get
our word virtue from the Latin vir, a man ; to be moral is to be manly. By
parity of argimient, to do right generally must be manly ; prayer is right,
God would not will it were it not; therefore it is manly. (T. R, Stevenson.)
Universal prayer : — Beiuemb»r, you can pray for any need — for lengthened life, as
Hezekiah did ; for help, as Daniel did ; for light, as Bartimeus did ; for mercy, as
David did ; for rain, as Elijah did ; for a son, as Hannah did ; for grace, as Paul
did. You can pray, too, anywhere ; in the deep, like Jonah ; on the sea or the
house-top, like Peter ; on your bed, like Hezekiah ; in the mountain, like Jesas ;
in the wilderness, Uke Hagar ; in the street, like Jairus ; in a cave, like David ; on
the cross, like the dying thief. You can pray, too, anyhow ; short, like Peter and
the publican ; long, like Moses at the consecration of the Tabernacle, or Solomoa
at the dedication of the Temple. You can pray in silence, as Haimah did in the
Temple; in your secret thoughts, as Nehemiah did before Darius ; or aloud, like
the Syro-Phenician woman; in tears, like Magdalen; in groans, or songs, as David
did. You can pray any time. In the morning, Uke David ; at noon, like Daniel ;
at midnight, Uke Silas ; in childhood, like Samuel ; in youth, like Timothy ; in
manhood, like the centurion ; in age, like Simeon ; in sickness, like Job ; or in
death, like Jacob and the dying Christ. And all of them were heard by the Hearer
of prayer. I pray you, learn to pray 1 Link yourselves to the throne of God.
Prayer will stand you in good stead every day of your mortal life I will make you
joyful in the hour of death ; and by the power of prayer yon shall scale the mount
of God I Pray 1 (J. J. Wray.) Feneverance in prayer : or^ ttrike again : —
>• God's seasons are not at your beck. If the first stroke of the flint doth not bring
forth the fire, you must strike again." That is to say, God will hear prayer, but He
may not answer it at the time which we in our own minds have appointed ; He will
reveal Himself to our seeking hearts, but not just when and where we have settled
in our own expectations. Hence the need of perseverence and importunity in
supplication. In the days of flint and steel and brimstone matches we had to
strike and strike again, dozens of times, before we could get a spark to live in the
tinder ; and we were thankful enough if we succeeded at last. Shall we not be as
persevering and hopeful as to heavenly things ? We have more certainty of success
in this business than we had with our fliut and steel, for we have God's promise at
our back. Never let us despair. God's time for mercy will come ; yea, it has
come, if our time for believing has arrived. Ask in faith, nothing wavering ; but
never cease from petitioning because the king delays to reply. Strike the steel
again. Make the sparks fly and have your tinder ready : you will get a light before
long. Answers to prayer : — In reply to the question, "What place has prayer for
temporal blessings in your system of natural law in the spiritual world ? " Professor
Drummond, as reported, said, in one of his talks at Lakeview : — A large, splendidly
equipped steamship sailed out from Liverpool for New York. Among the pas-
sengers were a httle boy and girl, who were playing about the deck, when the boy
lost his ball overboard. He immediately ran to the captain and shouted, " Stop
the ship ; my bail is overboard I " The captain smiled pleasantly, but said, " Oh
no, my boy ; I cannot stop the ship, with all these people, just to get a rubber ball."
The boy went aw ay grumbling, and confided to the httle girl that it was his opinion
CHAP, xvin.] ST. LUKE. 849
the captain didn't stop the ship becaase he couldn't. He believed the ship waa
woond up some way in Liverpool, and she jast had to ran, day and night, nntil
she ran down. A day or so afterward the children were playing on deck again,
when the little girl dropped her doll down into the engine-room, and she supposed
it, too, had gone overboard. She said, " I'll run and ask the captain to stop the
ship and get my dolly." "It's no use," said the boy ; "he cannot do anything.
I've tried him." But the little girl ran on to the captain with her story and appeal.
The captain came and peeked down into the engine-room, and, seeing the doll,
fiaid, " Just wait here a minute." And, while the ship went right on, he ran down
the stairway and brought up the little girl's doll, to her delight, and to the boy's
amazement. The next day the cry rang out, '• Man overboard 1 " and immediately
the bell rang in the engine-room, by orders from the lever in the hands of the
captain ; the great ship stood still until boats were lowered and the life rescued.
Then she steamed on nntil she reached her wharf in New York. As soon as the
ship was tied up the captain went up town and bought the boy a better ball than
the one he had lost. " Now," said the professor, " each of the three prayers was
answered. The little girl received her request without stopping the ship ; the little
boy by a little waiting received his also ; and yet for sufficient reason the ship was
stopped by a part of the machinery itself, not an afterthought, but something put
into the ship when it was made." H<mr$ spent in prayer : — One is bowed down
with shame to read of the long hours spent day by day in prayer by many holy men
whose lives are given to us. Nor is it less humiliating to know of tne extraordinary
delight experienced by some good men in these long hours of prayer. It is related
of St. Francis de Sales that in a day's retreat, in which he continued most of the
day in prayer, he was so overwhelmed with the joy of this communion with God
that he exclaimed, " Withdraw Thyself, O Lord, for I am not able to bear the
greatness of Thy sweetness ! " and the saintly Fletcher, of Madeley, on one occasion
prayed for less delight in prayer, fearing it would become more of an indulgence
than of a duty. There was In a city a Judge which feared not God, neither
regarded man. — The unjust judge and the importunate widow : — 1. There are points
of resemblance between God's people and this widow. In Satan, have not we also
an adversary to be avenged on ? Are not we also poor and needy ? She had known
happy days ; and so also had man. By death she had lost her husband ; and by
sin we have lost our God. Poor and fnendless, she had no means of avenging, of
righting herself ; no more have we — we were without help when Christ died for the
nngodly. '* The sons of Zeruiah," cried David, ' ' are too many for me " ; and so
are sin and its corruptions, the world and its temptations, the devil and his wiles,
for UB. 2. There are likewise some points of resemblance between God and this
unjust judge. Long had he stood by and, without one effort on her behalf, seen
this poor woman spumed and oppressed ; and long also God seemed to stand by
when His people were ground to the dust in Egypt ; in old Pagan and in mora
modem Popish times, when their cruel enemies shed the blood of His saints like
water, and, immured in dungeons, bleeding on scaffolds, hiding in the caves of our
mountains, His elect cried to Him day and night, and the Church, helpless as a
widow, implored Him, saying, " Avenge me of mine adversary 1 " And this is true
also of His dealings with individual believers. How long in their corruption are the
messengers of Satan left to buffet them ? Weary of the struggle with some beset-
ting sin, and hating it as a slave his cruel tyrant, they cry, " How long, 0 Lord,
how long ? " how often, all but despairing, are they ready to exclaim with Paul,
" Who shall deliver me from the body of this death ? " 3. But there are important
points of disparity between this judge and our God : and in these I find assurance
of final victory, and the highest encouragements to instant, constant, urgent prayer.
A bad man, with a heart cold as ice and hard as iron, was he moved by importunity
to redress the wrongs of one for whom he felt no regard, whose happiness or misery
was nothing to him ? — how much more will God be importuned to grant our prayers I
Just, and more than just, He is merciful and gracious, long-suffering and slow to
wratii, abundant in goodness and in truth. (T. Guthrie, D.D.) The importunate
widow : — I. First, then, consider oub Loan's desiom in this pakable — " Men
ought always to pray, and not to faint." 1. Our Lord meant by saying men ought
always to pray, that they ought to be always in the spirit of prayer, always ready
to pray. Like the old knights, always in warfare, not always on their steeds dash-
ing forward with their lances in rest to unhorse an adversary, but always wearing
their weapons where they could readily reach them, and always ready to encounter
wounds or death for the sake of the cause which they championed. Those grim
860 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap, xvnir
warriors often slept in their armour ; bo even when we sleep, we are still to be iir
the spirit of prayer, so that if perchance we wake in the night we may still be witli
God. 2. Our Lord may also have meant, that the whole life of the Christian
should be a life of devotion to God, Men ought always to pray. It means that
when they are using the lapstone, or the chisel, when the hands are on the plough-
handles, or on the spade, when they are measuring out the goods, when they are
dealing in stocks, whatever they are doing, they are to tarn all these things into a
part of the sacred pursuit of God's glory. Their common garments are to be vest-
ments, their meals are to be sacraments, their ordinary actions are to be sacrifices,
and they themselves a royal priesthood, a peculiar people zealous for good works.
3. A third meaning which I think our Lord intended to convey to us was this :
men ought always to pray, that is, they should persevere in prayer. 4. I cannot
leave this part of the subject without observing that our Lord would have us learn
that men should be more frequent in prayer. Prayerf ulness will scarcely be kept
up long unless you set apart times and seasons for prayer. 6. Our Lord means,
to sum up the whole, that believers should exercise a universality of supplication —
we ought to pray at all times. II. In enforcing this precept, our Lord gives us a
parable in which there are two actors, the characteristics of the two actors being
such as to add strength to His precept. In the first verse of the parable there is a
judge. Now, herein is the great advantage to us in prayer. Brethren, if this poor
woman prevailed with a judge whose office is stem, unbending, untender, how much
more ought you and I to be instant in prayer and hopeful of success when we have
to supplicate a Father 1 We must, however, pass on now to notice the other actor
in the scene — the widow ; and here everything tells again the same way, to induce-
the Church of God to be importunate. She was apparently a perfect stranger to
the judge. She appeared before him as an individual in whom he took no interest.
He had possibly never seen her before ; who she was and what she wanted was no
concern to him. But when the Church appears before God she comes as Christ's
own bride, she appears before the Father as one whom He has loved with an ever-
lasting love. And shall He not avenge His own elect. His own chosen. His own
people ? Shall not their prayers prevail with Him, when a stranger's importunity
won a suit of an unwilling judge ? III. The third and last point : the powb&
WHICH, ACCOEDING TO THIS PABABLE, TRIUMPHED. 1. This pOWCr WaS HOt the
woman's eloquence, " I pray thee avenge me of mine adversary." These words are
very few. Just eight words. Verbiage is generally nothing better in prayer than
a miserable fig-leaf with which to cover the nakedness of an unawakened soul. 2.
Another thing is quite certain, namely, that the woman did not prevail through the
merits of her case. He does not say, " She has a good case, and I ought to listen
to it." No, he was too bad a man to be moved by such a motive — but " she worries
me," that i«. all, " I will attend to it." So in our suit— in the suit of a sinner with
God, it is not the merit of his case that can ever prevail with God. ^ If thou art to
win, another's merit must stand instead of thine, and on thy part it must not be
merit but misery ; it must not be thy righteousness but thy importunity that is to
prevail with God. However unworthy you may be, continue in prayer. (C. H.
Spurgeon.) Parable of the importunate widow ; — I. Consider the pabablb itself.
II. Inquire, what is meant by importunity in pbaveb. 1. Attention. 2. Ardour.
8. Frequency. 4. Regularity. III. Let us next consider why importunity is said
TO prevail with God. 1. Because it consists in the exercise of pious and amiable
feelings. 2. Because the frequent exercise of such feelings has a tendency to form
pious and virtuous habits ; and such habits are qualifications for higher society
and purer happiness than this world affords. 3. Because the frequent excitement
of such feelings fits us for receiving the blessings we ask. IV. We may shortly
observe, Uoks. what our Saviour has said in the seventh and eighth verses, that Hb
SEEMS TO INSINUATE THAT SOMETHING LIKE A STATE 0» PERSECUTION WIMi TAKB
piiACE ABOUT THE TIME OF HiB SECOND COMING. For why should the elect be
represented as crying to God day and night, unless they were in a suffering state?
1. We may conclude that many will despond and cease to believe that God will in-
terfere in their favour. 2. It also necessarily follows that, after the second coming of
Jesus, God will avenge His elect, and that suddenly and completely. (J. Thomson,
D.D.) Pray trithout ceating .'—How can the conduct of this selfish tyrant to a helpless
sufferer be any illustration of a just and merciful God's dealing with " His own
elect ? " One thing, at least, is certain, that in this, and, by parity of reasoning,
in all like cases, it does not follow, because two things are compared in one point,
that they must be silike in every other. The only points of contact are the mutual
CHAP, xvm.] 8T. LUKE. 85i
relation of the parties as petitioner and sovereign, the withholding of the thing
requested and its subsequent bestowal. In all the rest there is, there can be no
resemblance ; there is perfect contrariety. Why, then, was this unsuitable image
chosen even for the sake of illustration? Why was not the Hearer of Prayer
represented by a creature bearing more of His own image ? Because this would not
have answered our Lord's purpose, but would only have taught feebly by
comparison what is now taught mightily by contrast. The ground of confidence
here furnished is not the similitude of God to man, but their infinite disparity. If
even such a character, governed by such motives, may be rationally expected to
take a certain course, however alien from his native disposition and his habits,
there can be no risk in counting on a like result where all these adverse circum-
stances favour it. The three main points of the antithesis are these — the character,,
the practice, and the motive of the judge— his moral character, his official practice,,
and his motive for acting upon this occasion in a manner contrary to both. His
official practice is intimated by the word " unjust" applied to him near the conclasiom
of the parable. The interior source of this exterior conduct is then described in
other terms. He feared not God. He neither reverenced Him as a sovereign, nor
dreaded Him as an avenger. Among the motives which may act upon this principle^
not the least potent is the fear of man. This may include the dread of his
displeasure, the desire of his applause, and an instinctive shrinking even from his
ecom. Shame, fear, ambition, all may contribute to produce an outward goodness
having no real counterpart within. This is particularly true of public and official
acts. They can consent to risk their souls, but not to jeopard their respectability.
There would thus seem to be three grounds for expecting justice and fidelity in;
human society, and especially in pubUc trusts. The first and highest is the fear
ef God, including all religious motives — then the fear of man or a regard to public
sentiment — and last, the force of habit, the authority of precedent, a disposition
to do that which has been done before, because it has been done before. These
three impulsive forces do not utterly exclude each other. They may co-exist in due
subordination. The same is true of a regard to settled usage, or even to personal
habit, when correctly formed. Indeed, these latter motives never have so powerful
an infiuence for good, as when they act in due subordination to the fear of God,
It is only when this is wanting, and they undertake to fill its place, that they
become unlawful or objectionable. And even then, although they cannot make
good the deficiency in God's sight, they may make it good in man's. Although tha
root of the matter is not in them, a short-lived verdure may be brought out and
maintained by artificial means. The want of any one of these impulsive forces
may detract fzom the completeness of the ultimate effect. How mueh more the
absence of them alll In other words, how utterly unjust must that judge be who
neither fears God nor regards man. If this widow has not the means of appealing
to his avarice, how clear it seems that his refusal to avenge her is a final one, and
that continued importunity can only waste time and provoke him to new insult.
I dwell on these particulars to show that, in their aggregate, they are intended to
convey the idea of a hopeless case. She hopes against hope. An indomitable
instinct triumphs over reason. She persists in her entreaties. The conclusion
which we have already reached is, that the widow in the parable did right, acted
a reasonable part, in hoping against hope, and still persisting in her suit when
everything combined to prove it hopeless. She would have had no right to sacrifice
the comfort and tranquillity, much less the life or the salvation of her children to
her own despondency or weariness of effort. But let us suppose that he had been
an upright, conscientious, faithful judge, whose execution of his office was delayed
by some mistake or want of information. How much less excusable would she
have then been in relinquishing her rights or those of others in despair 1 Suppose
that, instead of knowing that tiie judge was in principle anrl habit unjust, she had
known him, by experience, to be just and merciful, as well as eminently wise.
Suppose that she had been protected by him, and her wrongs redressed in many
other cases. How easy must it then have been to trust ! How doubly mad and:
wicked to despair 1 There seems to be room for only one more supposition.
Exclude all chance of intellectual or moral wrong. Enlarge the attributes before
supposed, until they reach infinity or absolute perfection. What, then, would be
left as the foundation or the pretext of a doubt ? The bare fact of delay f If she
was wise in hoping against hope, what must we be in despairing against evidence ?
If she was right in trusting to the selfish love of ease in such a man, bow wrong
must we be in distrusting the benevolence, the faithfulness, the truth of loch s»
853 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. rrm.
God ! Every point of dissimilitude between the cases does bat serve to make oar
own still worse and less excusable, by bringing into shocking contrast men's
dependence on the worst of their own species, with their want of confidence in God.
{J. A. Alexander.) Times adverse to prayer : — There is a rude sense of right in
most men's breasts ; and the appeal of outraged helplessness is not often made in
vain. But this judge was in his very nature incapable of understanding or feeling
the force of such an appeal : he was an unjust judge. Again, even in cases where
man have no natural and conscientious sympathy with righteousness, the instinct
of retribution frequently arouses a fear of God, which impels them to acts of
justice; but in the case of the unjust judge there seemed no avenue for tho
approach of such a feeling : he feared not God. Nor was he moved by that which,
as a last motive, is powerful in the most debased natures, the regard for the opinion
of other men. He was of that cold, hardened, and unaccommodating character
that he neither feared God nor regarded man. What did our Master intend by thua
sketching the judge ? . . . The unjust judge is not the portrait of what God is, but
of what, owing to circumstances of trial, and misrepresentations of unreasonable
and wicked men, the suffering, waiting people of Christ will be almost tempted to
think Him. All about them they hear a language which haunts them with hideous
dread ; the voice of the enemy and the blasphemer are heard whispering, " Is there
knowledge in the Most High ? He will never regard it " ; or deepening into tha
hoarse utterance of half wish, half fear — " There is no God I " Harassed by
doubts, wounded and terrified by the oft-reiterated assaults and assertions of her
enemies, driven to despair at the seeming unbroken stillness of the unanswering
heavens, the Church of Christ is as the lone helpless widow, powerless and poverty-
stricken. Bat she is mighty. Though this hideous portraiture of grim and
impassive godhead is thrust upon her, she will have none of it. She will not
abandon her plea, or accept the description. With this picture of hard, inexorable
justice before her, she will not abandon her plea. If it be so, that she is thus weak
and poor, and dealing with one whom no cries for pity, or claims for justice, can
arouse, and no aspect of misery touch and soften ; then nothing remains for her
but the might of her weakness in its unceasing supplications, which will take no
denial; nothing remains but to weary Him out into compliance. (Bishop Boyd
Carpenter.) Oriental judges: — "A judge" in an Oriental city must not be
regarded precisely as a judge among us, nowadays, nor yet with all the peculiar
powers and duties of the ancient judges of Israel, whose powers somewhat
resembled that of a king. Those ancient judges, more like ancient kings than
anything else, were yet officers or rulers of such a peculiar sort, that the Bomans
transferred the name of their dignity into Latin — at least of their Carthaginian
counterparts. Out of the Shemitio shofet they made suffetes. But in the time of
Christ the judge, where not a Boman official, had stiU some power equivalent to
that of the sheriffs of our country. He was head judge and head executioner of
his sentences. Never till our own times, or those of two of three generations ago,
has the world worked out the problem of wholly separating the legislative, the
judicial, and the executive functions. Nor is it always accomplished by a nominal
separation ; nor can that separation ever be entirely actual, even as much so aa
required by theory. As long as the legislative or judicial power has anything to
do, it must be gifted with some slight executive powers. Bat this is only one
instance in the physical and metaphysical universe of the failure of human
divisions to cover all that the one Spirit has made or is working. The prayer of
the widow to the unjust judge — and here " unrighteous " is better ; for attention is
directed not very closely to his merely judicial function — regards rather hia
executive function than anything else. She does not call — in words at least — for
a hearing of her cause, but for an order of enforcement. In modem times that
would be by sending a zabtieh or two, soldier police, to app) 7 the necessary force.
This might be done even without hearing, or before hearing, the case. To this day,
in the East, it is necessary for poor suitors to be very importunate. It would be
easy to give examples ; but it might be tedious. A woman will frequently beg and beg
a judge to attend to her case, or to execute a decree in a case he has passed upon and
rendered judgment, and generally promise or ask to kiss the judge's feet. But a little
money from ihe other side will effectually stop the judge's ears. (Prof. Isaac H. Hall.)
A widow. — The Church's widowhood : — This parable sets before us, under the figure
of a widow — a feeble and injured widow — the true character and standing of th«
Church of God on earth, daring the present age. In numbers she is few — a mere
election, a gathering out, no more ; in power, slender ; in honour, little set by ; ia
CHIP, xvm.] ST. LVKE. 853
alliances, little courted. That snch ia the case, nay, that such must be the case,
appears from such things as these:—!. The Father's purpose concerning her.
That purpose has great things in store for her, in the ages to come ; bnt at present
her lot is to be weakness, poverty, hardship, and the endurance of wrong. 2. Her
conformity to her Lord. He is her pattern, not merely as to character, but as to
the whole course of life. In Him she learns what her lot on earth is to be. He,
the rejected one, even among His own, she must be rejected too. 3. Her standing
by faith. It is the world's xmbelief that so specially makes it the world ; so it is
the Church's faith that makes her what she is, the Church. " We have known
and believed the leva that Qod hath to us." 4. The condition of the world oat of
whioh she is called. It is an evil world. 5. Her prospects. She is an heir of God,
and a joint heir with Christ Jesus, The world loves not the faithful widow, and
wonld fain seduce her to a second marriage — a marriage with itself. Decked in
costly array, it would admire her, and give her its willing fellowship. But dressed
only in the widow's mournful garb, it cannot tolerate her. Her faithfulness to
her Lord condemns it. Her seclusion and separation rebuke it. Her con-
tinuing in supplication and prayers night and day it cannot away with.
The widow's cry sorely disturbs the world's peace, and, ringing riightly
through its glittering halls of pleasure, turns all its music into discord.
Nor less does Satan dislike the widow's weeds and the widow's cry. For they
remind him that his day is short, and that he who is to bind him in chains, and
oast him oat of his dominions, will soon be here. {H. Bonar, D.D.) The importu-
nate widow a type of God't elect people : — I. God has an kleot PEorLB in thb
voBiJ), scattered ap and dovm among men found in various places, and in almost
all communities, as his chosen ones. Men may take this principle in a light which
does not belong to it, and affirm that they can deduce conclusions from it which in
the Bible are directly and distinctly denied. There are, I might observe, two things
which always make it appear to me, not only in a light that is harmless, but in a
light that is most beneficial. 1. The one is, that it is never separated from its
moral influences. " Predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son."
*' Chosen that we may be blameless and harmless, in the midst of a crooked and
perverse generation." And here, in the passage before us, it stands allied with^ a
devotional character and with a praying habit of mind : and we are sure of this,
that, practically felt in the mind, it does humble, prostrate, purify, inspire, and
awaken within the lowest gratitude, and, at the same time, the loftiest and the
holiest joy. 2. The other thing that I would wish to remark respecting it is, that
it interferes not in any degree with the universal invitations of the gospel. II. Thb
ELECT OF God abb DISTINOCISHED by THEIB devotional CHABACTEB — THEIB PBATDfO
FBAME op uind. " Shall not God avenge His own elect who cry day and night before
Him ? " The evidence that we are chosen of God, called into His Church, made
partakers of His mercy, is in this, that we recognize His providence ; that we live
in daily dependence upon His bounty ; that we lift up our hearts to Him in suppli-
cation ; that believing we pray, and that praying we confide. Then I would add,
that an elect and praying people are beautiful in the eyes of God, and His ears are
ever open to their cry. lU. Their prayers particularly regard the betbibution
CPON THE BNBHT, AND THB COMINO OF THE EINaDOU. " Shall DOt God aveUgO His
own elect, who cry day and night imto Him ? " There is emphasis on the word
"cry." Abel's blood did cry ; there was a shrill, piercing, importunate voice in it.
Just before God came down to deliver the Israelites in Egypt, on account of their
bondage and oppression, it is said they did " sigh and cry " : and we find the Church,
when distressed and in anguish by reason of the enemy, is said to " cry." A widow,
a desolate person, sustaining injury, bleeding under injustice, cries, and asks the
judga for justice ; and precisely in the same way the Church is said to cry to God
for justice. And against whom ? The answer is, against Satan, the great adver-
sary, who has established a tyranny and an usurpation in this world, who has built
up his kingdom amidst darkness, and violence, and blood. And we ask for justice
upon him, and pray God to bruise him under our feet, and to do it quickly. The
Son of God was manifested that He might destroy the works of the devil ; and we
call on the Son of God in the exercise of His supremacy to do His work. lY. Thb
PBATBB OP thb ELECT ChUBCH FOB JUSTICE SHALL BE BEABD AND ANSWEBED WHEN THB
LoBD COMETH. I am not sure that the word " avenge " here is the right one : if the
widow had asked vengeance on her enemy, peradventnre the judge would not have
granted it ; but it means more properly "justice." " Though He bear long with
ihfim," says the text. A very learned critic, on the authority of many andent
VOL. m. 23
«54 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. xvm,
mannscripts, observes it ought to be •' though He compassionate them " : that is,
while they cry, though God appeareth not to attend to them, yet He does hear them
and tenderly compassionates them. If we take it as being correctly " avenge," 1
beg to remark that the world and the wicked have had their time of vengeance.
Here is a picture ! " All that pass by clap their hands at Thee ; they niss and wag
their head at the daughter of Jerusalem." With ferocious face they clapped their
hands, and hissed, and wagged their heads, " saying, Is this the city that men call
the perfection of beauty, the joy of the whole earth ? AH Thine enemies have
opened their mouth against Thee : they hiss and gnash the teeth : they say, We
have swallowed her up : certainly this is the day that we looked for ; we have found,
we have seen it." Unholy vengeance I Bevenge, in the true and strict sense of
the expression, awful to contemplate I That was jnan'a day ; that was the day of
the adversary : and God stood silent by. But God has His day : the day of the
Lord Cometh : and this is referred to in the text. V. We come to the last
thing, when the Lord shall come to execute His justice, faith will bk at a low ebb
ON THE EABTH. " Nevertheless when the Son of man cometh shall He find faith on
the earth ? " when He cometh to execute justice. It is very observable that in
almost every great and signal instance in which God has remarkably come for a
purpose specified in the passage, it has been suddenly, in a moment, and whea
there is no belief of it. {J, Straiten.) God hears tlie prayers of Hit elect : — I.
OOD HAS AN ELECT PEOPLE IN THE WOBLD, WHO ARE A PBAYINO PEOPLE. This character
of a praying people is confined to them. II. " God will avenge His own elect,
WHO CBT DAT AND NIGHT cNTo HiM." Though men see not. He is in the world ;
though men see Him not. He is not far from any one of us ; though men see not
His work. He is carrying it on ; He has been building up His Church, and estab*
lishing its progress. III. The strikino rebuke which Christ utters : •♦ When the
Son of man cometh, shall He find faith upon the earth ? " What a thought ; how
we ought to humble ourselves 1 (I. Saunders. ) God's response to the cry of the
elect : — Alexander Peden, one of the Scotch covenanters, with some others, had
been at one time hard pursued by Claverhouse's troops for a considerable way. At
last, getting some little height between them and their pursuers, he stood stUl and
said, " Let us pray here, for if the Lord hear not our prayer and save us, we are all
dead men. " He then prayed, saying, " 0 Lord, this is the hour and the power of
Thine enemies ; they may not be idle. But hast Thou no other work for them than
to send them after us ? Send them after them to whom Thou wilt give strength to
fiee, for our strength is gone. Twine them about the hill, 0 Lord, and cast the lap
of Thy cloak over the poor old folk and their puir things, and save us this one time,
and we will keep it in remembrance, and tell to the commendation of Thy goodness,
Thy pity and compassion, what Thou didst for us at sic a time." And in this he
was heard, for a cloud of mist immediately intervened between them and their
persecutors, and in the meantime orders came to go in quest of James Benwick, and
a great company with him. Shall He find faith on the earth 7 — The faith of the
■Church : — I. The importance attached by Christ to the faith of His people.
The faith of the Church is important, because it is at the root of all Christian
activity and zeal. What wonder is it, then, that Christ attaches such importance
to the faith of His people 1 II. Though the faith of the Church is tried bt the
DELAY OF the DELIVERANCE, YET THERE ABB ABUNDANT REASONS WHY IT SHOULD HOLD
ON. There is nothing more remarkable in the history of Christ than the calm faith
which He had in His own mission — in its success and ultimate triumph. He stood
alone ; and to be alone in any enterprise or sorrow is to most men hard and trying.
Truth is truth if only embraced by one ; truth is not a whit more true when ten
thousand believe it. But we like sympathy. No one in the wide world understood
His mission ; but His faith never wavered for a moment. He was not careful to
engrave His words on stone, or write them on parchment ; He simply spoke. A
spoken word — it stirs the air, it is like a pebble thrown into the ocean of air,
causing a few ripples to spread, and it is soon lost like a pebble. Christ fiung Hia
^words into the air, spoke on the mountain, by the sea-shore, in the Temple, in th€
synagogue, in the village, by the grave ; and He knew that His words were living,
and would continue to live, that they were not " like a snow-flake on the river, a
moment white, and then gone for ever," bat that they were destined to spread and
to revolutionize the world. We learn, however, that notwithstanding His unshaken
faith, He could see clouds in the future, persecution, corruption, iniquity, abound-
ing, love waxing cold, eras of apparent retrogression and failure. And seeing all this,
Se askS] " When the Sou of Man cometh, shall He find this faith on the earth?*
UHAF. xnn.] ST. LUKE. S5«
ni. He sapposea that the Church mat become weaby of the delay. (Jamet
Otcen.) The search far faith: — Faithfuluess is established in the very heavens :
but what of faithfulness upon the earth ? I.I notice with regard to our text, first,
that IT IS bemarkablx it wz consider the person mentioned as searching fob
iTAiTH : " When the Son of Man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth? " 1.
When Jesus comes He will look for precious faith. He has more regard for fa.-th
than for all else that earth can yield Him. Our returning Lord will care notbing
for the treasures of the rich or the honours of the great. He will not look for the
abilities we have manifested, nor the influence we have acquired ; but He will look
for our faith. It is His glory that He is " believed on in the world," and to that
He will have respect. This is the jewel for which He is searching. 2. When our
Lord comes and looks for faith, He will do so in His most sympathetic character.
Our text saith not. When the Son of God cometh, but " When the Son of Man
cometh, will He find faith on the earth? " It is peculiarly as the Son of Man that
Jesus will sit as a refiner, to discover whether we have true faith or not. 3. Further,
1 would have you note well that the Son of Man is the most likely person to dis-
cover faith if it is to be found. Not a grain of faith exists in all the world except
that which He has Himself created. 4. Besides, faith always looks to Christ.
There is no faith in the world worth having, but what looks to Him, and through
Him to God, for everything. On the other hand, Christ always looks to faith ; there
never yet was an eye of faith but what it met the eve of Christ. 5. The Son of Man
will give a wise and generous judgment in the matter. Some brethren judge so
harshly that they would tread out the sparks of faith ; but it is never so with our
gracious Lord ; He does not quench the smoking flax, nor despise the most
trembling faith. The tender and gentle Saviour, who never judges too severely^
when He comes, shall even He find faith on the earth ? 6. Once more, I want to
put this question into a striking light by dwelling on the time of the scrutiny.
•* When the Son of Man cometh," &c. I know not how long this dispensation of
longsuffering will last ; but certainly the longer it continues the more wantonly
wicked does unbelief become. 7. I want you to notice the breadth of the region of
search. He does not say, shall He find faith among philosophers ? When had
they any ? He does not confine His scrutiny to an ordained ministry or a visible
Church ; but He takes a wider sweep — '• Shall He find faith on the earth ? " As if
He would search from throne to cottage, among the learned and among the ignorant,
among public men and obscure individuals. Alas, poor earth, to be so void of faith !
II. Let us somewhat change the run of our thoughts : having introduced the ques-
tion as a remarkable one, we will next notice that it is exceedinoly instbucttve
IN connection with the parable of which it is part. When the Son of Man cometh
shall He find upon the earth the faith which prays importunately, as this widow
did f Now, the meaning is dawning upon us. We have many upon the earth who
pray ; but where are those whose continual coming is sure to prevail ? Ill, In the
next place, our text seems to me to be suooestive in view of its very form. It is
put as a question : " When the Son of Man cometh, shall He find faith on the
earth ? " 1. I think it warns us not to dogmatize about what the latter days will
be. Jesus puts it as a question. Shall He find faith on the earth? 2. This ques-
tion leads us to much holy fear as to the matter of faith. If our gracious Lord
raises the question, the question ought to be raised. 3. As far as my observation
goes, it is a question which might suggest itself to the most hopeful persons at this
time ; for many processes are in vigorous action which tend to destroy faith. The
Scriptures are being criticized with a familiarity which shocks all reverence, and
their very foundation is being assailed by persons who call themselves Christians.
A chilling criticism has taken the place of a warm, childlike, loving confidence. As
one has truly said, '* We have now a temple without a sanctuary." Mystery is dis-
carded that reason may reign. 4. Do you not think that this, put in a question aa
it is, invites us to intense watchfulness over ourselves ? Do you not think it should
set us scrutinizing ourselves as our Lord will scrutinize us when He comes ? Yon
have been looking for a great many things in yourself, my brother ; let me entreat
yon to look to your faith. What if love grow cold ! rv. My text is very
iMFBBSBiTB IN RESPECT TO PERSONAL DUTY. "When the Sou of Man cometh,
shall He find faith on the earth f " Let faith have a home in our hearts, if it la
denied a lodging everywhere else. If we do not trust our Lord, and trust Him
much more than we have ever done, we shall deserve His gravest displeasure. {C.
H. Spurgeon.) Chritt looking in vain for faith : — If I venture for a moment to
look into the reasons of these things, perhaps I might particularize the following ;
55« THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xvitt
It is always in the indolent and grosser nature of man to prefer the present and th«
visible, to the future and the unseen. The heart gravitates to practical materialism
as a stone gravitates to the ground. It is always a special act to make a man
feel the invisible, live in the invisible. For in fact, all faith is miracle. And days
of great science, such as these, are always likely to be days of proportionate un-
belief— because the power of the habit of finding out more and more natural causes,
is calculated, unless a man be a rehgious man, to make him rest in the cause ha
sees, and not to go on to that higher cause of which all the causes in this world,
are, after all, only effects. And familiarity, too, with Divine things — which is a
particular characteristic of our age, has in itself a tendency to sap the reverence,
which is at the root of all faith. But still more, the character of the age we live in
is a rushing selfishness. The race for money is tremendous ; men are grown
intensely secular ; the facilities are increased, and with them, the covetousness.
Tou are living under higher and higher pressure, and everything goes into extremes ;
all live fast. And the competition of business is overwhelming, and the excitement
of fashion intoxicating. How can '• faith," which breathes in the shade of prayer
and meditation — live in such an atmosphere as this ? Let me just throw out one
or two suggestions to you about faith. Bemember " faith " is a moral grace, and
not an intellectual gift. It lives among the affections ; its seat is the heart. A soft
and tender conscience is the cradle of faith ; and it will live and die according to
the life you lead. If you would have " faith," yon must settle with yourself the
authority, the supremacy, and the sufficiency of the Bible. Then, when you have
done that, you will be able to deal with promises. Feed upon promises. We take
the spiritual character of what we receive into our minds, just as the body assume*
the nature of the food it eats. Act out the very little faith you have. Faith is ft
series of continual progression, and each fresh step is accompanied by a moral
effort which reacts to make another. Take care that you are a man of meditative
habit. There cannot be faith without daily, calm, quiet seasons of thought. (J.
Vaughan, M.A.) Loss of faith in the Christian verities : — I cannot but think that
this " faith " is the faith once delivered to the saints, the faith of the gospel, and
the creeds — the faith in Christ, the eternal Son of God Incarnate, crucified, risen,
ascended, and returning. This faith will be in the pages of Scripture, and in the
creeds of the Church. It may not, perhaps, be denied, but it will not be held.
And yet without the realization of these great eternal verities there can be no faith,
in the New Testament sense of the word. Already this faith grows weaker and
weaker. It has been said that faith is "turned inward," and a miserable "turning"
it is : for what is there within the sinner to raise him up to God and unite him to
the Supreme ? It is the exhibition of the love of God in His Son which breeda
faith in the soul. It is the same exhibition which sustains it, and the same which
perfects it. (M. F. Sadler.)
Vers. 9-14. Two men went up Into the temple to pray. — Whom the Lord
receives : — Observe, from the parable — I. How God looks upon the heabt, bathbb
THAN UPON THB OUTWARD APFEABANCE. It is not the spokcu service that is regarded,
but the hidden words of the heart. U. The inscfpicisiict or mam's good wobes to
OBTAIN justification. III. ThB WAT OF JUSTIFICATION IS SHOWN IN WHAT WE ABB
TOLD OF THE PUBLICAN. IV. We SEE WHAT SPIRIT GOD BEQCIBES OF AND APPBOVBS
IN UB. Not those who are satisfied with themselves are commended of Him, bat
those who see and deplore their sinfulness. As a bird must first stoop to fly, so
must the soul humble itself ere it finds God. "Behold a great wonder," says
Angnatine, " God is high ; exalt thyself, He flees from thee : humble thyself, and
He stoops to thee." Because, as the Psalmist says, " Though high, yet hath He
respect unto the lowly, but the proud He knoweth afar off." So the Pharisee
returned from the temple as poor as he came, while the publican, whom he despised,
wondering how he dared to come, returned made rich by God's kiss of forgiveness
and peace. Little do men know who among them are blessed. God's angels of joy
do not always enter where they most naturally are supposed to go. {A. H.
Currier.) Self-exaltation and self-abasement : — I. Self-exaltation. 1. Thie
epirit is against God, on whom all depend, before whom all men are dust and
uncleanness. 2. Is ignorance, no man having real spiritual knowledge could allow
this spirit to dwell in him. 3. Is guilty ignorance, for the Old Testament Scriptures
expose and condemn this spirit (Ezek. xxi. 26 ; Deut. xvii. 20, viii. 14 ; Hab. iL 4 ;
Isa. Ixv. 6). 4. Is pleasant to corrupt human nature, flattering to natural pride.
6 is contrary to the mind of God. 6. Is B sabtle,' hjpooritical spirit, often
esAP. XYm.3 ST. LUKE. 957
appearing as religious. 7. Deceives the heart it oconpies. 8. Defeats itself, for it
ends in abasement and shame. II. Despising others. 1. This spirit is but
another form of pride ; others are despised in contrast with self, which is exalted.
2. Is against God, breaking both the law and the gospel, which enjoin loving neigh-
bour as self. 3. Is against the precepts and example of Jesus, who despised not
the poorest and outcast, the fallen and foul. III. Self-abasement. 1. Often
branded by worldly men as meanness of spirit or cowardice. 2. Is acceptable to
Ood,andaccordingtoChrist'sexample. 3. May bringonus some loss or inconvenience
for a season, that must be borne as a cross. 4. Has blessing now, and recompense
of honour hereafter. 5. The chief example of self-abasement being blessed thus,
is that of our Lord Himself (Phil. ii. 5-11). 6. In the publican's case, the blessing
began at once. Application : 1. " Every one " marks universal rule or principle.
2. Warn those who have not humbled themselves before God (Exod. x. 3). 3. No
justification possible for man, but by eelf-abasement in repentance and faith. 4.
The Holy Spirit convinces of sin, Ac. 5. Encourage the first thoughts of self-
abasement by examples of Ahab (1 Kings xxi. 9), and Manasseh (2 Chron. xxxiii.
12-19). {Flavel Cook.) The Plmrisee and tlie publican: — I. The aim of the
PABABLE. 1. Stated (ver. 9). 2. Suggestive — (1) That self -righteousness is possible.
(2) That self -righteousness and contempt for others are closely aUied. ^3) That
Eclf-righteonsness grows from the root of self-deception, (a) The self-righteous
calls upon a heart-searching God. (5) The self-righteous despise men. H.
Noticeable featubes of the parable. 1. The contrasted characters. (1) The
prayer of the Pharisee, (o) There is thanksgiving — but is it gratitude to God?
\b) There is reference to personal excellencies before God — but is it in humility ?
(c) Thus prayer may be a mockery, and therefore a sin. (2) The prayer of l^e
publican, (a) There is keen remorse— bat not despair. (&) There is deep awe in
God's presence — but an appeal to His mercy, (c) Thus, the most agonizing prayer
may be heartfelt and believing. III. The Lord's comment on the parable. 1. The
self-exalting prayer of the Pharisee He condemns. 2. The contrite petition of the
publican He approves. 3. The reality of answers to prayer He affirms. 4. Christ
here enunciates a solemn truth (ver. 14). Lessons : 1. Conformity to religions
forms no proof of true piety. 2. True penitence ever seen in self-abasement. (D. C.
Hughes, M.A.) The Pharisee and the publican : — Our Saviour's design in this
parable was — 1. To condemn a censorious disposition, a groundless contempt and
bad opinion of others. 2. To correct those false notions of religion which lead
men to overlook its principal duties. 3. To expose and reprove that part of self-
love which makes us proud of our righteousness. 4. To recommend repentance
and humility towards God as the first step to amendment. 6. Lastly, to caution us
against all pride and conceit in general. (J. Jortin, D.D.) Bemarks on the
parabte : — 1. How vain must be the hope of those who expect heaven because they
are not bo wicked as others. 2. Let us beware how by comparing ourselves with
others wo are led to despise them. 3. No sinner, after such an example as that of
the pabhcan, can have any excuse for not praying right, immediately. 4. Every
one of DS must be humbled before God, ii we would partake of His mercy. (N. W.
Taylor, D.D.) Belief in the virtues of others: — Who does not believe others
virtuous, would be found, were the secrets of his heart and life known, to be himself
Ticious. We may lay it down as an axiom, that those who are ready to suspect
others of being actuated by a regard to self-interest, are themselves selfish. Thieves
do not believe in the existence of honesty; nor rakes in virtue; nor mercenary
politicians in patriotism ; and tbe reason why worldhngs regard religious people as
hypocrites is their own want of religion — knowing that were they to profess a warm
regard for Christ, the glory of God, and the salvation of souls, they would be hypo-
crites. {T. Guthrie, D.D.) Satisfaction with external ceremonial acts : — Let us do
this Pharisee justice. He put in a claim for something done, as well as something left
undone : " I fast twice in the week ; I give tithes of all that I possess." But this
was ceremonial goodness. We must distinguish : moral goodness is goodness
always, and everywhere. Justice, mercy, truth, are the same under the tropic and
at the pole, in the year 4000 before Cbrist and 4000 after Christ. Sut ceremonies
are only good at certain times, and under certain circumstances. Fasting, if it
make a man peevish, is no duty. Tithes are a way of supporting God's ministers ;
but the Church or the State may provide another way, and then tithes cease to be
duties. Now observe why Pharisaical men find it easier to be content with cere-
monial observances than with moral goodness. They are definite acts, they can ba
counted. Twice a week the ceremony is done. Go over my fields ; not a tenth
86€ THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, ma,
sheaf or shock is left standing. Search vaj stalls : not a tenth colt or calf is kept
back. But moral goodness is more a state of heart than distinct acts. Take tha
law of love ; you cannot at night connt np, and say, *' It is all done," for love haa
no number of aois. {F. W. Robertson.) The Pharisee and the publican: —
Pharisee and publican, they both went up, as to a common home, to the great
national temple. The Pharisee and the publican had this in common — they under-
stood that prayer is a serious business — the highest business of man — that it is the
highest and, if I may so say, the most noble, the most remunerative occupation in
which a human being can possibly engage. Man has not always thus understood
the real capacity of his soul — the real greatness of his destiny. There are thousands
in this great city at this moment who do not understand it. Enervated by pleasure,
or distracted by pain, absorbed in the pursuit of material objects, driven hither and
thither by gusts of passion, slaves of the lust of the eyes or of the pride of life, men
forget too easily why they are here at all, and what they have to do in order to
fulfil the primal object of existence. When once a man has these fundamental
truths well in view, the importance of prayer becomes immediately apparent.
Prayer to something— prayer of some kind — is the higher language of humanity in
all places, at all times. Not to pray is to fall below the true measure of human
activity, just as truly as not to think. It is to surrender the noblest element of that
prerogative dignity which marks men oS as men from the brutes. Heathens have
felt this ; Deists have felt it. Jews felt it with an intensity all their own ; and,
therefore, when the two men, the Pharisee and the pubUcan, went np into the
temple to pray, they simply obeyed a law which is as old and wide as human
thought. They gave expression to an instinct which cannot be ignored without
wronging that which is noblest and best in our common humanity. Not to pray ia
not merely godless : it is, in the larger sense of the term, inhuman. They both
obeyed this common, this imperious instinct ; but here the difference begins. It
was not the practice of the Pharisee, or the fact of his thankfulness, which made
him less justified than the publican. What was it? My brethren, it was simply
this — that the Pharisee had no true idea at all present to his mind, impressed udoi»
his heart, of what it is that makes the real, the awful difference between God and Hm
creatures. It is not chiefly that God is self-existent while man's is a dependent
form of life. It is that God is, in Himself, in virtue of the necessary laws of His
being, that which we are not — that He is perfectly, essentially holy. Until a man
sees that the greatest difference of all between himself and his Creator lies, not in
metaphysical unlikeness of being, nor yet in the intellectual interval which must
separate the finite from the infinite mind, but pre-eminently in the moral chasm
which parts a sinfnl, a sinning will, from the one all-holy, he does not know what
he is doing in approaching God. Practically, for such a man, God is still a mer«
symbol, a name, whose most essential characteristic he has no eye for ; and thus,
like the Pharisee of old, he struts into the awful presence, as if it were the
presence of some moral equal, only invested with larger powers and with a wider
knowledge than his own. While the angels above prostrate themselves eternally
before the throne, crying, " Holy, holy, holy," proclaiming by that unvaried song
the deepest difference between created and uncreated life, the Pharisee has the
heart to turn in upon himself an eye of tranquil self-approval — to rejoice, forsooth,
that he is not as others — to recount his little charities and his petty austerities —
to enwrap himself in a satisfaction which might he natural if a revelation of the
most holy had never been made ; for observe, that the Pharisee does two things
which speak volumes as to the real state of his soul. 1. He compares himself
approvingly with others. " I thank Thee that I am not as other men, or even as
this publican." He assumes that in God's sight he is better than others. Bot I
ask, has he warrant for the assumption ? He supposes that sin is measured solely
by its quantity and weight, and not by the opportunities or absence of opportunities
in the sinner. We know — every Uving conscience knows — that it is otherwise. If
any one point is clear in our Lord's teaching it is this — that to whom much is given
of him shall mnch be required, and, as a consequence, that in the case of the man
to whom much is given a slight offence may be much more serious than a graver
crime in another, at least in the eyes of the Eternal Justice. This consideration
should prevent a readiness to compare ourselves with any others. We know
nothing about them. We know not what they might have been had they enjoyed
our opportunitiea. They may possibly be worse than we are ; they may be better.
2. The Pharisee reflects with satisfaction upon himself. He may, he thinks,
haT* done wrong in his day. Everybody, he observes, does so more or less.
mus. xvin.] -ST. LUKE. «5«
He is, as far as that goes, not worse than other people. In other matters he flatters
himself that, at least of late years, he is conspicuously better. He has kept out of
great sins which the law condemns and punishes. He could never by any possibility
have been taken as a member of the criminal classes. He fasts twice a week
according to rule : he pays his tithes conscientiously : he is fully in every particular
up to the current standard of religious respectability. Surely, he thinks in his
fcecret heart, surely God cannot but feel what he feels himself — that he bears a very
high character — that he is entitled to general respect. And the publican has
nothing to plead on his own behalf. He may have been a Zaccheus ; he may have
been a legal robber; but he can think of himself, whatever he was, in one light
only — as a sinner standing before one Being only, the holy, the everlasting God.
The Pharisee is nothing to him, not because he is indifferent, but because he is
mentally absorbed — prostrate before One who has filled his whole mind and heart
with a sense of nnworthiness. " Out of the deep have I called to Thee, O Lord
Lord, hear my voice I Oh, let Thine ears consider well the voice of my oomplainL
If Thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss, 0 Lord, who may abide
it ? But there is mercy with Thee." That is his cry. That cry is condensed into
the blow on the chest — into the "God be merciful to me, a sinner." (Canon
Liddon.) True thoughts of oneself :— In the old tombs of our cathedrals — in this
cathedral three centuries ago — there were frequently two figures on the monuments,
one of the deceased king, or knight, or bishop, resting above in his full robea of
state as he wore them abroad in life, and another, beneath, of a thin, emaciated
skeleton, which recalled to the eyes of the beholder the realities of the grave below.
It is well, Christian brethren, to have in thought this double image of ourselves—
what we are before the world, if we like, but, in any case, what we are before our
God. It was the Pharisee's misery that he thought only of how he looked to others.
It was the publican's blessing that he cared only for what he was before the eyes of
God, Let us struggle, let us pray, while yet we may, for a real knowledge of our-
eelves. Let us endeavour to keep an account of that inward history which belongs
to each one of us, and which will be fully unravelled at the Judgment— to which
every day that passes adds its something — of which God knows all. To do this
may take trouble, but the result is worth a vast deal of trouble. Anything is better,
in religious matters, than that which St. Paul calls " beating the air "—an aimless
religion which moves perpetually in a vicious circle, because it has no compass —
because it has no object. The more we know of God, the more we shall have reason
to be dissatisfied with self— the more earnest will be our cry for help and mercy to
Jesus Christ, who took our nature upon Him, and who died upon the cross that He
might save the lost, that He might save us. There is no real reason for anxiety if
we will but come to Him simply with broken hearts. Now, as in the old time,
♦* He filleth the hungry with good things, but the rich He hath sent empty away."
The Pharisee and the publican stand before Him in the ranks of His Church from
age to age. They are, in fact, eternal types of human character, and to the end of
time, the world's judgment between them is falsified, and this man — the publican —
goes down to that last home which awaits us all, justified, rather than the other.
Jlbid.) The Pharisee and the publican:— SnBer me to attempt to disabuse your
minds of some of the misconceptions which have grown up around this parable,
and which prevent (as it seems to me) the real point of its teaching coming home
to our hearts. 1. In the first place, I think that we generally fail to understand
the respective positions of the two men in regard of character. There ought, I
think, to be no mistake about it that the Pharisee was the better man of the two in
every practical sense. Of course it is possible that this Pharisee was a mere hypo-
crite, Uke many of his class, and that his account of himself was false ; but there
is no hint of such a thing, and it would be a perfectly gratuitous supposition.
Taking his own account of himself as substantially true, it cannot be denied that
he had much canse to give thanks to God for what he was. If he had thanked
God with humility that he was not Uke other men, remembering that his compara>
tive innocence was due to God's grace and to the advantages of his position and
training, he would have done well. I do not know how we can thank God too much
for keeping us back from eviL But he gave thanks that he was not even as that
publican, and this of course goes against him in our estimation, because we know
(hat the publican was nearer to heaven than he was. And yet, if he had humbly
thanked God that he had been saved from the bad traditions of the publican's
business, and the bad surroundings of the publican's life, we could not have blamed
bim. lliere are some occupations, some ways of making a living, so beset with.
860 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xyih.
temptations, in wbich a man is so dependent for Boccess npon his own sharp deal-
tngs, in which he is so driven to take advantage of the follies and vices of others,
that we may well thank God that we have been delivered from them. It is indeed
Bad to see Christian people entangled in these perilous and hurtful pursuits, obliged
to defend themselves from the accusations of conscience by building up false and
unchristian principles of morality. 2. Another misconception there is which I wish
to point out to you, and that is the mistaken notion (as it seems to me) that the
publican was actually justified by his lowly demeanour and self-condemning words.
Our Lord does not say that. He says the publican was justified rather than the
other. I imagine that neither was truly justified, but of the two the publican was
nearer being justified than the Pharisee. Far as he yet was from the kingdom of
heaven, he was not nearly so far as the Pharisee, for he was in the right way. In
his humility he stood as it were on the threshold, and there was nothing to hinder
his entering in if he was prepared for the necessary sacrifice ; whereas the Pharisee
had missed the entrance altogether, and was getting further and further from it.
But never let us think that our Saviour meant this for an example of sufficient
repentance. If the publican went back, as so many do after the same outbreak of
self-reproach, to his exactions and extortions, to hia tricks of trade, his petty
deceits, and his unrighteous gains — if he went home from the temple to cook hie
accounts with the government, or to sell up some poor wretch who could not meet
his demands ; do you think that his beating upon his breast and calling himself a
miserable sinner would avail him aught? Nay, it would but increase his
condemnation, because it would show that his conscience was alive to his sin.
What our Lord means to impress upon us in this parable is the fatal danger of
spiritual pride, which made the Pharisee, with all his real cause for thanksgiving,
to be further ofF from the kingdom and righteousness of God than the publican
whom he despised. The spirit of self -righteousness is such a blinding spirit ; it
warps and distorts the whole spiritual vision. What shonld have been a prayer in
the mouth of the self-righteous Pharisee was turned into a glorification of himself ;
and instead of asking God to make him better, he told God how good he was.
And this brings me to the third and last misconception of which I shall speak. It
is that of imagining that the spirit of self-righteousness must always take the same
form which it presents in the parable ; that Pharisaism must always be the proud
relying apon ^e outward observances of religion ; but, in fact, as a very little
observation will show ns, it has as many different forms as there are fashions in
religion. The modem British Pharisee amongst ourselves, when he gave thanks
that he was not like other men, would never think of speaking Uke the Pharisee is
the parable ; he would more probably say something of this sort — " God, I thank
Thee that I am not as other men are, priest-ridden, idolaters, superstitious, or even
as this benighted Ritualist. I never fast, I never think of giving tithes," and so
on. The error of the Pharisee was in substance this, that he thanked God that he
punctually performed those duties which came quite natural to him, and that he
sought to turn God's attention to other people's faults by way of exalting his own
merits. Now, this is an error which is constantly reappearing under one guise or
other. We are always disposed to thank God that we are not as this Dissenter, or
as that Bomanist, when all the while they may be living nearer to God than we in
honesty of intention and purity of heart. We are always apt to imagine that we
can commend our faith by protesting against other people's errors, and our practice
by condemning faults to which we are not tempted. (R. WitUerbotham, M.A.)
Acceptable and unacceptable prayer : — 1. A contrast in attitude and manner. 2. A
contrast in spirit. 3. A contrast in prayer. 4. A contrast in reception. (J. R.
Thomson, M.A.) Tht purpose of the parable: — From the introduction it might
be inferred that the chief purpose for which the parable was spoken was to rebuke
and subdue the spirit of self-righteousness. To do this effectively is not easy,
though that is no reason why it should not be attempted. Another service, however,
was probably also kept in view by the Speaker, which was much more likely to be
accomplished, viz., to revive the spirit of the contrite, and embolden them to hope
in God's mercy. This is a service which contrite souls greatly need to have
rendered them, for they are slow to believe that they can possibly be the objects
of Divine complacency. Such in all probability was the publican's state of mind,
not only before but even after he had prayed. He went down to his house justified
in God's sight, but not, we think, in his own. He had not " found peace," to xu*
a eorrent phrase. In technical language, we might speak of him as objectively, but
not subjectively, justified. In plain English, the fact was so, bat he was not aware
CHIP, xvin.] 8T, LUKE. 361
that the fact was so. In saying this, we do not forget that there is an instinct,
call it rather the still small voice of the Holy Spirit, which tells a penitent, " there
is hope in God," " there is forgiveness with Him, that He may be feared " ; "wait for
God, as they that wait for the dawn." But a man who beats his breast, and dares
not look up, and stands afar off in an attitude which seems an apology for existence,
has some difficulty in trusting this instinct. To fear and despond suits his mood
rather than to hope. There are physical reasons for this, not to speak of spiritual
ones. The whole behaviour of the publican speaks to a great religious crisis going
on in his souL For that beating of the breast, and that downcast eye, and that
timid posture, are not a theatrical performance got up for the occasion. They bear
witness to a painful, possibly a protracted, soul-struggle. But one who passes
through such a crisis suffers in body as well as in mind. His nerves are sorely
shaken, and in this physical condition he is apt to become a prey to fear and
depression. He starts at his own shadow, dreads the postman, trembles when he
opens a letter lest it should contain evil tidings, can scarce muster courage to go
into a dark room, or to put out the light when he goes to bed. How hard for a
man in this state to take cheerful views of his spiritual condition, to rejoice in the
sunlight of Divine grace. In the expressive phrase of Bunyan, used with reference
to himself when he was in a similar state, such an one is prone rather to " take the
shady side of the street." Is it improbable that one object Christ had in view iu
uttering this parable and the judgment with which it winds up, was to take such
contrite and fear-stricken ones by the hand and conduct them over to the sunny
side? (A. B. Bruce, D.B.) Forgiveness most needed: — A friend of mine— a
tnisBionary preacher — being once called upon to give spiritual consolation to a sick
man on the point of death, asked him what he could do for him. " Pray for me,"
was the reply. My friend said that he would do so most willingly, but added, " For
what shall I ask?" The man answered, "You know best." The preacher told
him that this was not so, and that he, himself, could alone know what he wanted.
Still the dying man would say nothing but, " You know best. I leave it to you."
At length my friend left him, promising to return in a short time, and hoping that
then he might be able to say what it was he wanted to pray for. When the preacher
returned, the man directly said, " I have been a great sinner ; I want forgiveness."
{Bitliop Waltham How.) After confession of tin comet forgivenesi: — ^We do not
always know that we are forgiven ; we are not told that the publican knew he was
pardoned, althoagh I think that as he went down to his house he must have
had some sense of the fact that he was accepted of God. But still we do not
always know of our forgiveness. I once visited a canal boatman on his death-bed,
and I never remember to have seen a man more affected or more repentant of
his sins. Yet he could not grasp the fact of his forgiveness. I tried all I could
to bring it home to him, but unsuccessfully. Yet in my own mind I have no doubt
that he was forgiven. In order to be pardoned I do not think it necessary to have
a firm conviction that we are pardoned. In fact, it is logically absurd to think so.
(Und.) The humble prayer the best : — You can fill an empty jug with clear water
from the spring ; bat it would be foolishness to bring to the spring a jug already
full. The Lord has no blessing for the heart that is full of haughtiness ; tluit He
reserves for the heart emptied of self. And remember that, after all, it is the
worthiest who are the most humble. It is the best filled stalk of com that
bends its head the lowliest. (Sunday School Timet.) The Church it a place for
prayer: — These two men went up to the temple "to pray" — not to meet their
friends, nor that they might comply with a respectable custom, nor for the purpose
of agreeably passing away an hour in varying the ordinary tedium of every-day
engagements. No, but to pray. And surely, this should be our great object when
we come up to the temple of God. Many seem to think, that to hear the sermon
is the great end they have in view when they enter a church ; but God has said, ,
" My house shall be called an house of prayer." If we had a petition to present
to an earthly monarch, our great endeavour on entering the presence chamber
would be to approach the throne, and make our wants and desires known. We
would not think it the most important part of the proceeding to have a little
conversation with the servants or attendants that stood around, nor would we feel
satisfied by their giving us some information as to the character of the aagust
personage who is indeed present himself, the way in which his favour may be
oonoiliated, or his gifts procured. These things might be very important, bat the
king, the king ia Uie absorbing idea — the servant is a minor consideration. (A.
QladweUt B.A.) The Pharisee stood and prayed thoa with hi mnelt-— Lesiotif
B62 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xrot
from the PJiarisee''t prayer: — There are three cantioDB which the Pharisee im.
preBBeB on he ; " for these things were written for onr learning," " he being
dead, yet cpeaketh." And in the first place, let ns beware of pride. This
is the great lesson the parable inculcates. Spiritual pride incapacitates a man
for receiving the blessings of the gospel ; it is the great obstacle which the
Spirit of God has to straggle with and overthrow. Secondly, let as beware
of formality in religion. We are all bom Pharisees — more anxious to appear
than to be Christians. To conclude, let as beware of resting in anything short
of the atoning blood of tbe Lord Jesns Christ. {A. Gladwell, B.A.) Pharisaical
prayers: — •' God, I thank Thee" — such in spirit, and almost in word, was
the expression of the great Boman historian, Tacitus — "I thank Thee I am
not as the miserable sect called by the infamous name of Christians, odious
to all mankind." *' God, we thank Thee," said the philosopher of France, '•that
we are not like those benighted men who converted the barbarous tribes, or erected
the Gothic cathedrals." " I thank Thee," said the splendid Pope Leo X., " that
I am not as this ignorant monk, Martin Luther." "God, we thank Thee," said
the great movers of the political and social revolutions of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries in England, "that we are not as those fanatics," the blind poet
of Bunhill Bow, and the wandering tinker of Bedford, or the scrupulous bishop
who could not accept the Act of Settlement, or the Lincolnshire pastor who spent
his long life in itinerant preaching; and yet those early Christian martyrs, those
medieeval missionaries and monk of Wittenberg, were mightier in the long run
even than Tacitus, or the encyclopedists of France, or the philosophers of the
Benaissance. And those wayward Christians in England, as they seemed to be,
John Milton, the author of " Paradise Lost," John Banyan, the author of *• The
Pilgrim's Progress, " Bishop Ken, author of the Morning and Evening Hymns, John
Wesley, the author of the religious revival in England, went down to their graves
as much deserving of the praise of true statesmen and philosophers, even as
Clarendon and Bolingbroke, as Walpole and Hume. (Dean Stanley.) ^ The
prayer of pride : — When Philip, king of Macedonia, laid siege to the fair city of
Samos, he told the citizens that he came a-wooing to it ; but the orator well
replied, that it was not the fashion in their counky to come a-wooing with a
fife and a drum : so here we may behold this Pharisee in the posture of a beggar
or petitioner, " going up to the temple to pray," and yet telling God he standetta
in no need of Him ; as if, saith Chrysostom, a beggar, that were to crave an alms,
should hide his ulcers, and load himself with chains, and rings, and bracelets,
and cloUie himself in rich and costly apparel ; as if a beggar should ask an alma
in the robes of a king. His " heart did flatter him in secret, and with his month
he did kiss his hands," as Job speaketh (Job zxxi. 27). Coming before hia
Physician, he hideth his sores, and showeth his sound and healthful parts, in a
dangerous case ; like a man strack in a vein, that voideth his best blood, and
retaineth his worst. And this is against the very nature of prayer ; which should
lay as at the feet of God, as nothing before Him ; which should raise itself and
take its flight on the wings of humility and obedience ; which shoold contract
the mind in itself, and secure it from pride; which should depress the soul
in itself, and defend it from vainglory ; which should so fill it that there may
be no room for hypocrisy. Then our devotion will ascend as incense, "pure and
holy " (Exod. zxx. 35), seasoned with the admiration of God's majesty, and the
detestation of onrselves. {R. Farindon, D.D.) The Pharisee's mistake ; — The
mistake of this Pharisee was, that he compared his outward life with the lives of
disreputable people, and so took to himself the credit of exalted superiority.
He should have looked in the other direction. If yon would come to a just estimate
of your character, look at those better than you, and compare yourself with them ;
look at those whom God has set for onr examples, the prophets, the apostles,
and the Lord Jesus Christ, and measure yourself by them; look at the holy
ten commandments, and try yourself rigidly by their requirements; and this
Pharisaic trust and pride in your own goodness will melt away like ^ost before
the sun. (J. A. Seiss, D.D.) An egotistical utterance : — With what prominence
and frequency he flourishes the big <' 1 1 " <* I thank thee that I am not as
other men." "I ftist twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess."
The whole utterance contains thirty-three words, of which one refers to God,
five are " I's," and the remaining twenty-seven are either commendations of
himself, or allusions to others in unfavourable contrast with his own superiority.
8eU— self— self — in atmost intensity rons throngh the whole of it. There is
CHAP, xnii.l 8T. LUKE. 368
not a trace of genoine devotion in the entire piece. There is a marvelloua
thrusting forward of ego, to which all the references to God, the temple, aud other
people, are made subservient. {Ibid.) The fine prayer: — The celebrated Pro-
fessor Francke, who founded the great Orphan Asylum, in Halle, was walking
one day in the fields with one of his colleagues. All at once the voice of a person
praying drew their attention. They stopped, and on looking observed behind
a bush two children on their knees, one of whom was praying fervently to God.
The two professors listened, and were edified with the devotion which the young
Christians seemed to possess. When the prayer was ended, the children rose.
*' Well," said the one who led the devotions, with a self-complacent air, " didn't
I make a fine prayer ? " This last remark caused Francke and his companion
a painful surprise. But after a moment's reflection, one of them remarked :
" This child has shown openly what often passes in our minds. How often, when
God has disposed us to pray with some fervour in presence of our brethren, do
we rise from our knees with a secret vanity ; and if shame did not restrain us, we
should ask with this child, 'have not I made a fine prayer?'" The poorest
the best : — Lucian, in one of his dialogues, relates the case of two men going into
the theatre to play on the harp : one harp was covered with gold and jewels,
but its strings broke, and the admiration of the spectators was changed to
contempt ; the harp of the other man was a very poor and common one, yet it
gave out the sweetest sound, and delighted all. The former harp represents the
Pharisee, who plays upon his outside worth and fair appearance ; the latter harp
resembles the poor publican. (Preacher^s Promptuary.) Need, not magnificence,
the best aid to prayer : — When Morales, the painter, was invited by Phflip the
Second to court, he came in such a magnificent costume, that the King, in anger,
ordered a sum of money to be paid him, and so dismissed him. The next time
they met he appeared in a very different dress, poor, old, and hungry, which so
touched the heart of the King, that he immediately provided him with a revenue
which kept him in comfort for all the future. So when men come to the throne of
grace it is not their magnificence but their very want which touches the heart of
God. {W. Baxendale.) Self-praise in prayer :—B.iB prayer is like the pillar of
brass which Trajan erected to himself in Bome, and which he covered with the
record of his own triumphs. His prayer is a sort of monument over the tomb
of his own dead heart, upon which he inscribes his fancied virtues. (J. Wells.)
God be merciftil to me a sinner. Humility of prayer: — I. When do wb pbay
WITH HUMILITY? Learn this from the publican. It is when we acknowledge
the infinite majesty of God and our own misery. II. Wht must wb bb htjmblb
IN otJB PBATEBS? 1. God demands that we should pray with humility. 2.
Reason itself teaches the same. Who would pay any attention to a proud
beggar? III. What wb abb to do in obdeb to leaen to fbat with humilitj.
A humble prayer can only proceed from a humble heart. Therefore endeavour to
become humble of heart, by employing the following means : 1. Being convinced
that humility is a grace of God, pray to Him that He may give you this beautiful
virtue. 2. Call frequently to your mind what you are in real truth. (1) What
is your single self in comparison with the more than one thousand millions of
men? You seem to disappear in the prodigious multitude. (2) What are
you relative to yonr body ? Dust and ashes. (3) What are you relative to your soul?
True, your soul is the image and Ukeness of God ; but what have you made of
this Divine image by your sins of the past and of the present? And as to the
future, when you reflect on your sins, have you not every reason to tremble before
the severe judgment of God? 3. When you approach God in prayer, call to mind
who God is in all His splendour and majesty, and who you are — a wretched sinner,
a beggar sunk into the greatest misery, a culprit sentenced to death. And then,
overwhelmed with the burden of your misery, speak from the depth of jrour heart
to Him who alone is able to deliver you. And if you are troubled with distractions
during your prayer, humble yourself again before your Lord and Master, and
Implore Him that He may not suffer you to commit new sins by neghgence ;
bat cease not praying in epite of distractions, and your prayer will be acceptable
to the Lord. {J. Schmitt.) The publican's prayer .-—This is the only thought
which befits a living man in the presence of his Creator. What other link can
come between the Ood of holiness and love, and the sinner, but mercy 1 " God
be mercifol." I. In these few words of the contrite soul there is an aboumbnt
VBioa Oos wnx itbvbb bejbct. It is the plea God loves. " GU>d be mereif ol
te me because I am a sinner." David knew that blessed argument when he Mid :
8ft4 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR [ohap. xvm,
'•L«rd pardon my iniquity, for it is great." God has made a book, and it is for
sinners ; God has filled it with promises, and they are for sinners. He haa
given His own Son, and it is only for sinners. II. Thb way to obtain thii
FiTTiNO CONDITION OF MIND. It Is to be readied in the same way as the pablioan
attained it. His whole mind appears to have been occupied with Qod, the rest
vas only secondary. Most persons when they try to cultivate penitence, look into
themselves. It is the study of God, not of ourselves, which makes the penitent
mind. Nothing makes sin seem so sinful and so hateful as the contemplation of the
love of God. in. Whoevbb wooid be tkult a penitent must havb biobt
VIEWS of mebct. It is an easy thing to say " God have mercy upon me." Upon
the just apprehension of what this mercy is depends the whole power and aeospt-
ability of the prayer. If God, simply by an a«t of sovereignty, forgave a sia
and remitted the punishment, it would not be mercy. Before God can show
Himself merciful to a sinner He must receive a satisfaction and an equivalent
That satisfaction is Christ. {J. Vaughan, 3I.A.) The cry that opetis heaven: —
1. When I come to analyze this prayer of the publican, I find in it, in the first
place, an appreciation of his sinfulness. He proved himself honourable, and
there were a great many admirable things about him, and yet he utters this cry of
self-abnegation. What was the matter with him ? Had he lost his reason ?
Had some low, contemptible cowardice seized upon him ? O, no. For the first
time in all his life he saw himself. He saw he was a sinner before God, utterly
helpless and undone. At what moment that discovery fiashed upon him I know
not ; but standing there in the court of the temple, surrounded by all the
demonstrations of holiness and power, his soul has extorted from it the anguish-
bitten cry of my text. 2. I pursue the analysis of my subject still further, and
I find in this publican's prayer the fact that he expected nothing except mercy.
He might have said : " I am honest in all my dealings. When ten dollars are
paid to me for tax, I hand it over to the Government. If you look over all my
books you will find them right. My life has been upright and respectable."
He made no such plea. He comes and throws himself on God's mercy. Are
there any in this house who propose, by making their life right, to commend
themselves to God ? Do you really think you can break off your bad habits f
Where then are we to be saved ? Is there no balm for this mortal wound of my
soul 7 Is there no light for this Arctic night ? Is there no hope for a lost sinner ?
Yes ; and that is what I came to tell you about. Mercy. Free mercy. Pardoning
mercy. Suffering mercy. Infinite mercy. Omnipotent mercy. Everlasting
mercy. S. I push this analysis of my text one step further, and I find that this
man saw that mercy would be of no advantage to him unless he pleaded for it.
He did not say :" If I am to be saved, I will be saved, and if I am to be lost,
I will be lost. There is nothing for me to do." He knew that a thing worth
having is worth asking for, and therefore, he makes the agonizing cry of my
text. Mark you, it was an earnest prayer, and if you look through this Bible
you will see that all the prayers that were answered were earnest prayers. Bat,
mark you this, the publican's prayer was not only earnest, it was humble.
The Pharisee looked up ; the publican looked down. I remark further,^ there was
a ringing confidence in that prayer. He knew he would get the blessing if he asked
for it ; and he did get it. (De W. Talmage, D.D.) A iinner praying for mercy : —
I. The blessing he asks is mbbcy : " God be merciful to me." Did you ever
ask yourselves what mercy is ? It means, in common language, pity shown to the
miserable for pity's sake. Strictly speaking, it ceases to be mercy, if the miserable
have any claim on us. It takes then the character of justice. And mercy
has exactly the same meaning in Holy Scripture. It signifies God's kindnea»
extended to miserable man of God's own pure goodness. XL We may turn now to
THE CHAKACTEB IN WHICH THIS MAN PBATS. He says, " God be merciful to me
a sinner." He prays in a character that corresponds exactly with the temple-
services, and also with the blessing he supplicates. There at the altar falls the
sacrifice, and who needs a sacrifice but the sinful 7 He pleads for mercy, and
who needs mercy but the guilty ? And it a blessed thing for a sinful man to
be thus wiUing to take his own proper ground when he prays. He must take
it, if he means to obtain God's mercy. All the mercy that exists in God, bound-
less as it is, is mercy for sinners. III. Observe now the mannxb in which this
woBSBippBB PBATs. And here again all is in harmony. His manner accords well
with his character and his petition. 1. He is a sinner, and consequently he
prays most humbly. 2. This publican prayed also very earnestly. He " smote
<5HAP. xvni.] ST. LUKE. 3fl5
«pon his breast," No matter what led him to do so. It was doubtless a mixtura
of feelings. Indignation against himself, a sense of his own pollution and
misery, a thrilling apprehension of coming wrath — these things took possession
of his mind ; they agitated him ; and like a man driven to extremities he
could not restrain his agitation, he smote himself as he cried for mercy.
He became exceedingly earnest in his prayer for it. He prayed for nothing else ;
he thought of nothing else. Mercy is everything with him. IV. There is yet another
circumstance in the parable to be noticed — the success op this man's prateb. 1,
It was, first, abundant success, success beyond his petition. 2. His success was
also immediate. {C. Bradley, M.A.) The ■publican's prayer : — I. Observe thk
OBJECT or THB PUBLicAu's PBAYEB. 1. The light of nature teaches man there is a
<Tod, a supreme Being, and Governor of the world. There is not a rational creature
to be found upon the earth but admits this truth. And, hence, all attend to
fiome kind of worship. 2. Eevelation makes known to man the true God in
Uis nature and attributes, and exhibits His conduct towards the children of
men. 3. But we must remember that God is never savingly known, even
by those who have the Volume of Divine revelation, by the unassisted powers
of nature. Hence, in addition to Revelation, it is necessary that the naind be
enlightened, in order to its perception of Divine truth. And to do this is the
exclusive prerogative of the Holy Spirit. II. The subject or his petition—
*' mercy " ; and the description he gives of himself — " a sinner." " God be merciful
to me a sinner 1 " 1. On the part of man, here are two things implied : (1) Misery.
A sense of deep wretchedness, as being sunk in iniquity — totally depraved, and in
every part polluted. The truly awakened sinner feels that he is spiritually diseased ;
and that, " from the crown of his head to the soul of his foot, he is wounds, and
bruises, and putrefying sores." (2) A deep sense of unworthiness. The truly con-
trite soul brings no qualifications ; no merit, no sacrifice of his own ; but comes as
ft sinner, and having for his only plea, the mercy of God in Christ Jesus. 2. There
«re also two things, in the exercise of mercy, on the part of God, which the
epiritually enlightened sinner especially regards. (1) Pity, or compassion. When
the Holy Spirit brings the sinner to a saving knowledge of God, He enables him to
look up to his heavenly Father, as the God of compassion. (2) Pardon, or forgive-
ness. *• I, even I," says God, " am He that pardoneth iniquity, transgression, and
sin." The Holy Spirit teaches all true believers that the justice of God is for them,
and on their side, as well as His mercy. III. What this pbayeb iuplies, when
orFERED TO GoD IN A PBOPEB SPIRIT. 1. True humiliation for sin. Even after
the manifestation of forgiving love, the man who enjoys it feels deeply humbled
before God. 2. This prayer, when offered in a proper spirit, implies evangelical
repentance. God says (Ezek. xixvi. 31). 3. This prayer implies submission to
the righteons judgment of God. In conclusion, we learn from this subject — 1.
That tile ground (or cause) of a sinner's justification is out of himself. 2. Learn
that no outward reformation, even though accompanied by the strictest attention
to religious duties, can save the soul. 3. Learn that no sensible sinner, no humble
{>enitent, need feel discouraged in approaching the God of mercy for pardon. 4.
Learn, finally, to beware lest you maJce the mercy of God an excuse for your con-
tinuance in sin. (T. Gibson, M.A.) A sermon for the worst man on earth: — I.
The FACT OF binnebsbip IS NO REASON FOB DESPAiB. 1. This man who was a
sinner yet dared to approach the Lord. Emphatically he applies to himself the
guilty name. He takes the chief place in condemnation, and yet he cries, " God be
merciful to me the sinner." If this man who was the sinner found forgiveness,
•0 also shall yon if you seek it in the same way. 2. Next, remember that you may
not only find encouragement in looking at the sinner who sought his God, but in
the God whom he sought. Sinner, there is great mercy in the heart of God. ^ 3.
Moreover, the conception of salvation implies hope for sinners. That salvation
which we preach to yon every day is glad tidings for the guilty. Salvation by
^ace implies that men are guilty. The very name of Jesus tells us that He shall
save His people from their sins. 4. Let me further say that, inasmuch as that
salvation of God is a great one, it mnst have been intended to meet great sins.
Think you God would have given His dear Son to die as a mere superfluity ? 6. If
yon will think of it again, there must be hope for sinners, for the great commands
of the gospel are most suitable to sinners. 6. If you want any other argument —
«nd I hope you do not — I would put it thus : great sinners have been saved. All
sorts of sinners are being saved to-day. II. A sense of binnebsbip ooNntBS ho
mioHT TO KBBCK. YoQ wili wondet why I mention this self -evident trath ; bak I
866 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xvm..
must mention it because of a common error which does great mischief. This mait'
was yerv sensible of his sin insomuch that he called himself ihb sinner ; bat h»
did not urge his sense of sin as any reason why he should find mercy. I want you^
therefore, to learn that a sense of sin gives no man a right to grace. III. My third
observation is this: the knowledqe of thbib sinmebship odides aibn to bioht
ACTION. When a man has learned of the Hol^ Spirit that he is a sinner, then by ft.
kind of instinct of the new life, he does the right thing in the right way. 1. Tiiis
man went straight to God. 2. He went with a full confession of sin. 3. Ha
appealed to mercy only. FV. The beuevino oontsssion of sinnbbship is the
WAT OF PEACE. " God be merciful to me a sinner," was the prayer, but what wa»
the answer? Listen to this: "This man went down,'' &o. {C. H. Spurgeon.)
The penitent's prayer : — The arrangement of these words is perfect. On one side is
Deity alone — without an attribute, far grander in that soUtude than if ten thou-
sand titles had been added to His name — " God."^ On the other— thrown into the
greatest possible distance— is man ; and he, too, is alone ; and his whole being is
put into one single expression — it is not a description, it is a synonymy—" me, &.
eiimer." And between these two extremes — spanning the distance, and uniting the
ends— is one link— simple— grand-sufficient — " mercy," nothing but " mercy " —
" God be merciful to me a sinner." I may mention, for the sake of those who do
not happen to know it, that there are three points in the original, which could not
well be rendered in our version ; but which make this strong language stronger
still. There it is, " the God," and " the sinner " ; as if the publican wished to give
the greatest possible definiteness to all his expressions ; — " the God " — the good
God " be merciful to me " ; as though he were the only man on the face of th&
earth who needed the forgiveness — no comparisons, no distractions, no deductions ;
the mind concentrated, the mind absorbed, upon the one guilty self, " Tfie God be^
merciful to me the sinner." And in the very phrase which he selects — " be merci-
ful," there is rolled up atonement ; it is, " be propitiate." Doubtless that man
had been taught to see mercy all in sacrifice ; to recognize no pardon out of cove-
nant, and no covenant out of blood. " The God be propitiate to me the sinner."
I think you will see, brethren, that there is great force in tiat distinction of
language. Weakness always deals in generalities. A man is general in his
thoughts and his expressions till he begins to be in earnest ; and the very moment
he begins to be in earnest, he is individual. Hear men, as men generally speak
about God. They say, " the Almighty " ; and they say, " the Almighty is very good,"
and, "we are all of us bad," and, "none of us are as good as we ought to be " ;.
that is the language of natural religion, if, indeed, it be religion at all. It is loose,
because it cannot afford to be accurate ; it shuns just what a spiritual man loves —
personality. How different is the teaching of the Holy Ghost 1 The soul cannot
be particular enough ; it lives in exactnesses ; it individualizes everything. " The
God be propitiate to me the sinner." To make true prayer — or, which is the same
thing to make true peace, two things are wanted. Some persons, to a certain
extent, attain the one, and some the other ; while, because they do not, at the same
moment, attain both, the end is frustrated. The truth lies in unity. The one
thing is to exalt God very high ; and the other, to demean self very low. If yon
lift up the attributes of God, and do not proportionably debase yourself, you are in,
danger of running into presumption. If you take deep views of your sinfulness,
and do not, at the same time, magnify the grace of God, you will run into despair.
A God high in His glory, and self down in the dust, that is best ; and let me advise
you to look well to it whether you are doing these two things with parallel steps.
tJ. Vaughan, M.A.) The ingredients of^ real mercy ;— To make forgiveness— to
make real " mercy " — four things are required. God must be Himself just in doing
it. The forgiven man must be perfectly sure that he is forgiven. The forgiveness
must not inoUne the forgiven man to go and sin again, but it must stop him. And
the rest of mankind must see no encouragement in that man's pardon to go and do
like him, but rather see the strongest argument not to do it. Now, in God's way of
" mercy " these four things meet. First, God is just, because He never remits a>
penalty till He has received an equivalent ; the sinning soul has died in its cove-
nant Head, and God keeps His word ; and the very same attribute which compel*
God to punish man out of Christ, in Christ obUges God to pardon Him. Secondly,
that forgiven man can never doubt his acceptance, because he knows that the blood
of the Lord Jesus Christ outweighs the universe. The infinity of Christ is in the
ransom. Either he is perfectly pardoned, or the Son of God has died in vain.
Thirdly, that pardoned man cannot go and sin again, because, unless he love*
CHAP, xvuul ST, LUKE. Sff7
Christ, he is not forgiven ; and if he does love Christ, he cannot love the sin which
crucified Him ; he cannot go and do lightly again that which grieves and wounds
Him whom now his soul holds more precious than all the world. And, fourthly, the
whole world in that man has seen sin in its greatest possible magnitude, because it
has seen sin drag down to this earth and crucify the Lord of life and glory ; th«
law is more honourable than if the whole world had perished ; since, sooner than
one iota of that law should be set aside, the Son of God has kept that law by His life,
and satisfied it by His death ; so sin is made viler by the very act which cancels it;
and pardon is no more the parent of peace, than peace is the mother of holiness.
That is mercy. {Ibid.) The publicaii's prayer: — I. The substance of this prayer
evinces deep conviction o» mn. II. Hblplessness. He admits the righteousness
of his condemnation, and sues for mercy. III. Faith. He took hold of God's
promises, and made his appeal. {W. M. Taylor, D.D.) Earnestness is brief:—
Earnestness does not express itself in long, inflated, pompous sentences. It is
brief ; it is simple. The moment has arrived when victory, long doabtfal as the
tide of success ebbed and flowed, may be won by one splendid, dashing, daring
attack — the order is given in one brief word. Charge ! On the distant waves a flag
is seen, now sinking in the trough and again rising on the crest of the foaming
billows ; and beneath that signal, clinging to the fragment of a vessel that lies
many fathoms down in the depths of ocean, are two human forms — and all the cry
that sounds from stem to stern is, " A wreck, a wreck 1 " and all the order, " Lower
the boat 1 " words hardly uttered when she drops on the water, and, palled by stout
rowers, is leaping over the waves to the rescue. One late in the deserted streets
sees the smoke creep, and the flames begin to flash and flicker from a house whoso
tenants are buried in sleep ; he bounds to the door and thunders on it — all his cry,
•* Fire, fire 1 " Peter sinks amid the boisterous waves of Galilee and all the prayer
of lips the cold water kisses is, as he stretches out his hand to Jesus, " Save me, I
perish I " And with the brief, urgent earnestness of one who seeing his danger,
knows that there is no time, and believing in God's great mercy, feels that there ia
no need for long prayers, the publican, like a man who in falling over a crag catches
the arm of a friendly tree, throws his whole soul into this cry, these few, blessed,
accepted words, " God be merciful to me a sinner I " {T. Guthrie, D.D.) Justi-
fication as the result of prayer : — Brethren, we have here a pregnant word as to the
possibilities and capabilities of worship. Two men went up into the temple to
pray, and one of the two returned to his house justified. What is it to be justified »
All true doctrine teaches us a great difference between being justified and being
sanctified. Justification is an act, sanctification is a process. Both are of God.
But whereas the one may be the act of a moment, restoring the sinner to the
Divine acceptance by a simple forgiveness through the blood of Jesus, the
other in most cases is the work of a lifetime, consisting in the gradual formation of
a new character by the daily influence of the Spirit of Grace. There are other uses
of the word, but this is its meaning when it is applied accurately. Now, of course,
there in a sense in which justification stands at the beginning of the Christian
course, and needs not, and indeed suffers not to be repeated. When a man comes
to himself in the far country, and says, " I will arise and go to my Father," and
when he not only says but does, and not only starts for, but arrives at, the home
where the Father dwells, and receives from Him the kiss of peace, and the ring of
the everlasting covenant then and there, that is his justification. God for Christ's
sake freely forgives, bestows upon him the Holy Spirit, and, unless some terrible
thing should happen afterwards, sets him in the sure way, of which the end is
heaven. " Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God through
our Lord Jesus Christ." But our Lord Himself here speaks of a man going down
to his house from a particular act of worship either justified or not justified. And
this seems to give an importance, quite beyond our common estimate, to such a
service as this in which we are now engaged. You may say, indeed, that this
particular occasion was the justification, in the first and fullest sense, of this pub-
lican. Now first, you may say, he felt himself a sinner, now first he sought mercy,
and when he went back to his house he went back for the first time, and for ill
time a pardoned and accepted man. But this idea of restriction seems to have
been imported into the parable. Is there anything in our Lord's word^to imply
that either the prayer of the Pharisee or the prayer of the publican wais a single
and isolated one, nevw offered before, suggested by some crisis of the life, sudden
and not to be repeated ? Was it not rather the habit of the two minds thus to
express themselves ? Would the Pharisee be a different man to-morrow, not th«
368 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. (ohai-. rrnt
exception, and not the perfection that he now thinks himself f And would tha
publican when he came again to the temple be no longer the sinner of sinjaera, but
an improved, and altered, and sanctified man ? Where is all this in the parable T
If not, then the justification spoken of may be repeated to-morrow, and we have
before us the thought of the issues of worship rather than the thought of the issues
of a fundamental spiritual change. This man went down to his house justified, on
this particular occasion, rather than the other. The justification spoken of is for*
giveness, or absolution. Brethren, the justified man wants forgiveness ; thb man
who has bathed the whole body needs afterwards to wash the feet. This man has
bronght his load of sin with him to the temple ; he has come guilty and burdened,
conscience accusing, and convicted. He has left undone that which he ought to
have done since he last worshipped, he has done that which he ought not to have
done since he last worshipped, there is no health in him ; this morning he has
come, jnst as he is, to the God of his life ; he has sought no intervention, and no
intermediation of priest, or of sacrifice ; he has come straight to God. He has
taken for granted God's knowledge of each of his transgressions, as well as of thai
root and spring of evil, which is the fallen and sinful self ; and now, pre-snpposing
all this, he has simply to ask for mercy, which is, being interpreted, kindness to
the undeserving, and he has received the answer of peace, and so now he goes back
to his house justified. What of the other ? His return is not described ; it is left
under the veil of a parable. The publican is justified beyond, or in comparison
with, or rather tban, the Pharisee — such is the Grsek. Dare we suggest on the
strength of this reticence two kinds or two degrees of justification, one the higher
and more complete, but the other, though lower, perhaps sufficient ? Let us look
at the prayer, and judge by it of the answer, " God, I thank thee for my satisfactory
condition, for my exemplary conduct, for my exceptional, my unique freedom from
the otherwise universal wickedness of mankind." What is there here to suggest
the thought of a justification, of which tbe other name is absolution, or forgive^
ness ? What is there here to be forgiven 7 Not having asked, he surely has not
received, a boon which is only acceptable, and only appropriate to the sinner.
{Dean Vaughan.) Christian humility : — " The best of God's people have
abhorred themselves. Like the spire of a steeple, minimus in summo, we are
least at the highest. David, a king, was yet like a weaned child." Manton is not
very clear about the steeple, but he means that the higher a spire rises towards
heaven the smaller it becomes, and thus the more elevated are our spirits the less
«hall we be in our own esteem. Great thoughts of self and great grace never go
together. Self-consciousness is a sure sign that there is not much depth of grace.
He who over-values himself under-valnes his Saviour. He who abounds in piety is
sure to be filled with humility. Light things, such as straws and feathers, are borne
aloft ; valuable goods keep their places, aud remain below, not because they are
chained or riveted there, but by virtue of their own weight. When we begin to
talk of our perfection, our imperfection is getting the upper hand. The more full
we become of the presence of the Lord the more shall we sink in our own esteem,
«ven as laden vessels sink down to their water-mark, while empty ships float aloft.
Xiord, make and keep me humble. Lift me nearer and nearer to heaven, and then
I shall grow less and less in my own esteem. (C H. Spurgeon.) Sin a personal
affront to Qod : — Sin is a personal affront, whose bitter consequences only the forgive-
ness of Ood Himself can remove, and toward which, with the publican, we must
implore Him to be merciful. It does not read, " Nature be merciful," nor •' Laws
of my constitution be merciful," nor ** Society be merciful," nor, " I will be merci-
ful to myself," but, " God be merciful ; " — nor yet, " God be merciful to sin in
general," but "to me a sinner." {Bishop Huntington.) A negro's prayer : — My
uncle, the £ev. Dr. Samuel K. Talmage, of Augusta, Georgia, was passing along
the street one day and he met a black man, who stepped out into the street, leaving
the pavement, took his hat off, and bowed very lowly in the presence of my uncle.
My uncle said to him : " My dear fellow, why do you stand there and make such a
low bow to me?" •' Oh," he replied, "massa, I owe you more than any one on
earth." ♦♦ Why," inquired my uncle, «' what do you mean ? " " Well," said the
man, " I was going along the street the other night, and I had a heavy burden on
my back, and I was hungry and sick, and I saw your church was lighted, and I
thought I would just stand at the door a minute and listen, and I put down my
burden and listened, and I heard you say : ' God be merciful to me a sinner.' And
you said that any poor soul that oould utter that prayer from the heart ooold get
to heaven, and I shooldered my burden and I went on home, and I went in th«
€WAP. xnn.] ST. LUKE. SG9
house, and I sat down, and I folded my hands, and T said : • God be merciful to me
ft pinner,' but I felt no better ; I felt worse. And then I got down on my knees,
and I said it again : • God be merciful to me a sinner.' I felt no better. It wa»
darker than it was before. And then, massa, I threw myself down on my face and
cried out : ' God be merciful to me a sinner,' and I kept on crying that until after
awhile I saw a light a good ways off, and it came nearer to me, and nearer to me,
and it got all bright, and I felt very happy, and I thought the next time I saw you
coming down the street I would bow very low before you, and I would stand out of
your way, and I would tell you how much I owed to you." (De W. Talmage, D.D.}
As a sinner : — When the late Duke of Kent, the father of Queen Victoria, was
expressing, in the prospect of death, some concern about the state of his soul, his
physician endeavoured to soothe his mind by referring to his high respectability,
and his honourable conduct in the distinguished situation in which Providence had
placed him, when he stopped him short, saying, " No ; remember, if I am to be
saved, it is not as a prince, but as a sinner." The publican's prayer used in
death : — Many well-known Christians have died with the publican's prayer on their
lips. Archbishop Usher did so. William Wilberforce, the liberator of the slaves,
said when dying, " With regard to myself, I have nothing to urge but the poor
publican's plea, ' God be merciful to me a sinner,' " When the famous Grotina
was a-dying at Rostock, the minister reminded him of the publican's prayer,
" That publican, Lord, am I," said Grotius, " God be merciful to me a sinner," and
then he died. {J. Wells.) The nature and necessity of humility : — I. We are to
consider the nature op humiutt. There is the more occasion for describing this
gracious exercipe of heart with peculiar accuracy and precision, beoause mankind
are naturally disposed to misunderstand and misrepresent it. Mr. Hume scrupled
not to say, that " humility ought to be struck off from the catalogue of virtues,
and placed on the catalogue of vices." This must have been owing to his gross
ignorance, or extreme malignity. The most charitable supposition is, that he
really mistook a mere selfish and painful sense of natural inferiority for true
humility. This leads me to observe that a man's humbling himself is something
very different from his having a mistaken and reluctant sense of his own inferiority
in relation to his fellow mortals. Humility is likewise different from submission,
which seems to resemble it. Submission is the respect which an inferior justly
owes to a superior. Furthermore, humility is something different from con-
descension, which is the part of a superior, and consists in stooping to an in-
ferior. Thus the Creator may condescend to a creature, the prince to a subject, the
rich to the poor, and the aged to the young. But though condescension stoops,,
yet it is by no means degrading. Real condescension always displays a noble and
amiable spirit. I may now safely say that humility essentially consists in self-
abasement, which is self-degradation, or a voluntary sinking, not only below others,,
bat below ourselves. It is, therefore, wholly fonnded in guilt. None but guilty
creatures have any cause or reason for abasing themselves. But every guilty
creature ought to abase himself, whether he is wilUng or unwilling to perform the
mortifying duty. n. Sinners must humble themselves before God, in obdeb to
obtain pabdonino mercy. 1. God cannot consistently receive them into His favour,
before they voluntarily humble themselves for their transgressions in His sight.
2. It is impossible for sinners to receive Divine mercy before they take their proper
places, and are willing to sink as low as Divine justice can sink them. Improve-
ment : 1. If hamility essentially consist in self-abasement for sin, then we va&y
safely suppose that neither God the Father, nor the Lord Jesus Christ, ever exer-
cised any affection which may be strictly called humility. 2. If humility consists
in self-abasement, we may clearly see how low sinners must lie before God, in
order to obtain His pardoning mercy. 3. If humility consists in a free and
voluntary self-abasement for sin, then it is the most amiable and shining exercise
of a holy heart. 4. Finally, it appears from this whole discourse that nothing^
short of real, cordial telf-abasement, can qualify any of our sinful race to obtain
and enjoy the happiness of heaven. (N, Emmons, D.D.) Humility : — An old
writer of the Church says of humility that '• it is the great ornament and jewel of
the Christian rehgion. AH the world, all that we are, and all that we have, our
bodies and our souls, our actions and our sufferings, our conditions at home, our
accidents ahroad, our many sins and our seldom virtues, are as so many arguments
to make our souls dwell low in the deep valley of humility." A moment's thought
will convince you of the truth of this. Of what are you proud, of your holiness T
Think of the many shortcomings, the endless sins, great and small, the numberlear
TOL. m. 24
870 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip. xtih.
yieldings to temptation, the constant infirmities of temper which have marked th«
course of your lives during the last year, and then set these ofiE against the good
deeds on which you congratulate yourselves, have you much to be proud of?
Are you proud of your bodily strength, your health, your beauty t Eemember that
a sudden cold or the prick of a lancet will banish life from your bodies, that a
week's sickness will mar your beauty for ever. The flowers which bloom and fade
are more beautiful than the loveliest of living beings, hundreds of animals are
stronger and more long-lived than man ; have we then much to be proud of here ?
Are you proud of your intellect, of your superiority over your neighbours in know-
ledge and education 7 Brethren, the most deeply learned knows that he is as a
child amid the mysteries of nature ; half his knowledge is but a groping after more
light, which is long in coming, and feeble when it is gained. "Our learning is best
when it teaches most humility, but to be proud of learning is the greatest ignorance in
the world." {H. J. Wilmot-Biixton, M.A.) Justified rather than the other. — Justifi-
cation:— I. How DO WE BECOME JDST WITH GoD ? 1. Not by works in themselves, but
by the disposition of the mind. 2. Not only by a moral disposition, but by a pioua
disposition. 3. Not only by a pious disposition in general, but by a believing dispo-
sition in the merits of Christ. Justification is God's gift, apart from any desert on
our part. II. What bich blessino is included in oub justitication? 1. Forgiveness
of sin. 2. An incentive and power to a new Ufe in repentance and satisfaction. 3.
Always free access now to God, and new assurances of favour and a sure hope of
eternal life. {Heintzeler.) Humility and self-reproach rewarded : — I recently
met with an account of a prince, the son of a king, who went to a house of
correction to see the captives. Meeting there so many people, toiling at their tasks,
and hobbling in their chains, his heart was moved with pity, and he resolved to give
some of them their liberty. But he must first find out which of them deserved
release. To satisfy himseU on this point, he went from one to the other, asking
each why he was there. According to the answers he got, all were brave, proper,
and honourable men; one had simply been unfortunate; another had done no
wrong ; a third was slandered ; a fourth was forced against his will ; each pleading
innocence, and entreating, on these grounds, to be released. At last he came to a
young man, asking, " And what have you done, that has brought you here ? "
" Gracious sir," answered the man, '* I am here because I deserve it. I ran away
from my parents ; I led an idle and dissolute life ; I committed theft and forgery ;
and it would take an hour to tell aU the bad things I have done. And this is what
I justly deserve for my evil deeds." The prince facetiously remarked: " Indeed!
and how does it happen that so bad a man ever found his way in among all these
virtuous and honourable people? Take oS his chains, open the gates, and let him
out, lest he corrupt and spoil these good innocent men, who have all been put here
without a cause." He meant to say, that this was the only honest-hearted one
among them ; that the rest had only lied and dissembled ; and that people who
have no sins to confess, are not fit to have their punishments remitted. " This
young man," said he, " confesses his misdeeds ; he has humbled himself before
God and me ; and him alone I deem worthy of his freedom. Therefore set him at
Uberty." {J. A. SeUi, DJ).)
Ver. 16. Suffer Uttle children to come onto Me. — Chrit^s favour to little
children displayed : — 1. These children were not brought to Christ to be taught,
for they were not yet capable of receiving instruction ; nor could they profit by Hia
-preaching, or put any questions to Him. Those who are grown up to years of
understanding, have need to be busy in getting knowledge now, that they may
redeem tfae time they lost, through the invincible incapacities of their infancy. 2.
Nor were they brought to Christ to be cured, for it does not appear that they needed
it. Little children are indeed liable to many distempers, painful, mortal ones. The
physicians have a book among them, "De Morbis Infantum " — on the diseases of
infants. Death and its harbingers reign even over them who have not sinned after
the similitude of Adam's transgression, but these children were strong and healthful,
and we do not find that anything ailed them. 3. They were brought to Christ to be
blessed ; so they meant when they desired that He would touch them : the sign is
put for the thing signified. I. How wb must bbino oub little ohildben to Chbist.
1. By sorrendering them to Hi"* in Holy Baptism. 2. We must bring them to
Christ, by seeking to Him for them, as those who are sorrendered to Him. They
are to be bat once baptized, bat the^ are to be daily prayed for, and the promisa
sealed to them in their baptism pat in salt and pleaded with God in their behalf.
^AP. xvra.] ST. LUKE. 871
(1) Be constant in praying for yonr children ; pray for them as duly as for your-
telves, as St. Paul for his friends, making mention of them always in every prayer.
^2) Be particular in praying for them ; pray for each particular child, as holy Job
offered bnmt-offerings for his sons, according to the number of them all ; that yoa
may be able to say, as Hannah, " For this child I prayed " : pray for particular
blessings for your children, according as you see their case requires, for that grace
which you observe their natural temper (or distemper rather) calls for. 3. We
must bring them to Christ, by submitting them to the disposal of His Providence.
I have read of a good man, whose son being disposed of in the world, met with
great affliction, which he once very feelingly complained of to his good father, who
answered (according to the principle I am now upon), " Anything, child, to bring
thee to heaven." 4. We must bring them to Christ, by subjecting them, as far as
we can, to the government of His grace. Having laid their necks under the yoke of
Christ in their baptism, we must teach them to draw in it, and use our interest in
them, and authority over them, to keep them under that easy yoke, and bring them
up in the nurture and admonition of our Lord Jesus. II. How Christ will rkceivb
THE cBiiiDBBK. 1. He took thoso children up in His arms ; and so we may hope He
will take up our children in the arms of His power and providence, and of His pity
and grace. 2. He put His hands upon those children. (1) If He set us and ours apart
for Himself, as His own peculiar people, we may say He puts His hand upon us and
ours : as the buyer lays his hand on the goods he has agreed for, they are now hia
own ; as Jacob put his hand on the head of Joseph's sons, to signify not only his
hlessing them, but his adopting them, and taking them for his own, " Let my name
be named upon them." This we hope Christ does for our children, when we bring
them to Him ; He owns them for His ; and we may say they do in some degree
belong to Christ, are retainers to His family. (2) If He give His Holy Spirit to us
and ours, it may truly be said. He pats His hand upon us and them. The Spirit is
sometimes called the finger of God, and sometimes the hand of God, so that
Christ's putting His hand upon us, not only puts us into a relation to Him, but
vrorks a real change in us ; lays hold on the soul for Him, and puts His image, as
well as superscription, upon it. The laying on of hands was a ceremony used in
conferring the Holy Ghost ; and this we pray for, and hope for, from Christ, for our
children, when we bring them to Him. 3. He blessed them. He was desired to
pray for a blessing for them, but He did more. He commanded the blessing, blessed
with authority ; He pronounced them blessed, and thereby made them so ; for those
whom He blesseth are blessed indeed. Christ is the great High Priest, whose office
it is to bless the people of God, and all theirs. IH. The application. 1. Let me
hence address myself to children, to little children, to the lambs of the flock, to the
youngest who can hear with understanding : will not you be glad to hear this, that
the Lord Jesus Christ has a tender concern and affection for you ; and that He has
blessings in store for you, if you apply yourselves to Him, according to your
capacity ? Lay yourselves at Christ's feet, and He will take you up in His arms.
Give yourselves to Him, and He will give Himself in His grace and comforts to you.
Lie in His way, by a diligent attendance on His ordinances, and He will not pass by
without putting His hand on you. And if you value His blessings aright, and be
earnest with Him for His blessings. He will bless you with the best of blessings,
such as will make you eternally blessed. (1) Let us then still bring them to Him,
by faith and prayer, according as their case requires. (2) Let us bring them up for
Him. Let not your children rest in a mere natural reUgion ; that is good, it is
necessary, bat it is not enough. Yon must make them sensible of their need of
Christ, of their lost and undone condition without Him ; must endeavour to lead
them into the mysteries of our reconciliation to God, and our redemption from sin
and wrath, by a Mediator; and 0 that they may experimentally know Him, and
the power of His resurrection 1 And as in other accomplishments of your children,
to in the business of religion, which is their best and true accomplishment, yoa
TQust, as they come to be capable, put them on to advance. 3. Let this
encourage us, who are parents, concerning our children ; and enable us to
think of them with comfort and hope, in the midst of our cares about them.
When we wish well to them, we would willingly hope well ; and this is ground of
hope, that our Lord Jesus has expressed so much favour to httle children. (1) This
may comfort and encourage the tender careful mothers in nursing them, that they
are carrying those in their arms whom Christ has taken up in His. (2) This may
comfort and encourage us if our children labour under any bodily weaknesses and
iixfirmities, if they be unhealthf ul and often ailing, which is an allay to oar comfort
373 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xmi,
in them ; let this serve to balance that, If they belong to Christ, and be blessed of
Him, they are blessed indeed ; and nothing amiss of that kind shall be any prejudio«
to their blessedness, or diminution of it, but may, being sanctified, become rather a
friend and furtherance to it. Many have been the wiser and better, the more humble
and heavenly, for their having borne the yoke of affliction in their youth. {Matthew
Henry.) A motJier's concern for her children : — I feel a sympathy with what a
woman said to me. I was told to come to her dying ooaoh, and administer the sacra-
ment. I went with an elder. She said : " I want to belong to the Church. I am
going np to bs a member of the Church in heaven ; but I don't want to go until I
e,m a member of the Church on earth." So I gave her the sacrament. And then
she said : " Now, I am in the Church, here is the baby, baptize him ; and here are
all the children, baptize them all. I want to leave them all in the Church." So I
baptized them. Some years after, I was preaching one day in Chicago, and at the
close of the service, a lad came upon the platform, and said : " You don't know me,
do you?" "No," said I. "My name is George Parish." "Ah," said 1 ; •' I
remember, I baptized you by your mother's dying bed, didn't I ? " " Yes," he said :
" You baptized aU of as there, and I came up to tell you that I have given my heart
to God. I thought you would like to know it." " I am very glad," I replied ; " but
I am not surprised. You had a good mother ; that is almost sure to make a boy
come to Ood if he has a good mother." {De W. Talmage, D.D.) Christianity ank
the destiny of children : — When I was at Dhoas, writes a missionary's wife, my hus-
band opened the new chapel, which holds one hundred and fifty people. Sixty-five
persons were baptized ; among the rest several women. I proposed meeting them
alone on Tuesday evening. One very nice-looking woman had a sweet-looking girl
at her side, about ten years old. I said, " Amah, would you like me to teach your
daughter T " With an indescribable look of tenderness she drew her to her side, and
putting her arm around her, said, " This is my only one." " Have you not had
more children ? " I asked. " Ah 1 yes, ma'am, I have had six ; but they are dead.
Yes, they all died, five of them, one after the other ; they all died." " And you,
poor thing, how sorry you must have been 1 " •• Heigb-ho ! how sorry 1 Too much
trouble I took; too much expense. After the first died I took sacrifices to the
temple, and made worship to the idol, and told him I would give him all I could if
my second might live ; but he died. Then my heart was very sore ; and when my
third came, I went to a guru, and took a cloth, and fowl, and rice ; and he said
muntrums, and made pujah (worship) ; but no, that child, he died. My heart was
like fire, it burned so with sorrow. I was almost mad ; and yet I tried some fresh
ceremony for every child." " What did you think had become of the spirits of your
children 7 " I asked. ♦• You knew their bodies died, but did you think much of their
spirits f " " Ah I that was the thing that almost made me mad. I did not know.
I thought perhaps one devil took one, and another took another ; or perhaps they
were gone into some bird, or beast, or something, I did not know ; and I used to
think and think till my heart was too full of sorrow." "But, Amah," I replied,
"you do not look sorry now." With a look almost sublime, she said, " Sorry now 1
Oh, no, no 1 Why, I know now where my children are. They are with Jesus. T
have learned that Jesus said, ' Suffer little children to come unto Me.' My sorrow
is all gone, and I can bear their not being with me. They are happy with Him,
and, after a little while, I shall go to Him too, and this Uttle girl, my Julia, and
my husband too." {A. C, Thomson^ D.D.) Children the true saints of Ood: —
Mr. Gray had not been long minister oi the parish before he noticed the odd
practice of the grave-digger ; and one day when he came upon John smoothing and
trimming the lonely bed ot a child which had been buried a few days before, he
asked why he was so particular in dressing and keeping the graves of infants. John
paused for a moment at his work, and looking up, not at the minister, bat at the
sky, said, " Of such is the kingdom of heaven." " And on this accoimt yoa tend
and adorn them with so much care," remarked the minister, who was greatly struck
with the reply. " Surely, sir," answered John ; " I canna make ower braw and fine
the bed-covering o' a little innocent sleeper that is waitin' there till it is God's time
to wanken it and cover it with white robe, and waft it away to glory. Where sio
grandeur is awaitin' it yonder, it's fit it should be decked oot here. I think the
Saviotir will like to see white clover spread abune it ; dae ye no think sae tae, air ? "
" But why not thus cover larger graves ? " asked the minister, hardly able to sup
press his emotions. " The dust of all His saints is precious in the Saviour's sight."
" Very true, sir," responded John, with great solemnity, " but I canna be sure wh»
are Hia saints, and wha are no. I hope thear are many of them lyin' in thia kirk-
csif. xvm.] ST. LUKE. 873
yard ; but it wad be great presmnption to mark them oot. There are some that
I'm gey sure aboot, and I keep their graves as nate and snod as I can, and plant a
bit floure here and there as a sign of my hope, but dauma gie them the white shirt,"
referring to the white clover. " It's clean different, though, wi' the bairns." (Ibid.)
The biased influence of children : — Children are the salvation of the race. They
purify, they elevate, they stir, they instruct, they console, they reconcile, they
gladden ns. They are the ozone of human life, inspiring us with hope, rousing us
to wholesome sacrifice. If, in the faults which they inherit, they show us the worst
of ourselves, and so move us to a salutary repentance, they also stimulate our finer
qualities ; they cheat us of weary care ; they preach to us, not so much by their
lips as by their innocence ; their questions set us thinking, and to better purpose
than the syllogisms of philosophers; their helplessness makes us tender; their
loveliness surprises us into pure joy. ... A child is a sunbeam on a winter sea, a
flower in a prison garden, the music of bells over the noise of a great city, a fragrant
odour in a sick-room. If any one thinks this exaggerated, I am sorry for him. It
is literally true for me, and for tens of thousands who have far more right to it.
These fingers tingle with a kind of happiness while I am writing about them here.
My chilly friend need not have my joy if he does not believe in it, or care for it ;
I will not force it on him, but he shall not take mine from me. {Bi$hop of
Roche$ter.) I. With respect to thb command in the text. Those persons may
be said to fulfil it, in the first place, who afford to children a Christian example.
Now, let U8 consider here, what features of character may be best exemplified, so as
to produce a good effect. One peculiar trait in the character of our Lord Jesus
Christ was His consideration of human infirmity. " We have not an high priest
which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities." 2. Not only should
our instructions be religious, but eminently evangelical, in order to benefit the
young. In preaching, it is found that the preaching of mere morality, however
luminous and explicit, and however judiciously and powerfully enforced, produces
but very little effect. 3. Eemember that all human instruction needs to be
frequently repeated. Even adults, whose minds are not volatile as those of
children, need " line upon line, line upon line, precept upon precept, precept upon
precept." 4. Allow me to call yotxr attention, also, to another very important fact,
namely, that without the influence of the Holy Spirit, no valuable effect can be
produced. H. In the text there is an allusion, also, to the character of the
BNCOUKAGEMENT we may derive from the communication of such instructions :
•• Of such is the kingdom of God." It might, indeed, be remarked here, that there
is au admirable adaptation between what is taught, and the end you wish to pro-
duce— the means are exactly united to the end proposed. But — 1. Consider how
much good is produced by the influence of habit. Now, when you have to do
with children, you have to do with those whose minds are susceptible ; and you
may be instnmaental in forming their habits, and in putting them on their guard
against the dangers to which they are exposed. 2. Many to whom we address our-
selves on the concerns of their souls, complain of want of time and of the distracting
influence of the things of the world. But when you take youthful minds into your
hands, you have to do with those on whom worldly cares have no influence. 3.
The things of the world produce, naturally, a kind of indurating influence. It tends
to sink them down to that very situation in which the soul naturally wishes to be.
And not only is there in the minds of children a tenderness of feeling for the
reception of these great and important truths, but also a freshness and vigour for
the exhibition of these truths, and for the exhibition of them to the greatest
advantage. (E. Treffry.) Why children should come to Jesus : — L The children
OP TO-DAY SHODLO COME TO JeSUS BECAUSE THEY NEED JUST SUCH A TeACHEE,
Saviocb, and Friend. I remember a company of blind children from an asylum
waiting at the door of one of our churches for some one from within to lead them to
their place. Parents and teachers can lead a child to the door of a good life, but
Jesus only can lead into goodness and heaven. II. Anothee reason why children,
AND LITTLE CHILDREN, SHOULD COME TO JeSUS IS, THAT THEY ARE NOT 80 PAR PKOM
Him as those who have grown old in sin. Every child is bom close to heaven's
gate. Children's hearts have fresh affections that turn to Jesus almost as readily
as climbing plants in June wind about their proper support. If those plants lie
along the ground till August they can hardly be made to climb at all so late in their
life. m. Another reabom pob children coming to Jesus is His special lots pob
THEM. {W. C. C. Wright.) Children taken to Christ: — Jesus is still calling little
children to Him. His arms are ever open to receive them, and His lips parted to
874 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. rms.
bless them. He loves them for their likeness to His own purity and gentleness.
He wonld keep them gentle and pure, that He may present them perfect to His own
Father. Let us beware of throwing any impediment between them and their
Saviour ; of suffering our indifference or neglect, our flimsy theories, hard doctrines,
or evil examples, to prevent these little ones from seeing and loving the Son of
Mary ; from being folded in the arms of His grace, and being blessed by the influ-
ences of His religion and life. I. Let us not foebid theib comino to Him in
THE BITE of BAPTISM. If this is One of the calls which Jesus makes to little
children ; if He says to them, by a fair interpretation of the language of this rite,
'• Come to Me through the consecrated waters," let us suffer them to go, and not
stand in their way with our doubts, our fears, or our apathy. Let that heavenly
dew be shed on the opening buds, and shed early. Say not that they are without
stain, and therefore need not the purifying wave. Jesus Himself, who in a still
higher sense was stainless, Jesus Himself was baptized. Say not that they do not
know in what office they are participating. You know it, and feel it ; and if they
know it not now, they will know hereafter. If you will but reflect that it is tha
bringing of little children openly to Jesus, placing them in His arms, and yielding
them to His blessing, you will have learned the whole reason, nature, and plan
of the ordinance at once, because your heart has been your teacher. And you will
gladly suffer little children to go in this way to their Friend, and never think of
forbidding them. II. Suffer them to go to Him, secondly, by all the means of
A TBTJLT Cheistian EDUCATION. Continue the intimacy which was commenced at
the font. Make them acquainted with every expression of His countenance, with
every grace and sweetness of His character. We forbid their going to Christ, if in
any way we make them, or help them to make themselves proud, vain, revengeful,
cunning, or selflsh. We lead them to Christ by teaching them to know and love
Him entirely, to feel the whole divinity of His lowly yet lofty virtues, to appreciate
thoroughly and justly the glory of His humihty, the dignity of His meekness, tha
heroism of His long-suffering, the harmonious perfection of His character, with
which everything worldly is in necessary discord. HI. We can habdly teach
THEM this, unless WE FEEL IT OURSELVES. Let US lead them, then, to Jesus, by
the hand of our own example. Let us be especially cautious that our own selflsh
interests, bad passions, blind excesses are not placed in their way, to be stumbling-
blocks to their tender feet. lY. Lastly, it may be that oub chelsben must de-
PABT BEFOBE us ON THE UNKNOWN JOUENEY, AND WITHOUT US. We mUSt BUffeT
them to go to the arms of Jesus in the world of spirits. It is hard to part with them
— but by the effort of an humble resignation, we must suffer them to go. It may
be that the Saviour hath need of them. We may know that there also He will love
them, and watch over them, and lead them ; and that His love, presence, and
guidance are better for them than ours. {F. W, P. Greenwood, D.D.) My fruit-
tree : — I had a comely fruit-tree in the summer season, with the branches of it
promising plenteous fruit; the stock was surrounded with seven or eight little shoots
of different sizes, that grew up from the root at a small distance, and seemed to
compose a beautiful defence and ornament for the mother tree ; but the gardener,
who espied their growth, knew the danger ; he cut down those tender suckers one
after another, and laid them in the dust. I pitied them in my heart, and said,
" How pretty were these young standards I How much like the parent I How
elegantly clothed with the raiment of summer ! And each of them might have
grown to • fruitful tree." But they stood so near as to endanger the stock ; they
drew away the sap, the heart and strength of it, so far as to injure the fruit, and
darken the hopeful prospects of autumn. The pruning-knife appeared unkind
indeed, but the gardener was wise ; for the tree flourished more sensibly, the fruit
quickly grew fair and large, and the ingathering at last was plenteous and joyfuL
Will you give me leave, Velina, to persuade you into this parable 1 Shall I compare
you to this tree in the garden of God ? You have had many of these young suckers
springing up around you ; they stood awhile your sweet ornaments and your joy,
and each of them might have grown up 1o a perfection of likeness, and each might
have become a parent-tree : but say. Did they never draw your heart from God ?
Did you never feel them stealing any of those seasons of devotion, or those warm
affections that were first and supremely due to Him that made you 7 Did they not
stand a little too near the soul ? And when they had been cat off successively, and
laid one after another in the dust, have you not found your heart running out mora
towards God, and living more perpetually upon Him ? Are you not now devoting
yourself more entirely to God every day, since the last Tas taken away ? Are you
CHAP. xYin.] ST. LURE. 875
not aiming at some greater fruitfulness and service than in times past ? If so, then
repine not at the pnming-knife ; but adore the conduct of the heavenly Husband-
man, and say, "All His ways are wisdom and mercy." But I have not yet dona
with my parable. When the granary was well stored with excellent fruit, and before
winter came upon the tree, the gardener took it up by the roots, and it appeared a3
dead. But his design was not to destroy it utterly ; for he removed it far away from
the spot of earth where it had stood, and planted it in a hill of richer mould, which
■was sufficient to nourish it with all its attendants. The spring appeared, the tree
budded into life again, and all those fair little standards that had been cut off,
broke out of the ground afresh, and stood up around it (a sweet young grove)
flourishing in beauty and immortal vigour. You know not where you are, Velina,
and that I have carried you to the hill of paradise, to the blessed hour of the resur-
rection. What an unknown joy it will be, when you have fulfilled all the fruits of
righteousness in this lower world, to be transplanted to that heavenly mountain !
What a Divine rapture and surprise of blessedness, to see all your little offspring
about you at that day, springing out of the dust at once, making a fairer and brighter
appearance in that upper garden of God, and rejoicing together (a sweet company),
all partakers with you of the same happy immortality ; all fitted to bear heavenly
fruit, without the need or danger of a pruning-knife. Look forward, by faith, to that
glorious morning, and admire the whole scheme of providence and grace. Give
cheerful honours beforehand to your Almighty and All-wise Governor, who by His
onsearchable counsels has fulfilled your best wishes, and secured your dear infants
to you for ever, though not just in your own way ; that blessed hand which made
the painful separation on earth shall join you and your babes together in His own
heavenly habitation, never to be divided again, though the method may be painful
to flesh and blood. Fathers shall not hope in vain, nor " mothers bring forth for
trouble : they are the seed of the blessed of the Lord, and their offspring with
them*' (Isa. Ixv. 23). Then shall you say, "Lord, here am I, and the children
that Thou hast given me." For He is your God, and the God of your seed in an
everlasting covenant. Amen. (Written by Dr. Watts to a lady on the death of
several young children.) Run to Jesus: — ^An affectionate mother, when reading
this passage with her Uttle girl, said, " I would have led you forward to Jesus. "
" You would not have needed," replied the child, " I would have run."
Ver. 17. £ecelve the kingdom of God as a little child. — Receiving the kingdom
of Ood as a little child : — I. To begin with, let me deal with thb bbcbet
THOUGHT OF THB DISCIPLES, exprcssed by their actions though not spoken in words.
1. And, flrst, it is pretty clear that the disciples thought the children were too in-
significant for the Lord's time to be taken np by them. 2. Again, I suppose that
these grown-up apostles thought that the children's minds were too trifling. Despise
not children for trifling when the whole world is given to folly. 3. " Ay," say they,
*' bat if we should let the children come to Christ, and if He should bless them,
they will soon forget it. No matter how loving EUs look and how spiritual His
words, they will go back to their play, and their weak memories will preserve no
trace of it at all." This objection we meet in the same manner as the others. Do not
men forget ? 4. Perhaps, too, they thought that children had not sufficient capacity.
6. To put the thought of the apostle into one or two words : they thought that the
children must not come to Christ because they were not like themselves — they were
not men and women. The child must not come to the Master because he is not like
the man. How the blessed Saviour turns the tables and says, " Say, not, the child
may not come till he is like a man, but know that you cannot come till you are like
him. It is no difficulty in the child's way that he is not like you ; the difficulty is
with you, that you are not like the child." Instead of the child needing to wait
ontil he grows up and becomes a man, it is the man who must grow down and become
like a child. II. Now we pass to our second head, namely, the open declabation of
OUB LoBD, wherein He sets forth His mind upon this matter, 1. Looking at it care-
fully, we observe, first, that He tells the disciples t^at the gospel sets up a Idngdom.
Was there ever a kingdom which had no children in it ? How then could it grow ?
2. Next, our Lord tells us that the way of entering the kingdom is by receiving.
" Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise
enter therein." We do not enter into the kingdom of God by working ont some
deep problem and arriving at its solution ; not by fetching something oat of oar>
•elTee, but by receiving a secret something into ns. We come into the kingdom hj
the kingdom's coming into os : it receives as by oar receiving it. Now, if thu
176 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xvm.
entrance into the kingdom depended upon something to be fetched out of the
human mind by study and deep thought, then very few children could ever enter
it ; but it depends upon something to be received, and therefore children may enter.
3. The next thing in the text is that if we receive this kingdom, and so enter into
it, we must receive it as children receive it. III. Thb obeat bmcodbaoeuent
given by our Lord in the text. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Vers. 18-30. Good Master, what shall I do to Inherit eternal Ufe I—The rich
youth's address to Christ : — I. The favoukablb traits of chabactee exhibited im
THE QUESTION PBOPOSED BY THIS YODKG MAN. I. The qucstion itsclf was of suprcma
importance. 2. The question was a personal one. 3. The question was put at
an interesting period of life. 4. The question was put by one who possessed an
abundance of riches. 5. The question was put with feelings of great modesty and
respect. 6. The question was put with great sincerity and earnestness of spirit. II.
The defects which were elicited by the Savioub. 1. He evidently expected salva-
tion by the works of the law. 2. He was held in bondage by one reigning idol. 3. Ha
was unwilling to yield to the extensive requirements of the Saviour. HI. The
lessons which his histoby fdbnishes. 1. The exceeding deceitfulness of earthly
riches. 2. That we may go far in religious practices, and yet not be saved. 3. We
are in great danger from spiritual deception. 4. Eeligion requires a total surrender
of ourselves to God. (tT". Burns, D.D.) Thou knowest the commandments. —
Keep the commandvients : — I. Inquire into the design with which oub Savioub
BPOKH these words. His aim was to expose ignorance, self-righteousness, and in-
sincerity, in one whom the spectators were doubtless admiring for his apparent
devotion. 1. The man was ignorant of Christ's real character. 2. He expected
life as the reward of his own merit. 3. He was not sincerely willing to sacrifice
anything for the kingdom of heaven's sake. II. Endeavoub to promote a similar
LESION BY A FAITHFUL APPLICATION OF THEM TO OUESELVES. " If thoU wilt enter
into life, keep the commandments. " These words, duly considered, may — 1. Con-
vince us of sin. There is no doubt, that we ought to keep the commandments.
But, have we done so ? 2. Drive us to Christ as a Eefuge. 3. Guide the steps of
the justified believer. The curse of the law it at an end — not its obligation. {J,
Jowett, M.A.) Yet lackest thou one thing. — One weak spot: — When Jesus tella
us that we cannot bo His disciples so long as we lack one thing, does He mean that
we must have supplied every moral defect, must have attained every grace, must
have vanquished every spiritual enemy, and, in fact, have ceased to sin, before we
can be His disciples ? That would be simply saying that none of us can hope to be
a Christian unless he is morally perfect ; and that of course involves the converse,
that every true Christian is thus morally perfect. The shock this statement gives to
our common sense, and its manifest contradiction of the whole drift of the New
Testament, at once drives ns from any such interpretation. We find a consistent
meaning, I suppose, if we understand Him as declaring that no heart is really
Christianized, or converted, so long as there is any one conscious, deliberate, or
intentional reservation from entire obedience to the Divine will. So that if I say,
Here is one particular sin which I must continue to practise ; all the rest of my
conduct I freely conform to God's law, but this known wrong I must continue to do
— then I am no Christian. If you single out some one chosen indulgence, however
secret — a dubious custom in business, a fault of the tongue or temper — and, placing
yourhand over that, reply to the all-searching commandment of the Most High, "This
I cannot let go ; this is too sweet to me, or too profitable to me, or too tightly inter-
woven with my constitutional predilections, or too hard to be put off " — then the
quality of a disciple is not in you. There is a portion of your being which you do
not mean, or try, to consecrate to heaven. And that single persistent offence
vitiates the whole character. It keeps you, as a man, as a whole man, on the self-
side or world-side, and away from Christ's side. For it not only shuts off right-
eousness from one district of your nature, and so abridges the quantity of your Ufe,
but it infiicts the much more radical damage of denying the supremacy of the law of
righteousness, and thus corrupts the quality. It practically rejects the heavenly rule
when that rule crosses the private inclination. And that is the essence of rebellion.
{Bishop F. D. Huntington.) The test-point : — ^When Jesus spoke thus of one thing
fatally lacking to the Jewish ruler. He spoke to us alL But with this difference :
that one subtle passion which spoils the whole character for us may not be his
passion. With him it seems to have been avarice ; he could not bear to turn his
private property into public charity. His religion broke down just there : in other
CHAP. XTin.] ST. LUKE. 877
respects he had done admirably ; he had kept other commandments to the letter —
aye, to the letter ; not perhaps in the spirit, for all true obedience has one spirit.
But so far his literal, formal obedience came, and there gave out. But then you
may happen to be so constituted that such an abandonment of wealth woald be a
very small sacrifice — one of the least that could be required of you ; you are not
naturally sordid ; you are more inclined to be prodigal ; and so this would not be a
test-point with you. But there is a test-point about you somewhere. Perhaps it ia
pride ; you cannot bear an affront ; you will not confess a fault. Perhaps it ia
persontJ vanity, ready to sacrifice everything to display. Perhaps it is a sharp
tongue. Perhaps it is some sensual appetite, bent on its unclean gratification.
Then you are to gather up your moral forces just here, and till that darling sin is
brought under the practical law of Christ, you are shut out from Christ's kingdom.
I have no right to love anything so well that I cannot give it np for God. God
knows where the trial must be applied. And we are to know that wherever it ia
applied, there is the one thing lacking, unless we can say " Thy will be done," and
bear it. The gospel does not propose itself as an easy system — easy in the sense
of excusing from duty. Were we not right then, in the ground taken at the outset,
that the power of Christianity over the character is proved by the thoroughness
of its action rather than by the extent of surface over which its action spreads ?
It displays its heavenly energy in dislodging the one cherished sin, in breaking
down the one entrenched fortress that disputes its sway. At the battle of Borodino,
Napoleon saw that there was no such thing as victory till he had carried the great
central redoubt on the Bussian line. Two hundred guns and the choicest of hia
battahons were poured against that single point, and when the plumes of his veterans
gleamed through the smoke on the highest embrasures of that volcano of shot, ha
knew the field was won. It matters very little that we do a great many things morally
irreproachable, so long as there is one ugly disposition that hangs obstinately back.
It is only when we come to a point of real resistance that we know the victory of
faith overcoming the world. Finally, our renewing and redeeming religion delights
to reach down to the roots of the sin that curses us, and spread its healing eflScacy
there. It yearns to yield us the fulness of its blessing ; and this it knows it cannot do
tiU it brings the heart under the completeness of its gentle captivity to Christ. Sub-
mission first ; then peace, and joy, and love. " Jesus beholding him, loved him '' ;
yet sent him away sorrowing. How tender, and yet how true 1 tender in the sad
affection — true to the stern unbending sacrifice of the Cross I It is because He
would have us completely happy that He requires a complete submission. " One
thing " must not be left lacking. Whosoever would enter into the full strength
and joy of a disciple must throw his whole heart upon the altar. (Ibid.)
How hardly shall they that have riches enter. — Tlie clanger of riches : — Rather, if
one asked, What peril have riches ? one might ask. What peril have they not ?
First, then, they are wholly contrary to the life of Christ and His passion. That
cannot be the safe, the happy lot, which is in all things most opposite to His.
Unlike Him, we must ever here be ; for we are sinners, He alone, as man, was
holy ; we are His creatures, He our God. But can it be safe not to be aiming,
herein also, to be less unlike? Can it be safe to choose that which in all its
pomp and glory was brought before His eye as man, to be wholly rejected by Him ;
to choose what He rejected, and shrink back from what He chose ? This, then, is
the first all-containing peril of riches. They are, in themselves, contrary to the
Cross of Christ. I speak not now of what they may be made. As we, being
enemies, were, through the Cross, made friends, so may all things, evil and
perilous iu themselves, except sin, become our friends. The Cross finds us in
desolation, and they. He says, *'have received their consolation"; it finds us in
evil things, and they are surrounded by their good things ; it comes in want, and
they have abundance ; in distress, and they are at ease ; in sorrow, and they are
ever tempted even to deaden their sorrows in this world's miserable joys. Happy
ouly iu this, that He who chasteneth whom He loveth, sprinkles His own healthful
bitterness over life's destructive sweetness, and by the very void and emptiness of
vanity calls forth the unsatisfied soul no more to " spend money on that which ia
not bread, or its labour on that which satisfieth not." But if it be so hard for the
rich to seek to bear the cross, it must be hard for them truly to love Him who bore
it. Love longeth to liken itself to that it loves. It is an awful question, my
brethren ; but how can we love our Lord if we suffer not with Him ? 2. Then it
is another exceeding peril of riches and ease that they may tend to make oa forget
that here is not our home. Men on a journey through a stranger's, mach mors
378 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xmhr
an enemy's, land linger not. Their hearts are in their home ; thither are their
eyes set ; they love the winds which have hlown over it ; they love the very hillg
which look upon it, even while they hide it ; days, hours, and minutes pass quickly
or slowly as they seem to bring them near to it; distance, time, weariness, strength,
all are counted only with a view to this, " are they nearer to the faces they love T
can they, when shall they reach it ? " What then, my brethren, if our eyes are
not set upon the everlasting " hills, whence cometh our help " 7 what if we cherish
not those inward breathings which come to us from our heavenly home, hushing,
refreshing, restoring, lifting up our hearts, and bidding as flee away and be at
lest ? What if we are wholly satisfied, and intent on things present ? can we be
longing for the face of God ? or can we love Him whom we long not for ? or do we
long for Him, if we say not daily, " When shall I come and appear before the
presence of God ? " 3. Truly there is not one part of the Christian character which
riches, in themselves, do not tend to impair. Our Lord placed at the head of
evangelic blessings, poverty of spirit, and, as a help to it and image of it, the out-
ward body of the soul of true poverty, poverty of substance too. The only
"riches " spoken of in the New Testament, except as a woe, are the unsearchable
riches of the glory and grace of Christ, the riches of the goodness of God, the
depth of the riches of His wisdom, or the riches of liberality, whereto deep poverty
abounded. 4. Poverty is, at least, a fostering nurse of humility, meekness,
patience, trust in God, simplicity, sympathy with the sufferings of our Lord or of
its fellow (for it knows the heart of those who suffer). What when riches, in them-
selves, hinder the very grace of mercifulness which seems their especial grace, of
which they are the very means ? What wonder that they cherish that brood of
snakes, pride, arrogance, self-pleasing, self-indulgence, self-satisfaction, trust in
self, forgetfulness of God, sensuality, luxury, spiritual sloth, when they deaden the
heart to the very sorrows they should relieve? And yet it is difficult, unless,
through self -discipline, we feel some diufiering, to sympathize with those who suffer.
Fulness of bread deadens love. As a rule, the poor show more mercy to the poor
out of their poverty, than the rich out of their abundance. But if it be a peril to
have riches, much more is it to seek them. To have them is a trial allotted to any
of us by God ; to seek them is our own. Through trials which He has given as
He will guide os ; but where has He promised to help us in what we bring upon
ourselves ? In all this I have not spoken of any grosser sins to which the love of
money gives birth ; of what all fair men would condemn, yet which, in some shape
or other, so many practise. Such are, hardness to the poor or to dependents ;
using a brother's services for almost nought, in order to have more to spend in
luxury ; petty or more grievous frauds ; falsehood, hard dealing, taking advantage
one of another, speaking evil of one another, envying one another, forgetting
natural affection. And yet in this Christian land many of these are very common.
Holy Scripture warns us all not to think ourselves out of danger of them. (E. B.
Pusey, D.D.) The deceitfulnesg of richet : — Notice the deceitfulness of all kinds
of riches. Biches may corrupt the very simplest of you. Take care. How many
men have received hold of the gallows and hanged themselves just through the
deceitfulness of riches. We could trace the history of many a man, and see how
he died in the bank, that great mortuary. The man began simply, and was a right
genial soul. He brought with him morning light and fresh air wherever he came ;
and as for cases of poverty, his hand knew the way to his pocket so well that be
could find that pocket in the dark. As for religious services, he was there before
the door was opened. He never thought the Sabbath day too long. He loved the
sanctuary, and was impatient until the gates were opened onto him. He even
went to the week-evening services. But then he was only a working man, and only
working men should go out into the night air 1 What does it matter about a few
working men being killed by the east wind? The man whose course we are
tracing doubled his income and multiplied it by five, and then doubled it again,
and then found that he must give up the prayer-meeting. Certainly. Then he
proceeded to double his income, and then he gave up the Sunday evening service.
There was a draught near where he sat, or there was some person in the third pew
from his the appearance of whom he could not bear. How dainty my lord is
becoming 1 Oh, what a nostril he has for evil savour! He will leave presently
altogether. Ee will not abruptly leave, but he will simply not come back again,
which really means practically the same thing. He will attend in the morning,
and congratulate the poor miserable preacher on the profit of the service. Did h*
mean to do this when he began to get a little wealthier t Not be. Is be the sams
HEAP. xvin.J ST. LUKE. 879
man he nsed to be ! No. Is he nearer Christ? He is a million nniverses away
from Christ. He is killed by wealth. He trusted in it, misunderstood, misapplied
it. It is not wealth that has mined him, but his misconception of the possible
uses of wealth. He might have been the leader of the Church. There was a lady,
whose husband's personalty was sworn at millions, who was unable to attend one
of the ladies' meetings organized for the pui-pose of making garments for the poor,
and she said that she could no longer attend, and therefore her subscription would
lapse. Let it lapse. If it were a case in connection with this Church I would not
have named it. It is because distance of space and time enable me to refer to it
■without identification that I point the moral, and say that where such wealth is,
or Boch use of wealth, there is rottenness of soul. (J. Parker, D.D.) You can-
not take your riches with you into the kingdom if you are going to trust in them : —
If you are going to offer them to Christ and sanctify them to His use, let us know
of it. You cannot bring your intellectual pride with you. If you are going to
consecrate your intellect to the study of the profoundest mysteries, if you are going
to cultivate the child-like spirit — for the greater the genias the greater the modesty
— bring it all 1 You can bring with you nothing of the nature of patronage to
Christ. It is because He has so little, He has so much ; because He is so weak.
He ia so strong. You cannot compliment Him : He lies beyond the range of
eulogy. We reach Him by His own way— sacrifice, self-immolation, transforma-
tion. A great mystery, outside of words and all their crafty uses, but a blessed,
conscious, spiritual experience. Blessed are those to whom that experience
is a reality. {Ibid.) Who, then, can be saved ? — TTho, thin, can be saved f
— The difficulties of salvation, however, do not arise from the want of power
in God, for nothing is too hard for Him ; He can as easily save a world
as He could at first create one. Nor does it arise from any want of suffi-
ciency in Christ, for "He is able to save to the uttermost them that come
Tmto God by Him *' ; yes, to the uttermost of our desires and necessities,
and in the last extremity. The difficulties therefore arise from the nature
of salvation itself, and our sinful aversion to it. L Let va notice mobb
PABTICULABLT SOME OK THE DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY OF ODE SALVATION. 1. The
truths to be believed are some of them very mysterious, and, as Peter says, " Hard
to be understood." 2. The sacrifices to be made are also in some degree painful.
That which cost our Saviour so much must surely cost us something. 3. The
dispositions to be exercised are such as are contrary to the natural bias of our
depraved hearts. 4. The duties to be performed. Is there no difficulty more
especially in renouncing a customary or constitutional evil, and keeping ourselves
from oor own iniquity ? 5. The trouble and danger to which religion exposes its
professors. H. Attempt to answeb the inquiry in oue text, *' Who, then, can
be saved ? " If men were left to themselves, either in a natural or renewed state,
and if God were not to work, or to withhold His hand after He had begun to work,
none would be saved, no, not one. 1. Such shall be saved as are appointed to it.
Of some it is said, " God hath chosen them to salvation, through sanctification of
the Spirit, and belief of the truth." 2. Those shall be saved who are truly
desirous of it. 3. Those who come to Christ for salvation shall be sure to obtain
it. 4. Such as endure to the end shall be saved. {B. Beddome, M.A.) Lo, we
Iiave left aJl and followed Thee. — The happiness of self-denial : — I. Self-denial is
TO BB explained. 1. In the first place, it does not consist in giving ap one
temporal and personal good for a greater temporal and personal good. For this is
self-gratifying instead of self-denying. Any entirely selfish person would be
willing to do this. One man will sacrifice his property to gratify his ambition,
which he esteems a greater good. Another man will sacrifice his property to
gratify his appetite, which he esteems a greater good. Another will sacrifice his
property to gratify his revenge, which he esteems a greater good. Bat none of
these persons, in these cases, exercise the least self-denial. 2. Nor, secondly, does
self-denial consist in giving up a less temporal and personal good for a greater
personal and eternal good. The most corrupt and selfish men in the world are
willing to give up any or all their temporal and personal interests for the sake of
obtaining future and eternal happiness. 3. But, thirdly and positively, self-denial
consists in giving up our own good for the good of others. Such self-denial stands
in direct contrariety to selfishness. II. Tbue self-denial is pboductitk of the
highest pbbsbnt and futhbb happiness. This wiU appear if we consider — 1.
The nature of true self-denial. It consists, as we have seen, in giving np a lesa
joivate or personal good for a greater public good ; or in giving np our own good
880 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap. Trm,
for the greater good ot others. And this necessarily implies disinterested benevo-
lence, which is placing our own happiness in the greater happiness of others.
When a man gives up his own happiness to promote the greater happiness of
another, he does it freely and voluntarily, because he takes more pleasure in the
greater good of another than in a less good of bis own. 2. Those who have denied
themselves the most have found the greatest happiness resulting from their self-
denial. 3. The great and precious promises which are expressly made to self-
denial by Christ Himself. Conclusion : 1. It appears, then, that self-denial is
necessarily a term or condition of salvation. 2. It appears, also, that the doctrine
cannot be carried too far. 3. If Christianity requires men to exeroise true self-
denial, then the Christian religion is not a gloomy, but a joyful, religion. It
affords a hundredfold more happiness than any other religion can afford. 4. It
appears from the nature of that self-denial which the gospel requires that the more
sinners become acquainted with the gospel, the more they are disposed to hate it
and reject it. All sinners are lovers of their own selves, and regard their own good
supremely and solely, and the good of others only so far as it tends to promote
their own private, personal, and selfish good. 6. It appears from the nature
of that self-denial which the gospel requires why sinners are more willing
to embrace any false scheme of religion than the true. {N. Emmoru, D.D.)
Christian discipleship : — I. To be the followeks of the Savioce, is to sustain a
CHABACTF.R OF BiOH AND ESSENTIAL IMPORTANCE. 1. We cauuot hold this relation-
ship to the Son of God without believing the testimony given concerning Him, in
the Scriptures. 2. Believing in Christ, we must be excited to a practical obedience
to His commands, and an imitation of the excellences displayed as an example to
man. 3. That same principle of faith will excite also to public profession of the
Saviour's name, and active exertion in His cause. 4. Combine in your own
characters the principles and the conduct to which we have now adverted.
Believe on the Son of God ; give an obedience to His perceptive will, and imitate
the excellences He displayed ; profess publicly that you will be His, and be active
and zealous in the promotion of His designs; and then vnU. you indeed and
honourably be among those who "follow Him." IL That in sustaining this
cBABACTEB, PAINFUL SACRIFICES MUST OFTEN BE MADE. Sacrifices for the name's
sake of the Son of God are justified and called for, by reasons which might be
expanded in very extensive illustration. Remember for whom they are made. For
whom ? For Him who built the fabric of the universe, and over whose wondrous
creation the " morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for
joy." For whom ? For Him who is " the brightness of the Father's glory, and the
express image of His person," in whom " dwells all the fulness of the Godhead
bodily. " For whom ? For Him who ' ' was rich, but for your sakes became poor," &c.
Eemember for what these sacrifices are made. They are made for the enjoyment
of peace of conscience. They are made for a restoration to the image and the
friendship of God. They are made for the refinement and ennobling of the nature.
It is 10 be observed again — III. That present bacbifices in the cause, and as
THE FOLLOWERS OF THE SaVIOUB, ABE TO ISSUE IN A GLORIOUS REWARD. 1. The
Saviour promises advantage to be possessed in the present life. In following
Christ, we are blessed with repose of conscience ; we are exalted to fellowship with
God ; we are endowed with capacities for improving in the knowledge of mysteries,
identified with the highest welfare of our being ; we become the companions of the
excellent of the earth, and tbe innumerable company of angels ; we are urged to a
rapid increase in the graces which dignify the character, and are a pledge of the
sublimity of the final destiny ; we are supplied with strong consolation for sorrow,
and firm support for death ; and prospects are opened which stretch away to the
immensities of immortality. Are not these '* a hundredfold " ? Here is the
" pearl of great price": and well may we resolve to be as the merchant, and
" sell " or " forsake " all we have, and buy it 1 2. The Saviour promises advantage
to be possessed in the life to come. It is a wise regulation in the decisions of
Providence, that our chief reward is reserved for another state of existence. The
Almighty intends that, in this world, our lives shall be those of trial ; and that
the stability of our graces should be proved, by the rigid and sometimes painful
discipline to which we are exposed. (J. Parsons.) Christian relationships : —
Homes, parents, brethren, wives, children, are things to be desired, because they
call forth the highest and purest affections, the exercise of which sheds abroad in
the heart the highest and sweetest human joy and satisfaction. Now a man'9
conversion to the faith of Christ, though it at times, perhaps almost alway-*.
cmiT. XTm.] ST. LUKE. 381
estranged him from a heathen home and family, gave him another home, and a
far wider family, attached to him in far firmer and closer, and withal more holy
bonds, and these were brethren and sisters, fathers and mothers in Christ. Tha
exercise of purified love and affection, and, we may add, reverence towards these,
would diffuse through his heart a far holier and deeper joy than he had ever
experienced in his former unholy heathen state. Take, for instance, the last
chapter of the Epistle to the Bomans ; look at the number of Christiana to whom
the apostle sent salutation. In no one case were these salutations a mere heartless
form. In every case they were accompanied by the overflow of Christian love, by
memories of how they had laboured and suffered together in the same holy cause -•
in most cases, perhaps, they were the greetings of a father to his children in the
faith. What a sea of satisfaction and holy joy does all this disclose 1 And so it
was, though, of course, in different degrees, and under various forms, with every
Christian who had given up any worldly advantage for Christ's sake. (M. F.
Sadler.)
Vers. 31-34. Behold we go up to Jerusalem. — The entrance into the Passion
reason: — L We oaze at the Lobd, and inquibe how He entebed the seasoh
or passion. 1. Not unprepared, but with a full, clear consciousness — (1) not only
of His sufferings in general, but also in all their particulars ; and (2) of the relation
between His sufferings and the Divine Word and will. 2. His consciousness
afforded Him the peace, courage, and decision to endure the sufferings willingly
and patiently. II. We oazb at oubselves, and inquibe how we should bnteb
THIS SEASON OF THE Chttbch tbab. 1. Not like the world, whose custom is to
celebrate it with all kinds of amusement and folly ; but, as the followers of Christ,
let us get ready to accompany the Lord in His season of suffering. 2. Tet not
like the twelve, of whom we read that they understood none of these things. We
must know why and for whom the Lord suffered and died. 3. The blind man of
Jericho is a good example to show how we should enter in with the Lord as He
approaches ]£s sufferings. (1) He appeals again and again for mercy. (2) He
concentrates all his desires into one plea — that he might see. And the Lord opens
his eyes. (Schaffer.) A study for a doctrine of the atonement: — I shall proceed,
accordingly, to indicate some personal ways in which it seems to me we may learn
to enter, in some degree, into Jesus' consciousness that He must needs suffer. Tet
only in some degree, and in no full measure, can we hope to comprehend in our
human experience the mind that was in Jesus. The open and most natural way of
thought for us to take, in our desire to understand this most sacred truth, seems to
me to be in general as follows : Study what forgiveness of injuries involves to the
most Christian man or woman, learn what forgiveness of wrong may cost the most
Christlike heart, and from such knowledge gain the means of understanding why
the Christ from God must needs suffer on the Cross. If we have not been com-
pelled by some bitter experience of our own to learn the moral necessities of
suffering in forgiving sin, let us search with reverent sympathies the depth of the
trouble into which others have been plunged by some erring one to whom they were
bound by vital ties ; learn how father, mother, wife, must needs suffer in the con-
tinued charity, and shielding love, and ever open forgiveness of the home towards
one who has gone forth from it, unworthy of it, and been lost in the world. Such
in general is the vital method, the personal way, in which we may study the
doctrine of the atonement of Christ for the sin of the world. Let me briefly
indicate several more definite truths which we may find in such study of the Cross.
First, In our experience of forgiveness, and its moral necessities, we find that there
must be penitence or confession on the part of the person who has done wrong.
The sense of justice and right which demands confession of wrong and restitution
is as human and as Divine as the love which would forgive an offence, and accept
another's wiUingness to make restitution. Secondly, Human forgiveness involves
a painful knowledge of the wrong which has been inflicted. Forgiveness is always
bom of suffering. You surely cannot forgive a friend if you have never known and
felt the hurt of his unkindness. Some suffering for the injury received is an indis-
pensable condition, or antecedent, of the exercise of forgiveness. Thirdly, We
approach now another element in the history of human forgiveness, which is of
deep moral significance ; viz., the suffering of the injured person must be so dis*
covered to the wrong-doer that be can know it, and have some appreciation of it,
in order that forgiveness may be granted and received, and its perfect work acoom»
pliiihed. but J uu will ask, Is it not the glory of the forgiving spirit to hid* its
882 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chaf. XJtxu
senst of hurt ? And the human forgiveness is never more than • polite fiction, if.
there is not in the hour of reconciliation this frank declaration and acknowledge
ment of the wrong done, and the suffering received from it. One thing in it seems^
to me clear as conscience. That wronged man cannot forgive his repentant enemy
by treating his sin as though it had been nothing, by making light of it as though
it had not cost him days of trouble, by hiding it in his good nature as though it
were not an evil thing. Somehow that sense of injustice in his soul must find vent
and barn itself out. Somehow that sense of wrong must manifest itself, and in
some pure revelation of itself pass away. It cannot pass forever away except
through revelation, as the fire expires through the flame. Yet in forgiveness
justice must be a self-revealing flame, and not a consuming fire. Something lik«
this has been the process of all genuine human reconciliations which I have
observed. As an essential element of the reconciliation there was some revelation
of pure justice. There was no hiding of the wrong. On either side there was no
behttling the injury. There was no trifling with it as though a sin were nothing.
It was no thoughtless forgiveness out of mere good nature, in which the heart's
deeper sense of righteousness was not satisfied. I have left myself time only to
point to the way by which we may ascend from this our human experience of for-
giveness to the Cross of Christ, and the necessity for it in the love of God. It is &■
part of the penalty of sin that in every human transgression some just one must
needs sufler with the guilty. This is a natural necessity of our human, or organic,
relationship. And because we are so bound up together in good and in evil, we can-
bear one another's burdens, suffer helpfully for another, and to a certain extent save
one another from the evil of the world. Now, according to these Gospels, God in
Christ puts himself into this human relationship, and, as one with man, bears his
burden and suffers under the sin of the world. The Father of spirits in His own
eternal blessedness may not suffer with men; but in Christ God has humbled Him-
self to our consciousness of sin and death. In Christ the eternal love comes under
the moral law of suffering, under which forgiveness may work its perfect work.
More particularly, in the life and death of Christ these several elements which we
have found belonging essentially to our experience of reconciliation with one
another, have full exercise and scope. For Christ, identifying Himself with our
sinful consciousness, makes a perfect repentance for sin and confession of it unto
the Father. Christ experiences our sin as sinful, and confesses it. And again,
Christ realizes the cost of the sin of the world. His loneliness of spirit, the cruel
misunderstandings of Him by all men. His Gethsemane, His Cross — all realize the
cost and suffering of sin, and in view of such sufferings of the Son of Man sin
never can be regarded as a light and trifling thing. And still further, Christ revealff
to the world what its sin has cost, and enables man who would be forgiven ta
appreciate it, and to acknowledge it. {N. Smyth, D.D.) The^ understood none
of these things. Misunderstanding Christ : — The disciples' failure to understand
the Master suggests an alviays timely question for the followers of Jesus: What
misunderstandings of Christ may still be lingering in Christianity ? The question
is the more pertinent and the more necessary because one reason for the disniples'
failure to perceive the things that were said by Jesus on His way to the Cross, was
the knowledge of Him which they already possessed. Two truths in particular
which they had learned better than any one else concerning Jesus, they
allowed to stand in the way of their further understanding of Him. They had
been taught His wonderful power. They had been eye-witnesses of His mighty
works. They began to believe that Jesus oould do anything. This truth of the
power of the Son of Man they were ready to receive, and they stopped with the
knowledge of it. He who had power from God could not be taken and killed by
the Pharisees. So they grasped with eager hope the truth that Jesus was the
promised Messiah of Israel, and missed the deeper truth of His character, that
God so loved the world. Then again the truth which they had learned better than
any others of Jesus' wonderful kindness, and justice, and humanity, in their partial
view of it, may have hidden from their eyes the full revelation which He would have
them perceive of His Divine life. How could He who had power over death, and
who had so pitied two sisters that He had restored their brother to them, and who
had enveloped their lives in a friendship of wonderful daily thoughtfulness — ^how
could He, having all power, go away hrom them, leave them comfortless, throw
them back again upon the world, and disappoint their high hopes of Him ? No
wonder Peter thought it was impossible, and even said impulsively, " Be it far
from Thee, Lord 1 " The truth of Christ's friendship which they did know pr«>
CHAT. XTin.] ST. LUKE. 889
vented them from understanding the diviner secret of God's sacrificial love for the
world, which they might have learned. So they who knew the Lord best, mis*
understood Him the most ; and Jesus went before His disciples in a deeper purpose
and a diviner thought than they perceived. Our text reads like a devout apology
of the disciples for their singular misunderstanding of Jesus Christ. The provi-
dence of God had taught them their mistake. And very instructive for ns is the
method by which God corrected the false perception of the disciples, and opened
their eyes to true and larger knowledge of the Lord. They overcame their mis-
understanding, and were brought to better understanding of Jesus Christ, through
the trial and the task of their faith. These two, trials and tasks, are God's waye
of correcting men's imperfect faiths. For you will recall how those disciples, at
the time of the crucifixion, and while they were waiting in Jerusalem, learned in
their disenchantment, and were taught through that fearful strain and trial of their
faith, as they had never been before, of what Spirit Jesus was, and what His real
mission to this world was ; and thus they were prepared to see and to become
apostles of the risen Lord. That trial of their faith, while Jesus was mocked, and
scourged, and delivered to death, and crucified between two thieves, and buried^
all the light blotted from their skies, all the proud ambition broken in their soul»
— yet in His death a new, strange expectancy awakened in their hearts, and on the
third day a vision seen which made all things a new world to them — that trial of
their faith was the Lord's method of teaching the disciples what before had
remained hidden from them even in the plainest words of Jesus. And then this
knowledge of the new, larger truth of Christ's work was rounded out, and filled full
of a steady, clear light to them, by the task immediately given them to do in the
name of the crucified and risen Lord. They learned at Pentecost what Chris-
tianity was to be. {Ibid.)
Vera. 35-43. A certain blind man sat by the wayside. — The blind marCtpertinacitxf
and cure : — This teaches us — I. Tbk impobtakce of the ihuedutb seizing o»
OPFOBTUNIXIES. H. ThE IMPORTANCE OF PEBTIIIACITT, IN THB ATFAIBS OF THE SOUIm^
III. The boot of this pbomptness of action — of this undaunted pebtinacitt— '
WAS FAITH. IV. The bestoeed sight is used in following Chbist, and in oloeify-
INO God. (Anon.) Blind Bartimeu» : — I. Hindbanobs which beset us in oomino^
TO Chbist fob mbbct. 1. Our own blindness. 2. Impediments that others cast in
the way. II. Actions of encoubaoement fob oub coming to Chbist. 1. Jesu»
stood still. 2. On Jesus showing Himself favourable, then at once did multitude.
S. In eagerness to go to Jesus, man left garment behind (Mark z. 50). Must cast
off custom and habit of sin. Then, going to the Saviour will be easy, and prayer
will be heard and answered. ILL Blessing eeceived ; effect pboduced. 1. What
the poor man willed, the Lord granted. 2. A new follower. Application : 1. Let
no worldly hindrances debar from Christ. 2. Many encouragements to go. Go.
3. Having gone, truly, wholly — surely follow Him. {Clergyman's Magazine.) The
souVs crisis : — L Now, looking stedfastly that this may be the case, I wish to speak
very pointedly to you about two or three things. First, when Jesus passed by the-
blind man it was to that mac a day of hope. It was an hour of hope to that blind'
man, and if Jesus passes by now this is an hour of hope to you. But, does He pass
by ? I answer — Yes. There are different respects in which this may be interpreted
of oar Lord's conduct. In a certain sense He has been passing by some of you
ever since you began to discern right from wrong. More especially is it a time o^
Christ's passing by when the gospel is preached with power. II. Secondly, as it
was a time of hope to that poor blind man, so was it especially a time of activitt.
Tou that anxiously desire salvation, regard attentively these words. A man cannot
be saved by what he does ; salvation is in Christ, yet no man is saved except as he
seeks earnestly after Christ. 1. This man hstened attentively. 2. He inquired
with eagerness what it meant. 3, When this man had asked the question, and had
been told in reply that Jesns of Nazareth passed by, notice what he did next, he
began to pray. His cry was a prayer, and lus prayer was a cry. 4. After this mao'
had thus pleaded* it is noteworthy that Jesus stood still and called him. That
much-prized, though all patched and filthy garment, he throw right away ; it might
have made him a minute or two slower, so off he threw it, and away he flung it.
Ah 1 and it is a great mercy when a poor soul feels that it can throw away anything-
and everything to get to Christ. 6. Once more. When this man had come to>
JesDB, and Jesus said to him, " What wilt thou that I should do unto thee 7 " the mni^
^tozned a straightforward and intelligent answer, " Lord, that I might reoeive my-
884 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cnkv. ma.
eight." 6. Still, I cannot withhold one other remark. That which really bronght
salvation to this blind man was his faith, for Christ says, " Thy faith hath saved
thee." Now, here is the greatest point of all — faith 1 Faith ; for work without
faith is of little worth. Faith is the great saving grace ; it is the real life-germ.
III. It was also an hotje of ceisis. IV. Lastly, remember that this hour of Jesua
passing by is an houb that will soon be gone. Did you notice that word, " Jesua
of Nazareth passeth by ? " (C H. Spurgeon.) The passing Christ recognized : —
As people do not recognize that Christ passeth near to them when they are in
health, even so they do not see as they ought His band in their sickness. An
invaUd lamented to a lady who came to see her, that she had abused her health
before it was taken from her. The friend replied, " I hope that now you will take
care not to abuse your sickness." Assuredly we abuse our sickness when we do not
see the hand of God in it, and do not allow Jesus of Nazareth, who passeth by our
bed, to bring us nearer to Himself. {E. J. Hardy, M.A.) Enthiisiasm rebuked : —
Blind Bartimeus has to encounter obstructionists ; the nnsympathizing crowd
interfered to silence the man. " Hold thy peace, Bartimeus ; have done with all
this frenzied excitement ; Christ has other things to do than listen to thee ! " So
long ago was it a settled matter that a man may get excited about anything in the
wide world except about Christ I You are quite at liberty to get excited about the
latest war news, about politics, about the race-course, about the money-market,
about anything you like, save the interests of your soul. Yes ; these highly respect-
able people of eighteen hundred years ago have left a numerous progeny. There
are always plenty of persons ready to give good advice to seeking souls, or to young
Christians, after this fashion: "Keep quiet, my friend; don't get excited; hush !
don't make a noise about such things ; whatever you do, keep calm, and don't make
a fuss." I observe that the devil has his own fire-brigade, who are always ready
with their hose — waiting to throw cold water on any little flame that the Holy Spirit
kindles, and to offer sedatives to any startled sinner who is beginning to be in
earnest about his soul. These excellent people will tell you that it is all right and
proper to be religious, to be earnest up to a certain point, but you must be careful
uot to go beyond this. When you come to inquire what this point is, you make the
astonishing discovery that it is just the point at which religion begins to do one any
real good 1 Be earnest, so long as your earnestness does not bring you salvation ;
be pious, so long as your piety fails to reveal the living God to your heart ; but be
fiure and stop short of receiving God's gift of everla'^ting life, or you vrill be going
too far 1 \w. M. Hay Aitken, M.A.) The blind sister .-—A year ago last winter
«n affecting scene occurred in the streets of Baltimore. Two little sisters were
looking through a large store window at the toys within, and trying to describe what
they saw to a little blind sister who was with them. They were exhausting their
feeble powers of description to bring home to the mind of their blind companion
■what they saw, although she listened greedily. But, after all, they failed to present
anything more than an imperfect representation. The gentleman who saw the
circumstance said that it was extremely touching, that they tried hard to describe
the collection in the store, but they could not do it. That is just like our trying to
tell you of Christ. Opening the eyes of faith: — By merely opening my eyes all
the glories o! light burst upon me. I take in at a glance the human face or the
stretch of magnificent scenery. I gaze across the vast ocean, or, looking up through
the night, I grasp millions of worlds and embrace infinitude. What an amazing
result from merely opening the eyes and looking up 1 How often, too, a single
incident, the meeting of a particular friend or the encountering of some difficulty or
danger, or the gaining of a little information, colours the whole of a man's subse-
quent life — indeed, gives him an entirely different direction and turn. His whole
attitude is altered by what occupied but a moment. It is, then, quite in accordance
with God's arrangement and man's world that great things should depend on Tery
simple matters. And the belief that Jesus is the Son of God, though a simple
thing, though not a complex, laborious, lengthened operation, is yet the very act
most fitted to open the soul for God. It is not labour that is required for the
reception of God. It is the feeling of emptiness, and desire to receive. It is trust
in God, the belief in His great love. No labour will enable a man to behold the
Sight of the sun or the multitude of the stars, but opening his eyes will. Opening
ithe eyes to God's great love in Christ, receiving that marvellous display of God's
inmost heart, that opens the heart, that brings into true accord with God, that
fiives a wholly different outlook on the world, that alters a man's entire attitude.
^. Leekit, D.D.) The cure of blind Bartimeui .-—Let tu therefore review raa
•BAT. xrm.] ST. LUKE. 888
CIBCUMSTANCS8 ot THK HisTOST BBroBK US — and endeavoor to derive bomb usefuii
ADMONITIONS FROM IT. One of the characters of our Savionr's miracles was pablicity.
Impostors require secrecy and darkness. Thus He recovered this man before a
multitude in the highway, and close to the city of Jerieho. Several of our Saviour's
miracles seem to have been unintentional. Thus it is said, " As He entered a
certain village, there met Him ten men, that were lepers, who stood afar off." Thus
again we read, that " when He came nigh to the gate of the city of Nain, behold,
there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a
widow." And so here : " It came to pass, that as He was come nigh onto Jericho,
a certain blind man sat by the way-side begging." You may ask then, Was Hia
finding these objects accidental or designed ? Unquestionably, designed. He was
not taKen by surprise. He saw the end from the beginning. His plan was formed ;
and He was '* working all things after the counsel of His own wiU." Our Saviour
>s acquainted with all our sins, but He requires as to confess them ; He understands
all our wants, but He commands us to acknowledge them ; He is always graciously
affected towards our case, but He would have us properly affected with it ourselves.
He knew the desire of this man, but He would know it from him himself ; and
therefore, when he was come near, He asked him, saying, " What wilt thou that I
shall do unto thee ? " So here : as soon as Bartimeus received sight from the Lord
Jesus, " he followed Him in the way, glorifying God." We may view this two ways.
It was first an evidence of the reality and perfection of the cure. In other cases
where human skill has removed bliadness by couching, the restored orbs cannot be
immediately used ; light is admitted into them by degrees ; the man cannot measure
distances, nor judge with accuracy; and he is not fit to be left to himself. But it
is said our Lord " did all things well." His manner distinguished him — the man
saw at once clearly ; and was able to conduct himself. Secondly, it was an im-
provement of the greatness of the mercy. " I can never," says he, " discharge my
obligations to such a gracious and almighty Friend. But let me devote myself to
His service — let me continually ask, ' Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ? ' "
From the narrative thus explained, I would take occasion to bring forward four
admonitions. 1. Be fbbsuaded that you abe au. spibituallt in thb oonditioh
or Babtiubds— and that without Divine illumination, you are no more qualified
for the concerns of the moral world than a blind man is for those of the natural
world. 2. Bb pebsdasbd that, with beoabd to the beuovaii of this blindness,
TOD ABB IN AS HOPETtiL A CONDITION AS THIS FOOB MAN. In all these miraclcs
oar blessed Lord holds Himself forth as the all-sufficient helper of sinners. 3.
Bb persuaded to imitate the impobtunity or this blind begoab, in cbyino
roB mercy. And especially let your importunity, like this poor man's, appear
with regard to two things. First, like him, seize the present moment. Let not
the opportunity afforded you be lost by delay. Secondly, like him, be not silenced
by discouragement and opposition. 4. If He has healed you! — if you can say,
"One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see" — like Babtimeus,
BE OABsruL TO FOLLOW THE Savioub. This is the best way to evidence your cure.
This is also the best way to improve your deliverance. Thus you will " show
forth the praises of Him who hath called you out of darkness into His mar-
vellous light." Follow Him, then, as an imitator of His example. {W. Jay.)
What wilt thon that I shall do unto thee 7 — A worshipper questioned : — All who
oome to church should come not to keep up an ancient form, do a duty, discharge
an obligation, but to meet with Christ. And we do meet with Him (Matt, xviii. 20).
And He asks of each the question in the text. Three classes of replies. 1. The
reply of some is, '' Let us alone — leave us." Diogenes wished Alexander, as the
greatest favour he could bestow, to "stand out of my sunshine." Christ stands
between some men and what they imagine to be sunshine. (1) How ungrateful is
SQch a reply. What pain and grief it must give Him who died to save us. (2) How
mad it is. If we could succeed we should have destroyed our only hope — broken
the only bridge by which we might return. 2. The reply of others is, " Lull our
consciences to rest." They want ease, but not holiness, pardon without change of
heart. (1) How vain is such a search. Christ's offers are always coupled with require-
ments ( Matt. zi. 28-30 ; v. 8). (2) How utterly worthless it would be. It would
be a sham, and we should know it and despise it. 3. The reply of others is, " Cleanse,
purify, renew us." Like this man they ask for sight. Like the leper they ask to
be made clean. They cry m their doubts and fears, " I believe ; help Thoa mine
unbelief." And such never come in vain. Christ meets with them, and though
they touch but the hem of His garment, grants their requests (Luke iv. la).
TOL. III. 25 _
aae the biblical illustrator. [oh**, xn.
{J, Ogle.) Blindness and tJie blind: — Much as blind people lose by not having
the use of their eyes, they have often made themselves not only useful, but even
4istingaished. Professor Sanderson, of Cambridge, England, lost his sight when
only a year old, but became a great mathematician. Dr. Blackwood was master of
Oreak, Latin, Italian, and French, and a poet of no mean degree. Dr. Henry Moyea
was skilled in geometry, optics, and astronomy, and he could judge very accarately
of the size of any room in which he happened to be by the effects of his voice.
John Metcalf, an Englishman, was employed first as a wagoner, and afterwards
became a surveyor of highways. By the help of a long staff, he would traverse the
most difficult mountain roads, and was able to do more than many men accomplish
with their eyes open. William Metcalf laid out roads and built bridges. Euler, the
mathematician, was blind. John Qough, who was an accurate botanist and zoolo-
gist, was also blind. Lord Cranboume, blind from his childhood, published a
history of France for the young. Huber, who has written such an interesting book
about bees, was blind. Homer was blind. The same was true of Ossian and Mil-
ton. Zisca, the famous Bohemian general, performed great acts of valour after the
loss of his sight. The Eev. J. Crosse, vicar of Bradford, England, was blind, but
as he knew the Church service by heart, he was able to conduct public worship with
impressiveness and solemnity, only requiring the help of another person to read the
lessons for him. {J.N. Norton, D.D.) Spiritual blindne$$ and tight: — To be
vain is to be blind, and to persist in blindness, and in the ignorance of one's blind-
ness, and to refuse the opportunities of sight. To be worldly is to be blind ; to
grope among the dusty ways, the opaque and earthly objects of this lower sphere,
contented with their darkness, or expecting light to shine out from it — is to be
grossly blind. To be without religion, to look not up above for cheering and guiding
light, to seek not the rays of that eternal Sun, which alone can warm and invigorate
the soul — that is to be blind. But to be humble is to see. To feel that we are
ignorant, that we are weak, that we are poor, and that the darkness within needs
illumination from the Light above, and to pray for that illumination is to have our
eyes opened, and to see. To receive Jesus as the author and finisher of our faith,
to go to Him for the precept and example, the doctrine and direction which we so
much need, and which we can obtain ^om no one but from Him who was sent to
as from the Father of lights, is to be cured of our blindness, and to receive our
eight. To foUow His blessed steps, to write His instructions on the tables of our
hearts, to shun all allurements and pass over all obstacles which interfere with the
duty of discipleship, is to walk as children of the light and of the day. (F. W. P.
Greenwood, DJ).)
CHAPTER XIX.
Ybbs. 1-10. A man named Zacchens. — Zaccheus the publican ."—1. Ths aBAOiooa
EMTBT. II. A coMMBMDABLS CDBiosiTT. 1. This curioslty unusuaL (1) A rich man
anxious to see Jesus. (2) A rich man overcoming hindrance that he might gratify
such curiosity. (3) Are there any here anxious to see Jesns ? (4) Are you willing
to seek Him now ? III. A wonderful subpbiss. 1. In the unexpected detection.
2. In the unexpected summons by name. 3. In the unexpected declaration of
Jesus. lY. Am dmusual besfonsb. 1. In its alacrity. 2. In its obedience. 3. In
its sincerity. (1^ What an example to follow 1 (2) What blessedness such
obedience ever brings 1 V. An ungaiiLbd-fob complaint. 1. In its spirit. 2. In
its argument. TI. A oenuins penitent. 1. Shown in his implied confession. 2.
In his sincere reformation. 3. In the fact of his salvation. YIl. The uission and
POBPOBX or Cbbist. Practical questions : 1. Have you ever desired to see Jesus T
2. Have you ever truly sought to find Jesus ? 3. ELave you ever believed on Jesus?
4. If not, will you now? (D. G. Hughes, M.A.) The Christian not of the
crowd : — Shall we have no interest in Him ? Shall we not desire to see of Him all
that we can T We cannot, indeed, with all our endeavours and reaching upward,
see His countenance and person, as Zacchens did, by mounting into a tree ; but wa
may see mnch more than he did, who saw Him but in the fiesh, not yet glorified.
We may see Him in spirit, we may behold Him through faith, and in such gbry as
Zaccheus had not power to conceive. We may have in our hearts the tokens ot
«HA». xnc] ST. LUKE. 887
His presence, and we may receive from Him the earnest of that glory with which
He will clothe His people, that they may be like unto Him. But then, again, after
they have begun to entertain something like a wish and desire, do not many desist,
from the fear of being thought singular, from the dread of appearing unlike other
people 1 They dare not make themselves so conspicuous. And yet what rules of
modesty will not people break, what public notice will they not brave, when some
attractive spectacle of this world's pomp and splendour is to be seen ! Then the
man of gravity, then the female of delicacy, are seen to make no scruples of
mounting up above the heads of the crowd into the most preposterous and
ludicrous positions. {R. W. Evans, B.B.) The conversion of Zaccheus : — I. How
DID Zaccheus happen to be converted ? He wanted to see Jesus, what sort of a
man (rig iffriv) He was — a low motive, but it was the salvation of Zaccheus. It is
surprising that he should never have seen or heard Jesus, when Jericho was so near
Jerusalem, and Jesus was so famous a prophet. The ignorance of intelligent men
<K>ncerning religion is astonishing. We should encourage people to go to see who
Jesus is, pray that they may go, from curiosity if from no higher motive. Taking
Zaccheus's standpoint, the awakening of his curiosity probably explains how he
happened to be converted. From Christ's standpoint we get a different view. He
had Zaccheus in mind, bo it appeared. When He came to the tree and called his
tiame and bade him come down, He said, "To-day I must abide at thy house." "I
must." This was among the events in the fixed, predetermined order of those last
colemn days. " To-day " the seeking sinner and the seeking Saviour were to meet.
*♦ We see from the story," says Dr. Brown, " that we may look for unexpected con-
Tersions." II. What converted Zaccheus ? Suppose he had been asked the
question that evening. He would have given different answers. He would have
spoken of the influence of Bartimeus, or of Matthew. Again, he would speak of the
«all of Jesus, the brief, thrilling words, beginning with his own name. Or, in
another mood, he would say, " It was because I heeded, first the voice within, and
then that voice Divine. I converted myself. I listened. I came down. I received
Him. How fortunate that I took that resolution ! " At another time he would
emphasize the work of the Holy Spirit. " I never should have taken the first step,
the thought of it would never have lodged in my mind, without some power from
without moving me. It was not like me. It was contrary to the whole course of
xny life. It must have been the work of the Holy Ghost." So it is in the case of
every convert. Each answer would contain a phase of the truth. IH. When was
Zaccheus converted ? " Somewhere between the limb and the ground " — Moody.
The prodigal was converted when he said, "I will arise," Zaccheus when he said,
•*I will go down." There is no interval between surrender and conversion. If
Zaccheus had died as he moved to descend, he would have been saved. God does
not delay us. He gives when we take. IV. What were the evidences or thb
coNTERSioN or Zacchbus? 1. He received Christ. Notice that it was Zaccheus
who received Christ. We must receive Him before He can receive us (John i. 12).
2. Joyfulness. He received Him joyfully. 3. Zaccheus " stood." He made, that
is, an open confession. It was harder to do this than to climb the tree. This,
every true convert will do (Rom. x. &-10). 4. Confession and reformation. ((?. R.
Leavitt.) The seeker sought : — I. The chabacteb or Zaccheus. A Hebrew name
with a Greek termination, signifying " pure." A man may have a noble ancestry
and an ignoble calling — a good name and a bad reputation. There is an important
difference between a man's reputation and a man's character. Beputation is what
:men say about us, character is what a man is. 1- We may learn from this verse
something about Zaccheus's social standing. ''He was the chief among the
publicans." Some men are exposed to special temptations from the positions they
hold. A dishonest calling blunts our finest sensibiUties, hardens our heart, and
degrades our whole nature. 2. We may learn from this verse something about
Zaccheus's secular position. ** And he was rich." II. The curiosity or Zaccheus.
Cariosity, which is commonly regarded as a dangerous disposition, is natural to
man, and may be serviceable in the most sacred pursuits. It excites inquiry, it
Etimolates research, and it leads to the solution of many of the ^ark problems of
Uie. 1. In this case curiosity awakened an earnest desire to see Jesus. 2. In this
case cariosity overcame the difficulties that were in the way of seeing Jesus. TTT.
The oaUiINO or Zaccheus. L This was a personal call. Christ not only knew
his name, bat his nature. He knew the place he occupied, and the thoughts ha
ieh«rished. 2. This was an argent call. " Zaccheus, make haste, and eoma
down." The coming of Chzist is anexpected, and His stay brief. He is passing
S68 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, jmm,
to-day, and may have passed to-morrow. What we have to do mast be don*
quickly. 3. This was an effectual call. " And be made haste, and came down."
What a mighty energy there is in the word of Christ I At His word the blind
received their sight, and the dead started to life again. lY. Tbb oonvebsiom ov
Zaccheub. " TluB day is salvation come to thy house." Personal contact with
Christ ensures special blessing from Christ. When Christ is present with us, there
will be light in the eye, music in the voice, and gladness in the heart. 1. This was
a present salvation. (1) What a marvellous change was wrought in his character!
The dishonest man became honest, the selfish man became generous, and the sinful
man became righteous. (2) What a glorious change was wrought in his service t
Instead of living for self, he began to live for the Saviour ; instead of seeking
the things of time, he began to seek the things of eternity. 2. This was a
practical salvation. " And Zaccheus stood, and said unto the Lord, Behold, Lord,
the half of my goods I give to the poor." This is a splendid liberality. He does
not give a tenth, not a fifth, but the half. He does not say I will leave at my
decease, but I give during my lifetime. When Christ comes to abide in a rich
man's house, he will open his heart to give to the poor. {J. T. Woodhome, MjL.)
The cliaracter of Zaccheus : — I. The man. 1. His nationality. A Jew. 2. Hia
ofGlcial position. Chief among the publicans. 8. Hia financial condition. Bich.
As is too often the case, Zaccheus, perhaps, owed his official position more to his
purse than his purity — more to what he had than to what he was. From the
view I get of Zaccheus, I am not surprised that "he was rich." Those who
compass chieftancy and riches are the men who know how to step out of the
beaten track, and without regard to sneers or criticism, can "run" and "climb," in
order to accomplish their object. He possessed certain traits of character which
are the secret of success in every department of human endeavour, 1. He was
self-reliant. He did not passively rely upon others for his inspiration and resolves.
He was a man of originality of thought and purpose — a sort of genius in method
and movement. 2. He was prompt and persevering. Zaccheus knew how to
handle an opportunity. An old Latin maxim says : " Opportunity has hair in
front, but behind she is bald ; if you seize her by the forelock, you may hold her ;
but if Buffered to escape, not Jupiter himselT can catch her." By the style of the
man, and the fact that his ancestry is not mentioned, I am inclined to think that
Zaccheus began life a poor boy. The majority of those who have risen to riches
and honour, have come up through the rough regions of toil and poverty, and were
not ashamed afterwards to work with their own hands, though possessed of
thousands of this world's goods. 3. His purpose. " To see Jesus, who He was."
Why so anxious to " see " ? why not be content with hearing f There were
thousands who had seen Him and formed their opinions as to " who He was," and
were not backward in telling them. The Pharisee would have told him : " He ia a
devil " ; the scribe, " a fanatic " ; the priest, " a blasphemer " ; the Babbi, " a
heretic" ; the poor, " a prophet " ; the many, " an impostor " ; the few, a " God."
Zaccheus could not afford, therefore, to trust to hearsay; and so, like a wise man,
he made up his mind to see for himself. He was a good judge of human nature,
and could form a pretty correct opinion of a man, by getting a good square look at
him. The noblest purpose that can actuate the human heart is expressed in these
three little words: "To see Jesus." 4. His failure. "Could not for the press,
becanse he was little." Here is a man earnestly trying " to see Jesus," who is
opposed and defeated by obstacles he had no hand in producing, and over which
he had no control. (1) " The press," and (2) " Little of stature." He had no
hand in producing either of these, and yet they defeated him. But, was that fair?
Has Zaccheus had a fair chance f Whether fair or not, he has had all the chance
he will have, unless he makes another. 5. His determination. " He ran before and
climbed into a sycamore." Here we get an idea of the force and fibre of the man.
He did not waste his precious time in upbraiding himself for being •• little," ox
finding fault with his surroundings. He simply started off in search of a better
vantage ground. No time is more unprofitably spent than that which is used in
finding fault with our instruments and surroundings. Zaccheus never would have
been " chief among the publicans, and rich," if he had not learned to make a virtue
out of necessity, and turn even failure into a pedestal from which to reach a
grander snccess. When a man's conscious littleness compels him to " run " and
" climb," he wiU master his obstacles and get a better knowledge of things than
the men who think they can see all there is to be seen without climbing. In
m world like this, where we are all " little " in so many places, no man
CBiP. xnc] ST. LUKE. 889
will reach the highest saccesB onleBB he feels hiB littleness and knows how
to •' climb." Learn from this narrative that all barriers give way before
the man who has made np his mind to see Jesns Christ. (T. Kelly.)
The conversion of Zaccliexu : — Zacchens was undoubtedly, np to this time, a
worldly, grasping, wicked man ; who, though a Hebrew by birth and education,
had so far forgotten God, and allowed the love of money to master him, that in
his business relations he did not always observe the laws of equity or the principles
of righteousness. The impression I get of him from the narrative is, that he was a
sharp, shrewd, business man ; a man whose judgment in business matters was
unusually good, and who, if he did any business at all, would be sure to make
money. The love of money, and the conscious power to make it, cannot exist in
the same person without great possibUities of evil. Ambition, Bivalry. But though
Zaccheus was a grasping, selfish man, yet I am profoundly impressed with his
independent spirit and individuality of character. He is a striking illustration of
the fact that neither riches nor worldly position can satisfy the cravings of the
human soul ; and that a ready response is accorded to gospel overtures, sometimes
where we least expect it. A mere surface reading of the narrative can give as no
adequate idea of the force of character it required to face the tremendous dis-
couragements which Zaccheus had to meet in becoming a follower of Jesus Christ.
I notice just two of these : — 1. He had no character to begin with. His whole
environment tended to keep him as he was. The very social atmosphere in which
he lived tended to blight every aspiration and hope of becoming a better man.
However badly he might act, he had nothing to lose, for he was already an outcast
from society. Another serious and humiliating fact which Zaccheus had to face
was — 2. His dishonest business transactions. •* If I have taken anything of any
man by false accusation, I restore him fourfold." That kind of restitution would
soon seriously impoverish the bank accounts of some people. It would compel
many of our mushroom aristocracy and sky-rocket millionaires to go to the alms-
house, or turn their hands to honest labour, and " earn their bread by the sweat
of their brow." Zacchens does not use the words, " If I have taken anything,"
as though he were in doubt, and wished to leave a similar doubt on the mind of
others. His guilt is clearly implied in his own words. And no person who did not
carry the making of a noble Christian character would have made such a declara-
tion— would have deliberately entered upon a course of life which,_ at the very
outset, involved the unearthing of a life of fraud and dishonesty, which no doubt
no person could have proven, and perhaps of which nobody had the sHghtest
suspicion. Now let us turn to the incident of this memorable day. Notice here —
I. How PUSH AND PEBSEVEKAKCE TUEN DEFEAT INTO VICTOBT. A feW moments agO
he was completely defeated — " could not see Jesus" for the " press." Now he haa
a better view of Him than any man in the crowd. So the earnest seeker will
always find that the very " press " of isms and sects and critics that srrround the
Baviour, and which compel him to " run and climb," to think and act for himself,
will bd the means of securing for him a clearer and more satisfactory view of Jesus
Chrii.J than he could have possibly obtained on the ordinary highway of common
eSoTt. 1. Observe the movements of Jesus. (1) " He came to the place," — He
always does. No man ever yet started out with the full purpose to see Jesus Christ
and failed. (2) His method. He "looked." 2. Notice the order and significance
of the descriptive words in this verse : " When Jesus came to the place, He looked
. . . and $aw . . . and said." That is the order of description needed, but, alas,
eadly lacking in our churches. We have too many who can look without seeing ;
they possess so little of the Master's spirit that they can pass along the highways
of Ufe, and through orchards of sycamores, and never set eyes on a sinner anxious
" to see Jesus." II. That peompt, uk questioning obedience always secueeb the
Dxthtb appeoval and blessing. 1. The Saviour's command. " Zaccheus, come
down." This command was both startling and unexpected. Zaccheus had no
thought of being addressed personally by the Saviour, or of being called upon to
come down in the presence of the crowd. In coming in vital contact with Jesua
Christ, the seeker always finds new, unexpected things happening; and, likt
Naaman, is soon made to see that God's way is not man's. 2. The Saviour's perfect
knowledge of the seeker. " Zaccheus, come down." There is something un-
Qtterably precious in the fact that God is intimately acquainted with all out
names. No person can assume any attitude of service, or self-sacrifice, or suppli-
cation before God, without having his very name associated with the act. " Zacchens,
•ome down." Implying that his character and wants were as well known as hii
ago THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xi*.
name. 8. The prompt obedience of Zaccheas. The conversion of Zaccheni
reached not only his head and his pocket, but it also reached his conscience. No
conversion, however loudly proclaimed, will be of any lasting value onlesa it
includes and practically displays a New Testament conscience. {T. Kelly.)
Zaccheus a type of the Christ-seeker : — I. How to seek Christ, as illcstkatbo by
Zaccheus. L We must go in the way along which He appoints us to go. (1)
Christ's way is that of the sanctuary. (2) Christ's way is that of the Holy
Scriptures. (3) Christ's way is that of the closet. 2. We must go with earnest
resolution. Be not deterred by station, connections, business occupation, or fear
of abuse or ridicule. 3. We must go in time. There comes a last opportunity to
each. It may be to-day. II. What comes of such seeking of Chbist? 1. Christ
stops in His course to take note of the seeker. 2. He comes to such homes and
blesses them. Where Jesus enters, salvation goes. 3. He makes the seeker's heart
just and tender. 4. He defends us against persecution. Conclusion — 1. Have yoa
ever thus sought Christ ? 2. What effect has your Christian profession had on your
life? (P. C. Croll.) Lessons from this passage: — From an attentive considera-
tion of the distinct parts of this passage of St. Luke's Gospel, we may derive many
useful truths and salutary reflections. 1. First, let us, like Zaccheus, have a view
to the improvement of our minds in piety and virtue, even in the gratification of
curiosity. Instead of flocking, with childish folly, to such trifling amusements as
are unworthy of a rational being, we should endeavour to combine pleasure with
instruction, and the employment of time with advantage. While thousands would
have crowded with joy to see a pageant, a triumph, or the barbarous spectacle of
Boman games, " Zaccheus ran and climbed up into a sycamore- tree to see our Lord
pass by " ; and when He honoured him so far as to take up His abode with him
for that day, he not only received Him joyfully, but, without doubt, listened to His
conversation with reverence, and heard the glorious truths which His lips revealed
with adoration and praise. " This day is salvation come to this house." 2. The
hospitality of Zaccheus, and his great satisfaction on this occasion, may direct ua
also in the choice and entertainment of our friends. The common intercourses of
the world are too often nothing but associations of pleasure or confederacies of
vice. 3. We may further learn from our blessed Lord's conduct towards Zaccheus,
to banish from our minds those uncharitable prejudices which so strongly marked
the character of the Jews. (J. Hewlett, B.D.) Lessons: — 1. Let the desire of
all of you, in coming up to the house of God, be, like that of Zaccheus, to see
Jesus. You may see Him, and should earnestly desire to see Him, by knowledge
and faith, in the glories of His person, character, and redemption. If you obtain
a sight of Him, aud come to know who He is, in this way, you will be like Abraham,
who " rejoiced," or greatly desired, " to see His day, and saw it, and was glad " ;
and the words will then be applicable to you, in their best sense, " Blessed are yoor
eyes, for they see." 2. See that those of you who profess to be Christians give the
same evidences of conversion as Zaccheus. Remember that repentance is to be
judged of, not so much by its terror at the time, as by its permanent effects on the
heart and life. You must, like Zaccheus, " bring forth fruits meet for repentance."
{Jas. Foote, M.A.) He sought to see JesvLa.— Obstacles : — The experience of
Zaccheus, in his efforts " to see Jesus," is a striking illustration of a universal fact
in human history. Men are constantly opposed and thwarted, in their efforts to
do right, by obstacles and enemies which they never produced. Satan, for instance,
is the persistent opposer of all who 8«ek " to see Jesus Christ." But man had no
hand in producing Satan ; he was here before man came, and, for aught I know,
here because he saw man coming. You may start out to see Huxley, or Tyndaii,
or any of the great philosophers or scientists, and Satan will pay no attention to
you; but if you start out ''to see Jesus Christ" he will instantly summon his
resources, and form a " press " against you. How persistently he follows the young
Christian with the fascinations of the world on the one hand, and the •' press " of
discouragements on the other. Then the laws of heredity come in and raise up
obstacles, the full power of which our limited knowledge does not enable us to
compute. We all take on hereditary damage, of one kind or another, from our
ancestry. This, of course, is soon rendered vastly more serious by our own moral
behaviour, and the result is a dwarfed, squattish spiritual stature. So that ths
ordinary "press " of the world's cares and attractions is quite sufficient to shut ug
out from God and a saving view of Jesue Christ. So Zaccheus found himself
defeated. "Could not." Mark the descriptive words here: "Chief," "Rich,"
•• Could not." Then chieftancyand riches cannot do everything for a man. OfUcial
«HAP. xnc] ST. LUKE. 89X
position and wealth go only a little way in removing the distressing and annoying
phases of life. Human power, however commanding and extensive, soon reaches
the solid masonry of the impossible, upon which the only thing it can scribble is
the little words, '* Could not." Let us add another descriptive word, and we shall
see how it was that Zaccheus failed. " He was little." The words " little " and
" ooDld not " are closely related in human affairs. Every man is " little " some-
where— " little " in spots. No man is fully hemisphered on both sides of his
nature. (T. Kelly.) Making an effort to see Jes%i$ : — The ants are a little people,
but they are exceeding wise. People that want size must make up for it by sagacity.
A short man up in a tree is really taller than the tallest man who only stands on
the ground. Happily for little men, the giants have seldom any great wit. Bigness
is not greatness ; and yet smallness is in itself no blessing, though it may be the
occasion of a man's winning one. It is not pleasant to see every one about yon a
bigger person than yourself. And this is a sight many do see who are not dwarfs
in stature. But Zaccheus was a dwarf in stature; and, notwithstanding, had become
a man of consideration. But they called him " Zacchy," or even "little Zacchy "
sometimes no doubt ; and, rich as he was, and firm hold as he had on many people,
he was far from happy. Though small, he was strong ; but then, though strong,
he was sour. He despised the rehgious people, and yet did not Uke to be despised
by them. Many men knew he was cleverer than they, but they never forgot he was
shorter 1 This man could not come at Jesus for the press. Though not a blind
man, he had his difficulties in seeing. But he would very much like to see Jesus,
what kind of man He was. People pointed him out, and said, " That's Zaccheus ;
isn't he a Uttle fellow ? " The short man felt a curiosity as to the personal appear-
ance of the famous Prophet. We may be sure Zaccheus had heard good things of
Jesus Christ. And he was soon to hear good words from Him, words more healing,
more fragrant, thsm the Jericho balsams. Zaccheus had gone on before. You must
get at your tree before you can climb it 1 He makes haste, runs, climbs, for he ia
very eager in this business ; and he not only sees Jesus, but, what is much better,
is seen by Him. If a man looks for God, God knows that he is looking. He that
fleeks is sought. Take trouble to win a blessing harder for yoa to get than for
others, and you shall have one bestowed on you better than you sought for. {T.
T. Lynch.) Difficulties overcome : — We have all read and heard of the " pursuit
of knowledge under difficulties," and of the remarkable way in which these have
often been overcome. The shepherd, with no apparatus save his thread and beads,
has lain on his back on the starry night, mapped the heavens, and unconsciously
become a distinguished astronomer. The peasant boy, with no tools save his rude
knife, and a visit now and then to a neighbouring town, has begun his scientifio
education by producing a watch that could mark the time. The blind man,
trampling upon impossibilities, has explored the economy of the beehive, and, more
wondrous still, lectured on the laws of light. The timid stammerer, with pebbles
in his mouth, and the roar of the sea-surge in his ear, has attained the correctest
elocution, and swayed as one man the changeful tides of the mighty masses of the
Athenian democracy. All these were expedients to master difficulties. And now
notice the expedient which Zaccheus adopts to overcome his difficulties. Yonder,
in the way where Jesus is to pass, is a sycamore-tree. It stands by the wayside.
Its roots are thick and numerous, its girth is ample, its wide-spread arms may be
called gigantic, its leaf resembles the mulberry, its fruit is like that of the fig —
indeed it is a member of the fig family. An itinerant preacher in the backwoods
once puEzled himself and his hearers with an elaborate criticism about this tree.
He and his audience were familiar only with the sycamore of their flat river
bottoms, which are tall as a steeple, and smooth as hypocrisy. " Why," said the
orator, " s squirrel can't climb them," and the conclusion reached was that the
sycamore must have been a mulberry tree. But Dr. Thomson, who retails this
anecdote, assures us that the sycamore is every way adapted to the purposes for
which Zaccheus used it, for he saw one in which were a score of boys and girls,
who could easily look down upon any crowd passing beneath. Zaccheus fixea his
eye npon the sycamore in the distance. If he were apon one of its branches hia
objeot would be gained ; but then he is noi a boy. Besides, he is a rich man,
•nd the chief amongst the publicans, and what will the people say if he climbs it to
tee Jesos of Nazareth ? Yea, what will the boys say and do, who are perhaps on
the tree already? There ia a straggle going on within his bosom, but there is not
ft single moment to lose, for Jesus is coming. Regardless of what others may say, ha
teoomes like • boy sgain ; he runs to the tree and climbs it^ {Dr. MeAu$Uuie.i
B9a TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha». xix.
Zacchens, make haste and come down. — Our Saviour^t visit to Zaccheut :— Oar
Saviour for the first time invited Himself to a man's house. Thus He proved the
freeness and authority of His grace. " I am found of them that sought Me not "
(Isa. Ixv. 1.) "We ought rather to invite Him to our houses. We should at leas!
cheerfully accept His offer to come to us. Perhaps at this hour He presses Hims&lf
upon us. Yet we may feol ourselves quite as unlikely to entertain our Lord ai
Zaccheus seemed to be. He was a man — 1. In a despised calling — a publican, or
tax-collector. 2. In bad odour with respectable folk. 3. Rich, with the suspicion
of getting his wealth wrongly, 4. Eccentric, for else he had hardly climbed a tree.
5. Excommunicated because of his becoming a Boman tax-gatherer. 6. Not at all
the choice of society in any respect. To such a man Jesus came ; and He may
come to us even if we are similarly tabooed by our neighbours, and are therefore
disposed to fear that He will pass us by. I. Let us consider the necessity whioh
PBESSED DP3N THE SavIOXJB TO ABIDE IN THE HOUSE OF ZaCCHEUS. Hb felt an Urgent
need of — 1. A sinner who needed and would accept His mercy. 2. A person who
would illustrate the sovereignty of His choice. 3. A character whose renewal would
magnify His grace. 4. A host who would entertain Him with hearty hospitality.
6. A case which would advertise His gospel (vers. 9 and 10). II. Lbt us inquibb
whetheb such a kecessitt exists in eefeeenob to ourselves. We can ascertain this
by answering the following questions, which are suggested by the behaviour ot
Zaccheus to our Lord : — 1. Will we receive Him this day ? •' He made haste." 2.
Will we receive Him heartily ? " Received Him joyfully." 8. Will we receive Him
whatever others say? " They all murmured." 4. Will we receive Him as Lord?
••He said. Behold, Lord," 6. Will we receive Him so as to place our substance
under the control of His laws ? (Verse 8^ If these things be so, Jesus must abide
with us. He cannot fail to come where He will have such a welcome, lU. Let us
FULLT UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT NECESSITY INVOLVES, If the Lord Jcsus comcs to abide
in our house— 1. We must be ready to face objections at home. 2. We must get
rid of all in our house which would be objectionable to Him. Perhaps there is
much there which He would never tolerate. 3. We must admit none who would
grieve our heavenly Guest. His friendship must end our friendship with the
world. 4. We must let Him rule the house and ourselves, vdthout rival or reserre,
henceforth and for ever. 6. We must let Him use us and ours as instruments for
the further spread of His kingdom. (C if. Spurgeon.) God calls men dawn : — L
Notice bomb of the heights from which God's people are fetched down bt thb
oosPKii. 1. High thoughts of self-importance (2 Cor. x. 4, 5). 2. Natural efforts, or
legal endeavours (Rom. x. 8), 3. From the basis of false hopes (Job viii. 13). 4.
From carnal confidence (Jer. ii. 37). 5. From vain apologies for sin. II. Thbib
benbations IN COMING DOWN, 1. In Spiritual consideration (Psa. oxix. 69). 2. In
deep anxiety for salvation (Acts xvi 80). 3. In despair of salvation but by God
(Jer. iii. 23). 4. In gracious resolutions (Luke xv. 18). 5. To self-denying
practices (Matt. xvi. 24). 6. To God's righteousness (Bom. iiii. 21). IIL Somb
bemabes on the day of conversion. 1. It is our new birth-day (Isa. xliiL 1), 3.
A day of despatch — " Come down" (Heb. iii. 15). 8. Of love and kindness (Ezek.
xvi. 6). 4. Of union between Christ and the soul (Hos. iL 20). IV. Beasons wot
the Lobd calls US DOWN. 1. Because it is God's design in the Gospel (Isa. ii.
11-17). 2. Because ascending too high is very dangerous. 3. That free grace maybe
exalted. 4. That we may meet vrith Christ (Isa. Ivii. 15). Inferences : — 1. How
high and lofty man is in his natural state. 2. Hence God humbles him for his
eternal good. 3. The nature of true faith is coming down. 4. Admire the riches
of God's grace towards us. (T. B. Baker.) Christ's words to Zaccrietis : — ^I shall
give you a division which you will not be able to forget, or if you do forget it, you
will have nothing to do but simply to turn to the Bible, and look at the text, and
the punctuation will give you the heads. I. Look, then, at the first word,
*' Zaccheus." Christ addresses this man by name ; He saw him before he went up
into the sycamore, and he had not been long there when He called out to him,
" Make haste and come dovm." Oh 1 but some people say that ministers have no
business to be so personal. Well, my friends, they are very unlike their Master,
the great model Preacher, if they are not personal. II. Take the next two words
for our second head — " make haste." We are told in the sequel that Zaccheus did
not halt between two opinions, but came down quickly and received Christ joyfully.
If you, my unconverted hearer, will listen to me, what I wish to say to you is this —
mf^e haste and come to Jesus, for you will never find a more favourable opportunity
than the present. Wait ten thousand years, and your sins will not be fewer ; G«d'i
OTAP. xn.] ST. LUKE. S9S
mercy will not be greater. The fool who, wishing to cross a river, lay down on its
bank till the water would run past, is only a faint emblem of you, if you delay.
" Behold, now is the accepted time ; behold, now is the day of salvation." That
clock says •• now " ; this pulse says "now " ; this heart says " now." The glorified
in heaven and the lost in hell, the one by their songs, the other by their wails,
together cry, "Make haste." But, once more, make haste, for your salvation may
soon become extremely difficult. Sin is like a fire, it may soon be quenched if the
cold water engines are brought to play upon it in time ; but let it burn on a few
hours, and perhaps a city is laid in ashes. Sin is like a river, the further from the
fountain-head the greater the volume, the more rapid and irresistible the current.
Sin is like a tree : look at your sapling, your infant's arm may bend it : let a few
years pass away, a few summers shine upon it, and a few winters blow upon it, auil
that tree will hurl defiance at the loudest storm. So with the^ sinner : he gets
accustomed to all the appeals, and becomes gospel proof. Again, make haste —
your salvation may become extremely difficult, if not altogether impossible. Man
is a bundle of habit, and habit becomes second nature. You ask, " How long may
• man live on in sin, and yet be saved ? " I reply. Do not try the experiment — it is
A very dangerous one. " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved."
Make haste, and learn that He has suffered for you what you deserved as s sinner,
and obeyed for you what you owed as a creature. This may be your last oppor-
tunity. III. Look, now, at the last three words, and you will find our third head :
" And comb down." Zaccheus was upon one of the many branches of the sycamore ;
and you, my unsaved friend, are upon one of the many branches of the great,
mighty-spreading, world-embracing tree of human corruption, and I call upon you
in the name of my Master to •' come down." Now, I wish to be charitable, but I do
solemnly declare that I cannot find the branch of atheism, even on the tree of human
corruption. At all events, if there be such a branch, I hesitate not to say it is the
rottenest one on the whole tree. Come down from it! Then there are other branches :
scepticism, drunkenness, pride, &o. (W. AndersonA Effectual calling : — 1. Now,
first, effectual calling is a very oracious truth. You may guess this from the fact
that Zaccheus was a character whom we should suppose the last to be saved. He
belonged to a bad city — Jericho — a city which had been cursed, and no one would
suspect that any one would come out of Jericho to be saved. Ah 1 my brethren, it
matters not where you come from : you may come from one of the dirtiest streets,
one of the worst back slums in London, but if effectual grace call you, it is an
effectual call, which knoweth no distinction of place. But, my brethren, grace
knows no distinction ; it is no respecter of persons, but God calleth whom He wills,
and He called this worst of publicans, in the worst of cities, from the worst of trades.
Ah 1 many of you have climbed up the tree of your own good works, and perched
yourselves in the branches of your holy actions, and are trusting in the free will of
the poor creature, or resting in some worldly maxim ; nevertheless, Christ looks up
even to proud sinners, and calls them down. 2. Next it was a personal call. 3.
It is a hastening call — " Zaccheus, make haste." God's grace always comes with
despatch ; and if thou art drawn by God, thou wilt run after God, and not be talk-
ing about delays. 4, Next, it is a humbling call. " Zaccheus, make haste and
come down." God always humbles a sinner. Oh, thou that dwellest with the
eagle on the craggy rock, thou shalt come down from thy elevation ; thou shalt fall
by grace, or thou shalt fall with a vengeance, one day. He *• hath cast down the
mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek." 6. Next, it is an
affectionate call. " To-day I must abide in thy house." 6. Again, it was not only
an affectionate call, but it was an abiding call. " To-day I must abide at thy
bouse." When Christ speaks. He does not say, " Make haste, Zaccheus, and come
down, for I am just coming to look in " ; but " I must abide in thy house ; I am
coming to sit down to eat and drink with thee ; I am coming to have a meal with
thee." 7. It was also a necessary call. " I mutt abide." It is necessary that the child
of God should be saved. I don't suppose it ; I know it for a certainty. If God
says •• I must," there is no standing against it. Let Him say " must," and it must
be. 8. And, now, lastly, this call was an effectual one, for we see the fruits
it brought forth. Open was Zaccheus's door ; spread was his table ; generous was his
heart ; washed were his hands ; unburdened was his conscience ; joyful was his soul.
Sinner, we shall know whether God calls you by this : if He calls, it will be an
effectual call — not a call which you hear, and then forget, but one which produces
good works. (C. H. Spurgeon.) He was gone to be guest with a man that Is «
■Inner. — The tinner's Saviour: — The old contempt of the sinner's Saviour lingers in
894 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chat, to,
the world still. In one way or other the charge is repeated, that Christianity is to«
Anient to the sinner, that it tends to discourage the naturally amiable and
virtuous, and looks too favourably upon the vicious and disreputable, &c. How
easily coald we turn the tables upon these slanderers, for usually those who talk
thus have but a scanty supply of morals and virtues themselves. I. We aduii thb
TBOTH OF THE CHABGE. Jcsus did go to be guest to a man that was a sinner, and
did 80 not only once, but as often as He saw need. He went after the sheep which
had gone astray, and He had a wonderful attraction for the disreputable classes.
1. The object of Christ, and the design of the gospel, is the saving of sinners. 2.
Our Lord does actually call sinners into the fellowship of the gospel. 3. The man
Christ Jesus does very readily come to be guest with a man who is a sinner, for He
stands on no ceremony with sinners, but makes Himself at home with them at once.
4. Our Lord goes further, for He not only stands on no ceremony with sinners, but
within a very Uttle time He is using those very sinners who had been so unfit for any
holy service — using them in His most hallowed work. Note how He makes
Zaccheus to be His host. 5. Ay, and the Lord favoured Zaccheus, the sinner, by
granting him that day full assurance of salvation. II. Wb dbnt the insinuation
WHICH IS COVERTLY INTENDED BT THE CHABGE brought agaiust OUT Lord. Jesus is the
friend of sinners, but not the friend of sin. 1. Christ was guest with a man that
was a sinner, but He never flattered a siimer yet. 2. Neither does the Lord Jesus
screen sinners from that proper and wholesome rebuke which virtue must always
give to vice. S. Again, it is not true, as I have heard some say, that the gospel
makes pardon seem such a very easy thing, and therefore sin is thought to be a
small matter. 4. Nor, though Christ be the friend of sinners, is it true that He
makes men think lightly of personal character. 6. It has been said that if we tell
men that good works cannot save them, but that Jesus saves the guilty who believe
in Him, we take away all motives for morality and holiness. We meet that again
by a direct denial : it is not so, we supply the grandest motive possible, and only
remove a vicious and feeble motive. III. We bejoicb in the vbbt fact which has
BEEN OBJECTED TO, that Jcsus Christ comes to be guest with men who are sinners.
1. We rejoice in it, because it aSords hope to ourselves. 2. We rejoice that it is
true, because this affords us hope for all our fellow-men. 8. We rejoice that this is
the fact, because when we are waiting for the Lord it cheers as up with the hope of
fine recruits. I remember a sailor, who before conversion used to swear, and I
warrant you he would rattle it out, volley after volley. He became converted, and
when he prayed it was much in the same fashion. How he woke everybody up
the first time he opened his mouth at the prayer-meeting ! The conversion
of a great sinner is the best medicine for a sick Church. {Ibid.) The
lialf of my goods I give to the poor. — Gifts to the poor: — He gives half his
goods to the poor. Was he under any obligation to do so f are we 7 Certainly
not : nor to give half our time, or half our thought. But there have been men who
have given the chief part of their time and thought to the poor : and as there are
so many who give the poor none of their time, or thought, or money, is it not well
that there should be a few otherwise minded t Is money more precious than timd
and thought that a man should not give that, if so inclined ? Zaccheus was so
inclined. And were a man in our day to spend half his fortune in promoting the
comfort, education, health, virtue, and piety of the poor, would not his name be
fragrant both in earth and heaven ? But there are very many people who cannot
give half their goods to the poor, for they have not as yet secured half enough for
the wants of their own household. Let these, then, give time and thought. (T.
T. Lynch.) Doing good promptly : — Zaccheus saith not, •• I have given," as an
upbraider of God ; or, " I will give," as a delayer that means to give away his goods
after his death, when he can keep them no longer ; but he saith, " I give," to signify
that his wiU is his deed, and that he meaneth not to take any days of payment for the
matter ; for as before he ran apace to see Christ, and came down hastily to entertain
Christ in his own person, so doth he here give quickly to relieve Christ in his needy
members. This is Zaccheus's last will and testament that he maketh before his
death, and seeth the same proved and performed before his eyes. If, therefore, we
desire to do any good to any of our poor brethren, let us learn of Zaccheus to do it
quickly while we are ahve, for time will prevent us, and death will prevent us.
{H. Smith.) I restore him tovxfoU.—The duty of restitution .— L Thb foundation
OF this dutt. 1. The nature of justice, which consists in rendering to every one
what belongs to him. 2. Holy Scripture (Exod. zxii. ; Lev. vi. ; Nomb. v.). 3.
Beetitution is a duty so indispensable, that without it there is no salvation. Tell
CHAP, ziz.] 8T. LURE. 891
me, can we be in a state of salvation, when we have no love to God, and no love to
onr neighbour ? But the man who refuses to make restitution loves not God, for
be despises His laws and tramples npon His authority ; nor does he love his
neighbour, for he voluntarily persists in wronging him, and withholding from him
his rights. U. What is mscessabt fob the pebfobmance of this duty ? 1. We
must examine with care whether we have ever wronged our neighbour, and in how
many modes we have done it. Allege not for your excuse, example, custom, the
necessity of acting like others. All this is of no avail now in the sight of the
Omniscient — will be of no avail hereafter at the bar of God. 2. Eestitution should
be prompt. " I will, at some future time, make restitution." But when 7 You as
yet know not the time, and perhaps it may never arrive. 3. Bestitntion must be
fall and entire. Fearful lest he should not fully recompense them, his generous
heart makes the resolution, and his piety is ready instantly to execute it. In view
of this subject I remark — 1. How small is the number of those who are saved I We
know that thousands of frauds are daily committed, and yet how few acts of
restitution do we witness I 2. What great discoveries shall be made at the day of
indgment. 8. This subject teaches ns the nature of true religion. It consists in
benevolence to man as well as love to God, and assures as that without the former
we can never exercise the latter. 4. This subject should lead as to avoid the very
beginning of sin, and to pay the most scrupulous attention to the duties of trath
and justice. Thus we shall be prevented from defrauding our fellow-men ; thns, if
necessity ever requires it, we shall be able easily to make full restitution. 5. Show
by yonr conduct, ye who have in any degree defrauded your fellow-men, that you
feel the force of conscience and the truth of God ; imitate Zaccheus, and make
restitution. (S. K. Kolloch, M.A.) Restitution : — The duty which the Christian
world needs to learn over again, jast now, is the duty of making restitution for
wrong-doings. Shame is not enough ; remorse is not enough ; confession is not
enough ; there must also be restitution. It is a melancholy and mortifying fact,
that we often meet with men of the world, making no claim to being religious,
whose honour and integrity pat to shame the hollow pretensions of nominal
Christians. When the chief councillor of Sultan Selymns advised him to bestow
the marvellous wealth which he had taken from the Persian merchants upon some
charitable hospital, the dying Turk answered that God would never be pleased with
such an offering, and commanded that the spoils should be restored to the owners.
I. Restitution should be pbomft. Dr. Finney, in his interesting autobiography,
tells of a young woman, the only child of a widow, who once came to him in great
distress. She had stolen, whenever she could, various trinkets, &c., from her
schoolmates, and desired his advice as to what she ought to do. He told her that
she must make restitution, and also confess her sin to those whom she had wronged.
This, of coarse, was a great trial, but her repentance was so sincere, that she began
at once to follow his advice. As she went on with the mortifying task, she
remembered more and more ; some persons to whom she made restitution saying,
" She must be crazy, or a fool," while others were deeply touched. They all readily
forgave her. The unhappy girl had stolen a shawl from Bishop Hobart's daughter,
and when her spiritual adviser insisted on its being returned, she folded it in a
paper, rung the bell at the bishop's door, and handed the parcel to the servant,
without a word of explanation. Conscience whispered that she had not done her
whole duty, and that somebody might be wrongfully suspected. She immediately
went back to the house, and asked for the bishop. She was shown into his study,
and told him all the truth. The good bishop, with all his impulsiveness and warmth
of heart, wept aloud, and laying his hand on her head, prayed God to forgive her,
as he did. Eestitution was now made, and her peace was full and complete. The
young woman became a devout Christian, adorning the doctrine of God our Saviour
by a blameless, useful life, and, at a ripe old age, entered npon her everlasting
inheritance. II. Bestitntion should not only be prompt, but ruLL and entibb.
Half-way measures will serve no good purpose. It woold be as well to keep back
the whole of ill-gotten gains, as a part. (J. N. Norton, D.D.) The nature oj
restitution : — I. For the act. Bestitntion is nothing else but the making reparation
or satisfaction to another for the injuries we have done him. It is to restore a man
to the good condition from which, contrary to right and to our doty, we have
removed him. U. For the latitude and extent of the object, as I may call it, or
TH> matteb aboct WHICH IT IS coMVEBSANT. It cxteuds to all kind of injuries, which
may be reduced to these two heads ; either we injure a person with or without his
consent. 1. Sume injuries are done to persons with their consent. Sach are most
896 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chat. tit.
of those injuries which are done to the souls of men, when we command, or counsel,
or encourage them to ein, or draw them in by our example. 2. Injuries are dona
to persons without their consent. And these, though they are not always the
greatest mischiefs, yet they are the greatest injuries. And these injuries are done
either by fraud and cunning, or by violence and oppression : either by overreaching
another man in wit, or overbearing him by power. III. As to the manner how
RESTITUTION IS TO BE MADE. 1. Thou art bound to do it voluntarily, and of thy own
accord, though the person injured do not know who it was that did him the injury,
though he do not seek reparation by law. 2. Thou must do it in kind, if the thing
be capable of it, and the injured party demand it. Thou must restore the very
thing which thou hadst deprived thy neighbour of, if it be such a thing as can be
restored, and be still in thy power, unless he voluntarily accept of some other thing
in exchange. 3. If thou canst not restore it in kind, thou art bound to restore it in
value, in something that is as good. As for spiritual injuries done to the souls of
men, we are bound to make such reparation and compensation as we can. Those
whom we have drawn into sin, and engaged in wicked courses, by our influence and
example, we are to endeavour by our instruction and counsel to reclaim them from
those sins we led them into, and " to recover them out of the snare of the devil,"
IV. As to THE MEASURE AND PROPORTION OF THE RESTITUTION WB ABB TO MAKX.
Zaccheos here offers fourfold, which was much beyond what any law required in
like cases. 1. Where restitution can be made in kind, or the injury can be certainly
valued, we are to restore the thing or the value. 2. We are bound to restore the thing
with the natural increase of it ; that is, to satisfy for the loss sustained in the
meantime, and the gain hindered. 3. Where the thing cannot be restored, and the
value of it is not certain, we are to give reasonable satisfaction, that is, according
to a middle estimation ; not the highest nor the lowest of things of the kind.
4. We are at least to give by way of restitution what the law would give, for that is
generally equal, and in most cases rather favourable than rigorous. 6. A man is not
only bound to restitution for the injury which he did, but for all that directly follows
upon his injurious act, though it were beyond his intention. {Archbishop Tillotson.)
On restitution : — I shall speak to you at large concerning the necessity of restitu-
tion, and the obligations to it ; because when this point is established, the perform-
ance of it speedily and completely will appear to be unquestionable parts of this
duty. I say that we are obliged to restitution — first, as we are men, by the law
of nature. It is an original law, graven on the hearts of all men, that every man
ought to possess, and have the undisturbed use of his own proper goods. Now,
can any acquisition, which was unjust in the moment wherein it was made, become
just, and a man's rightful property, in succeeding moments ? Can it be lawful to
keep what it was unlawful to take? Therefore restitution is the only method by
which these disoi ders can be repaired ; and it is indispensably necessary on natural
principles. But his natural honesty was further instructed on this point by the
revealed law. Considered as a Jew, he was under an additional obligation by the
law of Moses. For the Levitical law regulated exactly the proportions in which
restitution was to be made in different cases ; as, "five oxen for an ox, and four
sheep for a sheep." To this argument may be added that which arises from the
example of holy men under the Old Covenant, whose conscience would not suffer
them to retain goods obtained unjustly, and who considered the law of restitution
as sacred and inviolable. Among which examples, that of Samuel is remarkable,
in the eleventh chapter of his first book: "And Samuel said unto all Israel,
Behold, I am old and grey-headed." Zaccheus thought himself bound to restitution
on a third principle — as a penitent, by the conditions of repentance. There is,
in one respect, a remarkable difference betwixt robbery and most other sins. The
crime of the latter may pass away, and be cancelled, upon our sincere repentance,
and prayers for the Divine forgiveness ; but the crime of the former continues as
long as we retain the fruits of it in our hands. Does any man think of presenting
his robberies to God and to His Church 7 Many persons, I fear (in former times
particularly), have sought to make this impious exchange, pretending to give unto
God what they had stolen from their neighbour. Besides this general engagement
to make restitution, as a penitent, by the conditions of repentance, Zaccheus found
himself under a fourth — and that a particular obligation, derived from the nature
of his occupation, as a publican ; that is, a collector of the tribute which the Jews
paid to the Bomans. Thus it is, that a reformed Christian, or one converted^ to
Christianity, must begin the exercise of his religion. And it is in this fifth view
that I consider Zaccheus making restitution ; namely, as a proselyte, or convert ta
CKAP. xn.] ST. LUKE. 897
Jeans Christ. The Divine grace had now touched his heart, and inspired him with
ft resolution to break those bonds of iniquity in which he had been holtlen, and to
qualify himself for that forgiveness which Christ offers to sinners only on this
condition. Enough has been said, I trust, to show the necessity of restitution. A
few words will be suiScient to show that it ought to be performed speedily and
completely. I am willing (says one) to restore even at present ; but I must be allowed
to compound the matter : I cannot resign the whole, but I am ready to give up a
part. This is the last mistake and fault which the example of Zaccheus condemns
and corrects, when he declares, " I restore fourfold." Now, this surplus, is it
justice, or liberality ? It partakes of both. For it is just to restore beyond the exact
amount ; because, besides the lawful interest of his money which our neighbour baa
been deprived of, every robbery occasions some inconvenience and detriment that
cannot be completely repaired by a mere restitution of the things taken. It is
better, therefore, to exceed than fall short. (S. Partridge, M.A.) Restitution
must he viade: — Hundreds of thousands of dollars have been sent to Washington
during the past few years as " conscience money." I suppose that money was sent
by men who wanted to be Christians, but found they could not imtil they made
restitution. There is no need of our trying to come to Christ as long aa we keep
fraudulently a dollar or a farthing in our possession that belongs to another.
Suppose yon have not money enough to pay your debts, and, for the sake of de-
frauding your creditors, you put your property in your wife's name. You might
cry untU the day of judgment for pardon, but you would not get it without first
making restitution. In times of prosperity it is right, against a rainy day, to
assign property to your wife ; but if, in time of perplexity, and for the sake of
defrauding your creditors, you make such assignment, you become a culprit before
God, and may as well stop praying until you have made restitution. Or suppose
one man loans another money on bonds and mortgage, with the understanding that
the mortgage can lie quiet for several years, but as soon as the mortgage is given,
commences foreclosure — the sheriff mounts the auction-block, and the property is
struck down at half-price, and the mortgagee buys it in. The mortgagee started
to get the property at half-price, and is a thief and a robber. UntU he makes
restitution, there is no mercy for him. Suppose you sell goods by a sample, and
then afterward send to your customer an inferior quality of goods. You have
committed a fraud, and there is no mercy for you until you have made restitution.
Suppose yon sell a man a handkerchief for silk, telling him it is all silk, and it is
part cotton. No mercy for you until you have made restitution. Suppose you sell
a man a horse, saying he is sound, and he afterward turns out to be spavined and
balky. No mercy for you until you have made restitution. (De W. Talmage, D.D.)
Restitution: — The Eev. B. Sawday was aboat eighteen years since in the well-
known establishment of Messrs. Hitchcock, St. Paul's Churchyard. A silver watch
was stolen from his bedroom, and no trace could be discovered of the missing
property. Ten years passed away. About four years since he preached a startling
discourse upon repentance and restitution. His words evidently made a deep
impression upon the hearers. During the ensuing week a young man came up to
Mr. Sawday requesting an interview. In a few words the young man said, ** It waa
I who stole your watch, some years since, at Messrs. Hitchcock's. I am very
■orry, and I am deeply anxious to settle the matter. Here, I'll give you £10 to
square it. I was passing your chapel last Sunday, and saw your name ; I thought
I would go in and hear you, and your sermon broke me all to pieces ; I have been
wretched and miserable ever since." ** Thank God 1 " said Mr. Sawday. *• No,"
fae added, " I cannot take £10 ; the watch was only worth £4 : I'll take that ; but
I'm far more anxious that you should confess your sin to God, and obtain Hia
pardon and grace." " That," quietly added the man, "I have sought, and I believe
obtained." One of Mr. Sawday'a deacona was greatly troubled about the very
plain speech of the pastor in regard to this very address, and expressed his fear
that such preaching would drive people away from the chapel. The good man,
however, was silenced by the sequeL (Henry Varley.) Restitution necessary to
peace : — Some years ago, in the north of England, a woman came to one of the
meetings, and appeared to be very anxious about her soul. For some time she did
cot seem to be able to get peace. The truth was, she was covering up one thing
she was not willing to confess. At last the burden was too great ; and she said to
ft worker, ** I never go down on my knees to pray, but a few bottles of wine keep
eoming ap before my mind." It appeared that, years before, when she waa honse-
keeper, die had taken some bottles of wine belonging to her employer. The workct
898 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xnu
said : " Why do you not make restitution ? " The woman replied that the maa
was dead ; and besides, she did not know how much it was worth. " Are ther»
any heirs living to whom you can make restitution 7 " She said there was a son
living at some distance ; but she thought it would be a yery humiliating thing, s»
she kept back for some time. At last she felt as if she must have a clear conacieno»
at any cost ; so she took the train, and went to the place where the son of her
employer resided. She took five pounds with her ; she did not know exactly whai
the wine was worth, but that wotUd cover it, at any rate. The man said he did not
want the money ; but she replied, " I do not want it ; it has burnt my pocket long
enough." (D. L. Moody.) Evidences of true conversion : — I. When the gospel
is cordially received and fully embraced, it subdues a man's ruling sin. II. Evidence
of Christian character is to be sought, not so much in what a man says, as in what
he does. III. On the disposal of property, there is a wide difference between th»
opinions of men and the instructions of Jesus Christ. {Chas. Walker.) Triumph
over hindrances : — I. The hindrances of Zaccheub were twofold: partly circum-
stantial— partly personal. Partly circumstantial, arising from his riches and his
profession of a pubUcan. Now the publican's profession exposed him to temptations
in these three ways. First of all in the way of opportunity. A publican was a
gatherer of the Roman public imposts. Not, however, as now, when all is fixed,
and the government pays the gatherer of the taxes. The Boman publican paid so
much to the government for the privilege of collecting them ; and then indemnified
himself, and appropriated what overplus he could, from the taxes which he
gathered. There was, therefore, evidently a temptation to overcharge, and a^
temptation to oppress. To overcharge, because the only redress the payer of the
taxes had was an appeal to law, in which his chance was small before a tribunal
where the judge was a Boman, and the accuser an official of the Boman govern-
ment. A temptation to oppress, because the threat of law was nearly certain to
extort a bribe. Besides this, most of us must have remarked that a certain
harshness of manner is contracted by those who have the rule over the poor.
They come in contact with human souls only in the way of business. They have
to do with their ignorance, their stupidity, their attempts to deceive ; and heuc»
the tenderest-hearted men become impatient and apparently unfeeling. Another
temptation was presented : to live satisfied with a low morality. The standard
of right and wrong is eternal in the heavens — unchangeably one and the same.
But here on earth it is perpetually variable — it is one in one age or nation, another
in another. Every profession has its conventional morality, current nowhere else
Among publicans the standard would certainly be very low. Again, Zaccheus was
tempted to that hardness in evil which comes from having no character to support.
The personal hindrance to a religious life lay in the recollection of past guilt.
Zaccheus had done wrong, and no fourfold restitution will undo that, where only
remorse exists. II. Pass we on to the tbiumph oveb difficolties. In this there
is man's part, and God's part. Man's part in Zaccheus' case was exhibited in the
discovery ol expedients. The Bedeemer came to Jericho, and Zaccheus desired to
see that blessed Countenance, whose very looks, he was told, shed peace upon
restless spirits and fevered hearts. But Zaccheus was small of stature, and a
crowd surrounded Him. Therefore he ran before, and climbed up into a sycamore*
tree. Yon must not look on this as a mere act of curiosity. They who thronged
the steps of Jesus were a crowd formed of different materials from the crowd which
would have been found in the amphitheatre. He was there as a religious Teacher
or Prophet ; and they who took pains to see Him, at least were the men who looked
for salvation in Israel. This, therefore, was a religious act. Then note further,
the expedients adopted by Zaccheus after he had seen and heard Jesus. The
tendency to the hardness and selfishness of riches he checked by a rule of giving
half away. The tendency to extortion he met by fastening on himself the
recollection, that when the hot moment of temptation had passed away, he would
be severely dealt with before the tribunal of his own conscience, and unrelentingly
sentenced to restore fourfold. God's part in this triumph over difficulties is
exhibited in the address of Jesns : " Zaccheus, make haste and come down ; for
to-day I must abide at thy house." Two things we note here : invitation and
sympathy. Invitation—" come down." Say what we will of Zaccheus seeking
Jesus, the truth is Jesns was seeking Zaccheus. For what other reason bat the
will of God had Jesns come to Jericho, bat to seek Zaccheus and each as he ? We
do not seek God — God seeks us. There is a Spirit pervading time and space who
«eek tiie souls of men. At last the seeking becomes reciprocal — the Divine Preseno»
CKAP. xn.] ST. LUKE, 899
is felt afar, and the soal begins to tarn towards it. Then when we begin to seek
God, we become conscious that God is seeking ns. It is at that period that w&
distinguish the voice of personal invitation — "ZaccheusI" Lastly, the Divine
part was done in sympathy. By sympathy we commonly mean little more than
condolence. If the tear start readily at the voice of grief, and the parsO'Strings
open at the accents of distress, we talk of a man's having great sympathy. To
weep with those who weep — common sympathy does not mean much more. The
sympathy of Christ was something different from this. Sympathy to this extent,
no doabt, Zaccheus oould already command. If Zacoheus were sick, even a
Pharisee would have given him medicine. If Zaccheus had been in need, a Jew
would not have scrupled to bestow an alms. If Zaccheus had been bereaved, many
even of that crowd that murmured when they saw him treated by Christ like a son
of Abraham, would have given to his sorrow the tribute of a sigh. The sympathy
of Jesus was fellow-feeling for all that is human. He did not condole with
Zaccheus upon his trials — He did not talk to him " about his soul," He did not
preach to him about his sins. He did not force His way into his house to lecture
him — He simply said, •' I will abide at thy house : " thereby identifying himself
with a publican, thereby acknowledging a publican for a brother. Zaccheus a>
publican ? Zaccheus a sinner 7 Yes ; but Zaccheus is a man. His heart throbs
at cutting words. He has a sense of human honour. He feels the burning shame
of the world's disgrace. Lost t Tes, but the Son of Man, with the blood of the
haman race in His veins, is a Brother to the lost. (F. W. Robertscm, M.A.y
Conteience money : — A remarkable case of conscience money, which has just come
to light, is just now puzzling an excellent secular contemporary. It appears that
fifteen years ago, the London General Omnibus Company had in their employ a
conductor who, during his twelve months' service, received £10 more than he paid
in. He now writes to the company stating this, and that his conscience now
prompted him to make restitution, together with interest for the whole intervening
period — amounting in all to £13 15s. Towards this he sends £5 on account. The
point that troubles our contemporary is the fact that conscience should slumber
fifteen years " and then wake up again ; " but we have no doubt that many of our
readers will find a solution in the Scriptures. No doubt the Spirit of God had
been at work. A similar case was that of Zaccheus, and how many years back he
went when he made restitution, who can tell ? Restitution : — ^A little Kaffir girl in
South Africa came one day to the missionary and brought four sixpences, saying,
" This money is yours." "No," said the missionary, •' it is not mine." " Yes,"
persisted the little black girl, " you must take it. At the examination of the school
you gave me a sixpence as a prize for good writing ; but the writing was not mine,
I got some one else to do it for me. So here are four sixpences." She had read
the story of Zaccheus in Luke xix., and "went and did likewise." How much
better was this than hiding her sin would have been 1 After a searching address
by Mr. Moody, he next day received a check for £100, being fourfold the amount of
which the sender had wronged an individual. Eestitution a fruit of faith : — A
young man was converted at a meeting in an opera-house in America. He there-
upon confessed that he had been a professional gambler, and that he was then a
fugitive from justice for a forgery. When he found Christ, some, who saw that he
was a man of more than ordinary ability, advised him to take part publicly in
Christian work; but he replied that he felt work of a different kind was first
required from him. He meant restitution of the monies that he had fraudulently
obtained. Finding a situation with a Christian employer, he told him all, and
willingly undertook hard manual labour, to which he was quite unaccustomed,
until his fidelity and quickness obtained for him a more suitable place. Spending
as little as possible upon himself, he put by every dollar that he earned, until, after
long perseverance, he had paid back the large sum which be had wrongfully taken,
with the legal interest. Years afterwards he was described as " actively engaged
in the service of Christ with a love that never tires and a zeal that never fiags."
Ee$titution cu proof of repentance : — An extensive hardware merchant in one of the
Fulton Street prayer-meetings in New York appealed to his brother merchants to
have the same religion for " down-town " as they had for " up-town " ; for the
week-day as for the Sabbath ; for the counting-house as for the communion-table.
After the meeting a manufacturer with whom he had dealt largely accosted him.
*• You did not know," said he, " that I was at the meeting and heard your remarks.
1 have for the last five years been in the habit of charging you more for goods than
other pumhasers. I want you to take your books, and charge back to me so muolv
400 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. xix,
per cent, on every bill of goods you have had of me for the past five years." A few
days later the same hardware merchant had occasion to acknowledge the payment
of a debt of several hundred dollars which had been due for twenty-eight years
from a man who could as easily have paid it twenty-four years before. (Family
Treatury.) This day Is salvation come to this house. — Zaccheus »aved : — I. We
here notice, first of all, the seckkt pubpose of the Lokd Jesus Christ towabub
THE P0BLICAN, Zacchecs. That Christ entertained towards him a secret purpose
of mercy, compassion, and love, there can be no doubt whatever ; the salutation, as
well as the event, proved it. Electing grace had reached forth the golden sceptre
towards the publican, long before " Jesus entered and passed through " the streets
of Jericho. 11. The narrative suggests to us another important particular, and it
is this : that with thk secret purposes or Divime grace towards Zaccheus,
tTHEBB WAS CONNECTED AN OVERRULING OF CIRCUMSTANCES, FAVOURING THB DEVELOP-
MENT OF THOSE GRACIOUS PURPOSES. When Jesus arrived at Jericho, Zaccheus
might have been elsewhere — might have been far distant, and out of the reach of
that voice which spake so tenderly, and away from the glance of that eye which
gazed so kindly on him. Moreover, even if present with the multitudes, he might
have been so indifferent, and so absorbed by other objects of pursuit, as to
entertain no desire towards the stranger, who had conceived so gracious a purpose
towards him. But as Jesus passed through Jericho, Zaccheus was on the spot,
anxious to see Him, and ready to heed His words. How was this ? No such
thing as accident. God was working out His own purpose toward him by His own
secret agency. III. There remains another particular in the narrative, which must
not be lost sight of. No sooner had the Lord Jesus said to him, " Zaccheus, make
haste and come down, for to-day I must abide at thy house"; than "he uadb
SASTE, AND CAME DOWN, AND RECEIVED HiM JOTFULLT." DoCS UOt all this indicate
preparedness of mind? Is not the fact a living commentary on the doctrine —
■" Thy people shall be willing in the day of Thy power " ? The currents of Divine
mercy, grace, and love were then opening fully, and flowing abundantly towards
him ; and He, in whose hands are the hearts of all living men, prepared him to
receive with gladness, as an honoured guest, that mighty One, " whose own arm
brought salvation," and who came in all His energy, power, and love, " to seek and
to save the lost," even the lost Zaccheus. (6. Fisk, LL.B.) The conversion of
Zaccheut: — I. We think that it must be obvious that impediments lie in the wax
OF every man's conversion — impediments in the way of his conversion, and yet
impediments that are perfectly distinct from each other : as distinct as men's
circumstances are from each other. You shall find that the impediment to one
man's conversion is his education ; you shall find that the impediment in another
man's way is the peculiar circumstances in which he is placed ; you shall find that
the impediment to a third man's conversion is simply a natural impediment ; you
shall find that the impediment that lies in the way of another man's conversion
is simply the example to which he is perpetually subject. All these things, so to
speak, put the different individuals in a false position. They in all probabiUty
wish to be God's servants, nevertheless things there are which prevent them from
being God's servants, and it is by the steady overcoming of these difficulties that
<iod for ever shows the omnipotence of His grace. Now when we come to look to
the immediate history before us, we shall find that these impediments were of a
twofold description. The first of these impediments arose out of the man's
•circumstances, and the second of these impediments arose out of the man's
occupation. II. Consider now some of the antecedents to his conversion. We
may have oftentimes observed, at least if we have proceeded far in the considera-
tion of human character, that with most men there are soft spots in their character.
You will find it, indeed, impossible to meet with any character that is not accessible
through some avenue aad approachable by some peculiar circumstance in that
character. It is not the fact that every man is wrapped up in induracy and in
obduracy. You shall find that now and again there will come back out of the deep
darkness that which tells you there is a spot there if you only knew how to reach
it. It is like standing in the midst of some of those volcanic regions. All about
you looks to be nothing but the hardness and the ruggedness of rock itself,
but there are jets of flame and puffs of smoke that come up which tell you that
there is volcanic action underneath. You shall find in most men's character there
is something of this kind — things that tell you this, that possibly, if only means
#ere used, they are not irreclaimably hopeless ; and it is these things we venture to
Mil the antecedents of a man's state of conversion. Now let us bring this explana
BKAT, nx.] ST. LUKE. 401
tion to bear npon the case before as, and ask ourselves what antecedents there were
in the case of Zaccheus the pnblican. I turn your attention, in the first place, to
the marvellous charity of the man. " The half of my goods I give to the poor."
I conceive it to be a mistake to suppose that this is expressed as being the fruit oi
the man's conversion. We hold it to be the revelation of his very publican life.
It is a sort of exculpation of himself against those who said, •* He is a publican."
He was one of those men that could not see his brother have need without sharing
his means with him, ay, up to the very moiety of his fortune — " The half of my
goods I give to the poor." We turn to another feature in this man's antecedents.
We are not now looking to his temper of charity, but we are looking to his temper
of equity. ♦* The half of my goods I give to the poor ; and if I have takeiv
anything from any man by false accusation, I restore him fourfold." The law of
Moses simply required this amount of restitution — the restitution of the principal,
with one-fiith added by way of interest ; but this man transcended this rule. " If
I have taken anything ;from any man, ... I restore him fourfold." Why? Not
because the law compelled it ; not because custom compelled it ; not, in all
probability, because ostentation dictated it ; but simply because there was a high,
strong sense of equity in this man's soul, that compelled him to this restoring or
restituting that which he had unjustly taken. Now, we hold it is marvellous to find
all this in a character, and in the midst of circumstances such as the publican's
were in those days — marvellous to find charity in them — still more marvellous to
find equity. It is a something, because it is a something telling us this — that there
is a soft part still in this man's soul — a point on which you might rest your
apparatus for effecting this man's conversion. There was a deep sense of charity,
in the first place, and there was the ample recognition of the duty of equity in the
second place. What are we to know and what are we to understand in this ?
Why, we ask you to look round to the world in our better and our more enlightened
days. Can we find much that looks like a parody to it ? You shall find and know
something, perhaps, of the tricks of commerce, and of the ungodliness of trade ;
but you seldom hear anything of the fourfold restitution. You shall hear, in all
probability, of hard bargains being driven — of the simplicity of unwary customers
being taken advantage of — of the adroitness of men of wealth practising upon the
ignorance of men of poverty ; and you shall find, perhaps, that these successful
tacticians wrap themselves in the congratulation of their successful doings ; but
you shall never hear of the fourfold restitution. No, even in our better days the
privileged Christian is beaten by the despised publican. III. We have but one
thought more to throw before you. We have looked at the man's impediments,
and we have looked at the man's antecedents ; in the last place, we have to look to
THB MANNBB OF THE CONVEESION OF ZaCCHKOS THE PUBLICAN. NoW there is nothing
more certain, as we have said before, than that none of these antecedents could
have been the parent of Zaccheus's conversion. There may be, as we have said
before, differences of experience upon the road, but that it does not lead to the
same termination is, if Scripture be true, an utter impossibility. The Scripture
has said, " No man cometh to the Father but by Me." The Scripture has said it,
" If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, He is none of His." The Bible has
said it, •' We must be found in Him, not having our own righteousness which is of
the law, but the righteousness which is of God by faith." And none of these up
to this moment had Zaccheus the publican. A man of moral propriety, and a
man of promising indications he may have been, but as yet outside of the field of
conversion. We may, then, ask ourselves the question, how it is that this missing
element was to be supplied. We answer, that his conversion went upon these two
principles : that Christ sought him, and that Christ spake to him ; and that those
two things must be fulfilled in every man who is to be truly a believing child of
Abraham — the Saviour must come, and the Saviour must speak to him. {A. Boyd.}
A household blessing : — I. The blessing of salvation. 1. Zaccheus now had
heavenly riches. 2. Zaccheus had now the highest distinction. A Christian.
3. The home of Zaccheus was now sanctified. II. The authob of sal-
tation. 1. Salvation is Christ's alone to give. 2. The guiltiest are sometimes
the first to be saved. (1) This is for our warning. Beware of pride,,
self-righteousness, assumed morality, ostentation, carnal wisdom, and deep
rooted prejudice. These are the offensive things that make him pass by yonr
door. Bemove them quickly, lest you perish a Christless soul 1 (2) This visit
to the guiltiest is also for our encouragement. Satan has two grand derices,
presumption and despair. Avoid the former, and do not be crashed by the Utter.
VOL. in. 26
«L02 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTIiATOR. [chap. six.
Thia man had been so radically bad, but was saved. Let this sustain and
strengthen the deep-stained sinner who cries for mercy. III. The means of
SALTATION. 1. Zacchsus used the likeliest means to know more of Christ. 2. He
strove through difficulties to obtain the object of his desire. IV. The signs of
SALVATION. 1. Joy. 2. Bectitude. 3. Benevolence. {The Congregational Pulpit.}
Salvati07i in the house : — I want you to learn some lessons from this story of
2accheus. 1. That Jesus will come home with you and bring salvation to your
house if you are anxious, as Zaccheus was, to see Him. Zaccheus was a
Email man among many great men, and so he could not see the Lord till ha
climbed ; let this teach you not to be discouraged because you are small in the
-world's eyes, poor, humble, or ignorant. You, like the publican, must climb if you
•would see Jesus, you must climb by prayer, by the study of your Bible, by Holy
Communion, by conquest of yourselves — these are all branches of the Tree of Life ;
if you climb by these you will see Jesus. Learn also that Jesus will come to you
and bring salvation to your house, however poor it may be. He who lay in the
manger at Bethlehem does not look for soft raiment and luxurious bedding. 2.
When Jesus comes to your house He will bring gifts with Him : He wiU work
miracles for you. It has been said that the age of miracles is gone, it has in one
sense only. Jesus will work miracles of mercy in your house. He will give you,
too, a new name when He comes to your house. You kuow that old families are
proud of the name which their ancestors have borne for generations, but after all,
the best of names is that which your Saviour will give you, the name of a son of
God, a child of Christ. And He will give you more than a name. He will give you
landed property, even if you are so poor that a back-yard is all you have to look
out upon. He will give you, who perhaps never heard of an estate in fee-simple,
or knew what it was to have a house of your own, an inheritance, a place of many
snansions, a house eternal in heaven. And He will give you clothing, the very best
of clothing. To every one of you who have Jesus in the house, and who have
often had to patch and cut and contrive to clothe yourself and your family. He will
give a white robe of righteousness. {H. J. Wilmot Buxton, M.A.) Salvation for
Zaccheus : — " Salvation I How ? where ? "What does Christ mean when He says,
* Salvation has come to this house ' ? Did He preach ' the way of salvation ' ? If
so, we should like to hear what He said." Well, He said this : — That the Son of
Man had found the Son of Abraham, acknowledged him as such, and would make
at well with him. And was it not salvation from auger, and sorrow, and hardness
of heart, to be thus acknowledged ? Men of Jericho, this is a son of Abraham ;
your blessing is his. Society may reject him ; but the God of Abraham accepts
him. The sons of Abraham may ban one another ; but the Son of Man will blesa
them all. " Son of Man " is a wider and deeper title than " son of Abraham."
The Son of Man's love includes all Jews, because it extends beyond them all.
Christ acknowledged Zaccheus in a way very comforting to his Jewish and hia
human heart. But this was the salvation — the creation of a living bond of
affection between Zaccheus and that Holy Love in whose presence he stood. In
this Presence Zaccheus felt at once that he grew purer, happier, stronger for good,
forgiving to those who had despised him, and humble and thankful in that sense of
forgiving confidence which Christ's whole manner towards him breathed. When
Christ spoke of " salvation," then, He was Himself the salvation of which He
epoke. (T. T. Lynch.) To seek and to save that which was lost. — The seeking
Saviour : Good news from a far country. By meditation on this statement we are
led to consider — I. The mission of Christ. " The Son of Man is come." Predicted
in the oracles of God by Balaam, Isaiah, Zechariah, &c. II. The pubpcbt^ of His
'HissiON. " To seek and to save." 1. It was not an experimental gratification. 2.
Ifot to gain a fair reputation. 3. Not to obtain honour. III. The object op Hia
xovB. " That which was lost." The whole world. Every Son of Adam. Appli-
cation: The text displays — 1. The spirit of self-denial. 2. The spirit of love.
(F. G. Davis.) Redemption : — We are redeemed — 1. From the power of the grave.
2. From the power of sin. 3. From the curse of the law. (E. Hicks, M.A.)
ChrisVt estimate of sin : — There are two ways of looking at sin : — One is the severe
^iew: it makes no allowance for frailty — it will not hear of temptation, nor
.liistinguish between circumstances. Men who judge in this way shut their eyes to
;all but two objects — a plain law, and a transgression of that law. There is no more
io be said : let the law take its course. Now if this be the right view of sin, there
is abundance of room left for admiring what is good and honourable and upright :
there is positivelj no room provided for restoration. Happy if you have done well ;
CHAP. XIX.] ST. LUKE. 403
but if ill, then nothing la before yon but judgment and fiery indignation. The
other view is one of laxity and false liberalism. When such men speak, prepare
yourself to hear liberal judgments and lenient ones: a great deal about human
weakness, error in judgment, mistakes, an unfortunate constitution, on which the
chief blame of sin is to rest — a good heart. All well if we wanted, in this
mysterious struggle of a life, only consolation. But we want far beyond comfort —
goodness ; and to be merely made easy when we have done wrong wiU not help us
to that ! Distinct from both of these was Christ's view of guilt. His standard of
right was high — higher than ever man had placed it before. Not moral excellence,
but heavenly. He demanded. " Except your righteousness shall exceed the
righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom
of heaven." Bead the Sermon on the Mount. It tells of a purity as of snow
resting on an Alpine pinnacle, white in the blue holiness of heaven ; and yet also.
He the All-pure had tendem«3 for what was not pure. He who stood in Divine
uprightness that never faltered, felt compassion for the ruined, and infinite
gentleness for human fall. Broken, disappointed, doubting hearts, in dismay and
bewilderment, never looked in vain to Him. Purity attracting evil : that was the
wonder. I see here three peculiarities, distinguishing Christ from ordinary men.
I. A PECDLIAKITT IN THE CONSTITUTION OF THE BeDEEMER'S MORAL NATURE. Maui-
fested in that peculiar title which He assumed — the Son of Man. Let ns see what
that implies. 1. It implies fairly His Divine origin ; for it is an emphatic expression,
and as we may so say, an unnatural one. None could without presumption remind
men that He was their Brother and a Son of Man, except One who was also
something higher, even the Son of God. 2. It implies the catholicity of Hist
brotherhood. He is emphatically the Son of Man. Out of this arose two powers
of His sacred humanity — the universality of His sympathies, and their intense
particular personality. What was His mode of sympathy with men ? He did not
sit down to philosophize about the progress of the species, or dream about a mil-
lennium. He gathered round Him twelve men. He formed one friendship, special,
concentrated, deep. He did not give Himself out as the leader of the publican's
«ause, or the champion of the rights of the dangerous classes ; but He associated
with Himself Matthew, a publican called from the detested receipt of custom. He
went into the house of Zaccheus, and treated him like a fellow-creature — a brother,
and a son of Abraham. His catholicity or philanthropy was not an abstraction,
but an aggregate of personal attachments. II. Peculiarity in the objects of
Christ's solicitude. He had come to seek and to save the " lost." The world is
lost, and Christ came to save the world. But by the lost in this place He does not
mean the world ; He means a special class, lost in a more than common sense, as
sheep are lost which have strayed from the fiock, and wandered far beyond all their
fellows scattered in the wilderness. Not half a century ago a great man was seen
stooping and working in a charnel-house of bones. Uncouth, nameless fragments
lay around him, which the workmen had dug up and thrown aside as rubbish.
They belonged to some far-back age, and no man knew what they were or whence.
Few men cared. The world was merry at the sight of a philosopher groping
among mouldy bones. But when that creative mind, reverently discerning the
fontal types of living being in diverse shapes, brought together those strange
fragments, bone to bone, and rib to claw, and tooth to its own corresponding
vertebrae, recombining the wondrous forms of past ages, and presenting each to the
astonished world as it moved and lived a hundred thousand ages back, then men
began to perceive that a new science had begun on earth. And such was the work
of Christ. They saw Him at work among the fragments and mouldering wreck of
our humanity and sneered. But He took the dry bones such as Ezekiel saw in
vision, which no man thought could live, and He breathed into them the breath of
life. Ill, A PECUiiiABiTT in His mode of treatment. How were these lost ones to
be restored f The human plans are reducible to three — chastisement, banishment,
and indiscriminate lenity. In Christ's treatment of guilt we find three peculiarities
— sympathy, holiness, firmness. 1. By human sympathy. In the treatment of
Zaccheus this was almost alL We read of almost nothing else as the instrument
of that wonderful reclamation, One thing only, Christ went to his house self-
invited. But that one was everything. 2. By the exhibition of Divine holiness.
The holiness of Christ differed from all earthly, common, vulgar holiness.
Wherever it was, it elicited a sense of sinfulness and imperfection. Just as the
purest cut crystal of the rock looks dim beside the diamond, so the best men felt a
sense of guilt growing distinct upon their souls (Luke v. 8). But at the same ^rnm.
i04 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. ttt.
the holiness of Christ did not awe men away from Him, nor repel them. It
inspired them with hope. .S. By firmness. (F. W. Robertson, M.A.) Christ
seeking and saving the lost: — I. Let me bring before you the interesting state.
MENT OF OUR TEXT. 1. The " lost," then, are the objects of His care and love.
There arc two ideas comprehended in the expression. When Christ would
illustrate the condition of those who were lost, on one occasion, He selected three
objects : a sheep — money — and a prodigal (Luke xv.). One of these could only b«
lost in the sense of its owner being deprived of its use. Having no consciousness,
the evil of its being mislaid fell upon the " woman." But the other two being lost,
suffered or were exposed to evil of their own, as well as occasioned evil to those to
whom they belonged or were related. The loss of the "sheep" included danger
and trouble to itself, as well as anxiety and deprivation to its possessor ; the loss
of the "prodigal " entailed distrust and shame upon himself, as well as affliction on
his "father's house." And these are the most fitting and forcible symbols of the
sinner's case. Lost to God and lost to himself. 2. Man, thus lost, thus spiritually
lost — lost to God, and to himself, is the object of Christ's care. He lovea us in our
weakness, and worldliness, in " our crimes and our carnality." He proposes our
salvation : to bring us back to God, to bestow His knowledge, love, and image.
Let it be remembered, however, that Christ's chief aim is to secure inward and
individual salvation. Whatever may be done for a man is very little while he is
lost, in reference to the highest things ; you cannot save him, unless you convert
him. 3. Christ " seeks " to " save." He goes in quest of men. He had His eye
on Zaccheus when he visited the sycamore tree — His " delights were " at the work
ere His charity had utterance there. He knew where the objects of His pity were
to be found, and directed His course and shaped His plans that He might meet
with them. 4. Once more. Christ not only proposes the good of the " lost," even
their "salvation," and " seeks" them for this purpose, but "He is come" to do it.
What He did on earth — His life and labours and sufferings and death ; what He doea
in heaven, by the agency of men, the ministry of Providence, the operations of the
Holy Spirit, are all to be considered in relation to His coming hither — the fact, the
manner, and the meaning of His advent. II. Consider some important bearing*
OF THE STATEMENT NOW ILLUSTRATED. 1. You have in our subject an evidence of
our religion — the religion of " the Son of man." Think of His object, principle,
and method, and say whether, in the circumstances of the case, floey do not
necessarily indicate one come from God? There were no materials in xhat "half-
barbarous nation in wholly barbarous times " out of which could have been formed
the living " Son of man," and no materials out of which His image could have been
formed. He must have been, or none could have conceived of Him j and if He
were, He must have been from heaven. 2. You have in our subject a beautiful
model of Christian life and labour. What Christ was, we should be. 3. You have
in our subject matter for the serious consideration of unconverted men, Christ
came to seek and to save men — came to seek and to save you. Are you conscious
of your lost condition and bitterly bewailing it ? It will be always true that salva-
tion was possible, was presented, was pressed I And this increases your doom.
{A. J. Morris.) Persistent search : — Our sympathies are already aroused when
we see anything that is lost. Even a dog that has wandered away from its master,
we feel sorry for ; or a bird that has escaped from its owner, we say : " Poor
thing 1 " Going down the street near nightfall, in the teeth of the sharp north-
vfest wind, you feel very pitiful for one who has to be out to-night. As you go
along, you hear the affrighted cry of a child. You stop. You say : " What is the
matter ? " You go up and find that a little one has lost its way from home. In ita
excitement it cannot even tell its name or its residence. The group of people
gathered around are all touched, all sympathetic, all helpful. A plain body comes
up, and with her plaid she wraps the child, and says: " I'll take care of the poor
bairn 1 " While in the same street, but a little way off, the crier goes through the
city, ringing a bell and uttering in a voice that sounds dolefully through all the
alleys and by-ways of the city : " A lost child 1 three years of age, blue eyes, light
hair. Lost child ! " Did you ever hear any such pathos as that ringing through
the darkness ? You are going down the street and you see a man that you know
very well. You once associated with him. You are astonished ae you see him.
" Why," you say, " he is all covered with the marks of sin. He must be in the
very last stages of wickedness." And then you think of his lost home, and say :
" God, pity his wife and child I God, pity him," A lost man I Under the gas.
light you Bee a painted thing floating down the street — once the joy of a Tillatrt
CEiP, XIX.-] 81. LUKE. 405
home — ber laughter ringing horror through the souls of the pure, and rousing up
the merriment of those already lost like herself. She has forgotten the home of
her youth and the covenant of her God. A lost woman ! But, my friend, we are
all lost. 1. In the first place, I remark that we are lost to holiness. Are you not
all willing to take the Bible announcement that our nature is utterly ruined ? Sin
has broken in at every part of the castle. One would think that we got enough of
it from our parents whether they were pious or not ; but we have taken the capital
of sin with which our fathers and mothers started us, and we have by accumula -
tion, as by infernal compound-interest, made it enough to swamp us for ever. The
ivory palace of the soul polluted with the filthy feet of all uncleanness. The Lord
Jesus Christ comes to bring us back to holiness. He comes not to destroy us, but
to take the consequences of our guilt. 2. "We are lost to happiness, and Clirist
comes to find us. A caliph said : " I have been fifty years a caliph, and I have
had all honours and all wealth, and yet in the fifty years I can count up only
fourteen days of happiness." How many there are in this audience who cannot
count fourteen days in all their life in which they had no vexations or annoyances.
We aU feel a capacity for happiness that has never been tested. There are inter-
ludes of bliss, but whose entire life has been a continuous satisfaction ? Why is it
that most of the fine poems of the world are somehow descriptive of grief ? It is
because men know more about sorrow than they do about joy. Oh, ye who are
struck through with unrest, Christ comes to-day to give you rest. If Christ comes
to you, you will be independent of all worldly considerations. It was so with the
Christian man who suffered for his faith, and was thrust down into the coal-hole
of the Bishop of London. He said : " We have had fine times here, singing glad-
some songs the night long. 0 God, forgive me for being so unworthy of this glory."
More joyful in the hour of suffering and martyrdom was Eose Allen. When the
persecutor put a candle under her wrist, and held it there until the sinews snapped,
she said : "If jou see fit you can burn my feet next, and then also my head."
Christ once having taken you into His custody and guardianship, you can laugh
at pain, and persecution, and trial. Great peace for all those whom Christ has
found and who have found Christ. Jesus comes into their sick room. The nurse
may have fallen asleep in the latter watches of the night ; but Jesus watches with
slumberless eyes, and He puts His gentle hand over the hot brow of the patient,
and says : " You wiU not always be sick. I will not leave you. There is a land
where the inhabitant never saith, ' I am sick.' Hush, troubled soul ! Peace ! "
3. Again, I remark that we are lost to heaven, and Christ comes to take us there.
Christ comes to take the discord out of your soul and string it with a heavenly
attuning. He comes to take out that from us which makes us unlike heaven, and
substitute that which assimilates us. In conclusion : You may hide away from
Him ; but there are some things which will find you, whether Christ by His grace
finds you or not. Trouble will find you ; temptation will find you ; sickness will
find you ; death will find you; the judgment will find you ; eternity will find you.
(De W. Talmage, D.D.) Christ's mission : — ^I. These precious words of the blessed
Saviour describe an Advent, a Coming, as accomplished. He has come. It is the
statement of a past event, an event which has changed the whole current of human
history. Its force lay in the great purpose for which it was undertaken. He did
not drop into the world. He was not born as animals are. He came. He chose
to come. He planned a coming, which He executed. All that philosophy can
perceive, or poetry conceive, of grandeur of emprise, of Divine philanthropy, and
of glorious endeavour, are in the enterprise of Jesus. Consider what He left in
order to endure the incarnation necessary for the accomplishment of His most
transcendent undertaking. He came from other heavens that were glorious places,
whose population was not lost, where the kingdom of God was established, and
where His will was done. No moral darkness and confusion were there. Think of
the world to which He came. It is a planet of wonderful adaptabilities, and in-
habited by a race of still more wonderful capabilities. As king of the kingdom of
God, to Jesus order is of the highest consequence. He is the author of harmony.
How disorderly was the world to which He came ! Every man and woman and
child frantically or persistently struggling to break themselves from the moral law,
which is a cord of love, having lost much of what would seem to be a natural
sense of the beauty of holiness, gone so far as to give the name of virtue to that
kind of brute bravery which meets a wild beast in an amphitheatre very much on
the beast's own level ; a world full of sin, and full of the anguish and degradation
»f sin, where He could not turn His eyes without beholding a wrong or a sufferer ?
406 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. nx.
Above all, He knew that He was coming to His own, and that His own would not
receive Him. It was a plunge out of supernal light into the heart of darkness.
II. We are never to forget, as a most charming characteristic of the coming of
Jesus, that it was wholly voluntabt. He came. He was not brought. He was
not compelled to come. No law of justice could have broken His consciousness of
holiness and greatness if He had not come. III. Wht should He have comb at
ALL ? There was something to save, something precious in His eyes, whatever it
may seem in ours. Cold criticism would ask why it was necessary, whether some
other expedient might not have been devised; but love is swifter than reason.
How could He come to save us ? is the question of reason in moments when it ia
unloving. How could He not come to save us ? is the qaestion of rational love.
IV. His incarnation did many things fob us which wb do not bee could be
oTHEBWisE DONE. 1. It was a manifestation of God : " God was manifest in the
flesh." The visible world had so engrossed us that our race was going down into
lowermost materialism, so that the Roman type of thought was " earthly," the
Grecian " sensual," and the barbarian " devilish." And on one of these types all
human thought would have formed itself for ever. But the Son of man came, and,
by His words and deeds and spirit, gave such evidence of the existence of a Personal
God and a spiritual world that our intellects were saved. We have since had
certain centre and blessed attraction. If the Son of man had not come long before
the age in which we live, the intellect of the race would have been utterly lost in
the deep abyss of atheism, toward which it was rushing. 2. The heart and head
have close fellowship. The corruption of the former does much to increase the
errors of the latter, and the mistakes of the head aggravate the sorrows of the
heart. The Son of God has come to save our hearts, as well as our intellects, by
making the interests of God and man identical. 3. Under the atheistic errors of
the intellect and the desperation of the heart, how manhood was sinking away I
No human being can now estimate how low humanity would have sunk before our
times if the Son of man had not come. All sublime and beautiful Uving is of the
inspiration of His history. 4. He died for us that He might save our souls. The
saving of oar souls is the great object of the coming of the Son of man.
(C. F. Deems, LL.D.) The lost are found:— 1. "The Son of man." (1) Hia
humanity. When the fulness of time was come, " God sent His Son, made of a
woman " (Gal. iv. 4). As the flowers are said to have solem in calo patrem, solum
in terra matrem ; so Christ hath a Father in heaven without a mother, a mother on
earth without a father. Here is then the wonder of His humanity. The " Ever-
lasting Father " (Isa. ix. 6) is become a little child. The Son of God calls Himself
the Son of man. (2) His humility. If your understandings can reach the depth
of this bottom, take it at one view. The Son of God calls Himself the Son of
man. The omnipotent Creator becomes an impotent creature. So greater
humility never was than this, that God should be made man. It is the voice of
pride in man, " I will be like God " (Isa. xiv. 14) ; but the action of humility in
God, " I will be man." (1) Esteem we not the worse but the better of Christ, that
He made Himself the Son of man. Let Him not lose any part of His honour
because He abased Himself for us. He that took our flesh "is also over all, God
blessed for ever, Amen " (Rom. ix. 5). (2) The other use is St. Paul's : " Let the
same mind be in you which was in Christ Jesus " (Phil. ii. 5). What mind is that ?
Humility. 2. "Is come." We understand the person, let us come to His coming.
And herein, ecce r«rttotcm— behold His truth. Did God promise a son of a virgin ;
Emmanuel, a Saviour? He is as good as His word; venit, "He is come."_ Did
the sacriflced blood of so many bulls, goats, and lambs, prefigure the expiatory-
blood of the Lamb of God to be shed ? Ecce Agnus Dei—" Behold that Lamb of
God, that taketh away the sins of the world." 3. "To seek." He is come; to
what purpose 7 Ecce compassionem — " to seek." All the days of His flesh upon
earth He went about seeking souls. When the sun shines, every bird comesr
forth; only the owl will not be found. These birds of darkness cannot abide
the light, "because their deeds are evil" (John iiL 19). Thus they play at
all-hid with God, but how foohshlyl Like that beast that having tirust his
head in a bush, and seeing nobody, thinks nobody sees him. But they shall
find at last that not holes of mountains or caves of rocks can conceal them
(Rev. vL 16). Secondly, others play at fast and loose with God; as a man
behind a tree, one while seen, another while hid. In the day of pros-
perity they are hidden; only in affliction they come out of their holes.
Thirdly, others being lost, and hearing the seeker's voice, go further from Him.
CHAP. ITS.] 8T. LUKE. 40T
The nearer salvation comes to them, the further they run from it. 4. " To save."
Ecce pietatem, behold His goodness. Herod sought Christ ad interitum, to kill
Him ; Christ seeks us ad salutem, to save us. " This is a faithful saying, and
worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners "
(1 Tim. i. 15). 5. "The lost." There ecce potestatevi, heholi His -povrer. He i4
that "strongest man" that unbound us from the fetters of sin and Satan.
" Lost! " But where was man lost ? There are diverse losing-places. (T. Adamn,
D.D.) Christ seeking and saving the lost: — I. In what sense we are said
TO BE LOST. 1. Really and indeed ; so we are lost to God and lost to ourselves.
As to God, He hath no glory, love, and service from us, and so is deprived and
robbed of the honour of His creation. 2. Some are lost and undone in their own
sense and feeling. All by reason of sin are in a lost state, but some are appre-
hensive of it. Now such a sense is necessary to prepare us for a more broken-
hearted and thankful acceptance of the grace of the gospel. II. In what sensk
Chbist is said to seek and save S€ch. Here is a double work — seeking and
saving. 1. What is His seeking ? It implieth — (1) His pity to us in our lost
estate, and providing means for us, in that He doth not leave us to our wanderings,
or our own heart's counsels, but taketh care that we be brought back again to God
{John X. 16). (2) His seeking implieth His diligence and pains to reduce them
{Luke XV. 4). It requireth time and pains to find them, and gain their consent. A
lost soul is not so easily recovered and reduced from his straying ; there is many a
warning slighted, many a conviction smothered, and tenders of grace made in vain.
I evidence this two ways — (1) Christ is said to seek after us by His word and Spirit.
{a) By His word, He cometh as a teacher from heaven, to recall sinners from
their wanderings, {b) By His Spirit striving against and overcoming the
obstinacy and contradiction of our souls. By His call in the word He inviteth us
to holiness, but by His powerful grace He inclineth us. (2) This seeking is
absolutely necessary : if He did not seek them, they would never seek Him. 2.
To save them. Two ways is Christ a Saviour — merito et efficacia, by merit and by
power. We are sometimes said to be saved by His death, and sometimes to ba
saved by His life (Rom. v. 10). Here I shall do two things — (1) I shall show why
it is so ; (2) I shall prove that this was Christ's great end and business. First,
Why it is so. 1. With respect to the parties concerned. In saving lost creatures,
Christ hath to do with three parties — God, man, and Satan. 2. With respect to
the parts of salvation. There is redemption and conversion, the one by way of
impetration, to other by way of application. It is not enough that we are re-
deemed, that is done without us upon the cross ; but we must also be converted,
that is real redemption applied to us. 3. With respect to eternal salvation, which
is the result of all, that is to say, it is the effect of Christ's merit and of our re-
generation ; for in regeneration that life is begun in us which is perfected in
heaven. Secondly, I am to prove that this was Christ's great end and business. 1.
It is certain that Christ was sent to man in a lapsed and fallen estate, not to
preserve us as innocent, but to recover us as fallen. 2. Out of this misery man is
nnable to deliver and recover himself. 3. We being utterly unable, God, in pity
to OS, that the creation of man for His glory might not be frustrated, hath sent us
Christ. Arguments to press yon to accept of this grace. 1. Consider the misery
of a lost condition. 2. Think of the excellency and reahty of salvation by Christ
(1 Tim. i. 15). 3. You have the means ; you have the offer made to you (Isa. xxvii.
13). (T. Manton, D.D.) The lost and sought -for smil: — I. The obigin of the
sonii. It is from above. The ancient legends of a distant state of ancestral bliss,
from which we have come, and which we have only in part forgotten, are woven
out of the universal heart-experience. Dimly we remember Paradise ; amidst the
darkness we are groping our way back to the Tree of Life. II. The pbbsent
STATE op THE SOUL. An exile and a wanderer. "I also am from God a wander-
ing exile," said the Greek philosopher, Empedocles — a thought that was taken up
and made the foundation of systems among some of the early Christian sects.
They said that the parables in the Gospel of the lost piece of money, the lost
sheep, the wandering and prodigal son, were all variations of this theme of the
soul. There has come down to us a Gnostic hymn from very early times, in which
the same spiritual theme is clothed in geographical details. A Parthian king's son
comes from the bright realm of the East, and wanders through Babylonia to Egypt
to seek a precious pearl which is there guarded by a serpent. Parthia stands, in
reaJity, for the bright kingdom of light above, from which the soul has fallen.
Egypt means the lower or material world, and Babylonia appears to denote som*
408 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. zn.
intermediate state. There is a father and a mother by whom are meant an ideal
first pair of parents of the living ; and a brother who appears to Bignifj- the second
Adam or Son of Man. The great serpent surrounding the sea is the soul of the
present evil, or material world, ever an enemy to the human race. '* Somehow,"
the hymn says, " they in Egypt found out that I was not their countryman, and
they cunningly gave me their food to eat. I forgot that I was a prince, and I
served their kings, and I forgot the pearl for which my parents had sent me, and I
fell into a deep sleep. But my parents saw me afar off, and they devised a plan
for my good. They wrote me a letter, which ran : •' From thy father, the king of
kings, and thy mother, the lady of the East, and thy brother, our second one, to
thee our son in Egypt, greeting I Eouse up, and rise from thy sleep, listen to the
words of our letter. Consider that thou art a son of kings. See into whoso
slavery thou hast fallen. Bemember the pearl, for the sake of which thou wast
sent to Egypt. Think of the garment, remember the splendid toga, which thou
shalt wear — for thy name is written in the list of the brave — and that thou, with
thy brother, our vicegerent, shalt come into our kingdom." The letter, sealed by
the right hand of the king, was brought to me by the king of birds. I awoke, and
broke the seal, and read, and the words agreed with those that were stamped upon
my heart. I recollected that I was a son of royal parents, and my excellent birth
maintained its nature." And so he proceeds to the quest of the pearl, which
eeems to be an allegory of the spark of celestial light and truth, which is still to
be found, even amidst the debasement of earth, by every earnest seeking soul.
And the letter stands for a higher revelation, and the splendid garment for the
glorious spiritual body which +iie returned king's son is to wear in the presence of
the King of kings. Such is a lief account of this Pilgrim's Progress of the olden
time. This world is a goodly place, this body is a pleasant house to dwell in.
And it may be that we are often tempted to say, If it be a prison, it is more
splendid than a palace, and we are well content to be prisoners and exiles under
such conditions. But there are moments of revelation, flashes of memory and
insight which tell us otherwise. Away I this is not your rest 1 A despatch has
eome from our heavenly Father ; its contents speak of what our heart had already
spoken. And so we arise and still go on our quest of the pearl of great price,
heedless of those smiling Egyptians, who would feed us on lotus, and bid us plunge
into oblivion of our native home. No 1 we are sojourners only, nor can we rest
until we have found what we were sent to find, and, holding it fast, come back to
Him who sent us, and who is watching for our return. III. The becovery of
THE soul. One is seeking us ; One wills that we should be saved and come to the
knowledge of the truth. His kindly light has not yet, and will not, we trust, ever
desert us. (E. Johnson, M.A.) Christ seeking and saving those who were
lost : — I. What is implied in our being lost ? II. How does Christ seek and save
those that are lost ? 1. Christ seeks those that are lost. (1) By His word. (2)
By His providence. (3) By His Spirit. 2. Christ saves those that are lost — (1)
By purchase. (2) By power. Conclusion : 1. From this subject, in the first place,
we learn the wonderful generosity and kindness of Christ. 2. Let us also admua
the power, as well as adore the grace, of the Saviour. {S. Lavington.) Good news
for the lost: — The promises of God are like stars; there is not one of them but
has in its turn guided tempest-tossed souls to their desired haven. But, as among
the stars which stud the midnight sky, there are constellations which above all
others attract the mariner's gaze, and are helpful to the steersman, so there are
certain passages in Scripture which have not only directed a few wise men to Jesus,
but have been guiding stars to myriads of simple minds who have through their
help found the port of peace. The text is one of these notable stars, or rather,
its words form a wonderful constellation of Divine love, a very Pleiades of mercy.
But as stars are of small service when the sky is beclouded, or the air dense with
fog, so it may be even with such a bright gospel light as our text will not yield
comfort to souls surrounded with the clinging mists of doubts and fears. At such
times mariners cry for fair weather, and ask that they may be able to see the stars
^ain : so let us pray the Holy Spirit to sweep away with His Divine wind the
clouds of our unbelief, and enable each earnest eye in the light of God to see the
light of peace. L How the objects op mebcy are herb described. " That
which was lost." A term large enough to embrace even the very worst. 1. We
are all lost by nature. 2. Apart from Divine grace, we are lost by oor own actions.
8. We are lost because our actual sin and our natural depravity have co-worked to
produce in us an inability to restore onrselves from oor fallen condition. Not only
CHAP, xn.] ST. ^UKE. 409
wanderers, bat having no will to come home. 4. We are lost by the condemnation
which our sin has brought upon us. 5. Some of us are lost to society, to resp-Kt,
and perhaps to decency. That was the case with Zaccheus. Now, the Son of
Man is come to seek and to save those whom the world puts outside its camp.
The sweep of Divine compassion is not limited by the customs of mankind : the
boundaries of Jesu's love are not to be fixed by Pharisaical self-righteousness. IL
How THE Saviour is heke described. "The Son of man." 1. Note here Hia
Deity. No prophet or apostle needed to call himself by way of distinction the son
of man. This would be an affectation of condescension supremely absurd.
Therefore, when we hear our Lord particularly and especially calling Himself by
this name, we are compelled to think of it as contrasted with His higher nature,
and we see a deep condescension in His choosing to be called the Son of man,
when He might have been called the Son of God. 2. In speaking of Himself as
the Son of man, our Lord shows us that He has come to us in a condescending charac-
ter. 3. He has, moreover, come in His mediatorial character. 4. And He has come
in His representative character. IlL How odr Lord's past action is described.
Not " shall come," but " is come." His coming is a fact accomplished. That part
of the salvation of a sinner which is yet to be done is not at all so hard to be
believed as that which the Lord has already accomplished. The state of the case
since Jesus has come may be illustrated thus : Certain of our fellow-countrymen
were the prisoners of the Emperor Theodore in Abyssinia, and I will suppose
myself among them. As a captive, I hear that the British Parliament is stirring
in the direction of an expedition for my deliverance, and I feel some kind of com-
fort, but I am very anxious, for I know that amidst party strifes in the House of
Commons many good measures are shipwrecked. Days and months pass wearily
on, but at last I hear that Sir Kobert Napier has landed with a delivering army.
Now my heart leaps for joy. I am shut up within the walls of Magdala, but in my
dungeon I hear the sound of the British bugle, and I know that the deliverer is
come. Now I am full of confidence, and am sure of liberty. If the general is
already come, my rescue is certain. Mark well, then, 0 ye prisoners of hope, that
Jesus is come. IV. There is much of deepest comfort in the description which
18 here given of our Lord's work. " To seek and to save." The enterprise is*
one, but has two branches. 1. Jesus is come to seek the lost. (1) Personally. (2)
In His providence. (3) By His Word. 2. Whom Jesus seeks, He saves. (1) By
pardoning. (2) By bestowing another nature. Conclusion : Let us who are saved
seek the lost ones. Jesus did it : 0 follower of Jesus, do likewise. (C H. Spurgeon.)
The mission of the Son of Man : — I. I lay it down as a self-evident truth, that
whatever WAS THE INTENTION OF ChRIBT IN HiS COMING INTO THE WORLD, THAT INTEN-
TION MOST CERTAINLY SHALL NEVER BE FRUSTRATED. In the fiist place, it seems to be
inconsistent with the very idea of God that He should ever intend anything which
should not be accomplished. But again, we have before us the fact, that hitherto
all the works of God have accomplished their purpose. I might use a hundred
other arguments. I might show that every attribute of Christ declares that His
purpose must be accomplished. He certainly has love enough to accomplish His
design of saving the lost ; for He has a love that is bottomless and fathomless, even
as the abyss itself. And certainly the Lord cannot fail for want of power, for
where we have omnipotence there can be no deficiency of strength. Nor, again, can
the design be unaccomplished because it was unwise, for God's designs cannot be
onwise. II. I have thus started the first thought that the intention of Christ's death
cannot be frustrated. And now methinks every one will anxiously listen, and every
ear will be attentive, and the question will arise from every heart, " What then
WAB THE INTENTION OF THE SaVIOUB'S DEATH ? AnD IS IT POSSIBLE THAT I CAN HAVE
A PORTION IN IT ? " For whom, then, did the Saviour die — and is there the shghtesft
probability that I have some lot or portion in that great atonement which He has
offered ? I must now endeavour to pick out the objects of the Saviour's atonement.
He came " to seek and to save that which was lost." We know that all men are
lost in Adam. Again, we are all lost by practice. No sooner does the child become
capable of knowing right and wrong, than yon discover that he chooses the evil
vjid abhors the good. Early passions soon break out, like weeds immediately after
the shower of rain ; speedily the hidden depravity of the heart makes itself mani-
fest, and we grow up to sin, and so we become lost by practice. Then there b«
Mome who go farther still. The deadly tree of sin grows taller and taller ; soma
become lost to the Church. Now I will tell you the people whom Christ will save
— they are those who are lost to themselves. UI. Notice the objects or jam
410 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xix.
DEATH OF Chkist — He Came "to seek and to save that which was lost." (Ibid.)
Saving the lost : — John Wesley says in his Journal : " On the 20th of December,
1778, I buried what was mortal of honest Silas.Todd. For many years he attended
the malefactors in Newgate without fee or reward, and I suppose no man for this
hundred years has been so successful in that melancholy office. God had given him
pecuhar talents for it, and he had amazing success therein. The greatest part of
those whom he attended died in peace, and many of them in the triumph of faith."
Tholuck's personal effort for individual souls : — The German, Tholuck, a household
name in the world's Christian homes, standing on the borders of the grave and
looking back on the fifty fruitful years of preaching, teaching, and writing,
exclaimed : " I value it all less than the love that seeks and follows," by which he
had been inspired from the year of his conversion. Personal effort for individual
souls ! " This is a work of which the world knows little, but of which the Lord
knows much." Not only seeking, but following ! Here is a single illustration. A
student at Halle was brought near to his heart by a godly mother. He fell into sin
and vice. He was ofttimes visited by his loving teacher, late at night or in the
early morning, after a night's debauch — sometimes in prison. Good promises were
repeatedly made, and as repeatedly broken. Another sacred promise ; the following
day, late at night, came a card from him : " Tholuck sighs ; Tholuck prays; but
we will have our drink out." Eelying upon the co-working Spirit, still the saintly
Tholuck followed. And the giddy youth became pastor of a well-known church in
Berlin. Seeking the lost : — I was returning home towards the evening of a miser-
ably wet day. As I passed along I met a lady whom I knew. Though the rain fell
thick and fast, she had no umbrella nor shawl, cloak, nor upper covering of any kind.
My first thought was that reason had fled. But no — she had lost her child. A fine
little boy had gone out with the servant, and while standing in a shop she had
suddenly missed him. Of course I joined in the anxious search. As I went
along beside that mother, I was struck with the contrast between her eager
look, intense emotion, and restless energy, and the dull, listless apathy of the other
by-passers in the busy streets. She had lost a son ; that was the secret of it all.
She could take no rest but in seeking. I could sympathize with her, but no more.
I had not lost a son. I could not seek as she. (Family Magazine.) Jesus finds
the sinner : — A Chinaman applied to a minister to be allowed to join his Church.
The minister asked him some questions to find out whether he understood what it
is to be a Christian, and how we are to be saved. Among other thing he asked him
— " How did you find Jesus ? " In his broken English the poor man replied : " Me
no find Jesus at all. Jesus Him find me." Christ seeks all : — Between t<he hours
of ten and twelve, for many nights, a poor woman might have been seen making her
way through the streets of London. A year had passed since her only daughter
left home, and entered service in the metropolis. There she became acquainted
with gay companions, and she was now living a life of open sin. The mother
learned that her daughter might be seen every night in a certain part of the town.
After many nights of watching, she was about to despair, when she saw a figure
closely resembling that of her daughter. She eagerly approached, and was about
to stretch out her arms to embrace it, when the light of the lamp showed that it
was not her child. In an agony of grief she exclaimed, " Ah ! it is not she. I was
looking for my daughter ; but, no, you are not my child." The poor girl burst into
tears, saying, " I have no mother — I wish I had ; I wish some one would look for
me. I wish some one would look for me." Alas ! there are multitudes who in the
bitterness of their souls cry out, " I wish some one would look for me 1 " Father-
less, motherless, homeless, they tread their darkened course, and in the anguish of
their stricken spirits cry out, '* No man careth for my soul 1 " Thanks be to God,
there is One who is higher than all, whose tender mercies fail not, and who lookg
with pitying eye on those upon whom others look with hate and scorn. And let us
follow the example of Him whose mission here was to seek the ruined, and to
save those that are lost. (Christian Herald.)
Verg. 11-27. A certain noWeman went Into a far coxmtry.— Parable of the
pounds : — I. Chkist's absence is a period or pbobation. U. The nature or
THE pbobation IS TWOFOLD. 1. The obligation to loyalty involved in Christ's king-
ship and our citizenship. 2. The obligation to fidelity involved in Christ's lord-
ship, and our service and trust. III. Christ's return will be the occasion ow
ACCOUNT AND RECOMPENSE. (J. R. Tkomton, M.A.) Parable of the pounds ;—
I. In Christ's jlingdom the cbabacteristic feature is service. Instead of fostering
«EAP. XIX.] ST. LUKE. 411
a spirit of self-seeking, Christ represents Himself as placing in the hands of each
o^ His subjects a small sum, — a "pound " only, a Greek mina. What a rebuke to
ambitious schemes I There is nothing suggestive of display, nothing to awaken
pride. All that is asked or expected is fidelity to a small trust, a conscientious use
of a little sum committed to each for keeping. This is made the condition and test
of membership in Messiah's kingdom. II. In Chkist's kingdom beevice, howeveb
SLIGHT, IS 8UBE OF REWARD. The faithful use of one pound brought large return.
Christ asks that there be employed for Him only what has been received from Him.
Augustine prayed, " Give what Thou requirest, and require what Thou wilt."
" Natural gifts," says Trench, " are as the vessel which may be large or small, and
which receives according to its capacity, but which in each case is filled : so that
we are not to think of him who received the two talents as incompletely furnished
in comparison with him who received the five, any more than we should aflSrm a
small circle incomplete as compared with a large. Unfitted he might be for so wide a
sphere of labour, but altogether as perfectly equipped for that to which he was
destined." The parable sets before us the contrasted results of using, or failing to
Tjse for Christ, a small bestowment. When this is faithfully employed, the reward,
though delayed, is sure. IH. In Christ's kingdom, failure to serve, results in
liOSS OF faculties to serve. One servant neglected to use his pound, and, on the
king's return, the unused gift was taken from him. This denotes no arbitrary
enactment. The heart that refuses to love and serve Christ loses by degrees the
capacity for such love and service. This is the soul's death, the dying and decaying
of its noblest faculties, its heaven-born instincts and aspirations. IV. In Christ's
kingdom, service, or neglect of service, grows out of love, or the want of
lote, to Christ. The citizens " hated the king, and would not have him to rule over
them." The idle servant " knew that he was an austere man." In neither case was
there love, and hence in neither case service. Love to Christ is indispensable to serving
Him. (P. B. Davis.) Trading for Christ : — I. Evert Christian is endowed by
HIS Bedeemeb. All that a man hath, that is worth possessing, all that he lawfully
holds, partakes of the nature of a Divine endowment ; even every natural faculty, and
every lawful acquisition and attainment. II. Of the things Christ has given us,
WE ABB STEWARDS. Now Stewardship involves what ? It involves responsibility to
another. We are not proprietors. III. In our use of what Christ has com-
mitted TO us, He expects us to keep Himself and His objects ever in view.
What we do, is to be done for His sake. If we give a cup of cold water to a dis-
ciple, it is to be in the name of a disciple, it is to be given for Jesus' sake. Whatever
we do is to be done as to Him. If we regard a day as sacred, we must regard it unto
the Lord. If we refuse to regard a particular day as sacred, that refusal is to be as
unto the Lord. If we eat, we are to eat to the Lord. If we refuse to eat, that
refusal, again, is to be as unto the Lord. Brethren, we have not yet entered
sufEciently into the idea of servitude, and yet the position of servitude is our posi-
tion. Towards Christ we are not only pupils — we are not only learners — we are as
servants. We have a distinct and positive vocation. IV. This passage reminds
US that THB Savioub will come, and call us to account for the use of all
THAT Hb BAB COMMITTED TO US. V. ACTIVITY IN THE PAST WILL NOT JUSTIFY
INEETNESB IN THE PRESENT. (S. Martin, D.D.) Parable of the pounds : — Notice
the following points : 1. The " pound " had been kept in a napkin — to show some-
times, as people keep a Bible in their house to let us see how religious they are.
But the very brightness of the Book proves how little it is read. It is kept for the
respectability of it, not used for the love of it. The anxious faithless keeper of the
pound had perhaps sometimes talked of his fellow-servants " risking their pounds in
thatway"; adding "Itakecareof mine." But spending is better than hoarding ; and
the risksof a trade sure to be on the whole gainful are better than the formal guardian,
ship of that which, kept to the last, is then lost, and which, while kept, is of no nse.
2. The pound is taken away from the unfaithful servant, and given to the ablest
of the group. Let the man who is ablest have what has been wasted. Let
all, in their proportion, receive to their care the advantages which have been
neglected, and employ these for themselves and for ns. 3. Notice next, how
it fares with the different servants when the king and the master return. Those
who had been faithful are all commended and rewarded. The king shares his
kingdom with those who had been faithful to him in his poverty. They have
gained pounds, and they receive cities. The master receives those into happiest
intimacy with himself, who, in his absence, have been faithfully industrious for
him. These good men enter into his joy. He delayed his coming ; but they
tU THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTRATOB. [chap. nx.
continued tbeir labours. They said not, " He will never come to reckon with ug;
let us make bis goods our own ; we have been busy, let us uow be merry."
"Outer darkness!" How expressively do the words represent both the st&t«
of man before bii soul's good is gained, and his state when that good has been
lost 1 Who that has gained shelter, and is one of the many whose hope, whose
interests are one, who have light and warmth and sometimes festive music, would
be cast forth again into the cold, dark, lonely night ? 4. There are for each
man two ways of gain — the direct and the indirect, increase and interest. How
comes increase ? It comes by the plenty of nature, which enables us to add one
thing to anotber, as gold to iron aud wood; by the productiveness of nature,
which out of one seed yields many ; by the application of skill to nature, through
which we extract, connect, and adapt nature's gifts, and, first fashioning tools,
then fashion many things. But all were to little purpose without combination.
And whatever of ours another uses, paying us for the use, yields ns interest.
We depend for the increase of our possessions on our connection with others, our
combination with them. And we can always employ our " talent " indirectly,
if we cannot directly ; usually, we can do both. We can both sow a field an^
lend money to a farmer. We can attend to work of our own, and sustain the
work of others. We can teach, and help, and comfort ; and we can subscribe in
aid of those who do such work of this kind as we cannot ourselves perform.
(T. T. Lynch.) The servants and the pounds : — I. There abe heee two sets
OF PERSONS. We see the enemies who would not have this man to reign over
them, and the servants who had to trade with his money. You are all either
enemies or servants of Jesus. II. We now advance a step further, and notice
THE ENGAGEMENTS OF THESE SERVANTS. Their lord was goiug away, and he left
his ten servants in charge with a little capital, with which they were to trade
for him till he returned. 1. Notice, first, that this was honourable work. They
were not entrusted with large funds, but the amount was enough to serve aa
a test. It put ttiem upon their honour. 2. It was work for which he gave them
capital. He gave to each of them a pound. "Not much," you will say. No,
he did not intend it to be much. They were not capable of managing very
much. If he found them faithful in " a very Uttle " he could then raise them
to a higher responsibility. He did not expect them to make more than the pound
would fairly bring in ; for after all, he was not " an austere man." Thus he
gave them a sufficient capital for his purpose. 3. What they had to do vrith the
pound was prescribed in general terms. They were to trade with it, not to play
with it. (1) The work which he prescribed was one that would bring them out.
The man that is to succeed in trade in these times must have confidence, look
alive, keep his eyes open, and be all there. (2) Trading, if it be successfully
carried on, is an engrossing concern, calling out the whole man. It is a
continuous toil, a varied trial, a remarkable test, a valuable discipline, and this
is why the nobleman put his bondsmen to it, that he might afterwards use them
in still higher service. (3) At the same time, let us notice that it was work
suitable to their capacity. Small as the capital was, it was enough for them ;
for they were no more than bondsmen, not of a high grade of rank or education.
III. Thirdly, to understand this parable, we must remember the expectancy
WHICH WAS AiiWATS TO INFLUENCE THEM. They Were left as trusted servants till
he should return, but that return was a main item in the matter. 1. They were
to believe that he would return, and that he would return a king. 2. They were
to regard their absent master as already king, and tbey were bo to trade among
his enemies that tbey should never compromise their own loyalty. 3. I find
that the original would suggest to any one carefully reading it, that they were
to regard their master as already returning. This should be our view of our
Lord's Advent ? He is even now on His way hither. IV. Now comes the sweet
part of the subject. Note well the secret design of the Lord. Did it ever
strike you that this nobleman had a very kindly design towaids his servants?
Did this nobleman give these men one pound each with the sole design that
they should make money for him ? It would be absurd to think so. A few pounds
would be no item to oue who was made a king. No, no I it was, as Mr. Bruoa
says, " he was not money making, but character making." His design was not
to gain by them, but to educate them. 1. First, their being entrusted with a
pound each was a test. The test was only a pound, and tbey could not make
much mischief out of that ; but it would be quite sufficient to try their capacity
and fidelity, for he that is faithful in that which is least will be faithful also in
«HAP. XIX, J ST. LUKE. 413
mnoh. They did not all endure the test, but by ita means he revealed their
characters. 2. It was also a preparation of them for future service. He would lift
them up from being servants to become rulers. 3. Besides this, I think he was giving
them a little anticipation of their future honours. He was about to make them
rulers over cities, and so he first made them rulers over pounds. (C H. Spurgeon.)
Accountability and reward : — 1. We may learn that Christians have received
Bpecial advantages, and that every one is accountable to God for the use or
abuse of them. 2. From this parable we may learn that no man is so obscure
or contemptible as to escape the penetrating eye of the Judge of the world ; either
because he has done nothing but evil, or done no good. No man is so mean, or
poor, or wicked, as to be over-looked or forgotten. No man is so insignificant
nor so feeble as not to have duties to perform. 3. From this parable also we
infer that all who shall improve will be rewarded ; and that the reward will be in
proportion to the improvement. 4. The advantages which God bestows, when
improved, shall be increased, so as to form additional means of progress;
while he who misimproves his present means and opportunities shall be deprived
of them. 5. Those who reject Jesus Christ shall be punished in the most
exemplary manner (verse 27). (/. Thomson, D.D.) Lessons; — 1. That our
Lord's absence, here attributed to His having gone to receive a kingdom, does
not confiict with other representations of the reason of such absence, viz., to send
forth the Holy Spirit, and " to make intercession for us." 2. That the period
of our Lord's absence is definite in its duration, " until the times of restitution
of all things" (Acts iii. 21), and also onder the absolute authority of the Father
(Acts L 7). 3. That our duty is not to be prying into the mysteries of oar Lord's
coming, or spending precious time in making useless calculations in respect
to the time when He will come, but to •• occupy " till He come. (D. C. Hughes,
M.A.) Christ's spiritual kingdom: — I. The proper nature of the kingdom.
1. The Son of God from heaven is King. 2. He has received the kingdom in
heaven. He will give full manifestation of it from heaven; and return. II.
Thb pbesbnt stats of the einqdou. Although a heavenly kingdom, it yet
stretches over the whole human race upon earth ; for on earth He has — 1.
Servants, as stewards of entrusted gifts. 2. Enemies, who grudge His heavenly
glory. III. The rnTURB manifestation of the einodom shows it to be a
HEATENLY ONE, from the manner in which rewards and punishments are to be
distributed ; which is — 1. Righteous and beneficent in the gracious apportionment
of reward to those of approved fidelity. 2. Just and righteous in the punishment
— (1) of the faithless; (2) of avowed enemies. (F. G. Lisco.) Parable of tlie
l^nds : — L The oesion of this PARABiiS. 1. It corrects false notions about tha
immediate appearance of God's kingdom as temporal and visible. 2. It teachea
that Christ would take His departure from earth, and delay His return. 3. It
enforces the need of present fidelity to oar trust. 4. It illustrates the folly of
expecting good from the future if the present be neglected. 5. It contains the
promise of our Lord's return. IL When will He comb to us indftidcallt ?
1. Either at our death. 2. Or, at the last day to institute judgment. 3. The
time for either, for both, is unknown to as. III. Classes passed upon in jttdq-
MBNT AS hxrb FORESHADOWED. 1. This parable contains no reference to the
heathen. 2. Those who improved their pounds were approved and rewarded
according to the measure of their fidehty. 3. He that knew his master's will
and neglected his trust was reproved and deprived of his pound. 4. The Lord's
enemies, who would not have Him to reign over them, were punished with tha
severity their hate and wicked opposition merited. IV. Some lessons. 1. Our
Lord's return has already been delayed 18 years. 2. We are not to infer from
this that He never will return. 3. He that is faithful only in the visible presence
of bis master, is not entirely trustworthy. 4. Each one of the ten servants
reoeived ten pounds. The outward circumstances of none are so meagre that in
them each one may not equally serve his Lord. 5. If the parable of the talents
refers to inward gifts, which are equally distributed, then the parable of the
pounds refer to our opportunities for doing good, which to all are alike. 6. Improved
opportunities increase our capacity to do and get good. They are like money at
interest. After Girard had saved his first thousand, it was the same, he said,
us if he had a man to work for him all the time. 7. Neglected opportunities
never return. You cannot put your hand into yesterday to do what was then
neglected, or sow the seeds of future harvests. 8. Even if we knew that the Lord
would return to-morrow, to-day's work should not be neglected. "Trade j»
414 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xix,
herewith, till I come." {L. 0. Thompson.) The pounds: — 1. The departar»
of the nobleman to the far country, and his Bojonm there until he should receive
his kingdom, intimate that the second coming of the Lord was not to bo
immediate. 2. The true preparation for the coming of the Kingdom of tho
Lord, is that of character. The "pound" given to each, is the common.
blessing of the gospel and its opportunities. I. The good and faithfui.
8EBVAKT WHO UADE BIS ONE POUND INTO TEN. SymboUzlng the conduct and
blessedness of those who make the most of their enjoyment of the gospel bless-
ings. They do not despise the day of small things. They do not trifle away their
time in idleness, or waste it in sin ; but finding salvation in the gospel, through
faith in Jesus Christ, they set themselves to turn every occupation in which they
are engaged, and every providential dispensation through which they may be
brought, to the highest account, for the development in them of the Christian
character. IL Another way of dealing with the common blessing of the oospeii
IB illustbated in the case op him who had increased his pound to five. He had
been a real servant ; but his diligence had been less ardent, his devotion less
thorough, his activity less constant, and so the Lord simply said to him, " Be thcu
also over five cities." The representative of the easy-going disciple. There are
some who will be saved, yet so as by fire, and others who shall have salvation in
fulness ; some who shall have little personal holiness on which to graft the life of
the future, and who shall thus be in a lower place in heaven for evermore, enjoying
its blessedness as thoroughly as they are competent to do, yet having there a posi-
tion analogous it may be, though of course not at all identical, with that occupied
by the Gideonites of old in the promised land. III. The servant who hid his
POUND IN THE EARTH, AFTEB HE HAD CAREFULLY BOUGHT TO KEEP IT FROM BEING
rNJDEED, BY WRAPPING IT IN A NAPKIN. He lost everything by an unbelieving anxiety
to lose nothing. He was so afraid of doing anything amiss, that he did nothing at
all. The representative of the great multitude of hearers of the gospel, who
simply do nothing whatever about it. They do not oppose it ; they do not laugh at
it ; they do not argue against it ; their worst enemies would not call them immoral ;
but they " neglect the great salvation," and think that because, as they phrase it,
they have done no harm, therefore they are in no danger. But Christ requires
positive improvement of the privileges which He bestows. IV. The conduct of
THOSE CITIZENS WHO HATED THE NOBLEMAN, AND SAID, " We wiU not," &C. Open
enemies. {W. M. Taylor, D.D.) Occupy till I come. — The traffic of the kingdom:
— Our Lord leads us into the great mart, and cries, " Occupy till I come." L The
Lord gives every man a fair start in this business, and old obligations are paid.
II. The Lord backs all the just and legal promissory notes of His merchantmen^
" I am with you." III. The Christian trader has influential partnership. " Co-
workers with God." IV. Success in this business requires extensive advertise-
ment. 1. By expression of word. 2. By expression of deportment. V. Diplomacy
is essential. When to expend, when recruit. VI. True effort and success will flow
from intense earnestness. VII. In this business nothing succeeds like success.
His talents — are we improving them? (B.D.Moore.) Occupation: — I. Lifb
OUGHT TO BE ONE OF OCCUPATION. World a great workshop. II. Work should bk
RECEIVED AS FROM Chbist. He says, "Occupy." We must make sure that our
occupation, or any part of it, is not in opposition to His wilL III. Work tbult
PERFORMED LEADS TO AND PREPARES FOR HIGHER WORK. '* OcCUpy till I COme."
When He came it was to give kingdoms instead of pounds. The schoolboy does
not need costly books. The young apprentice has his hand and eye trained by
working on cheap materials. Every duty faithfully discharged is a step on God's
ladder of promotion. Do not wait for some great opportunity. The born artist
makes his first pictures with a bit of chalk or burnt stick. IV. The whole lifb
SHOULD BE SOLEMNIZED AND GUIDED BY THE THOUGHT OF ChRIST'S COMING. " OcCUpy
till I come. " The irrational creatures instinctively and necessarily perform their
parts. The earth was kept by them till the householder, man, appeared. But the
thought of Christ'B coming, the thought of meeting Him to give in our account, is
necessary for man's right living here. Some say that men are simply to act their
part, without thinking of a future. But a man cannot do this. Ab the sailor,^ the
traveller, knows whither he is going before he sets out, and makes his preparations
and steers his course accordingly, so must we. A ship simply set adrift — a
traveller merely wandering on — is most unlikely to reach any happy haven. We
most give account. We are moving on to the Judgment-seat of Christ. Duties
done or neglected, opportunities improved or wasted, will meet as there. {E. F\
«HAP. xix.] ST. LUKE. ilB
Scott.) We will not liaye this man to reign over us. — Christ's spiritual kingdom
and its rejection by men : — 1. That Chkist hath a spieitcal kingdom ; for all
things concur here which belong to a kingdom ; here is a monarch, which is Christ ;
a law, which is the gospel; subjects, which are penitent believers; rewards and
punishments, eternal life and eternal torment. 1. Here is a monarch, the mediator,
■whose kingdom it is. Originally it belongeth to God as God, but derivatively to
Christ as Mediator (Psa. ii. 6 ; Phil. ii. 10, 11). 2. There are subjects. Before I
tell you who they are, I must premise that there is a double consideration of
subjects. Some are subjects by the grant of God, others are subjects not only by
.he grant of God, but their own consent. 3. The law of commerce between this
sovereign and these subjects (for all kingdoms are governed by laws). 4.
Eewards and punishments. (1) For punishments. Though tbe proper intent
and business of the gospel is to bless, and not to curse, yet, if men vdlfully refuse
the benefit of this dispensation, they are involved in the greatest curse that can be
thought of (John iii. 19). (2) Eewards. The privileges of Christ's kingdom are
exceeding great, (a) For the present, pardon and peace, (b) Hereafter eternal
happiness, II, That in all reason this kingdom should be submitted unto — 1^
Because of the right which Christ hath to govern. He hath an unquestionable
title by the grant of God (Acts ii. 36). And His ovra merit of purchase (Rom.
xiv. 9). 2. This new right and title is comfortable and beneficial to us. 3. It is
by His kingly office that all Christ's benefits are applied to us. As a Priest, He
purchased them for us ; as a Prophet, He giveth us the knowledge of these
mysteries ; but as a King, He conveyeth them to us, overcoming our enemies,,
changing our natures, and inclining us to believe in Him, love Him, and obey Himi
(Acts V. 31). 4. Our actual personal title to all the benefits intended to us is
mainly evidenced by our subjection to His regal authority. 5. We shall be unwil-
lingly subject to His kingdom of power if we be not willingly subject to His
kingdom of grace. 6, This government, which we so much stick at, is a blessed
government. Christ Himself pleadeth this (Matt. xi. 30), " My yoke is easy, and
My burden is hght." It is sweet in itself, and sweet in the issue. III. What
moveth and inuuoeth men so much to dislike Chbist's eeign and government.
1. The evil constitution of men's souls. This government is contrary to men's
carnal and brutish affections. It comes from an affectation of liberty. Men
would be at their own dispose, and do whatsoever pleaseth them, without any-
to call them to an account (Psa. xii. 4). 3. It proceeds from the nature*
of Christ's laws. (1) They are spiritual. (2) They require self-denial. Informa-
tion. 1. It showeth us whence all the contentions arise which are raised about .
religion in the world. All the corrupt part of the world oppose His kingly office..
2. It informeth us how much they disserve Christianity that will hear of no injunc-
tions of duty, or mention of the law of faith, or of tbe new covenant as a law. .
Besides that they take part with the carnal world, who cannot endure Christ's -
reign and government, they blot out all religion with one dash. If there be no •
law, there is no government, nor governor, no duty, no sin, no punishment nor
reward ; for these things necessarily infer one another. 3. It informeth us wh&(
a difficult thing it is to seat Christ in His spiritual throne, namely, in the hearts
of all faithful Christians. 4. It informeth us of the reason why so many
nations shut the door against Christ, or else grow weary of Him. 6. It in-
formeth us how ill they deal with Christ who have only notional opinions about Hia^
authority, but never practically submit to it. Exhortation. If we would diff-
tmguish ourselves from the carnal world, let us resolve upon a thorough course of
Christianity, owning Christ's authority in all things. 1. If we be to begin, and
have hitherto stood against Christ, oh ! let us repent and reform, and return to our
obedience (Matt, xviii. 3). 2. Eemember that faiih is a great part of your works
from first to last (John vi. 27). 3. Tour obedience must be cTclightful, and such as
Cometh from love (1 John v. 3). 4. Tour obedience must be very circumspect and
accurate (Heb. xii. 28). 5. It is a considerable part of our work to look for our
wages, or expect the endless blessedness to which we are appointed (Titus ii. 13)»
(T. Manton, D.D.) When He was returned. — The Lord's return : — Some weeks
ago a great procession was in Chicago. On Sunday evening before, the park
was filled with tents and people, in preparation for the display on Tuesday.
Passing down the avenue, a lad said, as we crossed the railway track : " Did
you see that long train of cars, sir ? They are going after the knights." " Tes, i
Baw them," was the reply. " My cousin is one of them, sir ; he is a sir-knight..
1 wish I was one," said the boy. " Why 7 " said the gentleman. " Oh 1 thej loom
4M THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. mx.
BO pretty, and they'll have a big time, sir." " Yes," said the man, " but it is a
great expense — one or two millions, and the interest of the money would support
all the poor in the city." •' I never thought of that," said the boy; " and we ara
poor." Having asked his age, residence, and place of work, the gentleman said,
" Do you go to church and Sunday-school?" "Yes," said the boy. "Did yoa
ever hear of Jesus ? " " Yes, indeed." " Do you know He will come again — come
in glory, with all the angels, with all the prophets, kings, martyrs, holy men, and
children, and with all the babies that have ever died? " " W-e-1-1," said the boy,
" I don't believe this procession, big as it is, will be a flea-bite to that one, do you.
sir ? " '* No, indeed," said the man ; ♦' and remember, also, that when He comes
in glory He will give places to every one who has been faithful to Him ; even a boy
may shine in that great company." "Well, sir," said the lad, **I will tell you
what I think. I had rather be at the tail-end of Jesus' procession than to be at
the head of this one. Wouldn't you, sir ? " Even so it will be. But His enemies,
what of them ? Slain before Him. There are His servants. His family, and His
enemies ; there is glory, reward, and judgment. Which for you and me ? Three
ways of treating God's gifts : — There are three ways in which we may treat God's
gifts ; we may misuse them, neglect them, or use them to good purpose. A tool-
chest is a very handy thing. The boy who has one can do good work with it, if he
wishes. But if he uses the chisel to chip the noses of statuettes, or the hammer
to drive nails into choice pictures, or the hatchet to out and hack the young trees
in the orchard, that tool-chest becomes anything but a valuable acquisition to the
family. A sharp knife is a good thing, but in the hand of a madman it may do
untold damage. So education and natural talent are good things when rightly
used ; but there is no rogue so dangerous as the educated or talented rogue.
Neglect, too, destroys. The sharpest tool will by and by rust, if left unused. The
bread for our nourishment, if unused, will soon change into a corrupt mass. The
untended garden will be quickly overrun with weeds. The sword that is never
drawn at last holds fast to the scabbard. And so the learning and the talents tbat
lie idle soon begin to deteriorate. An Eastern story tells of a merchant who gave
to each of two friends a sack of grain to keep till he should call for it. Years
passed ; and at last he claimed his own again. One led him to a field of waving
com, and said, " This is all yours." The other took him to a granary, and pointed
out to him as his a rotten sack fall of wasted grain. On the other hand, the
proper use of talents brings its own reward. Cast forth the seed, and the harvest
is sure. The sculptor's chisel carves out the statue. Beneath the hand of man
great palaces grow up. And beyond and above all, there is the consciousness that
every good use of a talent, every noble act done, is adding a stone to the stately
temple that shall be revealed hereafter. (Sunday School Times.) Thou hast been
falthfol In a very little. — Faithfulness in little things : — There is a principle in this
award which regulates God's dealings with us in either world. And it is this — the
ground and secret of all increase is " faithfulness. " And we may all rejoice that
this is the rale of God's moral gifts — for had anything else except " faithfulness "
been made the condition, many would have been unable, or at least, would have
thought themselves unable, to advance at aU. I should have no hesitation in
placing first " faithfulness " to convictions. So long as a man has not silenced
them by sin, the heart is full of '* still small voices,"' speaking to him everywhere.
There is a duty which has long lain neglected, and almost forgotten. Suddenly,
there wakes up in your mind a memory of that forgotten duty. It is a very httle
thing that, by some association, woke the memory. An old sin presents itself to
your mind in a new light. A thought comes to you in the early morning, " Get
up." Presently, another thought says, "You are leaving your room without any
real communion with God." Those are convictions. Everybody has them — they
are the movings of the Holy Ghost in a man — they are the scintillations of an
inner life which is struggling with the darkness. But, be " faithful " to them ; for
if vou are unfaithful, they will get weaker and weaker, and fewer and fewer, till
they go oat. But if you are " faithful " to them, there will be an increase —
stronger, more frequent, loftier, more spiritual, they will grow — till it is as if your
whole being were penetrated with the mind of God ; and everything within you and
around you will be a message, and the whole world will be vocal to you of Christ.
Next to this " faithfulness " to convictions, I should place '• faithfulness in little
things " to men— and this of two kinds. It is of the utmost importance that yoa
be sorupuloasly accurate and just in all your most trivial transactions of honour
and boainesa with yoar fellow-creatorea. And, secondly, every one of us haa, at
CKAP. xu.] ST. LUKE. 417
might have, iniJuence with somebody. The acquisition and the use of that influence
ere great matters of " faithfulness," {J. Vaugluin, M.A.) Soul-growth dependx on
fidelity ;— To employ well the present, is to command the future. And that for
two reasons. One, the natural law, which pervades all nature, rational and irra-
tional, that growth is the offspring of exercise. And the other, the sovereign will
of a just God to increase the gifts of those who use them. But whence " faithful-
ness " ? How shall we cultivate it ? First, think a great deal of God's faithfulness
— how very " faithful " He has been to you — how " faithful " in all the little events
of your life, and in all the secret passages of your soul. Steep your mind in the
thought of the faithfulness of God to you, in all your little things, till you catch
its savour. Look at it till the finest traits reflect themselves upon your heart. And,
secondly, go, and do to-day some one " faithful " thing. Do it for Christ. Be
"faithful" where your conscience tells you you have been faithless. (Ibid.)
Faithful in little : — A Persian king when hunting wished to eat venison in the field.
Some of his attendants thereupon went into a village near, and helped themselves
to a quantity of salt for their master. The king, suspecting what they had done,
made them go back and pay for it, with the remark, " If I cannot make my people
just in small things, I can at least show them that it is possible to be so." The
joy of faithful work : — There comes over to our shores a poor stonecutter. The
times are so bad at home that he is scarcely able to earn bread enough to eat : and
by a whole year's stinting economy he manages to get together just enough to pay
for a steerage passage to this country. He comes, homeless and acquaintanceless,
and lands in New York, and wanders over to Brooklyn and seeks employment. He
is ashamed to beg bread ; and yet he is hungry. The yards are all full ; but still
as he is an expert stonecutter, a man, out of charity, says, " Well, I will give yon
a Httle work — enough to enable you to pay for your board." And he shows him a
block of stone to work on. What is it ? One of many parts which are to form
eome ornament. Here is just a querl or fern, and there is a branch of what is pro-
bably to be a flower. He goes to work on this stone, and most patiently shapes it.
He carves that bit of a fern, putting all his skill and taste into it. And by and by
the master says, "Well done," and takes it away, and gives him another block, and
tells him to work on that. And so he works on that, from the rising of the sun till
the going down of the same, and he only knows that he is earning his bread. And
he continues to put all his skill and taste into his work. He has no idea what use
will be made of those few stems which he has been carving, until afterwards, when,
one day, walking along the street, and looking up at the front of the Art Gallery, he
eees the stones upon which he has worked. He did not know what they were for ;
bat the architect did. And as he stands looking at his work on that structure
which is the beauty of the whole street the tears drop down from his eyes, and he
says, " I am glad I did it well." And every day, as he passes that way, he says to
himself exultingly, " I did it well." He did not draw the design nor plan the
building, and he knew nothing of what use was to be made of his work ; but he
took pains in cutting those stems ; and when he saw that they were a part of
that magnificent structure his soul rejoiced. Dear brethren, though the work which
you are doing seems small, put your heart in it ; do the best yon can wherever you
are ; and by and by God will show you where He has put ihai work. And when
JOQ see it stand in that great structure which He is building you will rejoice in
every single moment of fidelity with which you wrought. Do not let the
seeming littleness of what you are doing now damp your fidelity. {H. W. Beecher.)
Laid up in a napkin. — Laziness in the Church: — This part of the parable is meant
to teach the necessity of developing our forces, and bringing them into use in Chris-
tian life. The duty of the development of power in one's self as a part of hib
allegiance to Christ is the main thought. So, also, is it wrong for one affecting to
be a Christian to confine his development and increase simply to things that
enrround him and that strengthen him from the exterior. It is not wrong for a
man to seek wealth in appropriate methods and in due measure ; it is not wrong
for a man to build up around himself the household, the gallery, the Ubrary ; it is
not wrong for a man to make himself strong on the earthward side ; but to make
himself strong only on that side is wrong. Every man is bound to build within.
Indeed, the very one of the moral functions which inheres in all religious industries
is that, while a man is building himself exteriorly according to the laws of nature
and society and of moral insight, he is by that very process building himself
inwardly. He is building himself in patience, in foresight, in self-denial, in
liberalities ; for often generosity and libprality are in the straggle of men in Uto
VOL. ra. 27 - —
418 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, ax,
what oil is in the machine, that make the friction less and the movement easier.
So it is wrong for men to build themselves up simply for the sake of deriving more
pleasure from reason, from poetic sensibility, and from all SBsthetio elements ; but
it is not wrong for them to render themselves, through education, susceptible to
£ner and higher pleasures. Not only this, but we learn from a fair interpretation
of this parable that men are not to be content with their birthright state. It is not
enough that a man has simply the uneducated qualities that are given to him.
Life educates us so far as the gift of the hand and the foot is concerned. In so far
«s secular relations are concerned, the necessities of business and the sweep of
pnbUc sentiment are tending constantly to educate men to bring out all that there
is in them. In the higher spiritual life it is not always the case. Men are content
with about the moral sense that they have, if it averages the moral sense of the
community ; about the amount of faith that comes to them without seeking or
education ; about the amount of personal and moral influence that exists in social
relations. But the law of the gospel is : Develop. No man has a right to die with
ills faculties in about the state that they were when he came to his manhood.
There should be growth, growth. Going on is the condition of life in the Church
or in the community just as much as in the orchard or in the garden. When a tree
is " bound " and won't grow, we know that it is very near to its end ; and a tree
that will not grow becomes a harbour of all manner of venomous insects. Men go
and look under the bark, and seeing them consorting here and there and every-
where, say : " That is the reason the tree did not grow." No, it was the not
growing that brought them there. And so all sorts of errors and mistakes cluster
under the bark of men that stand still and do not unfold — do not develop. This
being the doctrine, I remark, in the first place, that one may be free from all vioes
and from great sins, and yet break God's whole law. That law is love. Many say
to themselves, " What wrong do I do ? " The question is, What right do you do ?
An empty grape-vine might say, " Why, what harm do I do ? " Tes, but what
clusters do you produce? Vitality should be fruitful. Men are content if they
can eat, and drink, and be clothed, and keep warm, and go on thus from year to
year ; because they say, " I cheat no one ; I do not lie or steal, nor am I drunk. I
pay my debts, and what lack I yet ? " A man that can only do that is very poorly
furnished within. And in no land in the world are men so culpable who stand
etill as in this land of Christian light and privileges. Yon are not saved because
you do not do harm. In our age — in no land so much as in ours — not doing ia
criminal. The means of education, the sources of knowledge, the duties of citizen-
ship, in this land, are such that to be born here is — I had almost said to take the
oath — to fulfil these things. You cannot find in the New Testament anything that
covers in detail each one of these particulars ; and yet the spirit of the New Testa-
ment is — Grow, develop according to the measure of opportunity. That being so,
there never was an age in which we had so much right to call upon men for fulness
of influence and for the pouring out of their special and various talents in every
sphere of duty. There never was a time, I think, in which it was so well worth a
tnan's while to live. In former days a man might say : " I know nothing of all
these things ; how can I be blamed ? " but no man can say that to-day. No man
that works at the blacksmith's forge can say : " Well, I was a blacksmith." A man
may be a blacksmith, and yet educate himself. No man can say : " I am a carpenter;
how should I be suspected of knowledge 7 " If you do not have knowledge, you are
act fit to be a carpenter. It is not enough that a man should increase his refine-
ment; he is to increase it under the law: "It is more blessed to give than to
xeceive." It is not enough that a man should pursue, ploughing deeply and
nncovering continually, the truths of economy ; he should seek for those truths
that he may have that with which to enlighten and strengthen other men.
(Ibid.) The natural heart unveiled in the great account: — I. First, lying at
the bottom of all here, in the character of the natural mind, there comes out " the
«vil heart of unbelief" — a fatal misjudquent or thb adobablb God — an entire
lieart-ignorance of God, estrangement from God, believing of the devil's lie concern-
ing God, in place of God's blessed revelation concerning Himself — " Thou art an
Austere man," a hard master, very difficult to please. Still, still, the natural
conscience will bear stem witness to the reality of a Divine judgment and law.
And so, as often as the fallen heart is forced into near contact with God, this is
its language — scarce uttered consciously even to itself, and much less uttered
Audibly to others — "Thou art an austere man," a hard master, demanding things
•nreasonable, impossible for as weak creatures ! Need I say that it is a lie of tha
<MAF. nx.] ST. LUKE. 419
deyil, a foul calumny on the blessed God? A hard master? Oh, •• God ia love."
II. Second, and inseparably connected with this first feature in the character, sea
a second — k dabe, jealous dread or soch a God, prompting the wish to be away
from Him — " I feared Thee, because Thou art an austere man," a hard master I
The fear is obviously that of dark distrust, jealousy, suspicion. It is the opposite
of confidence, affection, love. How, in fact, can such a God be loved ? III. And
now, connected inseparably with these two features of character, even as the second
with the first, see the third feature in the character — completing it — even an otibb
indisposition for all cheerful, active service of God, " For I feared Thee —
Lord, behold, here is Thy pound, which I have kept laid up in a napkin ; for I
feared Thee, because Thou art an austere man." Impossible to serve such a God
— impossible, first, to love Him ; and, next, impossible to serve a God unloved. Oh,
love is the spring of service; distrust, jealousy, suspicion, are the death of it. But
this man thinks he has served God tolerably well. "Lord, behold, here is Thy
pound " 1 In the exceeding deceitfulness of the natural heart, does he contrive to
persuade himself that he has given God no serious cause of offence with him. It
is the more strange he should be able so to persuade himself, inasmuch as in hia
own word, "thy pound," he confesses that it was the property of another — of a
Master who had lent it to him for a purpose, which, assuredly, was not that of
keeping it laid uselessly up. " And He called His ten servants and delivered them
ten pounds, and said unto them, * Occupy till I come ' " — " occupy," that is, traffio
diligently, trade, " till I come." Oh, what is thus the whole Christian life but a
busy commerce — a trading for God, for the good of all around us, for eternity 7
Fain I would have you to note — although it belongs less to my main
theme — that, if you take the three features of character which we have seen
in the text, and simply reverse them one by one, you shall have the whole
character of God's regenerated child — of the renewed heart — that heart of
which it is written, " A new heart will I give you, and a new spirit will I
put within you ; and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and
I will give you a heart of flesh." Thus, 1. First, substitute for that word of the
apostle, " The god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not,
lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should
shine into them," the one which follows it, " God, who commanded the light to
shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge
of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." For the mournful entire heart-
ignorance of God, substitute the blessed promise fulfilled, " I will give them a heart
to know Me, that I am the Lord." For the evil heart of unbelief, crediting the
devil's lie concerning God, substitute that heaven-bom faith, " We believe and are
sure that Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God " — " We have known and
believed the love that God hath unto us." And you have the foundation of the
^hole character of the new creature in Christ Jesus. 2. Secondly, for that fear of
dark and jealous dread which springs of unbelief, substitute the love that springs
of faith, " We love Him, because He first loved us" — " My beloved is mine, and I
am His " — and you have the new heart in its very souL 3. And thus, thirdly, for
the utter indisposition to God's cheerful service, substitute that heart for all service,
" Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do 7 " A practical inference or two before I
close. (1) First, there is to be a judgment day. Do you believe it? (2) Second,
how worthless, in that day, will be all merely negative religion — " Lord, behold,
here is Thy pound, which I have kept laid up in a napkin I " And as for all attempts
to occupy neutral ground in the kingdom of Cluist, what dreams they are ! (3)
But, thirdly, be it carefully noted that this, properly speaking, is not yet the Judge,
bat the Prophet, telling beforehand of the Judge, and of the judgment to come.
■{C. J. Brown, D.D. ) " Out of thy own mouth will I judge thee "; — Now the general
truth that I would deduce from this narrative, and endeavour to establish, may be
«xpressed in these terms. That insensibility and inaction with which mankind
are to so great an extent chargeable, as touching religion, »re indefensible on every
ground, unsusceptible of apology from any quarter, and incapable of being justified
on any principles whatsoever, being inconsistent with what is enjoined by every
man's belief, however loose and erroneous it may be. 1. It is a principle univer-
sally admitted among men that every subject should receive a degree of attention
proportioned to its intrinsic magnitude and our personal in terest in it ; and in
things purely secular they endeavour to carry this principle into practice. But not
to dwell too long on this, I pass to another principle of common life— 2. Which is
sinned against in religion, Uiat of employing the present for the advantage of tha
420 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xo.
fntare. What man of yon is there whose schemes do not contemplate the future,
and whose labours do not look to that which is to come ? 3. And here I am
reminded of another inconsistency into which many fall. I refer to the unjustifiable
and unauthorized use which they make of the fact of the Divine benevolence in their
speculations upon religion. A use which they would blush to make of it in refer-
ence to any other subject. What would you think of the man who should found
ail his expectations of health, and affluence, and happiness, on the simple fact of
the Divine benignity, and should infer from the truth that God is good, that he
shall never know want or feel painf 4. There is another common principle
unhesitatingly admitted among men, on which I would remark in this connection,
as being denied a place among the first truths of religion — the principle of not
expecting any acquisition of considerable value without much precedent labour
and pains taken for it. 5. There is yet one other principle of common life,
which, we have to complain, is not acted npon in religion. It is that of
adopting always the safer course. (W. Nevins, D.D.) Unto every one which
hath shall be given. — The law of use: — The idea is that having is something
quite other than mere passive possession — the upturned, nerveless palm of
beggary. Having, real having, is eager, instant, active possession, the sinewy
grip. Having is using. Anything not used is already the same as lost. It will
be lost by and by. In this sense of having, the more we have, the more we
get ; the less we have, the less we get. This is law, universal law. I. This law or
nsB IS PHYSicAii IU.W. Muscular force gains nothing by being husbanded. Having
is using. And to him that hath, shall be given. He shall grow stronger and
stronger. What is difficult, perhaps impossible to-day, shall be easy to-morrow.
He that keeps on day by day lifting the calf, shall lift the bullock by and by. More
than this. Only he that uses shall even so much as keep. Ucemplcyed strength
steadily diminishes. The sluggard's arm grows soft and flabby. II. This law ov
USE IS coMMEBciAL LAW. Beal possesslou is muscular. The toil, care, sagacity,
and self-denial required in getting property, are precisely the toil, care, sagacity,
and self-denial required in keeping it. Nay, keeping is harder than getting, a great
deal harder. Wise investments often require a genius Hke that of great generalBhip.
Charles Lamb, in one of his essays, expresses pity for the poor, dull, thriftless
fellow who wrapped his pound up in a napkin. But the poor fellow was also to be
blamed. Those ten servants, who had the ten pounds given them, were commanded
to trade therewith till the master came. HI. This law of use is mental law.
Even knowledge, like the manna of old, must needs be fresh. It will not keep.
The successful teacher is always the diligent and eager learner. Just when he has
nothing new to say, just then his authority begins to wane. Much more is mental
activity essential to mental force. It is related of Thorwaldsen that when at last
he finished a statue that satisfied him, he told his friends that his genius was
leaving him. Having reached a point beyond which he could push no further, his
instinct told him that he had already begun to fail. So it proved. The summit
of his fame was no broad plateau, but a sbarp Alpine ridge. The last step up had
to be quickly followed by the first step down. It is so in everything. Ceasing to
gain, we begin to lose. Ceasing to advance, we begin to retrograde. IV. Thm
LAW or USB is ALSO MORAL LAW. Here lies the secret of character. There is no
such thing as standing stilL There is no such thing as merely holding one's own.
Only the swimmer floats. Only the conqueror is unconquered. Character is not
inheritance, nor happy accident, but hardest battle and victory. The fact is, evil
never abdicates, never goes off on a vacation, never sleeps. Every day every one
of ns is ambushed and assaulted ; and what we become, is simply our defeat or
victory. Not to be crowned victor, is to pass under the yoke. It prayer be, what
Tertullian has pictured it, the watch-oiy of a soldier onder arms, guarding the tent
and standard of his general, then the habit of it ought to be growing on as. For
the night is round about us, and, though the stars are ont, onr enemies are not
asleep. If the Bible be what we say it is, we should know it better and better.
Written by men, still it has God for its Author, unfathomable depths of wisdom for
its contents, and for its shining goal the battlements and towers of the New Jem-
salem. So of all the virtues and graces. They will not take care of themselves.
Beal goodness is as much an industry, as much a business, as any profession, trade,
or pursuit of men. (R. D. Hitchcock, D.D.) Spiritual investment) : — I. Lai
VB SEEK TO OrVZ rXTLL STATEMENT TO THE PBIMOIPLB HEBE AMMOUMCBD, BKFOBB WS
AtTBMPT TO SHOW ITS PBACTicAL BEACH. 1. The meaning of our Lord's words is
•ertainly clear. Consider that the pounds represent any sort of gift or endowment
OUT. xtx.] ST. LUKE. 421
for asefulness — any capacity, resource, instrument, or opportunity for doing good
to our fellow men. He does not really possess anything ; he only " occupies" it ; it
is actually lent money, and belongs to his Lord. 2. The illustrations which suggest
themselves in ordinaiy experience will make the whole matter our own . We are
simply reminded once more of the working of the universal law of exercise. ^ Our
bodily members and our intelluctual faculties are skilled and invigorated by activity,
and injured seriously by persistent disuse. An interesting example of cultivating
alertness of observation is related in the life of Kobert Houdin, the famous magician.
Knowing the need of a swift mastery and a retentive memory of arbitrarily chosen
objects in the great trick of second-sight, he took his son through the crowded
streets, then required him to repeat the names of all the things he had seen. He often
led the lad into a gentleman's library for just a passing moment, and then afterwards
questioned him as to the colour and places of the books on the shelves and table.
Thus be taught him to observe with amazing rapidity, and hold what he gained,
till that pale child baffled the wise world that watched his performances. But,
highest of all, our spiritual life comes in for an illustration. Here we find that,
in what is truly the most subtle part of our human organization, we are quite as
remarkable as elsewhere. Even in our intercourse with God, we bend to natural
law. He prays best who is in the habit of prayer. His very fervour and spirituality,
as well as his fluency, are increased by constant practice. Thus it is with studious
reading of the Scriptures. Thus it is with the constant and devout reference of
one's life to God's overruling providence. And thus it is with preparedness for
heaven. Piety altogether is as capable of growth as any possession we have. He
who has, gains more ; he who leaves unused what he has, loses it. II. A few
PLAIN APPLICATIONS OF THIS PRINCIPLE. 1. Begin with the duty of Christian
beneficence. Any pastor of a Church, any leader of a difficult enterprise, is
acquainted with the fact that the best persons to ask for a contribution, with a
sublime faith and a most cheerful expectation of success, are those who have just
been giving largely, those who aU along have been giving the most. Such Christians
are prospered by the exercise. Their hearts and their purses alike are distended
with the grace and the gold. 2. Take also the duty of teaching God's truth to those
who always need it. Does a wise man lose his learning by communicating it freely?
Kather, are not those the best scholars who do hardest work in teaching the dullest
pupils with the most patience 7 3. Again, take our consistency of demeanour. This,
if anything, would seem most personal and most incommunicable. A Christian
who cares nothing for what people say of him deteriorates in fidelity. He who tries
hardest to disarm criticism by a godly demeanour will grow in correctness and
satisfaction. He need not become more rigid and so more unamiable. 4. Just so,
once more, take into consideration all kinds of ordinary Church activity. Those
efficient believers, who are generally in the lead when each charitable and energetic
work is in its turn on hand, are not so prominent just because they are ambitious
and officious, nor because they love conspicuousness ; but because being in one sort
of earnest labour, they learn to love all labour for Christ. Most naturally, they
grow unconsciously zealous for Him. III. This is going far enough now : we reach
in proper order some of the many lessons which abb sdggested by the
PRINCIPLE. 1. It is high time that Christians should begin to apply business maxims
to their spiritual investments. 2. Think joyously of the irresistible working of all
these Divine laws of increase, if only we are found faithful. 3. Just here also we
begin to understand what our Lord means when He tells us that " a man's life
consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth " (Luke xii. 15).
We have no doubt that such a man as that in the parable, who hid his pound in
the napkin, was far more disturbed over the care of it than either of those who had
their ten or five pounds hard at work. Unemployed wealth, unimproved property,
is but a perplexity, and generally enslaves the man who sits down to watch it. What
we put to use — of our heart as well as of our money — is what we own; the rest owns
ns. 4. Finally, mark the sad reverse of all we have been dwelling upon. Observe
that the pound taken away from this man was not his profit, but his capital. Hence,
he had no further chance ; the very opportunity of retrieval was gone. (C. S.
JRobinson, D.D.) The napkin of secret doubt : — *' Dost thou believe this doctrine
that I ask thee of ? Dost thou hold it firmly ? " " Indeed I do, sir. I keep it
most carefully." " Keep it carefully 1 What dost thou mean ? " " I have it, sir,
folded away in a napkin." '* A napkin I What is the name of that napkin? "
" It is called secret doubt." " And why dost thou keep the truth in the napkin ol
■ecret daubt? " "They tell me that if exposed to the air of inquiry it will dis«
422 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [<MtAP.
appear; so, when asked for it, I shall not have it, and shall perish." "Thoa art
foolish, and they that have told thee this are foolish. Truth is com, and thoa wilt
not be asked for the corn first given thee, but for sheaves. Thou art as if keeping
thy corn in the sack of unbelief. The corn shall bo taken from thee if thou use it
not, and thyself put in thy sack of unbelief, and drowned in the deep, as evil-doers
were punished in old times." (Thomas T. Lyiich.) Destroyed through disme : —
The following extract from Mr. Darwin's recently published life will, perhaps,
explain the cause of his rejection of Christianity. The words are his own : "I can-
not endure to read a line of poetry : I have tried lately to read Shakespeare and
found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me. I have also almost lost my taste
for pictures or music. . . . My mind seems to have become a kind of machine for
grinding general laws out of large collections of facts, but why this should have
caused the atrophy of that part of the brain alone on which the higher tastes depend
I cannot conceive. ... If I had to live my life again, I would have made a rule
to read some poetry, and listen to some music at least once a week : for perhaps
the parts of my brain now atrophied would then have kept alive through use." " It
is an accursed evil to a man," he writes in 1858, *' to become so absorbed in any
subject as I am in mine." We cannot be accused either of want of sympathy or
want of charity if, in the light of what Darwin has told us of his religious history,
we sum up his scepticism in those words which we have italicized — " atrophy of
the brain." The law of increase: — " The Times," speaking of the Exhibition of the
Royal Academy, says, " No doubt people ought to bring to a collection of pictures,
or other works of art, as much knowledge as possible, according to the old saying
that if we expect to bring back the wealth of the Indies, we must take the wealth of
the Indies out with us. Learning and progress are continual accretions." This
witness is true. He who studies the works of art in an exhibition of paintings,
being himself already educated in such matters, adds greatly to his knowledge, and
derives the utmost pleasure from the genius displayed. On the other hand, he who
knows nothing at all about the matter, and yet pretends to be a critic, simply
exhibits his own ignorance and self-conceit, and misses that measure of enjoyment
which an entirely unsophisticated and unpretending spectator would have received.
We must bring taste and information to art, or she will not deign to reveal her
choicest charms. It is so with all the higher forms of knowledge. We were once
in the fine museum of geology and mineralogy in Paris, and we noticed two or three
enthusiastic gentlemen in perfect rapture over the specimens preserved in the cases ;
they paused lovingly here and there, used their glasses, and discoursed with delighted
gesticulations concerning the various objects of interest ; they were evidently
increasing their stores of information ; they had, and to them more was given-
Money makes money, and knowledge increases knowledge. A few minutes after
we noticed one of our own countrymen, who appeared to be a man of more wealth
than education. He looked around him for a minute or two, walked along a line of
cases, and then expressed the utmost disgust with the whole concern: " There was
nothing there," he said, " except a lot of old bones and stones, and bits of marble."
He was persuaded to look a little further, at a fine collection of fossil fishes, but the
total result was a fuller manifestation of his ignorance upon the subjects so abun-
dantly illustrated, and a declaration of his desire to remain in ignorance, for he
remarked that " He did not care a rap for such rubbish, and would not give three
half-crowns for a waggon -load of it." Truly, in the matter of knowledge, "To him
that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance ; and from him that hath
not shall be taken away even that which he hath." (C. H, Spurgeon.)
Vers. 28-40. Ascending np to Jerusalem. — Christ journeying to Jervsalem:—L
The uaiinbb in which He went. The only occasion on which we find Him riding.
Fulfilment of a prophecy. II. The beception He met with. III. Thb sobkow
OF WHICH He was thb subject, notwithstanding the AiJClAMATIONS He beceived.
1. A benevolent wish. 2. An alarming sentence. 3. A melancholy prediction.
Conclusion: Let us remember for our warning, that gospel opportunities when
slighted will not be long continued. (Expository Outlines.) " He went before": —
These are some of the thoughts which are suggested to our minds, as we see Jesus
in the Scripture before us, taking the first place in the progress to Jerusalem and
death. The position was emblematical as well as actual ; and it suggests some teach-
ings for us which are very calculated to bring comfort to our souls. Let us glance,
first of all, for a moment, at the motion and position in itself. See the alacrity and
willingness of Jesos to enter on suffering for us. And what do we learn here, but
CHAP, m.] ST. LUKE. 42i
that His heart was in the sad work which He had undertaken to io. _ The thorough-
ness of Christ's love is brought before us here. He was thorough in love. Mark,
too, Christ's assumption of the position of a leader. He knew the place that had
been assigned to Him by the Father ; it was headship in suffering, as well as in
glory ; He took up at once, in that last journey, His rightful place. See, too, how
our blessed Lord takes up a double position. He is at once leader and companion ;
His little company were one with Him ; He with them ; but yet a little before them.
He talks with us, while He goes on before ; He does not separate the leader and the
companion ; His lordship over us is so sweet, that He heads us as friends ; having
a common interest in all He does. And now, there is great teaching and comfort-
ing for us in all this. In the first place, we who follow Christ have to exploie no
untried, untrodden way. It is thus our comfort that we have always one to look to.
Ours is no interminable road, no lonely, solitary path. Jesus, if only we can see
aright, is never very far ahead. The mowers who mow in line, have much more heart
during the burden and heat of the day, when their scythes sweep through the grass,
keeping time to the stroke of a fellow-workman in front. The steadfastness of
Christ's purpose is also forcibly suggested to us here. Firmly and intelligently,
with a full knowledge of the indignity and death before Him, our Lord started
forth, and took the headship of His little band on His way to Jerusalem. That
steadfastness is of immense importance to us. Were there the least wavering ia
Christ's character, we were undone. And we hold on to this steadfastness now.
We believe Him to be the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever ; we see Him
now acting from the cross, in the same spirit wherewith He journeyed to it. And
now, let us in our trial-times see how Jesus has " gone before " in all. Is the path
of weariness the one marked out for us ; behold upon it the One who sat wearied
upon Jacob's well ; no longer weary, it is true, but remembering weU all earth's
wearinesses of body and spirit ; and offering us His company on the trying path.
Or, ii it that of rejection ? No thornier road is there on earth than that of biting
poverty— poverty, with all its temptations and stings ; well 1 Jesus was poor, an
himgered and athirst, and had not where to lay His head. Before the poor ; right
on upon this path, is the figure of the Lord ; let them but feel that He is their
Lord, and they shall no longer be distressed at being the world's casts-off ; our
being a cast-off of the world will not much matter, if we be companions of the Son
of God. Then comes death itself — the last journey ; the way from which human
nature shrinks ; the one which, despite rank or wealth, it must surely tread. Here,
if we be inclined to faint, Jesus can be seen by His people, if only they believe. (P.
B. Power, M.A.) The Lord hath need of him. — The Lord's need: — This trifling
incident contains big principles. I. It gives us an idea of Providencb. Tendency
of the age is to the seen. But mind kicks against it. Mind is like a bird, which
pines in a cage. Here is hope for religion — the mind kicks against artificial con-
ditionings. If you like you may say the mind likes, like a bird, to make its nest.
True 1 but it wants above it not a ceiling but a sky. You can't cramp mind in
your nutshell organizations. Shut it behind walls — and then it will ask, Who is on
the other side of the wall? Providence involves two things. First — idea of God
preserving, guarding our being and well-being. He preserves, though we don't see
the way. How did Christ know that the colt was to be found at this stated
moment? and that the owner would part with his property? Similarly, wemust
allow for the knowledge of God. The second thing involved in Providence is the
idea of government. H. In Providence attention is given to ltttlb iraNOS as
WELL AS GREAT. " A colt tied." It is demeaning God's economy — some will say.
That all depends on your conception of God's economy. He numbers the hairs of
our head. He sees when the sparrow falls. HI. God holds every creaturb
BESPONSiBLE TO SHOW iTSELP WHEN WANTED. Everything, in God's order, has its
time, and is not itself till that time reveals it. Sea-wrack on the sea-beach is ugly,
slimy, hideous. But the same sea-wrack in a pool? How it spreads itself and
zn&kes every tiny filament beautiful I So prophecy in human history needs to be
corroborated by the event, before it can fairly be understood. Apparently little
events — what worlds of good or erU may turn on them I IV. Solution of thb
MTSTERiEs OF LIFE. They go to the man for the colt. Would not common sense
ask. What have you to do with the colt ? Simply, " The Master hath need of hip."
You have a favourite daughter. One day she is not well — only a cold, you think.
But she grows feverish, and you call in the doctor. Doctor prescribes, but still the
■weet one sickens ; and one day in his solemn look the mother reads the hard
•entenoe — her child must die. Why is it ? " The Lord hath need of it." {J. B.
424 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip. \a
Meharry, B.A.) One Lord : — " The Lord our God is one Lord," bo there may b«
no debate about the direction of our worship, about the Owner of our powers, about
the Eedeemer of our souls. See how this operates in practical life. The disciples
might naturally feel some little difficulty about going to take another's man's pro-
perty ; so the Lord said unto them, " If any man say ought unto you, ye shall say
the Lord hath need of them, and straightway he will send them." But suppoe*
there had been a thousand lords, the question would have arisen, which of them ?
But there is one Lord, and His name is the key which opens every lock ; His name
is the mighty power which beats down every mountain and every wall, and makes
the rough places plain. What poetry there is here I Why, this is the very poetry
of faith. It is not mere faith ; it is faith in flower, faith in blossom, faith in
victory ! (J. Parker, D.D.) The fulfilment of minute prophecies : — Not the fulfil-
naent of sublime predictions, so called ; but the fulfilment of little, specific, minute,
detailed prophecies. God does nothing unnecessarily, speaks nothing that seems
exaggeration or superabundance. There is a meaning in the most delicate tint with
which He hath varied any leaf ; there is a significance in the tiniest drop of dew
which ever sphered itself in beauty on the eyelids of the morning. And that Christ
should go into Jerusalem upon an ass, and a colt the foal of an ass 1 That is not
decorative talk ; that is not mere flowery prophecy, or incidental or tributary fore-
telling. In all that we should account little and of inconsequential moment i&
fulfilled to the letter. What then ? If God be careful of such crumbs of prophecy,
such little detailed lines of prediction, what of the life of His children, the redeemed
life of His Church ? If not one tittle could fall to the ground respecting things of
this kind — matters of order, arrangement, sequence — is He unrighteous to forget
the greater when He remembers the less ? Will He count the hairs upon your
head, and let the head itself be bruised ? Will He paint the grass, and let the man
fall to decay ? Is He careful about birds floating in the air, and careless about lives
redeemed by the sacrificial blood of His Son ? (Ibid. ) Ownership : — A nobleman who
had a magnificent garden was ill in bed, and ordered his butler to go into the hot-house
and bring him the finest bunch of grapes he could find. He came to the hot-house,
he opened the door, he examined all the clusters — he fixed on the best — he brought
out his knife and cut it. Just as he did so, a cry was raised, " There's a man in
the hot-house ! there's a man in the hot-house 1 " The gardeners, young and old,
dropped their spades and water-pots, and ran to the hot-house. As they glanced
through the glass, sure enough, there stood the man, and in his hand the Queen
Cluster — the very one which they had been watching for months — the one which
was to take the prize at the Horticultural Show 1 They were furious — they were
ready to kill him — they rushed in and seized him by the collar, " What are you
about!" they said, "How dare you! — you thief! — you rascal! — you vagabond ! "
Why does not he turn pale ? — why does he keep so cool ? — why does he smile ? He
says something — the gardeners are silent in a moment — they hang their heads —
they look ashamed — they ask his pardon — they go back to their work. What did
he say to make such a sudden change ? Simply this — " Men 1 my lord bade me
come here and cut him the very finest bunch of grapes I could find." That was it I
The gardeners felt that the hot-house, the vine, and every cluster on it was his.
They might call it theirs, and propose to do this and that with it — but really and
truly it was his who built the house, and bought the vine, and paid them for
attending to it. Just so, dear children, the Lord has a claim on all we possess ; our
souls, our bodies, our tongues, our time, our talents, our memories, our money, our
influence, our beloved relatives. " Ye are not your own " ; and whenever He has
need of anything we must let it go " — we must learn to yield it up to Him as cheer-
fully as the owner yielded up his colt. (J. Bolton, B.A.) Why we are needful to
God: — "Why was it?" asked Mrs. N of her own heart as she was walking
homewards from the communion-table. " Why was it ? " she almost unconsciously
exclaimed aloud. •• Oh, I wish somebody could tell me ! " " Could tell you
what? " said a pleasant voice behind her, and looking around, she saw her pastor
and his wife approaching. " Could you tell me," said she, "why the Saviour died
for us ? I have never heard it answered to my satisfaction. You will say it was
because He loved ss; but why was that love? He certainly did not need us, and
in our sinful state there was nothing in us to attract His love." " I may suppose,
Mrs. N ," said her pastor, " that it would be no loss for you to lose your
deformed little babe. You have a large circle of friends, you have other children,
and a kind husband You do not need the deformed child ; and » hat use is it ♦ "
" Oh, sir," said Mrs. N , " I could not part with my poor child. I do need him*
CBir. xn.] ST. LUKE. 42S
I need his love. I would rather die than fail of receiving it." "Well," said her
pastor, "does God love His children les8 than earthly, sinful parents do?" "I
never looked upon it in that way before," said Mrs. N . {Christian Age.)
Every good man is needful to complete God's design: — Aji expert mechanician con-
structs a certain axle, tempered and burnished, to fit the hub of a certain wheel,
which again he fashions as elaborately to fit the axle, so that a microscope detects
no flaw; and now nothing can take the place of either but itself; and each is labour
lost without the other. True, they are only an axle and a wheel, each a single one,
a minute one, a fragile one ; not costly in material, nor remarkable in structure ;
but in the absence of either, the {chronometer which should decide the arrival of
England's fleet at Trafalgar must hang motionless. Every good man is such a
fragmentary and related instrument in the hands of God. He is never for an hour
an isolated thing. He belongs to a system of things in which everything is
dovetailed to another thing. Yet no two are duplicates. Nothing can ever be
spared from it. The system has no holidays. Through man's most dream-
less slumbers it moves on, without waiting for delinquents. (Austin Phelps.)
Blessed be the King that cometh. Jesus our meek and humble King : — I. Cub Kino
IN HTTMiUTY. 1. Jesus is our King. (1) The prophecies announce Him as such.
{Isa. iz. 6; Zech. ix. 9.) (2) He avowed Himself a King. (Matt. zi. 27; John
zviii. 37. ) (3) He proved by the power of His will that He was a King. (Matt.
zzL 3.) 2. Jesus is our humble King. (1) He refused royal honours. (John vi. 15.)
(2) In opposition to the presumption of the Jews, He would never act nor appear as
King. (John xviii. 36.) (2) He debased Himself in all humility. 3. Follow Him
in His humility. (1) By contrition and a sincere confession of your sins. (2) By
resignation in adversities. (3) By humility in earthly happiness. H. Oub meek
King. This may be seen — 1. From the purpose of His coming — of His Incarna-
tion. He comes as a Friend and Saviour ; and wants to be loved, not feared. 2.
From His earthly life. (1) He was full of love and mercy towards the suffering,
whom He invited to come to Him. (2) He was full of mercy and tenderness towards
sinners and His own enemies. 3. From the experience of your own life. Jesus
came to you as a meek King — (1) In your afflictions, to console you. (2) In your
sins, which He bore in patience. (3) In your conversion, the work of His mercy.
Strip yourself of the old man with his deeds, as the Jews stripped themselves of
their garments, and let Jesus walk over your former self. 4. Learn of your King
to be meek of heart also. (Matt. zi. 29.) (1) As a superior towards your subjects.
(2) Towards sinners and your enemies. (3) In tribulations and afflictions. [Stauss. )
Praise thy God, O Zion: — I. First, we snail observe here delightful praise. In
the thirty-seventh verse every word is significant, and deserves the careful notice of
all who would learn aright the lesson of how to magnify the Saviour. 1. To begin
with, the praise rendered to Christ was speedy praise. The happy choristers did
not wait till He had entered the city, but " when He was come nigh, even now, at
the descent of the Mount of Olives, they began to rejoice." It is well to have a
quick eye to perceive occasions for gratitude. 2. It strikes us at once, also, that
this was unanimous praise. Observe, not only the multitude, but the whole multi-
tude of the disciples rejoiced, and praised Him ; not one silent tongue among the
disciples — not one who withheld his song. And yet, I suppose, those disciples had
their trials as we have ours. 3. Next, it was multitudinous. '* The whole multi-
tude." There is something most inspiriting and exhilarating in the noise of a
multitude singing God's praises. 4. Still it is worthy of observation that, while
the praise was multitudinous, it was quite select. It was the whole multitude " of
the disciples." The Pharisees did not praise Him — they were murmuring. All
true praise must come from true hearts. If thou dost not learn of Christ, thou
canst not render to Him acceptable song. 5. Then, in the next place, you will
observe that the praise they rendered was joyful praise. ♦' The whole multitude of
the disciples began to rejoice." I hope the doctrine that Christians ought to be
gloomy will soon be driven out of the universe. 6. The next point we must men-
tion is, that it was demonstrative praise. They praised Him with their voices, and
with a loud voice. If not with loud voices actually in sound, yet we would make
the praise of God loud by our actions, which speak louder than any words ; we
would extol Him by great deeds of kindness, and love, and self-denial, and zeal,
that so onr actions may assist our words. 7. The praise rendered, however, though
very demonstrative, was very reasonable ; the reason is given — " for all the mighty
works that they had seen." We have seen many mighty works which Christ has
done. 8. With another remark, I shall close this first head — the reason for their
426 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. zix.
joy was a personal oce. There is no praise to God so sweet as that which fiowt
from the man who has tasted that the Lord is gracious. II. I shall now lead yon
on to the second point — their praise found vent for itself in an appbopriatb song.
*' Blessed be the King that comethin the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven, and
glory in the highest." 1. It was an appropriate song, if you will remember that
it had Christ for its subject. 2. This was an appropriate song, in the next place,
because it had God for its object; they extolled God, God in Christ, when they thus
lifted up their voices, 3. An appropriate song, because it had the universe for its
scope. The multitude sung of peace in heaven, as though the angels were esta-
blished in their peaceful seats by the Saviour, as though the war which God had
waged with sin was over now, because the conquering King was come. Oh, let ua
seek after music which shall be fitted for other spheres 1 I would begin the musio
here, and so my soul should rise. Oh, for some heavenly notes'to bear my passions
to the skies ! It was appropriate to the occasion, because the universe was its
sphere. 4. And it seems also to have been most appropriate, because it had grati-
tude for its spirit. III. Thirdly, and very briefly — for I am not going to give much
time to these men — we have intrtjsivk objections. " Master, rebuke Thy disciples."
But why did these Pharisees object ? 1. I suppose it was, first of all, because they
thought there would be no praise for them. 2. They were jealous of the people.
3. They were jealous of Jesus. IV. We come now to the last point, which is this
— An tjnanswekable abgdment. He said, " If these should hold their peace, the
very stones would cry out." Brethren, I think that is very much our case; if we
were not to praise God, the very stones might cry out against us. We must praise
the Lord. Woe is unto us if we do not 1 It is impossible for us to hold oar
tongues. Saved from hell and be silent I Secure of heaven and be ungrateful t
Bought with precious blood, and hold our tongues ! Filled with the Spirit and not
speak! {C. H. Spurgeon.) The triumphal entry : — Christ's triumphal entrance
into Jerusalem is one of the most noted scenes in gospel story. It is a sun-burst
in the life of the Son of Man. It is a typal coronation. It is a fore-gleam of that
coming day when Jesus shall be enthroned by the voice of the universe. I. Thb
SCENE. II. The chief lesson inculcated bt the scene : Enthususm should
BE CONSECRATED TO THE SERVICE OF Chkist. There was feeling and thrill and deep
life and outbursting emotion in the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, and
He approved it aU. I argue for the equipment of enthusiasm in the service of
Christ. There should be a fervency of spirit that will radiate both light and heat.
The faculties should be on fire. There are higher moods and lower moods in the
Christian life, just as there are higher moods and lower moods in the intellectual
life. Every scholar knows that there are such things as inspirational moods, when
all the faculties awaken and kindle and glow ; when the heart burns within ; when
the mind is automatic, and works without a spur ; when the mental life is intense •
when all things seem possible ; when the very best in the man puts itself into tne
product of his pen ; when the judgment is quick and active, the reason clear and
far-seeing, and the conscience keen and sensitive. These are the moods in which
we glory. These are the moods which give the world its long-lived masterpieces.
These are the moods which we wish to enthrone in the memories of our friends.
Tou remember Charles Dickens's charming story, " David Copperfield." In it there
is pictured the parting that took place between the two young men, Steerforth and
Copperfield. Young Steerforth, putting both hands upon Copperfield's shoulders,
says : " Let us make this bargain 1 If circumstances should separate us, and you
should see me no more, remember me at my best." Steerforth is only a type of as
all. Every one of us wishes to be remembered at his best. I argue for man's best
in the rehgious life. Man is at his best only when he is enthusiastic. Enthusiasm
is power. It is the locomotive so f uU of steam that it hisses at every crack and
crevice and joint. Such a locomotive carries the train with the speed of wind
through hiU and over valley. It has been enthusiasm that has carried the Christian
Church through the attainments of ages. By enthusiasm, when it is in an
eminent degree, men propagate themselves upon others in matters of taste, of
affection, and of religion. Iron cannot be wielded at a low temperature. There
must be heat, and then you can weld iron to iron. So you cannot weld natures to
each other when they are at a low temperature. Mind cannot take hold ^ of mind
nor faculty of faculty, when they are not in a glow. But when they are in a glow
they can. We see this exemplified in society. Hundreds and hundreds of men,
who are rich in learning, ponderous in mental equipment, ample in philosophical
power, who are low in degree of temperature, and who labour all their life, achieve
tXAP. xnt.] ST. LUKE. 437
but little. Ton eee right by the side of these men, men who have no comparison
•with them in native power or in culture, but who have simplicity, straightforward-
ness, and, above all, intensity, and what of them ? "Why, this : they are eminent
in accomplishing results. There are people, I know, who have an antipathy to
enthusiasm and emotion in religion. They object that we cannot rely upon
enthusiasm. They forgot that if it spring from the grace of God it has an inex-
haustible fountain. One hour enthusiastic people cry " Hosanna " ; but the next
hour they cry " Crucify." I deny that the hosanna people of Jerusalem ever cried
" crucify." The charge that they did is without a single line of Scripture as a
basis. Peter and James and John, and men of that class, did they cry •' crucify " ?
Yet the hosanna people were made up of such. In a city in which there were
gathered from all parts of the nation not less than two millions, there were certainly
enough people of diverse minds to create two parties diametrically opposed, without
requiring us to slander the grace of enthusiasm, and circulate false reports about
the hosanna people. I stand by the hosanna people, and fearlessly assert that
there is no proof against their integrity. Enthusiasm 1 That is what the Church
needs. It is only the enthusiast who succeeds. Enter the history of the cause of
Christ, and there also will you find the statement borne out. What was Paul, the
chief of Christian workers, but an enthusiast ? Eob Paul of his enthusiasm,
and you blot out of existence the churches of Corinth and EphesuB and Galatia
and Thessalonica and Troas. Rob him of his enthusiasm and you annihilate
the Epistles to the Eomans, Corinthians, Ephesians, and the Pastoral Epistles.
This day of palm branches has been duplicated and reduplicated ever since the
triumphal entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem, and this reduplication will continue
until Jesus is ultimately and for ever crowned on the great day of final consum-
mation. The world is full of hosannas to the Son of David. The humble Chris-
tian school of the missionary in foreign lands is a hosanna sounding through
the darkness of heathendom. The philanthropic institution that rises into sight
all over Christendom is a hosanna to the Son of David echoing through civiliza-
tion. The gorgeous cathedral, standing like a mountain of beauty, is a hosanna
to the Son of David worked into stone and echoing itself in the realm of art.
The holy hfe of every disciple, which is seen on every continent of the earth, is a
hosanna to the Son of David ringing throughout all humanity. These hosannas shall
be kept until the end come, and then all the universe of God's redeemed will peal
forth the grand Hallel in the hearing of eternity. {David Gregg.) Enthusiasm in
religion: — What is your religion if it have no enthusiasm in it? Who wants a
wooden Christianity or a logical Christianity only ? Christianity loses its power
when it loses its pathos. Every religion goes downward when it loses the power of
exciting the highest, most intelligent, and most courageous enthusiasm. Some of
US have need to be cautioned against decorum. Alas 1 there are some Christian
professors who do not know what it is to have a moment of transport and ecstasy,
unutterable emotion — who never, never go away upon the wings of light and hope,
bat are always standing, almost shivering — eating up tbeir dry logic, and never
knowing where the blossom, the poetry, and the ecstasy may be found. Christianity
ehould excite our emotion and make as sometimes talk rapturously, and give qs,
sometimes at least, moments of inspiration, self-deliverance, and victory. It was
eo in the case before us. The whole city was moved. There was passion, there
was excitement on every hand. But, then, am I advocating nothing but emotioSv
sensibility, enthusiasm ? Far from it. First of all, let there be intelligent appre-
hension, and profound conviction respecting truth. Let ns see that our foundations,
theological and ethical, are deep, broad, immovable. Then let us carry up the
building until it breaks out into glittering points, far-flashing pinnacles, and
becomes broken into beauty. {Ihid.) The coming King : — I. The estimate
rOBMED OF 0T7B LoBD BY THE CBOWD. " King." U. HiS CBEDENTIALS. " In
the name of the Lord." Divine commission attested. 1. By His words.
2. By His works. III. The blesbinob which come with the xiko. " Peace "
and " glory." IV. These blessingb accompant eyebt advent o» " the King
that COMETH IN THE NAME OF THE LoBD." 1. It was SO at His first coming.
2. It shall be so at His second coming. It is so when the King comes to reign
in the sinner's heart. {J. Treanor, B.A.) Hosannas to Jesus : — I. That which
HAXXB HEN tLLUSTBious, AND woBTHT OF DISTINCTION — lofty genius, heroism, ex-
pansive benevolence, mighty achievements — all that intensified and sublimely
illastrated to a degree infiuuitely beyond what is possible to attainment by ordinary
mortals, DIBTINGITISHES THE LOBO JeSUS, AND ENTITLES HiM TO OUB HOMAGE ANB
428 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xH,
PBAI8E. Take — 1. Genius. What is genius ? Genius originates, invents, creates.
Talent reproduces that which has been, and still is. The spindles in our mills, the
locomotives in our shops represent genius. Theswift play of the one, and the majestio
tread of the other across the continents on paths of steel, is genius in motion. Nov
turn the light of these definitions upon the Lord Jesus Christ, and see if He has not
genius worthy of our best praise. It were folly to deny creative genius to Him, by
whose word the worlds sprang into being, and by whose power they continue to
exist. It were folly to deny originality to the Alpha and Omega of all mind and
matter, life and spirit. Folly again to deny superior intellectual acumen to Him,
who is the light of all intellect, the inspirer of all right thought, the incentive to all
noble action. The blind saw, and the deaf heard, and the dumb spake, and the dead
awoke. As to the modifying influence which Coleridge says is implied in the
highest type of genius, it has been truly affirmed : " The genius of Christ, exerted
through His gospel in which His Spirit presides, has made itself felt in all the
different relations and modifications of life. Take the next element of distinction
that men applaud. 2. Heroism. Spontaneous is the homage paid to heroes.
In some lands they aie deified and worshipped. Heroism 1 Produce another
example, such as Jesus of Nazareth, from the long list of the world's iUustrioas !
Take the next quality in lofty manhood that men extol — 3. Benevolence. Of
this Jesus was the perfect personification. 4. Wonderful achievement receives
applause from men. The multitude praised God '* for all the mighty works that
they had seen." Our works may be good, Christ's are mighty as well as good. We
visit the siok, Christ cures them. II. Hia pbaises have been bono in all aoes,
ON ACCOUNT OF HiS WORTHINESS OF ALL HOMAOE IN HEAVEN AND IN EABTH.
Abraham, the representative of the patriarchal age, looked forward to His day
with glad anticipations, and praised the promised seed. Jacob, in his dying
predictions, sang of the Shiloh, and waited for His salvation. Moses chose for the
subject of his eulogy the Prophet like unto himself, unto whom the people should
hearken. David in exalted strains sang of His character and works, His trials and
triumphs. His kingdom and glory, and died exulting, " Blessed be the Lord God of
Israel from everlasting and to everlasting. Let the whole earth be filled with His
glory. Amen and Amen." The prophets all rejoiced in Zion's delivery and
Judah's King. At His birth, angels and shepherds and sages sang His praises.
As in some of the old monasteries one choir of monks relieved another choir in
order that the service of praise might not cease, so as one generation of the children
of God has retired to its rest, another has caught up the glad strains of hosannas to
Christ, and in this way they have been perpetuated down the centuries. III.
ThEBE abb those, HOWEVER, WHO WOULD INTERRUPT THE PRAISES OF God'S PEOPLE :
TEA, WORSE, SUPPRESS THEU ALTOGETHER. We learn from our text that this was the
desire of the Pharisees on this occasion. Thus, the wicked and unbelieving now
would stop all ascriptions of praise to Christ. They would quench the flames of
devotion that the Holy Ghost kindles in the hearts of beUevers. " Praise Nature !
Sing odes to the landscape I Worship the beautiful in what your eyes see, the
tangible, that of which you have positive knowledge through the certification of
your senses 1 Don't be wasting your devotion on the unseen, the unknowable, thb
mythical, the intangible ! " — so says the Agnostic. "Do homage to Beason I Let
Keason be the object of -your worship ; its cultivation the effort of your life I
What wonders it has accomplished in science and philosophy 1" — so says the
Eationalist. " Sing of wine, feasting, sensuality 1 Bacchus is our god. Praise
him ! Worship him 1 " says the Profligate. " Sing of wars, and of victories, and of
conquests ! Apollo is the god whom we worship, and whose praises we resound.
Therefore, spread your palms with paeans of triumph at the feet of victors I " — so say
Conquerors. Standing erect, with his thumbs thrust in the arm-holes of his vest,
his chest thrown forward and his head backward, like an oily, overfed, bigoted
Pharisee, " Sing of me," says the Self-Bighteoua " Praise the Saviour 1 " says the
believer, and the call receives a response. {N. H. Van Arsdale.) The stones
would Immediately cry out. — Guilty silence in Christ's cause : — I. Our Saviour
means to intimate, that this silence would be vile. Let us, then, proceed with
this dismal business, and arraign this fearful silence. 1. We tax it, first, with the
most culpable ignorance. If you found a man, who was entirely insensible to Milton's
" Paradise Lost," or Cowper's "Task," dead to the touches of Eaffael's pencil, to
all the beautiful and enbUme scenery of nature, to all that is illustrious and inspir-
ing in human disposition and action, you would be ready to say, "Why, thi«
senselessness ia enough to maVo a stone speak." But where are we now ? Men
«HAP. XIX.] ST. LUKE. 429
may be undeserving of the praise they obtain ; or if the praise be deserved ia
the reality, it may be excessive in the degree ; but there can be no excess here. It
is impossible to ascribe titles too magnificent, attributes too exalted, adorations
too intense, to Him who is " fairer than the children of men," who is the " chief
among ten thousand, and the altogether lovely. " Now to be insensible to such a Being
as this, argues, not merely a want of intellectual, but of moral taste, and evinces,
not only ignorance, but depravity. He who died, not for a country, but for tha
world, and for a world of enemies — He awakens no emotion, no respect. Shame,
Bhame ! 2. We charj^e this silence, secondly, with the blackest ingratitude I
need not enlarge on this hateful vice. The proverb says, " Call a man ungratefol,
and you call him everything that is bad." The Lacedaamonians punished
ingratitude. " The ungrateful," says Locke, " are like the sea ; continually receiv-
ing the refreshing showers of heaven, and turning them all into salt." " The un-
grateful," says South, " are Hke the grave ; always receiving, and never returning."
But nothing can equal your ingratitude, if you are silent. For you will observe,
that other beneficiaries may have some claim upon their benefactors, from a
community of nature or from the command of God ; but we have no claim, we are
unworthy of the least of all His mercies. 3. We tax this silence with shameful
cruelty. We are bound to do all the good in our power. If we have ourselves re-
oeived the knowledge of Christ, we are bound to impart it. If the inhabitants of a
village were dying of a disease, and you had the remedy, and held your peace ; if yoa
saw a fellow-creature going to drink a deadly poison, and instead of warning him
you held your peace ; if you saw even a poor stranger going to pass over a deep and
deadly river, upon a broken bridge, and you knew that a little lower down there was
A marble one, and you held your peace ; is there a person, that would ever pass you
without standing still and looking round upon you and exclaiming, " You detestable
wretch, you infamous villain, you ought not to live 1 " "If these should hold their
peace, the stones would cry out." How is it, then, that we have so much less moral
feeling than the lepers had, when they said, " This is a good day," and reflecting
upon their starving babes said, " If we altogether hold our peace, some evil will
befall us ; let us therefore go and tell the king's household " ? II. Secondly, our
Saviour seems to intimate, that this silence is difficult. Now we often express a
difficulty by an obvious impossibility. The Jews said, " Let Him come down from
the cross, and we will believe on Him." Their meaning was, that they could not
believe on Him ; for the condition seemed to them impossible. The Saviour here
Bays, *' Yoa impose silence upon these disciples, but tbis is impossible; yes, they
will hold their peace when dumb nature shall become vocal, and not before." " If
these should hold their peace, the stones would cry out ; " that is, their principles
will actuate them, their feelings must have operation and utterance. If yoa could
enter heaven, you would find that there He attracts every eye, and tills every heart,
and employs every tongue. And in the Chorch below there is a degree of the same
inspiration. 1. The impressions that Christ makes upon His people by conviction
are very powerful. 2. The impressions He produces by hope are very powerful.
8. The impressions He produces by love are very powerful. He so attaches His
disciples to Himself by esteem and gratitude, as to induce them to oome oat of the
world, to deny themselves, to take up their cross, and to be willing to follow the
Lamb whithersoever He goeth. III. Our Saviour here intimates further, that this
SILENCE wouu) BB USELESS. " If," says He, "those of whom you complain were to
hold their peace, you would gain nothing by their silence ; there woald not be a
cessation of My praise, bat only a change of instruments and voices ; rather than
My praise should be suspended, what they decline others would be sure to rise up to
perform ; if these should hold their peace, the stones would cry oat." 1. First, we
shall glance at the supposed silence. 2. And, secondly, observe the improbable
instraments that are employed to perpetuate the testimony. It is not said, " If
these shonld hold their peace the angels wonld cry oat, men would cry out " ; no ;
" the stones would cry oat." Can stones live? can stones preach and write and
translate the Scriptures T Can they aid in carrying on such a cause as this ? Why
not f He can employ, and often does employ, the most unlikely characters. The
wrath of man praiseth Him. We see this in the case of Henry the Eighth. It ia
of great importance to know whether we are God's servants, or whether we are God's
enemies ; bat as to Him, He can employ one as well as another. This was the
case with Saal of Tarsus. He was a persecutor once ; but then he was called by
Divine grace, and preach the faith that once he endeavoured to destroy. All th«
Lord's people onoe were enemies: but He found a way into their hearts, and He
430 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap., xnu
made them friends. They were all once " stones " ; but of these stones God ha»
"raised up children unto Abraham." They were as hard as stones, as insensible as
stones, as cold as stones ; but they are now flesh, and every feeling of this flesh is-
alive to God. 3. Thirdly, notice the readiness of their appearance. " If these-
should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out." "The King's
business requires haste " ; both because of its importance, and the fleeting
uncertainty of the period in which He will allow it to be performed. 4. Then,
lastly, observe the certainty of their appearance, when they become necessary. The
certainty of the end infers the certainty of all that is intermediately necessary to it.
Upon this principle, our Saviour here speaks ; it is, I am persuaded, the very spirit
of the passage. " My praise " — as if He should say — " must prevail ; and therefore
means must be forthcoming to accomplish it, and to carry it on." Let us, first,
apply this certainty as the prevention of despair. Secondly ; as a check to vanity
and pride. My brethren in the ministry, we are not — no, we are not essential tO'
the Kedeemer's cause. We are not the Atlases upon which the Church depends j.
the government is upon His shoulders who filleth all in all. Thirdly ; as a spur
and diligence and zeal. (TF. Jay.) All ought to praise God: — Have we not
heard, or have I not told you years ago, of some great conductor of a musical
festival suddenly throwing up his baton and stopping the proceedings, saying.
" Flageolete ! " The flageolete was not doing its part of the great musical utterance.
The conductor had an ear that heard every strain and tone. You and I probably
■would have heard only the great volume of music, and would have been glad to
listen with entranced attention to its invisible charm, but the man who was all ear
noted the absence of one instrument, and throwing up his baton, he said,
** Flageolet." Stop till we get all that is within us into this musical offering. So 1
-want our hymn of praise to be sung by every man, by every power in his souL {J,
Parker, D.D.)
Vers. 41-44. He beheld the city, and wept over It. — Christ weeping over
Jerusalem : — I. The Exclamation of Christ, and His teabs in their bejection
TO THE qdilty CITY. 1. He remembered days of old. On these sinners the object
of His mission seemed entirely lost. 2. But with the self-denying love of a patriot,,
and the grace of a Saviour, He looked beyond His own sufferings, and fixed His eye
on theirs. What an appeal to His pity was there 1 The city was beleaguered andi
lost — the dwelling of Holiness was laid waste. 3. The sentence is broken and
incomplete. It is eloquently completed by the tears, which are the natural language-
of compassion, and express its intentness beyond all words. What the present
might have been 1 II. The beabino of the record on ourselves. 1. There are
things which pre-eminently belong to your peace. 2. The period allotted to you for
attending to them is definite and brief. 3. Should your day close, and leave you
unsaved, your guilt will be great, and your condition remediless. 4. This is »
spectacle calling for the profoundest lamentation. 5. The tears of Jesus prove
His unextinguished compassion for the guilty. (John Harris.) The teart
cf Jesus: — I. Lost Privileges. — " Oh, that thou hadst known the things which
belong unto thy peace." II. Lost Opportunities. — " Even thou in this thy day.
Nations and men have their day : 1. Youth. 2. Special occasions, as Confirmation
3. Eeligious strivings within our own manifold opportunities, which may be prized
and used, or neglected and abused. HI. Lost Souls. — " But now they are hid
from thine eyes." (Clerical World.) Jesus weeping over perishing sinners: — L
That gospel blessings abb conducive to the peace of mankind. They are the-
things which belong unto our peace. Here let us more particularly observe — L What
those things are to which our Lord refers. The blessings of grace in this world-
Deliverance — from bondage, condemnation, and guilty fears (Psa. cxvi. 16 ; Isa.
xii. 1 ; Psa. xxxiv. 4) ; and holiness — both of heart and life (Obadiah 17 ; Eom. vi.
22). The blessings of glory in the eternal state. An eternal life of rest, felicity,
honour, and security (Rom. ii. 6, 7). 2. How these things are conducive to our
peace. They belong unto our peace as they produce sweet tranquillity of mind (EccL
ii. 26). This arises from peace with God (Rom. v. 1); peace of conscience (2 Cor. i,
12) ; a peaceable disposition (James iii. 18,) ; the joy of victorj' (Rom. viii. 37 r
1 Cor. XV. 57) ; and the joy of hope (Rom. v. 2, and xiv. 17). Oar test teaches us —
n. That these blessings must be known to be enjoyed. " Oh that thou hadst
known," Ac. The knowledge thus necessary must be — 1. A speculative knowledge i
that is, we must have a correct view of them as they are exhibited in God's Wor3
—For we are naturally without them (Rom. iii. 16-18). We must seek them tt
XIX.J ST. LUKE, 431
obtain them (Job xxii. 21 ; Isa. xxvii. 5). And we must understand them in order
that we may seek them aright : we must understand the nature of them ; the
necessity of them ; and the way to obtain them (Prov. xix. 2). The knowledge hero
required must also be — 2. An experimental knowledge. This is evident—From
the testimony of inspired apostles (2 Cor. v. 1 ; xiii. 5 ; 1 John v. 19). And from
the nature of gospel blessings ; spiritual sight, liberty, and health, must be
experienced to be enjoyed. Our text teaches us — III. That a season is aitobded
UB FOB ACQmRINO THE KNOWLEDGE OF THESE BLESSINOS. 1. This SeaSOU IS here
called our day, because it is the time in which we are called to labour for the
blessings of peace (John vi. 27 ; Phil. ii. 12 ; 13 ; 2 Peter iii. 14). 2. This season
is favourable for seeking the things here recommended ; for they are set before us
(Deut. XXX. 19, 29) ; we have strength promised to seek them with (Isa. xl. 31);
and we have hght to seek them in (John xii. 36). Hence, we should also
recollect — 3. This season is limited ; it is only a day. Our text also teaches us,
with respect to gospel blessings — IV. That it is God's will they shodlo bs
BNJOTED BT VS. Thls is Certain. 1. From the wish of Christ — " O that thou
hadst known," &c. Such a wish we find often repeated by God in His Word, and
expressed in the kindest manner ; see Deut. v. 29, xxxii. 29 ; Isa. xlviii. 18. 2.
From the tears of Christ. These demonstrate the sincerity of His wish (Deut.
xxxii. 4) ; the great importance of godliness (1 Tim. iv. 8) ; and the dreadful
doom of impenitent sinners (Rom. ii. 8, 9). 3. From the visitations of Christ. He
visited us by His incarnation ; and He still visits us by the strivings of His Spirit, the
gifts of His providence, and the ministry of His Word. V. That all who seek these
BliESSINQS ABIGHT WILL OBTAIN THSM. VI. ThAT THE BEJECTION OF THE8B
BLBSsiNQS 18 PUNISHED WITH DESTBUCTION. {Theological Sketch-book.) The tears
of Jems : — We are told three times of Christ weeping : in this passage ; in John
zi. 35 ; in Heb. v. 7. 1. Jesus wept in sympathy with othees. At Bethany. 1.
It is not sinful to weep under affliction. 2. The mourner may always count on the
sympathy of Jesus. 3. When our friends are mourning, we should weep with them.
^ II. The teab of Jesus' compassion. Text. 1. Observe the privileges which were
granted the Jews, and neglected. 2. Observe the sorrow of Jesus for the lost. IH.
The teabs of peesonal suffebino. Probably the Agony in Gethsemane is alluded
to in Heb. v. 7. 1. Think not that because you suffer you are not chosen. 2.
Nor that you are not a Christian because you feel weak, {W. Taylor, D.D.) The
tears of Jesus : — I. Our Lord, by His tears over Jerusalem proclaims to us the duty
or lookino at the things of this wobld in theib tbue light, of estimating all that
surrounds us, not as it appears to the hope, the fear, the enthusiasm, the pride of
many, but as it is viewed in the sight of God, whose judgment shall alone stand,
when the false standards and false excitements of the moment have passed for ever
away. His tears speak to us the same lesson which He elsewhere taught in words,
"Judge not after the appearance, but judge righteous judgment." ' For there
was apparently little to draw forth the tears of our Blessed Lord at that moment.
And is it not so now, my brethren ? Do we not exult and rejoice in things, and
persons, and scenes which would call forth only tears from our Saviour 7 Oh that
we may strive to see things in their true light— that is, in the light of the eternity
in which we shall soon find ourselves I oh that we may estimate them, not by the
standards of sense and time, but in the true balance of God's unerring judgment !
II. And, secondly, we see, as from other passages of Holy Scripture, the exceeding
SINFULNESS OF SIN, in that sin has the power of calling forth tears from the Saviour
in the midst of so much exultation and beauty. AIi 1 my brethren, nothing is so
truly mournful as sin. It is the great evil of life ; neither poverty, nor sic^ess,
nor slanderous words, nor the contempt of the world, have any real sting in them
apart from this. Take sin away, and the world becomes a Paradise. Take an
away, and the lives of the unfortunate are filled with happiness. It is sin which
has cast a blight over existence on every side of as : trace each form of suffering
and sorrow around you to its ultimate source, and you will find that source to be sin.
Alas 1 brethren, there are many who come to Church, Sunday after Sunday, and
even approach the Holy Communion, and yet know nothing of their own hearts, and
the deadly poison of nnrepented sin, which dwells within them, and the real peril in
which their souls are placed. (S. W. Sheffington, M.A.) Christ weeping over
Jerusalem : — Tears, looked at materially, admit a very ready explanation ; they are
•ecreted by a gland, they are drawn from the fluids of the body, and are rounded and
bronght down by the law of gravitation. ^ The poets give the spiritual meaning,
when they call tears the blood of the wounds of the soul, the leaves of Uie plant ot
433 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. zn.
sorrow, the hail and rain of life's winter, the safety-valves of the heart under
pressure, the vent of anguish-showers blown up by the tempests of the soul. If
God had a body He would weep. God does grieve, and if He had a corporeal
nature, tears would not be inconsistent with all the recognized attributes of Deity.
There is an eloquence in tears which is irresistible. There is a sacredness in tears
which almost forbids the discussion of weeping. There is a dignity in tears which
makes them consistent with the utmost intelligence and strength and nobility ol
character. There are men with hard heads, cold hearts, good digestion, and full
purses, who know nothing of tears ; but he who values true manhood and spiritual
riches will not envy such men. " Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be
comforted." 1. Jesus wept as a man, as the man Christ Jesus, as the perfect man
Christ Jesus, "Behold the man." To the utmost extent of human sadness waa
Jesus grieved, when "He beheld the city, and wept over it." 2. Jesus wept as a
Jew. The broadest love may be discriminating, and may include strong individual
attachments. Jesus was interested in every land and in every race. No land or
race was shut out from His heart. But there were special attachments to Palestine,
and strong ties to the holy city. 3. Jesus wept as a teacher. Light had come into
the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.
And this was the condemnation. He was conscious of a pure heart in His teaching,
and He saw the corruption of the human heart in the rejection and contempt of His
instructions. 4. Jesus wept as a foreteller, as a prophet. He who was the bright-
ness of the Father's glory, and the express image of His person, declared the mind
and will and heart of God, when, beholding this doomed city. He wept over it. 5.
JesuB wept as the Messiah. He was the woman's seed promised in Paradise. He
was the Shiloh seen by Jacob. He was the prophet revealed to Moses. He was the
Prince of peace spoken of by Isaiah. To Him gave all the prophets witness. The
law was His shadow. Much was written in the Psalms and prophets concerning
Him. His history and character. His words and works, fulfilled various scriptures
written by inspired men. His claim to the Messiahship was distinct and full and
clear. Yet He was despised and rejected of men. Yet when He came to His own.
His own received Him not. This was a sorrow for His Father's sake. He was the
fufilment of His Father's ancient and oft-repeated promise. He was His Father's
unspeakable gift. What a requital of infinite and eternal love 1 And this was a
sorrow for the people's sake. Instead of receiving Him they were looking for
another. But Jesus knew that their eyes would fail by looking in vain. 6.
Jesus wept as a Saviour, He looked upon those who would not be saved, and wept
over them. Measure His sorrow by His knowledge and by His hatred of sin ;
measure His sorrow by His own freedom from sin ; measure His sorrow by the love
of His great heart. To see evil, and to be unable to remedy it, is anguish ; but to see
evil, and to be able and willing to remove it, and to be baffled by the wilfulness and
waywardness of the sufferer or of the evil-doer, is anguish keener and deeper still.
Jesus knew all this when " He beheld the city, and wept over it." 7. Jesus wept aa
God manifest in flesh. The God grieved and the man wept. The Divine nature
does suffer, and these tears reveal the fact. The whole nature of the Christ,
the Bedeemer of men, was sad, when Jesus on this occasion wept. These tears,
then, were the tears of a man, a patriot, a teacher, and a prophet. They were the
tears of the Messiah and the Saviour and the God-man. They were both
haman and divine, tears of pity and patriotism, tears of sympathy and
of displeasure, tears of a wounded spirit and of a loving soul, {S. Martin, D.D.)
The tears of Jeitiia : — 1. The tears of Jesus Christ are compassionate tears. Like
His heavenly Father, He has no pleasure in the death of him that dieth. The
office of tbe Judge is not His willing office. It made Him sorrowful to see men sin.
It made Him sorrowful to see men reject the gospel. It made Him sorrowful to
see men choose their own misery. 2. Again, the tears of Jesus are admonitory
warning — some have even called them terrible tears. He would not have wept, I
think we may say with confidence, merely because a little pain, or a little suffering,
or even a little anguish and misery, lay before us. He shrank not from pain : Ha
endured suffering — yea, the death of the Cross. He faced anguish and misery, and
flinched not. There was only one thing which Jesus Christ could not endure — or,
if He endured it for an hour Himself, certainly could not advise others, nor bear
others, to encounter without Him — and that was the real displeasure, the prolonged
hiding of the countenance, the actual, terrible, punitive wrath of God. It was
because He foresaw that for impenitent, obstinate, obdurate sinners, that He wept
these bitter tears. I call them admonitory tears ; I will even consent to call them
CEAP. nx.] ST. LUKE. 433
terrific tears. They seem to say to ns, " Oh, presame not too far 1 " ''3. I will add
another thing. The tears of Jesus were exemplary tears. As He wept, so ought
we to weep. We ought to weep tears of sorrow over our sins. We ought to weep
tears of repentance over our past lives, over our many short-comings and back-
elidings, omissions of good and commissions of evil, lingering rebelling obstinate
sins, cold poor languishing dying graces. But more than this. We ought to weep
more exactly as He wept. He wept not for Himself : so also, io our place, should
we. 4. I will add, without comment, a fourth word — the tears of Jesus Christ are
consolatory tears. Yes, this, in all their accents, is the sweet undersong —Jesus
Christ cares for us. The tears of Jesus are, above all else, consolatory. _ They say
to us, " Provision is made for you." They say to us, " It is not of Christ, it is not of
God, if you perish." They say to us, " Escape for your life — because a better, and a
higher, and a happier hfe is here for you 1 " (Dean Vaughan). Christ weeping
over nnners : — 1. What oub Lord did : " He beheld the city, and wept over it."
1. He wept for the sins they had committed, and the evil treatment which He
Himself should receive at their hands. 2. He foresaw the calamities which were
coming upon them, and desired not the woful day. 3. Spiritual judgments also
awaited them, and this was matter of still greater lamentation. 4. The final
consequence of all this also affected the compassionate Saviour; namely, their
everlasting ruin in the world to come. II. Consider what oub lord said as well
AS DID, when He came near and beheld the city — " If thou hadst known," &c.
Here observe — 1. The whole of religion is expressed by knowledge. Not specu-
lative, but such as sanctifies the heart and influences the conduct — the holy wisdom
that Cometh from above. 2. That which it chiefly concerns us to know is, " the
things which belong to our peace." 3. There is a limit to which this knowledge is
confined. ♦• This thy day." 4. When this time is elapsed, our case will be for
ever hopeless : Now tiie things which belong unto thy peace " are hid from thine
eyes 1 " Improvement. (1) Did Christ weep for sinners ; and shall they not weep
for themselves? Does not God call us to weeping ; and does not our case call for
it? (2) Let us beware of rejecting the gospel, and trifling with our privileges,
lest we be given up to final impenitence. Insensibility is the forerunner of destruc-
tion. (3) Let those who are truly acquainted with the things which belong to their
peace be thankful, and adore the grace which has made them to differ. {B.
Beddome, M.A). Christ weeping over Jerusalem : — I. I observe, in the first place,
that THERE ARE CERTAIN THINGS, THE KNOWLEDGE OV WHICH IB ESSENTIAL TO YOUR
BTBBNAii PEACE. 1. It deeply concerns you to know, for example, in what situation
you stand, witii respect to God and the world to come. 2. Again, it deeply
concernB us to know, whether God, by any means, may be reconciled, to those who
have set themselves in opposition to His will. 3. Once more, it deeply concerns
you to know, what state of mind is required in you, in order that you may profit
by the grace and mercy of your dying Saviour. II. I observe, secondly, that the
Son or God is host aefectionatelt desirous that we should know these
things. III. Nevertheless, the coupabsion of Christ will not stop the
COURSE or His justice, if these things be finally disregarded. 1. How
inexcusable is the thoughtless sinner, who, after all, vdll not know the things
which belong unto his peace 1 2. But reflect, on the other hand, how welcome
will every returning sinner bel {J. Jowett, M.A.) The Saviour's tears over
Jertisalem ;-4-The sight of Jerusalem, then, as Jesus was about to enter it, suggested
the thought of national misery and degradation. He looked on the Temple, the
place where the adorations and sacriflces of successive generations had been
offered ; it was now profaned. He looked on the city, the metropolis of Judsea,
and the scene of high solemnities, and it was peopled by transgressors ; was soon
to be reduced by the might of a conquering power, its streets to be drenched with
blood, and its buildings to be razed. Our Lord might chiefly allude to outward
calamity, but can we doubt that the moral state of Jerusalem's inhabitants was
what gave Him most concern? The doom spoken of descended as an act of
vengeance, inflicted by God. But Jesus thought also of a still more pitiable wreck.
He reflected on the consequences of unp»irdoned sin. It was not merely the over-
throw of tower and palace, the destruction of what had been for so long a " house
of prayer " ; this called not forth an expression of such deep concern. It was
principally an idea of the spiritual ruin coming upon such as had transgressed
against so much light and warning, and who had resisted such earnest and oft-
repeated pleadings. I. In further speaking from these verses, we may consider,
first of all, the words to imply, that the people of Jerusalem has misuoted a
VOL. m. 28
434 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. nx.
*' DAT " — OF oiiACE, NOW DBAWiNO TO A OhOBM — a time which had not been foUowecl
by suitable and adequate improvement. II. Let os consider our Lord's manifesta-
tion of feeling and His words on this occasion, as showing the importance of in
TIME ATTENDING TO THE THINGS THAT " BELONO TO OUB PEACE." III. It WOUld
appear that there is a set time allowed fob doing this. Though it were trua
that the spirit of God ceases not to strive with man ; though there were not danger
of the sinner being wholly given up to his idols, yet to defer so great a work is
hazardous and foolish. Is that the best time for turning to God when languor and
decay are attacking the frame ? FV. Our Saviour's declaration, when He bewailed
Jerusalem's impenitence, is a pledge op His concekn fob the state of sinners
generally. Observe how long-suffering He was, saying still, " Turn ye atMyreproof."
They had slain His prophets ; they were about to shed His blood ; they had cast
dishonour on the law and appointments of the Most High, provoking Him to
anger ; yet Jesus' sorrow showed the grief that filled His soul. These were the
words of One who knew no guile, and to whom iniquity was abhorrent. Be
encouraged therefore, 0 sinner, however many thine iniquities and pungent thy
sense of guilt, to seek His favour. {A. R. Bonar, D.D^ Jesus weeping over
tinners : — I. Sin is no trifle. II. Evert uan has his day of merciful visita-
tion. But mercy has its limits. The day of grace will close. III. The sinker's
doom is sealed when Christ gives him dp. The die cast salvation beyond reach.
Hope gone. lY. It is a lost season of mercy and opportunity that will so
BMBiTTEB THE ETERNITY OF THE LOST. {J. M. Sherwood, D.D.) Tears on
i>ekolding a multitxide of men : — There is always something heart-moving in the
«ight of a multitude of men. The Persian Xerxes shed tears as he watched the
interminable ranks march past him on the way to Greece. The iron Napoleon
once melted as he reviewed the vast army which followed him to his Bussian
campaign. And when the proudest, sternest, and most imfeeling hearts have shown
emotion, what should we expect from the pitiful Son of God ? Whenever He saw
the multitude, and especially the city multitude, He was moved with compassion.
That mass of life, heaving and throbbing like a troubled sea ; that ceaseless tramp
of eager feet and confused roar of innumerable voices ; that measureless volume
of mingled hope and despair ; that infinitely varied array of faces, old and young,
careless and anxious, joyous and miserable, — of laughing girls and broken-hearted
widows, of jocund joys and haggard old men, with hungry looks ; that incongruous
procession of wealth and poverty, of want and superfluity, of rags and velvet, of
vulgarity and refinement, of respectability and vice, of plump and well-fed life and
vagrant homelessness, of purity and shame, of sweet religious hope and dismal
despair, of titled splendour and nameless vagabondism, of feet winged with hope
climbing to ambition's goal and of feet hurrying to the dark river to end the tragedy
of bitter memories in one last cold plunge ; that myriad-headed life, with all its
selfish isolations, its fierce loneliness amid the jostling crowd, its every heart
knowing its own bitterness or gloating over its own joy, unknown and unsym-
pathized with by its neighbours ; that awful race of passion and frenzied quest in
which the runners forget that they are immortal souls with God's image stamped
on every face. How was it possible for Him, to whom all souls were dear — all the
children of the heavenly Father — how was it possible for Him to look upon that,
or think of it, without emotion melting into tears ? What man or woman of us can
think of it without sharing in its pity and pathetic interest ? (J. Oreenhough, M.A.)
Christ's compassion for the Jewish people : — I. Inquire what there was a the
«TATB or the Jewish people, which so moved the compassion of oub Lobd. The
privileges of the Jewish people were above all lands. They were blessed with a
divine theocracy ; and to them belonged, amongst other most important privileges,
the oracles of God. What could God have done which He had not done for them ?
The compassion of our Lord was moved, therefore — By their inflexible obstinacy.
Theirs was the sin of men who hate the light, lest by it their deeds should be
reproved t 2. Inveterate hostility. That greatness and power, when abused, should
be hated, would not excite our surprise ; but that goodness and mercy, when
exercised, should be hated, might well excite our surprise, were it not abundantly
proved in their history. 3. By their impending judgments. H. Consider what
■THB PBGSBNT STATE OF THAI PEOPLE CALLS FOR FROM OUB HANDS. (W. Marsk, M.A.)
The tears and lamentations of Jesm: — I. First, we are to_ contemplate cub Lord's
inward obief. 1. We note concerning it that it was so intense that it could not
be restrained by the occasion. The occasion was one entirely ^by itself : s brief
gleam of sunlight in a oloady day, a glimpse of summer amid a orael winter.
«HA». XIX] 8T. LUKE. 48*
That mast have been deep grief which ran counter to all the demands of tha
season, and violated, as it were, all the decorum of the occasion, turning a
festival into a mourning, a triumph into a lament. 2. The greatness of His grief
may be seen, again, by the fact that it overmastered other very natural feelings
which might have been, and perhaps were, excited by the occasion. Our Lord
«tood on the brow of the hill where He could see Jerusalem before Him in all its
beauty. What thoughts it awakened in Him 1 His memory was stronger and
quicker than ours, for His mental powers were unimpaired by sin, and He could
remember all the great and glorious things which had been spoken of Zion, the city
of God. Yet, as He remembered them all, no joy came into His soul because of the
victories of David or the pomp of Solomon ; temple and tower had lost all charm
for Him ; " the joy of the earth " brought no joy to Him, but at the sight of the
venerable city and its holy and beautiful house He wept. 3. This great sorrow of
His reveals to us the nature of our Lord. How complex is the person of Christ !
He foresaw that the city would be destroyed, and though He was divine He wept.
While His nature on the one side of it sees the certainty of the doom, the same
nature from another side laments the dread necessity. 4. In this our Lord reveals
the very heart of God. Did He not say, " He that hath seen Me hath seen tha
Father " ? Here, then, you see the Father Himself, even he who said of old, " As
I Uve, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked ; but
that ihe wicked turn," &o. 5. From a practical lesson, we may remark that this
weeping of the Saviour should much encourage men to trust Him. Those who
desire His salvation may approach Him without hesitation, for His tears prove His
hearty desires for our good. 6. This, too, I think is an admonishment to Christian
workers. Never let us speak of the doom of the wicked harshly, flippantly or
without holy grief. 7. Let me add that I think the lament of Jesus should instruct
all Uiose who would now come to Him as to the manner of their approach. While
I appealed to you just now were there any who said, " I would fain come to Jesus,
but how shall I come " ? The answer is, — come with sorrow and with prayer,
even as it is written, " they shall come with weeping, and with supplications will I
lead them." As Jesus meets you so meet Him. HI. We are now to consider oub
Lobd's vebbal iamentations. These are recorded in the following words : " Oh
that thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong
unto thy peace 1 but now they are hid from thine eyes." 1. First, notice, he
laments over the fault by which they perished — " Oh that thou hadst known."
Ignorance, wilful ignorance, was their ruin. 2. The Lord laments the bliss which
they had lost, the peace which could not be theirs. " Oh that thou hadst known
the things that belong unto thy peace." 3. But our Lord also lamented over the
persons who had lost peace. Observe that He says, — " Oh that thou hadst known,
even thou. Thou art Jerusalem, the favoured city. It is little that Egypt did not
know, that Tyre and Sidon did not know, but that thou shouldst not know I " Ah,
friends, if Jesus were here this morning. He might weep over some of you and say — ■
*' Oh that thou hadst known, even thou." 4. Our Lord wept because of th«
opportunity which they had neglected. He said, " At least in ibis thy day." It
was such a favoured day : they aforetime had been warned by holy men, but now
they had the Son of God Himself to preach to them. 5. The Lord Jesus mourned
again because He saw the blindness which had stolen over them. They had shut
their eyes so fast that now they could not see : their ears which they had stopped
had become dull and heavy ; their hearts which they had hardened had waxen
gross ; so that they could not see with their eyes, nor hear with their ears,
nor feel in their hearts, nor be converted that He should heal them. Why, the
truth was as plain as the sun in the heavens, and yet they could not see it ;
and 80 is the gospel at this hour to many of you, and yet you perceive it
not. 6. Lastly, we know that the great flood>gates of Christ's grief were
pulled up because of the ruin which He foresaw. (C H. Spurgeon.) The
tears of Je$tu : — Strangely mysterious are these tears 1 But they were as real
as they are mysterious — solemnly and awfully real — the bitterest that ever
descended from a grief- stricken countenance. They were the tears of a man, but
the expression of Deity ; and viewing them in the light of the ancient love and
peculiar complacency with which Jerusalem and its inhabitants bad been divinely
regarded, we may designate them as the tears of disappointed affection. How
briny and how many have been such tears, as they have fallen, hot and scalding,
from the eyes of broken-hearted weepers I There are the tears of the father, welUug
op from the depths of parental love, in thinking of his prodigal boy. There are
A36 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTBATOB. [chip. zxz.
the tears of the mother, wept over a lost daughter — tears that had been less bittes
bad the green turf received them instead of a memory of shame. Bitter, indeed,
are such tears, but not so intensive of sorrow as " the tears of Jesus wept over lost
souls." I have read somewhere of a traveller who found a fragment of an arch
among the ruins of Jerusalem; and by calculating on the principles of architectural
construction, he proved that the arch, when complete, must have spanned the gulf
that was near the city, and have rested on the other side. That ruined arch, to
the eye ol that traveller, indicated what it originally was, as contrasted with what
it then was. Sin in the soul reveals the same thing. In man, apart from sin, we
eee what the soul was made to be. In sin we see what the soul is — a noble thing
in ruins. It is solemnizing to walk amidst the vestiges of some sacred temple — to
pick up here and there fragments of what were once objects of beauty and strength;
to see in one place pieces of an antique window ; in another, the segment of a
colossal pillar ; elsewhere, a remnant of tracery work, with bits of rich and curious
mosaic. But what must have been the emotions of Jesus, as He stood there before
the collapsed powers, and contemplated the desecrated sanctities of human
t«mplesl — souls once so fair in beauty, and so glorious in strength, that the
Creator looked upon them, and " behold, they were very good 1 " Now so com-
pletely a v>T:eck that as the Saviour looked, •' He beheld and wept I " How fearful
is the power belonging to man 1 Here we see the Son of God — One whose might
and dominion over all material forces, satanic agencies, and physical ailments were
absolute. No power stood in His way as a resisting medium save one ; and this
was a power of resistance that opened the floodgates of soul-sorrow, drew tears from
His eyes, and broke forth in the convulsive exclamation : " O Jerusalem I Jeru-
salem 1 " In the light of these tears what awful responsibility is seen to clothe
the human spirit 1 What power of will I — of a will that can resist the Divine will I
" How often would I, but ye would not 1 " (G. H. Jackson.) Tears a true mark
of manhood : — If it really was so, as has been gathered from Epiphanius, that some
of the ancient Christians, or persons who bore the name, wished to expunge Irom
the canon of Scripture what is said of the Saviour's weeping on these two occasions,
as if it had been unworthy of so glorious a Person to shed tears, it was very strange,
and betrayed at once a sinful disrespect for the inspired Word of God, a leaning to
the doctrines of Stoical pride and apathy, and an ignorance of what constitutes
real excellence of human character. It is certainly a mark of imbecility to be given
to weep for trifling reasons ; but to weep occasionally, and when there is an
adequate cause, instead of being a weakness, is perfectly compatible with true
courage and manly sense, nay, is, in fact, a trait in the character of the majority
of the most heroic and stout-hearted men of whom we read, either in sacred or
profane history. As examples of this from Scripture may be mentioned, Abraham,
Isaac, Joseph, David, Jonathan, Hezekiah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezra, Nehemiah,
Peter, and Paul. Who more firm than the apostle of the Gentiles ? — ^yet he thus
writes to the Philippians, " Many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now
tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ, whose end
is destruction." As for King David, that " mighty valiant man, and man of war,"
the ancestor, and, in some respects, the type of Christ, it is worthy of notice that
he wept at the very place were Jesus now wept ; for it is thus written, in tb«
account of his fleeing from Jerusalem, on the rebellion of Absalom, "David went
up by the ascent of Mount Olivet, and wept as he went up, and had his head
covered ; and all the people that were with him covered every man his head, and
they went up. weeping as they went up." Nor is it foreign to the defence of this
act of weeping, as consonant with the character of the brave, to produce the
authority of heathen writers. Homer, then, attributes tears to several of his
heroes, Virgil to ^neas, and their respective historians to Alexander the Great,
Julius CsBsar. Cato, Brutus, Marcellus, and Scipio ; and one of the Latin poets
says, " Nature shows that she gives very tender hearts to mankind, by giving them
tears. This is the best part of our disposition or feeling." Beyond a doubt, the
tenderness which our Lord now displayed harmonized with, and set off by contrast,
the wonderful resolution which animated Him. when " He turned not back," but
" set His face like a flint " to what was now before Him. (Jos. Foote, M.A,) The
ttart of love : — I heard the other day of a bad boy whom his father had often rebuked
and chastened, but the lad grew worse. One day he had been stealing, and his father
felt deeply humiliated. He talked to the boy, but his warning made no impression;
and when he saw his child so callous the good man sat down in his chair and burst
out oiying, m if his heart would break. The boy stood very indifferent for s tim*.
JJBAP. XIX.] ST. LUKE. iSl
bat at last as he saw the tears falling on the floor, and heard his father sobbing,
lie cried, " Father, don't ; father, don't do that : what do you cry for, father ? "
" Ah I my boy," he said, *• I cannot help thinking what will become of you, grow-
ing up as you are. You will be a lost man, and the thought of it breaks my heart."
" Oh, father I " he said, " pray don't cry, I will be better. Only don't cry, and I
will not vex you again," Under God that was the means of breaking down the
boy's love of evil, and I hope it led to his salvation. Just that is Christ to you.
He cannot bear to see you die, and He weeps over you, saying, " How often would
I have blessed yon, and yon would not ! " Oh, by the tears of Jesus, wept over you
in effect when He wept over Jerusalem, turn to Him. (C. H. Spurgcon.) If
thou hadst known, even thou, — Christ's lament over Jerusalem : — Let us observe,
briefly, that in our Lord's lament over the doomed city there is to be traced a
threefold vein of feeling, 1. The tears and words of Jesus Christ are the tears and
words of a true patriot, for Jerusalem was the heart and head of the nation. It
was, politically speaking, more what Paris is to France than what London is to
England, and although Christ's ministry had been largely spent in Galilee, we
know from St, John's Gospel that at the great festivals He bad laboured often and
continuously in the sacred city. It may be thought that there was no place for
patriotism in the heart of Jesus Christ — that coming as He did from heaven with
a mission to the whole race of men, and with a work to do for each and for all. He
could not thus cherish a mere localized and bounded enthusiasm — that, as all had
interest in Him, His interest must reciprocally be for all and world-embracing —
that as in Him, according to His apostle, " there is neither Greek nor Jew, bar-
barian nor Scythian, bond nor free," but all are one, so He must have been Himself
incapable of that restricted and particular concentration of thought and feeling and
action upon the concerns of a single race or district which we practically under-
stand by patriotism. My brethren, there is an element of truth in this, Jesus
Christ, although a Jew by birth, belonged by His freedom from local peculiarities
to the whole human family. He was, in a higher, more comprehensive, more
representative sense than any before Him, human. All that was best, all that was
richest in humanity, had its place in Him, and this is, at any rate, one import of
the title by which He was commonly wont to speak of Himself as the Son of Man
But His relation to the whole race did not destroy His relation to His country any
more than it destroyed His relation to His family — to His mother, to His foster-
father, to those first cousins of His who, after the Hebrew manner, are called His
brethren. Certainly He subordinated family ties as well as national ties to the
claims of the kingdom of God— to His Father's business as He called it when only
twelve years old. But because He kept these lower sympathies, claims, obligations,
in their proper place. He did not ignore — He did not disavow them. To Him, as
the Son of Mary, His family was dear ; to Him, as the Son of David, the history
of His country was dear. He would have parted with something of His true and
deep humanity had it been otherwise ; and therefore when He gazed on the city of
His ancestors (for such it was) and saw in vision the Boman conqueror already
approaching, and casting up earthworks on that very hill on which He was
standing, and then by and by entering the sacred city with fire and sword, nor
resting from His work till he had ploughed up the very foundations, till not one
stone had been left upon another. His Jewish heart felt a pang of anguish which
became tears and words, " If thou hadst known, even thou at least in this thy
day the things which belong unto thy peace I but now they are hid from thine
eyes." 2, But the lamentation of Christ over Jerusalem had a higher than any
political or social meaning. The polity of Israel was not merely a state : it was a
church as well. It was the kingdom of God among men. It is this which explains
the passionate emotion towards Jerusalem which abounds in the Psalter — the joy
in her glory, in her beauty, in her world-wide fame — the enthusiasm which can
" walk about Zion and go round about her and tell the towers thereof " — the anger
deep and strong which cannot forget that in the day of Jerusalem it was Edom
which joined in the cry for her destruction — the woe which cannot, which will not,
be comforted when she lies before the heathen in her ruin and her desolation. It
was as a theocratic kingdom — as we should gay, a Church — that Jerusalem and the
whole Jewish pohty was so dear to tbe reHgious Jew ; and this aspect of the sacred
city underlies those words which Jesus spoke on the road from Bethany. Once
more. Jerusalem was not merely a country or a church : it was a hive of men and
women : it was a home of souls. Among these, to each of these, the Divine Christ
had preached, but had preached in vain. It was not the threatened arohitecturt
438 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [caAP. jx*.
of the Herodian temple which drew tears from those Divine eyes. It was not
chiefly the tragic ending of a history rich in its interest and its incident. It waa
the condition, the destiny, the eternal destiny of the individual men and women
of that very generation to which Christ had ministered ? What of them ? They
had heard Him ; and what were they after hearing Him t Ah I it was over those
&oals for which He was presently to shed His blood that Jesns wept His tears. It
was souls that for Him made up Jerusalem. And it is in this last sense that our
Lord's words come most closely home to as. Our influence upon our country,
upon our portion of the Church, is necessarily very, fractionally small. We are
each one as a private soldier in a great army, who has only to obey orders that are
given by others ; but in our individual capacities it is otherwise. Here as single
souls we decide as well as act. Here we are free to make the most of opportunities :
we are responsible for doing so. And opportunities come to us as we walk along
the path of life, as Christ came to the Jews eighteen centuries ago. They come to
us : we see them coming. We know that they are at hand — that they are close
upon us. We know — we might know — that they will not be within our reach
always — perhaps not to-morrow. It is the time, the solemn time, of our visitation.
It is some friend who has brought before us for the first time the true meaning, the
true solemnity, the blessedness of life. It is some change of circumstances, some
great soul-subduing sorrow which has forced upon us a sense of the transitory
nature of all things here below. It is some one trath or series of truths about our
Divine Lord, His person, or His work, unknown, or known and rejected before,
which has been borne in upon us with a strength and clearness of conviction which
we cannot, if we would, possibly mistake, and which involves obedience, action,
sacrifice, as its necessary correlatives. It is an atmosphere of new aspirations,
of higher thoughts, of longings to be other and better than we are, that has, we
know not how, taken possession of us. It is the presence and the breathing, could
we only know it, of a heavenly Friend who haunts our spirits that, if we will. He
may sanctify them. Christ — in one word — has been abroad by His Spirit in the
streets and secret passages of the soul, as of old He was abroad in the by-ways and
the temple-courts of Jerusalem ; and the question is. Have we welcomed Him ? —
Have we held EQm by the feet, and refused to let Him go except He bless us ? We
are worse off though we may not trace the deterioration. We have suffered if not
without yet assuredly within. We have been tried, and failed ; and failure
means weakness entaUed upon, incorporated into, the system of the soul. (Canon
Liddon.) Tenth Sunday after Trinity: — We have here, not only weeping
but tearful lamentation, weeping accompanied with voice and words ; and
the weeper is the God-man, Christ Jesus. Eternal Deity is not an unfeeling
Almightiness. He has a heart, and that heart can be touched, and grieved, and
moved with compassion, and stirred with emotions. I. God intends obeat things
FOB THOSE TO wHou He HAS GIVEN His woBD AND ORDINANCES. He had choseu Jeru-
salem, and set up His temple there, and made it the centre of His most particular
dealings with the elect nation, that it might reflect His glory, show forth His
praises, and be the crown and rejoicing of the whole earth. The thing meant to
be reached and made the everlasting possession of its people, is here summed up
by the Saviour in the word " peace " ; not mere rest from disturbance and
strife ; nor yet only health and well-being, as the word often denotes in the Old
Testament ; but that which i§ the subject of Divine promise, the highest results of
God's mercy and favour, the true Messianic blessing of everlasting freedom from
the distresses and consequences of sin, and exaltation to near and holy relationship
with God and heaven. And great things are meant for us, even the same things
of " peace " which pertained at first to the ancient Jerusalem. II. Theee is a day
OB season WHEBEIN to know and attend to the THINGS THAT BE8PECT THIS "PEACE."
And unto us have their forfeited privileges now descended. This is our day,
beaming with all the light and blessings which once belonged to the Jews, only
marked by an easier ritual and a better economy (Heb. xii. 18-24). IIL The day
OP OBACE HAS ITS BOtJNDAEIES, OVEB WHICH God'S SAVING MERCIES DO NOT FOLLOW
THOSE WHO MisiMPBovB THEM. There was a Jewish age which ended in judg-
ment, and the cutting off of those who failed to improve it ; and so this present
age must also end. The day of grace is limited, on the one side, by the late-
ness of the period in life at which the gospel comes to a man, and, on fbe other, by
the failure of the faculties necessary to handle and use it. It ia also quite possible
for one's day of grace to terminate while yet both reason and life oontinae. There
may be a loss of the external means and opportnnitias of salvation, or raoh a
OBAP. ziz.] ST. LUKE. 439
separation from them, as for ever to prevent our reaching it. And where there has
been long and persistent resistance of grace, habitual suppression of religious con-
victions and feelings, wilful refusal to fulfil known duty, and persevering withstand-
ing of the influences and impulses of the Spirit of God, there is not only a
possibility, but great danger of bringing on a state of callous indifference, and
incapacitation which puts the offender beyond the reach of salvation. IV.
Thb tebmination op the day op grace, withodt having secdked the blessing
FOB which it was INTENDED, IS AH AWFUL cAiiAMiTT. In the case of Jerusalem
It brought tears and lamentations from the Son of God. {J. A. Seiss, D.D.)
The solicitude of Christ for incorrigible sinners : — I. Specify some op the more
OBVIOUS CHAEACTERisTics OP INCORBIGIBLB MEN. There are several classes of people
who, to say the least, are greatly exposed to unyielding impenitence, and who give
fearful in(Ucation of final ruin. 1. This may be affirmed of men of a sceptical turn
of mind. Such men are very apt never to become pious. 2. Another class of
persons who are rarely made the subjects of grace are those of notoriously loose
and vicious habits. 3. It may also be remarked, that men who are in the habit of
making light of sacred things, and trifling with God, seldom become men of piety.
If they can scoff at religion, if they can deride its conscientious disciples, there is
little reason to beheve they will ever become its disciples themselves. 4. In the
same melancholy multitude are likewise found all those who are ardently and
eagerly attached to the world. 5. There is another class of men who exhibit fearful
Bymptoms of deep degeneracy, and they are those whose chosen companions
are the guilty enemies of God and all righteousness. Men cannot habitually
associate with those who are destitute of aU moral principle, and have no fear of
<jk)d before their eyes, without partaking of their character. 6. Those persons also
give strong indications of being incorrigible, who have become hardened under
religious privileges. 7. Still more hopeless are those who have outlived conviction,
and resisted the Holy Spirit. 8. There is one class of persons more whose con-
dition is as hopeless as that of any we have mentioned ; I mean, the hypocrite and
eelf-deceiver. II. We proceed, in the second place, to inquire, what thebe is in
THE CONDITIOK of SUCH PERSONS TO EXCITE THE SYMPATHY AND SOLICITUDE OP ChBIST.
1. Their determined rejection of offered mercy. This is Uke a dagger to Christ's
heart. 2. Their perversion of the means of grace. 3. Their utterly depraved
character. And now, in conclusion, I cannot forbear remarking, in the first place,
how unlike the Spirit of Christ is the apathy of the people of God in view of the
perishing condition of impenitent men. Secondly, our subject strongly enforces,
the importance of a diligent and anxious improvement of the day and means of
salvation. Once more, in view of our subject, we may not avoid the inquiry. Are
there none in this assembly towards whom the Saviour is now exercising the same
tender compassion, which He exercised over incorrigible Jerusalem ? I only add,
in the last place, if such are the compassions of Christ towards guilty sinners, what
confidence may we have that He will save all that come to Him. [G. Spring, D.D.)
Christ weeping over Jerusalem : — I, Why did He weep ? It has been supposed that
the picture of that approaching ruin and desolation which was coming so rapidly
upon the unconscious capital, at once appalled and overwhelmed Him. He sketches
that picture in strong and rapid strokes Himself (vers. 43, 44). And that which
added to it an element of profoundest gloom, was the unconsciousness of those whom
such a doom was threatening. Scarce a soul in Jerusalem seems to have been
greatly sensible either of the national decadence or of its own individual peril.
Must it not have been this that made Him weep ? I do not doubt that it was an
element in that Divine and unmatched sorrow. But that sorrow loses its pro-
foundest significance unless we see that it had another and deeper element still.
What is it, that in the thought of a wise and good man costs him the deepest pang
when be encounters the waywardness and wrong-doing of his own child T Is it
merely that, as he looks forward, he sees the inevitable misery which that waywardness
will entail t Bat yon may be sure that such a parent is thinking of something else
with a keener anguish still. He is thinking, " What must the nature be that is so
insensible to love and duty and goodness I " He is thinking, "What are the moral
sensibilities of one to whom baseness and ingratitude and wrong-doing are such
easy and instinctive things ! " He is thinking, " What have I to hope for from a
ehild whose rnling impulse come oat in deeds like these ! " And even so, I think,
it was with Christ. Nay, we are not left to our surmises. His own words tell us
what made Him weep: "If thoa .... thine eyes." It was this spectacle of
human insensibility, of eyes that would not see, and of ears that would not hear^
UO THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cbap. XXX.
that broke the Saviour down. The love of goodness, the longing for righteoneness,
the aspiration for nobleness and spiritual emancipation — these were dead in them.
And it was this that made Christ weep. II. And this brings me to that other
question suggested by these tears of Christ. What did they move Him to do?
Bemember, that so far as the Jerusalem of that day was concerned, He Himself
intimates the case to have been hopeless. And when that scornful indifference on
their part was exchanged at last for a distinctive enmity, with that needless prodi-
gality, as doubtless it seemed even to some of His own disciples. He flung away
His life. Flung it away ? Aye, but only how soon and how triumphantly to take
it again ! Such a history is pregnant with lessons for to-day. There are a good
many of us, who from the elevation of a thoughtful observation, are looking
down on the city in which we live. How fevered and faithless and morally
insensible seem multitudes of those who live in it. How can such a one
look down on all this and not weep 7 God forbid that such a spectacle should
leave any one of us insensible or unmoved 1 But when that is said, let us not
forget that with Christ weeping was but the prelude and forerunner of working.
There were tears first, but then what heroic and untiring toil 1 I hear men say, no
matter what good cause invites their co-operation, " It is of no use. Most men are
bound to go to the devil ; it is the part of wisdom to get oat of the way and let
them go as quickly as possible " ; and I brand all such cries, no matter in what
tones of complacent hopelessness they may utter themselves, as treason against
God and slander against humanity. Faithlessness like this is a denial of God, and
of goodness as well. And as such, it is an atheism with which no terms are to be
made nor any truce to be kept. For, high above our blinded vision there sits One
who, as He once wept over Jerusalem and then died for it, now lives for Jerusalem
and for all His wayward children, and who bids us watch and strive with Him for
those for whom once He shed His blood I And if He is still watching, even as
once He wept over His creatures, God forbid that of any human soul you and I
should quite despair 1 And therefore least of all our own souls. And so, while we
weep, whether it be over the evil that is in others or in ourselves, our tears will be
rainbows, bright with the promise of an immortal hope. Aye, far above the
sorrows and the sins of the city that now is, we shall see the splendours of the New
Jerusalem that is yet to be. {Bishop H. C. Potter.) The sinner's day : — I. That
THE SINNER HAS HIS DAT 07 MEBCT AND HOPE. 1. It is a period of light. Night is
the season of darkness. 2. A period of activity. We must work now, or never.
3. An exceedingly limited period. " A day." But a step from cradle to tomb.
4. The present period is our day. II. This day is accompanied with things which
BELONG to the sinneb's PEACE. By peace here we understand the welfare, the
salvation of the sinner. The peace of God is the pledge and earnest of every
blessing. Now, in this day we have — 1. The gracious provisions of peace. Christ
has made peace by His cross, and before ns is the cross lifted up. 2. The
invitations and promises of peace belong to this day. 3. The means of ob-
taining peace belong to this day. HI. That if these things abe not known now,
IN THIS ODB DAY, THEY WILL BE FOB EVEB BIDDEN FBOM OUB BYES. Now obscrVO —
1. The future state of the sinner is one of night. As such it is a period of
darkness. 2. This state of night will be everlasting. Application : We learn — 1.
That the sinner's prcBcnt state is one of probation and mercy. 2. That Qoi
sincerely desires the salvation of souls. 3. That all who lose their souls do so by
their own impenitency. {J. Burns, D.D.) Christ's lamentation over Jerusalem : —
I. The exhibition of chabacteb which it gives us. Here we perceive — 1. The
Saviour's deep interest in the state of man. 2. The Saviour's compassion to the
chief of sinners. II. The sentiments it conveys. 1. That there are things
belonging to a man's peace which it becomes him to know. 2. That there is a day
in which a man might know these things. 3. That if this day be wasted these
things will be hidden from him. {Essex Remembrancer). Three times in a
nation's history : — These words, which rang the funeral knell of Jerusalem, tell oat
in our ears this day a solemn lesson; they tell as that in the history of nations,
and also, it may be, in the personal history of individuals, there are three times — a
time of grace, a time of blindness, and a time of judgment. This, then, is our
subject — the three times in a nation's history. When the Bedeemer spake, it was for
Jerusalem the time of blindness ; the time of grace was past ; that of judgment
was to come. I. The t;mb of grace. We find it expressed here in three different
modes : first, '• in this thy day " ; then, " the things which belong to thy peace " ;
and thirdly, "the time of thy visitation." And from thii we onderstand the
OBAP. xxc] 57. LUKE. 441
meaning of a time of grace ; it was Jerusalem's time of opportunity. The time in
which the Eedeemer appeared was that in wiiich faith was almost worn out. Ha
found men with their faces turned backward to the past, instead of forward to the
future. They were as children clinging to the garments of a relation they have lost ;
life there was not, faith there was not — only the garments of a past belief. He
found them groaning under the dominion of Bome; rising up against it, and
thinking it their worst evil. The coldest hour of all the night is that wliich
immediately precedes the dawn, and in that darkest hour of Jerusalem's night bet
Light beamed forth ; her Wisest and Greatest came in the midst of her, almost
unknown, born under the law, to emancipate those who were groaning under the
law. His life, the day of His preaching, was Jerusalem's time of grace. During
that time the Redeemer spake the things which belonged to her peace : but they
rejected them and Him. Now, respecting this day of grace we have two remarks to
make. First : In this advent of the Redeemer there was nothing outwardly re-
markable to the men of that day. And just such as this is God's visitation to us.
Generally, the day of God's visitation is not a day very remarkable outwardly.
Bereavements, sorrows — no doubt in these God speaks ; but there are other
occasions far more quiet and unobtrusive, but which are yet plainly days of grace.
A scruple which others do not see, a doubt coming into the mind respecting some
views held sacred by the popular creed, a sense of heart loneliness and solitariness,
a feeling of awful misgiving when the future Ues open before us, the dread feeling
of an eternal godlessness, for men who are living godless lives now — these silent
moments unmarked, are the moments in which the Eternal is speaking to our souls.
Once more : That day of Jerusalem's visitation — her day of grace — was short. A
lesson here also for us. A few actions often decide the destiny of individuak,
because they give a destination and form to habits ; they settle the tone and form
of the mind from which there will be in this life no alteration. We say not that
God never pleads a long time, but we say this, that sometimes God speaks to a nation
or to a man but once. If not heard then. His voice is heard no more. II. Thb tiub
OF BLINDNESS. If a man will riot see, the law is he shall not see ; if he will not do
what is right when he knows the right, then right shall become to him wrong, and
wrong shall seem to be right. UI. The tiub of jt7dqment. It came in the way of
natural consequences. We make a great mistake respecting judgments. God's
judgments are not arbitrary, bat the results of natural laws. The historians tell
us that Jerusalem owed her min to the fanaticism and obstinate blindness of her
citizens; from all of which her Redeemer came to emancipate her. Had they
understood, " Blessed are the poor in spirit," " Blessed are the meek," and
•• Blessed are the peacemakers " ; had they understood that, Jerusalem's day of
rum might never have come. Is there no such thing as blindness among our-
selves ? May not this be our day of visitation ? First, there is among us priestly
blindness ; the blindness of men who know not that the demands of this age are in
advance of those that have gone before. Once more, we look at the blindness of
men talking of intellectual enlightenment. It is true that we have more en-
lightened civilization and comfort. What then? Will that retard our day of
jndgment 7 Jerusalem was becoming more enlightened, and Rome was at its most
eivUised point, when the destroyer was at their gates. Therefore, let us know the
day of our visitation. It is not the day of refinement, nor of political liberty, nor
of advancing intellect. We must go again in the old, old way ; we must return to
simpler manners and to a purer life. We want more faith, more love. The life ot
Christ and the death of Christ must be made the law of oar life. {F. W.
Robertson, M.A.) The things belonging to our peace: — I. These are thinos
WHICH belong to ovk PEACE. Peace has a large signification ; it implies not only
the inward feeling of the mind, but generally our happiness and welfare. The
things which belong to our peace are provided for as and pressed upon our
acceptance in the Gospel of Christ. And this peace mast be sought for personally
by each one on his own behall But it concerns his everlasting peace that the
sinner should ondergo a change of heart. H. Tbbbb ib a time in which we may
BBCOBB THOSE THINGS THAT MAKE FOB ouB PEACE. Now Is that time, and ttow is ths
ofdy time. Of to-morrow neither you nor I are secure. Now is the time in which you
may seek the Lord, and in which He will be found. III. These is a this whbh
VHBT WILL BE roB EVES HID rBOH ouB XTKB. There is such a thing as a hard
and obdorate heart — there is saoh a state as final impenitence — there ii
raoh a ealamitooB condition as that ot a lost soul. (H. J. Ha$tings, M.A.)
^hrJMt'a app4al to thi heart : — L This tht dat. The day of thy visitation, th*
442 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. jmM,
day when God's goodness and grace were especially near thee ; the day of dawning
hopes and bright promises ; the day which, if it had been welcomed and used
aright, might have coloured, ennobled, and redeemed all the rest. It was the day
'when, as youths, we left our father's house to take our place in the busy worlds
when thoughts of duty and honour, of true work and faithful service, were fresh
and strong in our breasts, when we were resolved, God helping us, there should be
no idle hours, no corrupting habits, no dread secrets which could not be breathed
or even thought of in the sanctity of the home, or in the presence of our sister or
our mother. Or, it was the day when some heavenly vision of the beauty of good-
ness, of the sacredness of service, of the helpfulness of prayer, of the nearness of
God to your innermost soul, filled your heart with its glow and peace, and you
longed and vowed ever to cherish the kindly light, ever to obey the heavenly voice,
ever to walk with God, and repose in Him. Or, it was the day when, after some
sad fall, or after many reckless, wasted years, you came to yourself, you saw from
the very edge the precipice to which you had come, you felt keenly and bitterly the
misery of the shame into which you had sunk, and, for the first time, Christ's
vision of the face and heart of God, of the Father seeking the poor prodigal, brought
penitence and hope ; when thoughts of Christ, with His words of forgiveness and
help and peace, seemed welcome and consoling to yon, as rest at last to the sleep-
less brain, or kindly, gentle care to the fever-stricken patient. II. If thou hadbt
KKOWN AT LEAST IN THIS THY DAT. 'Tis oHB of the sorrows of life that we spend a
lifetime in gaining the needful experience. " Human experience," says Coleridge,
" hke the stern-lights of a ship at sea, too often only illuminates the faith we have
passed over. " The youth does not know the value of the school tUl after he has
left it, or the comfort and charm of the home till it is broken up and he is alone in
the world; the man does not know the value of time, or health, or money, or
character, tiU harsh misfortune or his own fault have deprived him of them ; we
do not fully realize how much we needed the companionship, example, and sympathy
of friends till death has snatched them from us. And so with spiritual blessings
and opportunities. III. The things that belong unto tht peace. The life ol
Christ in the heart. The service of our heavenly Father here and now. {J. T.
Stannard.) Our day of grace : — As God dealt with the city of Jerusalem,
so He deals with us as individuals. God has given us a day of grace-
has given a time wherein to repent of sin and prepare for another world.
This day and this period is circumscribed. It is, as it were, a circle described
around us ; and when we pass over that boundary, then the day of grace as past and
gone ; the spirit has ceased to strive, and our doom is fixed for ever. I will illus-
trate this from history. One of the kings of Syria made war upon Egypt, which
was at that time an ally of the Boman republic. When the news reached the Roman
senate, they despatched into Egypt two senators, one of whom was a dear friend of
the king. They went direct to the camp of the Syrian monarch, who came forth
to meet them ; but the senator, refusing to recognize him as his friend, at once put
him upon his choice — to raise the seige and withdraw his army out of Egypt, or to
forfeit his friendly relation with Borne, who would at once send forth her legions
and compel him. To this he endeavoured to give an equivocal answer : he would
consider over it, or he would consider of it at another time. But this was not
enough for the Bomans ; the senator, therefore, with the wand he had in his hand,
drew a circle around him on the sand where they stood, and demanded his answer
and decision ere he left it. He had to make his choice : he decided to withdraw
his army, and then the senator extended his hand and recognized his friend. In a
similar way God has drawn a circle around us, and demands us to make a choice.
That circle is our day of grace. May we, then, to-day, while it is called to-day, harden
not our hearts, lest God should swear in His wrath we shall not enter into His rest I
{A Jones.) "In this thy day " ; — Thy day 1 If when the sun sets in the west we
were not sure whether he would rise on the morrow, oh what an evening it would
be 1 One day 1 " Thy day 1 " How precious ! But if the day is allowed to pass,
and the work of the day not done, how terrible the sunset ! Jerusalem had her
day ; the day was passing — it was past. Jerusalem did not know her day, and did
not notice that it had passed. Jerusalem, with her day done, was laughing : Jesus,
looking on lost Jerusalem, wept. This is not of private interpretation — it is written
for our sakes. Our city has a day ; ourselves have a day. Throughout this day it
is peace — your peace — pressing hke the air around us. The night cometb, when
that light of life is gone. Men mistake the meaning of Emmanuel's tenderness.
It is not tenderness to sin. Men are tender to their own sin, treating it as a spoiled
CBAP. xiz.] ST. LUKE. 44S
child — blaming it in words, but fondling it all the while ; and they think that
Christ will turn out such an one as themselves. His grief does not indicate a
holding back, a hesitating to cast away the wicked. The earnestness with which
the Bedaemer strove to snatch the brand from the burning, shows that there is a
burning for the brand. The tears He shed over Jerusalem do not prove that He
■will falter and hesitate to lay her even with the ground when her day is done : if
He had thought that Jerusalem might escape in her sin, He would not have wept
to see her sinning. No preachers are so terrible as the Redeemer's tears. {W.
Amot.) Too late: — God forbid that any of you should at the last have the
dismay of the Scotchwoman of whom I was reading. One night she could not
■leep because of her soul's wandering from Christ. She got up and wrote in her
diary : " One year from now I will attend to the matters of my soul." She retired,
but could not sleep. So she arose again, and wrote a better promise in her diary :
*' One month from now I will attend to the matters of my soul." She retired again,
but found no sleep, and arose again and wrote : " Next week I will attend to the
matters of my souL" Then she slept soundly. The next day she went into sceneg
of gaiety. The following day she was sick, and the middle of next week she died.
Delirium lifted from her mind just long enough for her to say : " I am a week too
late. I am lost I " Oh, to be a year too late, or a month too late, or a week too
late, or a day too late, or a minute too late, or a second too late, is to be for ever
too late. May God Almighty, by His grace, keep us from the wild, awful, crushing
catastrophe of a ruined soul. {Dr. Talmage.) The time of the visitation. —
Knowing the time of our visitation : — I. The timk of odb visitation. 1. The
country which has given us birth. We are highly favoured in this respect.
We enjoy religious freedom. 2. The dispensation under which we live. Full
blaze of gospel sun. 3. The revelation which God has been pleased to
give ns of His will. 4. The ministry, by which the written Word is explained
to the understanding and enforced on the conscience. U. Tbe purposes
poB WHICH TIMES OP VISITATION ARE OBANTED. They are granted for purposes of
the highest consequence to every one of you. 1. First of all, to be instrumental in
accomplishing the conversion of your hearts and lives to God. 2. This entire
conversion of your hearts and lives to God, is the foundation of all Christian
experience and all Christian practice. 3. And then, as to its final and ultimate
object, this " time of visitation " looks forward to your everlasting salvation ; for
the work of religion is not only to be begun, and it is not only to be proceeded with,
but it is likewise to be perfected. III. Odb neglect of these opportunities.
How is it that, notwithstanding we are all favoured with the means of salvation,
and with many loud calls to secure the purposes for which they are given to us —
how is it that so many amongst even you are as yet unsaved, and " know not the
time of your visitation " ? 1. I suppose that, in reference to some, it is in con-
sequence of your perseverance in the practice of sin. 2. There are others who
know not and do not improve " the time of their visitation," by reason of their
thoughtlessness and inattention to Divine things. 3. There is another reason to be
assigned for your not knowing •' the time of your visitation " — and that is, indecision
and delay. •' He that is not with Me," said Christ, '• is against Me." 4. Then, let
me say, further, that all those know not " the time of their visitation," who, for
any reason whatever, do not come to the Lord Jesus Christ to believe with their
hearts unto righteousness. 5. Perhaps I ought to say, there are some who know
not •• the time of their visitation," by reason of their inconstancy and negligence.
rv. In the last place, we ought to look a little at the judgment which, sooner or
liATER, IB SURE TO OVERTAKE ALL THOSE WHO PERSIST IN DIBREGAEDING THEIR MEANS
AND OPPORTUNITIES. {J. Bicknell.) Divine visitations : — The system of the
natural world — ^with all its laws, facts, processes, and events ; the system of social
life, including the family and civil society ; the system of business life, including
all proper industries and right occupations, all rightful forms of development, all
cares and labours — all these are included in the system of visitations which God
employs in His daily education of men, and their treatment and control. In other
words, God employs all the apparatus of the natural world, in its results both upon
the body and the mind ; all the social influences that surround and educate men ;
all the organizations by which man is drawn oat in various industries, and becomes
an operative and a creator ; all the varioojs events that transpire outside of the
mind or its volition, which come up in what we call providences of God ; and above
all these, the direct gospel system, snperviBed by God's personal Spirit. Through
•U these variooB infloences, God acts upon the human sool ; and all these are tat
444 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, jmm,
parts of God's one system, for the deTelopment, the edaoation, and the elevation ol
men. The time of God's visitations has included every period of our lives. They
have not been special to youth, to middle life, or to old age. Not only has tho
Divine economy bad respect to the faculties of the soul, but to man as a creature.
For example, there are times — and the element of time has entered largely into the
system of Divine culture — when they have met as in childhood, with influences
appropriate to that period, acting through the easier affections and susceptibilities
of early life. I do not believe that there is a man in this house, who, if he were to
speak his experience, would not say, " I was subject in my boyhood to times of
religious depression." They say "depression," though they should rather say
religious inspiration and elevation. These were awakenings by which they were
lifted up from the dull and the obscure of life, and made to feel something of the
invisible, and of the power of the world to come. And as childhood goes into boy-
hood or early manhood, the Divine strivings do not cease. They may change their
form ; they may cease to act through the same susceptibilities ; they may take hold
through the developments of the understanding, the speculations of a man's reason,
or a different and larger reach of the imagination ; but, nevertheless, they take
hold still in early manhood and middle life. God's visitations of mercy not only
include every one of the faculties of the human soul, and all the periods of time in
which a man lives, but are made to act npon men through every gradation and
variation of their condition and history. In other words, we are tried in everj
possible development of our physical state. We are tried by our disappointments ;
we are tried by our successes 1 God heaps mercies upon men, and then takes them
all away I He blesses, enriches, and establishes men, and then shuts them up,
impoverishes, and subverts them ! It is remarkable, in respect to these visitations
of God, that they do not follow the telescope ; they are rather like comets, that
come when they please ; for when yon search for God, *• by searching you cannot
find Him out." Such thoughts have come to you unbidden, sometimes in your
counting-room, or when you were on a journey, or on the sea ; sometimes when yoa
have been in your house all alone, your family in the country ; sometimes in
trouble and adversity ; in various ways — often coming, though never twice alike,
as if the Divine phases had sought to present, at different times, different aspects
to you. And if, all the way along, you had treasured up these times — precious
times of great treasure 1 — if you had treasured them as yon have when yoa have
made a good bargain, or gained a new honour ; if you had treasured aU these
interior peculiarities as you have the exterior — you would find them, I think, almost
within speaking distance all the way from childhood to manhood; and although
you had never such a consecutive view of the whole, yet really all along you have
been subject to such impressions ! Under such visitations there is brought very
near to men such a thought of the other life, of God's eternal kingdom and their
immortality in it, as may produce very serious practical fruits in them. In view of
these facts and illustrations of facts, I remark in closing, first, upon the immensity
of the influences which men receive for good — the disproportion in this world
between the educating influences for good, and those which sometimes we suspect
are for evil. For we are apt to think that this great world is all against goodness,
and that men are surrounded by such inducements to evil, such temptations of
their passions, that there is an impression that man is so neglected and so set npon
at disadvantage, that there is scarcely the evidence of his ever being an object of
mercy. Contrariwise, it is a tmth that man stands in the midst of a world which
is one peculiar and complex educating institution, and what is more, educating in
the right direction. The gradual growing effect of the course that I have been
speaking of, is worthy of a moment's attention — the habit of thus resisting the
visitation of God's Spirit upon as. What is the result of having a visitation, and
of neglecting it 7 The general apprehension is, that it offends God, and that man
is destroyed vindictively, or penally ; bnt we must look at it more narrowly than
that. In the first place, then, I think that it is in respect to our moral suscepti-
bihties as it is in regard to all our senses ; they become blunted by repeated perver-
sion. A man can treat his eye in such a way that he shall become blind. He can
blant his hearing so that he shall become deaf. He can injure bis tongue so as to
have no appreciation of flavours. He can conduct himself so that his whole body
may be broken down and destroyed before he is fifty years old. So in respect to a
man's moral nature. A man's moral susceptibUities may be so dull, that by the
time he is fifty years old, these approaches no longer affect him in this world. And
the effect is, the gradual diminution of moral susceptibility ; so that the oonjna»
«BAP. XIX.] ST. LUKE, 445
tions of oircnmstances, bj which the man shall appear to himself to be sarroanded,
are less and less frequent, because their effect is less and less apparent. What is
the state of sach a man ? What a terrible condition it is for a man to stand in t
Ah ! when the day of visitation is passed, what has happened ? — not alone in those
extreme cases, of men who are hardened past aU shame and feeling ; but what has
happened in other cases, where men are not so incorrigible, and not so hard ? Is
God so angry at them that He ceases to offer them any more mercy ? Does He
pass them altogether by ? Not at all I Oh, the goodness of God I There is just as
much summer in the deserts of Arabia as in our American prairies I The sun and
the showers of sommer are in both places : but it is a desert in one, and it is a
growing, luxuriant prairie in the other. Thero is just as much summer for a
sepulcbjre as there is for a mansion ; but the summer sun brings joy and cheer to
those in the populous house, where the father and the mother are happy, and sJl
the children are full of glee and joy ; while, as it shines upon the sepulchre's roof,
everything is solitary, sad, and still, because there are dead men's bones within,
which the sunlight can never waken 1 It is just the same in the moral govenmient
of God. There is the same provision of light, of air, of warmth, of raiment, in im-
mense abundance ; but all these are conjoined with this one invariable, universal
necessity — onr own appropriation of them. There is unlimited store of good, yet
men will starve if they do not appropriate it to themselves. There is an ocean of
air, yet men will suffocate if they refuse to breathe. He is resolute for eviL He
has been surrounded by Divine influences, but he has continually resisted them,
until he has been hardened by the process — until moral susceptibility has died out
of him — ontil he has disorganized his nature — nntil he has destroyed himself I
And when he passes through the brief period of his life — through its rapid rolling
months and years — and rises into the presence of God, he stands in condemnation I
Then he will not be able to say one word ! The long procession of God's teachings,
which were given to draw him away from his inunorality ; all the Divine influ-
ences that have been visited upon him ; aU these things wUl then stand out unmis-
takably and indisputably ; and the man will have nothing to say, except this — " I
destroyed myself 1 " (U. W. Beeeher.) Times of visitatitm : — 1. And first, I would
ask yon to go back to the period of your youth. Was not that a " time of visita-
tion f" Do yon not remember its freshness, its freedom, its joy? 2. Again: I
may speak of those special Divine influences which are often realized in connec-
tion with the services of the sanctuary, and the preaching of God's Word, as con-
stituting »• a time of visitation." 3. Yet again : there are " times of visitation," in
which the individual is more directly concerned, as separate from all around him.
It may be in the church, or it may be at home in the quiet chamber, or it may
be in neither, but out under the great dome of heaven, and among the scenes
of nature. 4. Once more : there are providential events which may be regarded
in the light of a " time of visitation " to those concerned in them. {C. M. Merry.)
The time of visitation : — 1, What is a Drviira! visitation ? 1. The common use
of the word associates it with judgment, with judicial infliction of punishment of
some sort. 2. Divine visitations are often connected with the purpose of blessing.
d. God visits us, in giving us the fruits of the earth in due season. 4. Visitation
means warning. It is in this sense our Lord here describes His own ministry as
the •• visitation " of Jerusalem. Partly, no doubt, it was a visitation of judgment,
yet more was it a visitation of blessing ; it brought with it instruction, grace,
pardon. Elis visitation was also a warning against some besetting sins of a very
old and settled religion — against formalism, hypocrisy, insincere use of sacred
language, insincere performance of sacred duties; and it was especially a
warning to the people of Israel, against their taking a wrong turn in their
thoughts and aspirations and efforts in the future before them. II. Whz
SHO0U> THB FAHiUBE TO KNOW TBB TIUB OW VISITATION VEBY OFTSN BB FOLLOWBO
BT SUCH OBEAT CONSEQUENCES? 1. Becauso such failure implies the decline of
spiritual interest, which in those who have had any rel^ious training and
opportimities is culpable. To believe sincerely in the living God, who interests
Himself in His mortal creatures, is to be on the look-out for tokens of His inter-
vention in the affairs of men ; in other words, for His visitations. When a Divine
visitation comes, it is a touchstone of the interests of souls : it finds some anxious,
expectant, wilUng to recognize and make the most of it, and others, as our Lord
said, whose hearts have waxed gross, and whose ears are dull of hearing, and whose
eyes are closed. This insensibility to the approach of God in His life and power
wounds the heart of God. We cannot forsake Him for anything else with impunity.
446 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap, m,
2. If God visits in warning, then to neglect His visitation is to neglect conditions
of safety against dangers which are before us. So it was now with the Jews. If
the Jews had given heed to the teaching of our Saviour the conflict with the-
Eoman authority would never have taken place. III. Thk difticdlty fob mant
MEN IS TO RECOGNIZE AT THE CBITICAL MOMENT THE PACT THAT GOD IB V18ITIN<*
THEM. The most vitally important days and weeks in the history of a soul may-
have little to distinguish them outwardly from other days. It needs the earnest,
penetrating recognition of God's unceasing and loving interest in His creatures ta
read life aright, whether it be corporate or individual life, to see the moral and.
spiritual worth of events. It may be said that there is room for a great deal of
illusion in this matter of Divine visitation. " We may easily think ourselves more
important people than we are ; we may imagine that the events of our little lives
have a meaning and worth which does not belong to them. Is there any test or
criterion of His visitation ? " Well, we have first of all to remember that no
human life at any moment is other than an object of the deepest interest to God.
He who made, He who redeemed. He who sanctified us, does not think any life too-
insignificant to be visited by Him. The hairs of your head are all numbered ; it
is impossible that the Infinite Love should ever despise the work of His own hands,
the purchase of His own cross. The only question is, whether we are warranted in
thinking that His interest and oversight have at a given time reached a special
climax or visitation, having exceptional claims on our attention ; and we arfr
justified in thinking that this is the case if the truth which such a visitation
enforces is in correspondence with the higher truth which we have learned before,
though, perhaps, going beyond it, and if the conduct to which we are impelled or
encouraged involves self-denial, involves that which is unwelcome or exacting.
(Canon Liddon.) Divine visitations : — 1. God visits a nation, when at a critical
moment in its history He bids it maintain some imperilled principle, or do some
great act of justice. Perhaps the opportunity has been neglected ; it passes, and
then the sentence of national decline is written on the pale of history, with the
added reason : " Because thou knowest not," &o. 2. God visits at His own time
the several branches of His Church, it may be after long years of apathy and
darkness. He visits a church when He raises up in her teachers who insist upon
forgotten aspects of truth, who call men from false standards of life ; or when He
opens great ways of extending His people and of influencing numbers of human
beings to seek the things that belong to their peace. If this invitation to better
things is set aside, nominally as if it were the revival of some old superstition, but
rather really because it makes an unwelcome demand on the conscience and the
will, then the day of visitation passes, and the doom of the church which comea
in time is justified in the conscience of its own children : " Because," Ac. _ 3. Souls
are the units of which nations and churches are composed, and God visits a soul
when He brings before it a new range of opportunities. One of yourselves, we
will say, has been for years recognizing just so much of religious truth as the
people about him, and no more; acting just so far upon the duties which it suggests,
and no further ; your thought and practice are, as we say, conventional — that is to
say, they are determined by the average feeling of those among whom you are
thrown in Ufe, and not by any personal sense or grasp of religious principle, of
what religious principle is, of what is due to it, of what is due to the Infinite and
Everlasting God. And then something occurs which appeals to the soul as nothing
has appealed to it before, which puts life, destiny and duty, truth, Holy Scripture,
the Cross of Christ, the Person of Christ, the garments of Christ, the Church of
Christ, before it in quite a new light. It may be a sentence in a letter : it may be
a sudden thought which takes possession of you at the time of prayer ; it may be
a friend who insists on duties which have hitherto been mere phrases to you ; it
may be that you suddenly find yourself obliged to decide between two courses — one
involving sacrifice more or less painful, and the other the surrender of something
which your conscience tells you is right and true, and the having to make a
decision puts a strain on your moral being, which is of itself a visitation. Or, one
who has been intimately associated with you for many years has died ; his death
has taught you the emptiness of this passmg life, it has put you out of heart with
the half-hearted religion of past years ; in short, this trial, while it presses heavily
on yonr heart, has gone far to make yon quite other than what yon were. And thi»
is a yisitation. God is speaking to your soul, and much depends on yoor under*
standing Him, on your resolving and acting and re-fashioning your life accordingly.
Much, I say, dependi on this ; for be snre that it is very serious to have enjoyed
miT.xxz.^ ST. LVKE. ar
each a religiotis opportunity and to have neglected it. Divine visitation doea
not leave us where it found us ; it always leaves us better or worse. To have been
in contact with truth and grace, and to have put it from us, is to be weaker, poorer^
worse off — religiously speaking — than we were. When the Divine visitation of the
Boul has been rejected, then the day of its enemies has arrived ; then the legions of
hell encamp all around it, the powers of darkness make sure of their victim. There
is such a thing as the last chance in the life of a soul. Ood knows when it has
passed by each of us, but one day certainly all of us do, in whatever way, pass it.
{Ibid.) The visitation of Jerusalem: — 1. This visitation of Jerusalem by its
Monarch was unobtrusive. There was nothing of outward pageantry or of royalty
to greet the Son of David; there was no royal livery, no currency bearing the-
king's nnage and superscription — all these things had passed into the hands o£
a foreign conqueror, or in parts of the country, into the hands of princes who hadi
the symbol of independence without its reality. There was not even the amount
cf circumstance of state which attends the reception of a visitor to some modern
institution — a visitor who only represents the majesty of some old prerogative or
some earthly throne. As Israel's true King visits Jerusalem He always reminds
us of a descendant of an ancient family returning in secret to the old home of his
raoe ; everything is for him instinct with precious memories ; every stone is dear
to him, while he himself is forgotten. He wanders about unnoticed, unobserved,
or with only such notice as courtesy may accord to a presumed stranger. He ia
living amid thoughts which are altogether unshared by the men whom he meets as
he moves silently and sadly among the records of the past, and he passes away
from sight as he came, with his real station and character generally unrecognized»-
if, indeed, he is not dismissed as an upstart with contempt and insult. So it was
with Jerusalem and its Divine Master. He came unto His own, and His own'
received Him not. It may, indeed, be asked whether the unobtrusive character of'
His visit does not excuse the ignorance of Jerusalem. But, my brethren, there is
ignorance and ignorance. There is the ignorance which we carmot help, which ia
part of our circumstances in this life, which is imposed on us by Providence, and
such ignorance as this, so far as it extends, does efface responsibility. God will
never hold a man accountable for knowledge which God knows to be out of hia
reach ; but there is also ignorance, and a great deal of it, in many lives for whick'
we are ourselves responsible, and which would not have embarrassed us now if we-
had made the best of our opportunities in past times, and just as a man who,;
being drunk, commits a street outrage is held to be responsible for the outrage^
which he commits without knowing what he is doing, because he is undoubtedly
responsible for getting into this condition of brutal insensibility, so God holds us
all to be accountable for an ignorance which He knows to be due to our own
neglect. Now this was the ctise with the men of Jerusalem at that day. Had they
studied their prophets earnestly and sincerely, had they refused to surrender them-
selves to political dreams which flattered &eir self-love and which coloured alt<
their thoughts and hopes, they would have seen in Jesus of Nazareth the Divine
Visitor whose coming Israel had for long ages been expecting. As it was. His
approach was too unobtrusive for a generation which looked forward to a visible
triumph. Thus they knew not the time of their visitation. And the visita^
tion of Jerusalem was final; it was not to be repeated. God, who at sundry
times and in divers manners spake in times past unto the fathers of the-
Jewish race by the prophets, in these last days spoke unto them by His Son.
Those were His last words to His chosen people, the last probation, the
last opportunity ; we may reverently say that there was no more after that to be
done. Each prophet had contributed something which others could not ; each had
fiUed a place in the long series of visitations which no other could filL Already
Jerusalem had been long since once destroyed after a great neglected opportunity^
The Book of Jeremiah which we have lately been reading in the daily lessons, i»
one long and pathetic commentary on the blindness and obstinacy of kings, priests*,
prophets, and people who preceded the Chaldean invasion, and who rendered it
inevitable. And still that ruin, vast, and for the time being, utter as it was, had-
been followed by a reconstruction, that long and bitter exile by a return. But
history will not go on for ever repeating events which contradict probability. One-
greater visitation awaited Jerusalem, one more utter ruin, and each was to be the
last. "Because thou knewest not the time of thy visitation." What ia the
explanation of that " because '* ? What is the connection as between canse and
cmel which it suggests ? Does it mean merely that the Jews, having as a people
448 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. xxk
rejected Christ, were punished by the destruction of their city and temple, but that
nothing further can be said about it ? That the punishment was independent of
the crime, although not excessive, and that it might just as easily as not have been
something else than what it was, since the punishment was inflicted from without
by the Boman army, which, consisting as it did of brave and disciplined pagans,
could have no ideas about the spiritual history or responsibilities of a distant
Asiatic race ? No, brethren ; this is not the full or the true account of the case.
Here, as elsewhere, God works by laws which we may trace and which are not
generally superseded by agencies of a different character. Jerusalem's ignorance
of its visitation by the King Messiah, had a great deal to do as cause with effect
with Jerusalem's ruin. What was the main cause of that ruin ? It was, as has
been said, that the Jews were under the influence of a false and blind prejudice
and ambition. They had made up their minds that their Messiah was to be a
political rather than a spiritual king ; He was to make Jerusalem the centre of an
empire which would hold its own against the legions of Borne ; and with this over-
mastering prejudice in their minds the Jews could not recognize the real Messiah
when He came, and the day of their visitation escaped them. Yet it was this same
political phrenzy of theirs which ultimately brought them into trouble with the
Boman power; and if they had only understood the real meanings of their
prejudices, had seen in their Messiah a spiritual monarch, and had accepted
Him when He came, the mind of the people would have taken, mast
have taken, a totally different direction, and the fatal collision with the
forces of Borne would never have taken place. {Ibid.) Illnes* regarded
as God's visitation: — There are two ways of looking at an illness. We may
trace it to its second or immediate cause, the infection, the blood-poisoning,
the imprudence, the hereditary taint, and there stop ; or we may with greater
reason look up to Him who is the true Lord of all, the flrst cause, and who worketh
all things by the counsel of His own will ; and if we do this last, we must see in an
illness a visitation from God. He knows what we want. He sees, it may be,^ that
in ns which will never be corrected in the days of rude health and of high spirits ;
He sees the insensibility to the seriousness of Ufe, to the claims of others, to the'
true interests of the soiU, to the unfathomable love of the Divine Bedeemer ; and an
illness which gives time for prayer, for reflection, for resolution, is a school of disci-
pline. Those who have never had bad health are, it has been truly said, objects of
anxiety ; those who have had it, and who are none the better for it, are certainly
objects of the very deepest concern and compassion. There was a story told many
years since of a boat which was getting near the rapids above the Falls of Niagara.
The boatmen managed to reach the shore, but, disregarding the advice which waH
earnestly given them, they put out again into the stream, with the object of cross-
ing to the opposite bank. The current proved too strong for them, and those who
had warned them of their danger looked on with a distress which was too great
for words while the boat glided down with an ever-increasing speed to the edge of
the falls. It is possible, brethren, in what concerns another life, to be in that con-
dition, to have ignored God's last word of warning, and to be hurrying onwards,
tmder the stress of influences which we cannot any longer resist or control, towards
the awful future. Great reason is there for prayer, that at the critical turning-point
of our career we may have, in oar Lord's words, eyes to see and ears to hear, that
we may distinguish God's visitations in life from what is ordinary in it ; that we
may remember that in every life, even in the most highly favoured, there is sooner
or later a visitation which is the last. {Ibid.) Guilty ignorance: — Well-
known as these words are, there is in them something, when we think of it, un-
expected ; something different, apparently, from what we should have looked for.
The condemnation of the people seems to be pat upon a cause somewhat unlike
what we might have thought. The Lord does not say, it is because ye are about to
crucify the Lord of Glory ; or, because ye have been a sinful and stiff-necked people ;
or, because by your traditions ye have made the Word of God of none effect ; or,
because ye are hypocrites, or impenitent : though all these things, and many more,
were not only true against the people, but had often been alleged by Himself to their
condemnation. He does not, I say, allege any of these broad, overt, intelligible
sins in this, the last most solemn, irreversible denunciation of their judgment ; bat
He sayi, " Because thou knewest not the time of thy visitation ! " God had visited
His people, and they knew it not 1 He had come onto His own, and His own had
known Him not. He does not even say, that they had pretended not to know
Him ; but, literally and plainly, that thoj knew Him not. They might have kw>wa.
OUP. xuc.] BT. LVKB. 449
Him ; they ought to have known Him ; bat He came, and they knew Him not. Let
OS learn, then, that men may really be quite ignorant of what they are doing, and
yet very guilty, and involved in the heaviest condemnation. But, again, are we to
suppose that they did not choose to know ; that they might, then and there, by a
stronger exercise of will, by some more forcible or candid purpose, have known what
they thus wilfully were ignorant of i It is possible that they might ; but it is by
no means certain : that is, it is by no means certain that mach disobedience, much
inattention to the constant indications of God's will vouchsafed to them, much
C8;glect of opportunities, had not set them so much out of the way of forming right
judgments on such things, as to make it morally impossible, or, at least, in the
highest degree unlikely, that they should come to a right knowledge of the nature
of our Lord and the sacredness of His mission. No doubt they had, if we may so
fipeak, a great deal to say for themselves, in their firm and persevering rejection of
our Lord and His doctrine ; not, indeed, a word of real weight or truth, but a great
deal which, Tirged by men in their state of mind, and addressed to men of their
state of mind, would appear to be full of force and cogency. Would they not, feel-
ing no doubt of the sacred validity of their own traditions, look upon Him and
describe Him as one who made light of the authority of God, and of Moses, and the
ancients? May we not easily suppose with what immense effect they would urge
the impolicy of giving any heed to our Lord's teaching : the impolicy in respect of
the Bomans ; the impolicy in respect of the great impediment which would, by our
Lord's partial success, be thrown in the way of the true, temporal Messias, so long
expected ? If we suppose that the actions, which we criticize, appeared to the
persons who were about to perform them in the same clear and unquestionable
light in which we see them, we at once lose, or rather turn into mischief and hurt,
the historical examples : we do exactly what the Jews did, when they said, •' If we
had lived in the times of our fathers, we would not have been partakers in their
deeds," and yet filled up the measure of those very fathers, by doing a deed pre-
cisely like theirs in kind, though infinitely worse than theirs in degree. We com-
fort ourselves by condemning them, while we exactly imitate, or even exceed their
sins. We, like them — like all mankind — are perpetually called upon to act ; often
suddenly — often in cases of great and obvious consequence — often in cases appa-
rently slight, but really of most serious and vital importance to ub : the same per-
plexities and bewilderments as I just described, of feeling, of policy, of liberality
and candour, of conscience, of foreseen consequences, rise up around us; we act in
more or less uncertainty of mind, but our uncertainties often woefully aggravated
by our previous misconduct ; and there are many to excuse us, many to encourage
Qs, many to take part with us, and yet, in the sight of God, our act is one, it may
be, of clear and undoubted sin. But again, the particular thin^ of which the Jews
were in this instance ignorant, was the visitation of God. Christ had come to them,
God had visited His people ; and they, blinded by all these various kinds
of self-deceit, of long-continued disobedience, of inveterate hardness of heart, and
neglect of lesser indications of God's will and presence, had not known Him. Now
here again is matter of high concern and warning to us all. For we, too, have
Dur visitations of God ; if not exactly such as this great one of Christ coming
actually in the flesh, for us to worship or to crucify, according as our hearts recog-
nize and know Him, or disown and rebel against Him, yet visitations many, various,
and secret. But it by no means follows that we have known them. Some, indeed,
may have been so striking as not to be mistaken. But many, perhaps most, perhaps
the most searching and important, may have been absolutely unknown to us. And
not less than this seems to be plainly taught by our Lord, where, in the 25th of St.
Matthew, He describes the actual scene of judgment. The righteous and the
wicked alike seem to be amazed to hear of the matters alleged for their acquittal and
condemnation. How unexpected, then, may be to us the voice of judgment!
{Bithop Moberly.)
Vers. 45, 46. My house la the bonse of prayer.— Tfc« purified temple .■>— Regard-
ing the Church as an institution, with its possessions, its laws, its days of worship,
its rulers, its teachers, its outward services, we may find for ourselves a lesson in
tixis incident. And that lesson is, that the spiritual character of the Church is
everything, and that its first object is to deepen in men's hearts the sense of the
Divfaie and the spiritual. When that great end is lost sight of, the Churoh has
parted with her strongest claims upon the world, and it has forfeited also its privi-
lege as a witness for God on the earUi. The spiritoal influence is the first and chiei
450 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTRAIOR. [chap, jxu
purpose of the Ohuroh of Christ. The lesson of this narrative comes home to us in
ihese days, when so much time and thought are given to the outer framework of
Church forms and usages ; and that lesson may be needed to correct our spirit of
bustling and restless energy in what is at the best only the machinery of spiritual
life, and not spiritual life itself. There is no class of men who are more in danger
of losing the true meaning of religion than those who are employed in its service.
If I were to seek for oases in which spiritual truth had been travestied and turned
to not only secular but profane purposes, I do not know that I could find them more
readily than in men to whom all sacred words and acts have grown so famihar that
they have ceased to express spiritual facts at all. Those who are always engaged
in religious works are apt to lose the sense of their sacredness. No man more
needs to be on his guard against an unspiritaal life than the man who is perpetually
•employed in spiritual offices. He brings within the courts of Ood's house what
ought to be left without ; he forgets his high spiritual functions in the bustle and
cam which attend them ; and it is really no absolute guarantee of a religious and
spiritual life that a man's profession is the teaching of religion. Christ's words and
acts read as all a lesson, then ; they tell us that in the most sacred occupations of
life there may be foond cares and anxieties which are less religious, and which are
apt to swallow up too much of a man's time and thoughts. There is another temple
of a different kind, of which a word may be said. The whole Christian body is, in
the words of the New Testament, a temple of God. There is a sacredness in that
temple, the spiritual community of Christians, if we would only think of it, much
greater than in the Temple of Jerusalem, or in any building devoted to holy uses.
And just as the whole Christian community is a temple sacred to Ood, so each
individual heart is in itself a temple where God Most High is honoured and wor-
shipped. (A. WaUon, D.D.) Lessons from Christ's cUaiising of the temple: — 1.
Abuses are apt to creep into the Church. Let as be on oar guard against their first
introdaotion. 2. The Church is much indebted, under God, to those who have had
the ooorage to stand forward as real reformers. Hezekiah ; Josiah ; the English
reformers. They are indeed the benefactors of the Church who successfully exert
themselves to correct doctrinal and practical errors, and to promote the scriptural
administration of ordinances, discipline, and government. Thus, the progress of
eorrnption is arrested, the beauty of Christianity is restored, and the glory of God,
and Uie religious, and even civil, interests of men are promoted. 3. It is the duty
of OS all, according to our several places and stations, to do what we can to
reform whatever abases may exist in the Church in oar own times. 4. Let
this purification of the temple lead as to seek the purification of oar own
hearts. 5. In aU we attempt for the benefit of others, or of ourselves, let
us imitate the zeal which our Master displayed on this occasion. To be
asefal to man, or acceptable to God, we must be deeply in earnest — we mast have
'the Spirit of Christ in this respect. Neither fear, nor shame, nor sinful inclination
shoold restrain as in such cases. [JajMs Foote, M.A.) Christ's indignation aroused
by irreverence : — In contemplating this action we are at first sight startled by its
peremptoriness. "Is this," we say to ourselves — "is this He who is called the Lamb
of God ? He of whom prophecy said that He should neither strive nor cry ; He
who laid of Himself, " Come to Me ; I am meek and lowly of heart " ? Is there
not some incongruity between that meek and gentle character and those vehement
acts and words. No, my brethren, there is no incongruity. As the anger which
u divorced from meekness is but unsanctified passion, so the false meekness which
can never kindle at the sight of wrong into indignation, is closely allied, depend
npon it, to moral collapse. One of the worst things that the inspired Psalmist can
find it in his heart to say of a man is, " Neither doth he abhor anything that is
evil." Bishop Butler has shown that anger, being a part of our natural constitution
is intended by our Maker to be excited, to be exercised upon certain legitimate
objects ; and the reason why anger is as a matter of fact generally sinful is, because
It is generally wielded, not by our sense of absolute right and truth, but by our self-
love, and, therefore, on wrong and needless occasions. Our Lord's swift indignation
was just as much a part of His perfect sanctity as was His silent meekness in the
^our of His passion. We may dare to say it, that He could not, being Himself,
tiave been silent in that temple court, for that which met His eye was an offence
first against tixe eighth commandment of the Decalogue. The money brokers were
habitually firaodalent. But then this does not explain His treatment of the sellers
of the doves, which shows that He saw in the whole transaction an offence against
Ihe flnt and second commandments. All irreverence is really, when we get t»
«HAP. XIX.1 ST. LUKE. 451
the bottom of it, unbelief. The first great truth that we know is the solitary sapre-
macy of the Eternal God ; the second, which is its consequence, the exacting cha-
racter of Hia love. God is said, in the second commandment,, to be a " jealous God."
{Carum Liddon.) Christ dealt immediately with wrong: — ^What He might have
done 1 He might have said, " Well, this temple will one day, and that day not far
distant, be thrown down. I shall not interfere with this abuse now, because in the
natural order of things it will be overturned along with this structure." Jesus
Christ did not know what it was to trifle so. I don't know that Jesus Christ knew
the meaning of the word expediency, as we sometimes prostitute it. He saw wrong.
If that wrong would in five minutes work itself out, that was no consideration to Him.
Meanwhile, to Him five minutes was eternity I (J. Parker, D.D.) The cleaming
of the temple : — I shall endeavour to call your attention to one or two of the most
marked features. And in the first place, I would bid you notice our blessed Lord's
seal, that zeal of which the Psalmist said, speaking prophetically, " the zeal of
Thine house hath even eaten me " (Psa. Ixix. 9). 2. But again, the conduct of our
Lord shows us the reverence that is due to God's house. The Jewish temple was
emphatically a " house of prayer," it was a place where God had promised His
special presence to those who came to worship. And there are some things which,
like oxen and sheep, are things not clean enough to be brought into the temple of
-God ; all evil feelings, and pride, and unkindness, and envy, and self-conceit, and
other wicked emotions may not be brought into God's temple ; they must be driven
out with scourges, they must not be tolerated. Then also there are some things
which, like the doves, though pure in themselves, have no business in the temple
of God ; the cares of this world, things necessarily engaging our attention at other
times, may not enter these doors : God's church is intended to be as it were a little
«nclosed spot where worldly things may not enter. But again, the tables of money-
changers must not be here ; this is no place for thoughts of gain, it is a profanation
of God's temple to bring them here. And, lastly. Christian brethren, we cannot
but be reminded, by our Lord's cleansing of the temple in the days of His flesh, of
that awful cleansing of His temple which will one day take place, when all that ia
vile and offensive shall be cast out of His temple, and everything that maketh a lie
oast into the lake of brimstone. {H. Goodwin, M.A.) The home of prayer: — I,
Our first inquiry is — What is ode Lord's view as to the pdeposb and end which He
DESioNB His eabthlt temples to sbbvb ? And this is the answer — " My house is the
hoase of prayer." He calls us here to pray. The work to which He sets as in the
sanctuary is mainly devotional. 1. As first, that common or united prayer is need-
ful for man. Ptayer itself is almost an instinct of nature. Man must worship.
And he must worship in company ; he must pray with others. 2. Another obser-
•vution which the Divine idea in regard to the earthly sanctuary suggests is, that
oommon or united prayer is acceptable to G "4. 3. Common or united prayer ia
efficacious to obtain Divine gifts. Otherwise, Gk>d would not assign to it so foremost
« position in the worship of the sanctnary. II. Ma&'s depabiubb nou this Divine
IDEA ABOUT THE HousB ow GoD OM EABTH. "Yo have made it a den of thieves."
There is man's perversion of God'a design. You know, of course, what the particu-
lar sin was which these words of our Lord were intended to reprove. It was the
appropriation on the part of these Jews of a portion of the temple enclosure to pur-
poses of worldly barter. This was the way in which the Jewish people lost sight of
the Divine idea in regard to their temple. And though it is not possible for men
now to commit precisely the same offence, I fear it would not be diffieolt to
trace a corresponding sin, even in the present altered condition of the church. It
is possible now to desecrate sacred places and offices to purposes of worldly gain.
It 18 possible to make a traffic of spiritual functions and emoluments. But, my
iriends, these are not the only things in which a departure from God's idea about
Uis sanctnary may be marked now. There are others, of another complexion and
character, it is true, but not the less to be reprehended. It is to these that I would
tnore especially call your attention. 1. Let me say, then, that some pervert God's
idea by making tiie house of prayer a house of preaching. With them the sermon
is almost everything. They are impatient of aU else to get to that. Prayers, and
lessons, and psalms, and creeds, are all just to be endured as a sort of preliminary
to that. 2. I remark again, that some depart from God's intention with respect to
the sanctuary by making the house of prayer •* a house of mere Sunday resort."
They must pass the day somewhere ; they must get through it somehow, and so, aa
it is customary, and seemly, and respectable, they will go to churoH. They are aa
well there, they think, as anywhere else , but, alas I this is all. 3. I remark, in th«
462 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha*. six.
next place, that some pervert this design by making the hoase ol prayer " a house
of formal service." Their service is no more than lip service. (C M. Merry.}
*' My house is the house of prayer : — Nor are there wanting examples, in all succeed-
ing ages, of the conscientious and religious regularity with which the faithful ever
attended the public means of grace. Thus, for example, " Zacharias and Elizabeth
walked in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless." The just
and devout Simeon " waited for the consolation of Israel, and came by the Spirit
into the temple of the Lord." These, so striking examples of such excelleut men,
and the uniform and continuous practice of the faithful in all ages, show that thft
public worship of God is an institution of Divine authority. That there is a God is
the first suggestion of unassisted reason, and that God ought to be worshipped is
the foundation and first principle of all religion. Accordingly, we have reason to
believe, that public worship began with the beginning of the world, and that it has
been continued and maintained in all countries and in all times, and under every form
of religion that man has devised or God instituted. The ancient Jews for example,
dedicated a seventh part of their time to the service and worship of God. We may
also remark, that, from the earUest ages, not only particular times, but also par-
ticular places, were set apart and consecrated to these sacred services. In the
darkest times of heathen idolatry, when there were " gods many, and lords
many," magnificent temples were built, stately altars erected, costly sacrifices
offered, solemn rites celebrated, and the elegant arts of painting and sculpture,
poesy and music, were called into the service of dumb idols. In after times, when
the children of Israel were in the wilderness, and had no fixed nor settled abode, the
tabernacle was erected by God's special command, and richly endowed with sacred
utensils and ornaments for His solemn worship. L Pcblic wobseip is calculated
TO DISPLAY THE OLOBY OF GoD. As the oouit of an earthly monarch derives its
dignity from the splendour and number of its attendants, so the church, "the
court of the Lord," shows forth the majesty of the Most High by its multitudes of
humble worshippers. II. Pdblic wobship is also calculated to pbomote and pkb-
PETUATE TBB PBACTicE OF PUBE AND UNDEFiLED BELiGioN. Prayer kindlcs and keep»
up the spirit of piety in the soul. And if the " house of prayer " be thus holy,
how great should be the purity of those who frequent it 7 Here, again, let the
royal Psalmist be our director, " Praise is comely for the upright." {A. McEwen.):
The house of prayer : — •' My house is the house of prayer." This is as true of that
portion of the holy body which we call the Church visible or militant as it is of the
rest. The object of the visible Church is not solely philanthropic, although the
Church's duty is to do good unto all men, specially to them that are of the house-
hold of faith. It is not solely the moral perfection of its members, although the
purification to Himself of a peculiar people zealous of good works was certainly &
main object of its founder ; still less is it the prosecution of inquiry or speculation,
however interesting about God, because we already know all that we ever really
shall know in this state about Him. We have on our lips and in our hearts the
faith that was once delivered to the saints. This temple, visible and invisible, is
thus organized by its Divine founder throughout earth and heaven to be a whole of
ceaseless communion with God ; and as its heavenly members never, never for one
moment cease in their blessed work, so by prayers, broken though they be and
interrupted — by prayers and intercessions, by thanksgiving and praise, private and
public, mental and vocal, the holy Church throughout the world duth acknowledge
Him who is the common centre of light and love to all its members, whether on
this side the veil or beyond it. Into this temple also there sometimes intrudes
that which moves the anger of the Son of Man, for this spiritual society has its
place among men. It is in the world, although not of it, and it thus sometimes
admits within its courts that which cannot bear the glance of the All-Holy. And
especially is this apt to be the case when the Church of Christ has been for many
ages bound up with the life and history of a great nation, and is, what we call in<
modern language, established — that is to say, recognized by the State, and secured
in its property and position by legal enactments. I am far from denying that this
state of things is or may be a very great blessing, that it secures to religion a pro •
minence and a consideration among the people at large, which would else be wanting
to it, that it visibly asserts before men the true place of God as the ruler and guide
of national destiny ; but it is also undeniable that such a state of things may bring
^th it danger from which less favoored churches escape. To be forewarned, let
US trust, is to be forearmed ; but whenever it happens to a great Church, or to
its guiding minds, to think more of the secular side of its position than they think
CHAP, in.] ST. LUKE. 4oS
of the spiritoal — more, it maj be, of a seat in the Senate and of high social rank
than of the work of God among the people ; if, in order to save income and position
in times of real or supposed peril, there is any willingness to barter away the safe-
guards of the faith, or to silence the pleadings of generosity and justice in deference
to some uninstructed clamour — then be sure that, unless history is at fault as well
as Scripture, we may listen for the footfalls of the Son of Man on the outer thres-
hold of the temple, and we shall not long listen in vain. Churches are disestabUshed
and disendowed to the eye of sense, through the action of political parties ; to the
eye of faith by His interference who ordereth all things both in heaven and in
earth, and who rules at this moment on the same principles as those which of old
led Him to cleanse His Father's temple in Jerusalem. (Cation Liddon.) Ood's
houxe a house of prayer : — " My house shall be called the house of prayer." Here is
a law for the furniture and equipment ; here is a definition of the object and purpose
of a material Christian church. There are great diiierences, no doubt, between the
Jewish Temple and a building dedicated to Christian worship ; but over the portals
of each there might be traced with equal propriety the words, " My house shall be
called the house of prayer." No well-instructed, no really spiritual Christian thinks
of his parish church mainly or chiefly as a place for hearing sermons. Sermons
are of great service, especially when people are making their first acquaintance with
practical Christianity, and they occupy so great a place in the Acts of the Apostles,
because they were of necessity the instrument with which the first teachers of
Christianity made their way among unconverted Jews and heathens. Nay, more,
since amid the importunities of this world of sense and time the soul of man is
constantly tending to close its eyes to the unseen, to the dangers which so on every
side beset it, to the pre-eminent claims of its Eedeemer and its God, sermons which
repeat with unwearying earnestness the same solemn certainties about God and
man, about the person, and work, and gifts of Christ, about life and death, about
the fleeting present and the endless future, are a vital feature in the activity of
every Christian Church, a means of calhng the unbelieving and the careless to the
foot of the cross, a means of strengthening and edifying the faithful. Still, if a
comparison is to be instituted between prayers and sermons, there ought not to be
a moment's doubt as to the decision ; for it is not said, " My house shall be called
a hoase of preaching," but "My house shall be called the house of prayer."
Surely it is a much more responsible act, and, let me add, it is a much greater
privilege, to speak to God, whether in prayer or praise, than to listen to what a
fellow-sinner can tell you about Him ; and when a great congregation is really
joining in worship, when there is a deep spiritual, as it were an electric, current of
sympathy traversing a vast multitude of souls as they make one combined advance
to the foot of the eternal throne, then, if we could look at these things for a moment
with angels' eyes, we should see something infinitely greater, according to all the
roles of a true spiritual measurement, than the eflect of the most eloquent and the
most persuasive of sermons. " My house shall be called the house of prayer " is a
maxim for all time, and if this be so, then all that meets the eye, all that falls upon
the ear vnthin the sacred walls, should be in harmony vrith this high intention,
fihould be valued and used only with a view to promoting it. Architecture, paint-
ing, mnral decoration, and the like, are only in place when they lift the soul
upwards towards the invisible, when they conduct it swiftly and surely to the
gate of the world of spirits, and then themselves retire from thought and from
view. Music the most pathetic, the most suggestive, is only welcome in the
temples of Christ, when it gives wings to spiritualized thought and feeling, when it
promotes the ascent of the soul to God. If these beautiful arts detain men on their
ovm account, to wonder at their own intrinsic charms, down among the things of
sense ; if we are thinking more of music than of Him whose glory it heralds, more
of the beauty of form and colour than of Him whose Temple it adorns, then
be Bore we are robbing God of His glory, we are turning His Temple into a
den of thieves. No error is without its element of truth, and jealousy on
this point was the strength of Puritanism, which made it a power notwith-
standing its violence, notwithstanding its falsehood. And as for purely secular
conversations within these walls, how unworthy are they in view of our
Redeemer's words! Time was, nnder the first two Stuarts, when the nave of
the old St. Paul's was a rendezvous for business, for pleasure, for public gossiping,
BO that Evelyn the diarist, lamenting the deplorable state to which the great church
vas redoeed, says that it was already named a den of thieves. Is it too much to
mg that the Bedeemer was not long in punishing the desecration of His Temple I
454 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xx.
First there came the axes and hammers of the rebellion, and then there came tha
swift tongues of fire in 1660, and the finest cathedral that England ever saw went
its way. Would that in better times we were less constantly unmindful of the truth
that its successor is neither a museum of sculpture nor yet a concert-room, and
that He whoso house it is will not be robbed of His rights with permanent impunity.
(Ibid.) The regenerate soul is a house of prayer : — " My house shall be called the
house of prayer." This is true of every regenerate soul. When it is in a state of
grace the soul of man is a temple of the Divine presence. " If any man love Me,
and will keep My words. My Father will love him, and we will come onto him and
make our abode with him." Christ's throne within the soul enlightens the under-
standing, and kindles the affections, and braces the will, and while He thus from
His presence-chamber in this His spiritual palace, issues His orders hour by hour
to its thinking and acting powers. He receives in return the homage of faith and
love, a sacrifice which they delight to present to Him. So it is with God's true
servants, but alas ! my brethren, if you and I compare notes, what shall we say 7
Even when we desire to pray we find ourselves in the outer court of the soul
surrounded all at once with the tables of the money-changers, and with the seats
of the men who sell the doves. Our business, with all its details, follows us in the
churches, follows us into our private chambers, follows us everywhere into the
presence of our God. Our preparations for religious service, the accidents of our
service, occupy the attention which is due to the service itself. Sometimes, alas t
we do not even try to make the very first steps towards real prayer, and steps which
ordinary natural reverence would suggest ; we lounge, we look about os, just aa
though nothing in the world were of less importance than to address the Infinite
and Eternal God. But sometimes, alas ! we do close the eyes, we do bend the
knee, we try to put force upon the soul's powers and faculties, and to lead them
forth one by one, and then collectively to the footstool of the King of kings ; when,
lo 1 they linger over this memory or that, they are burdened with this or that load
of care, utterly foreign to the work in hand. They bend, it is true, in an awkward
sort of way in the sacred presence beneath, not their sense of its majesty, not their
sense of the love and the beauty of God, but the vast and incongruous weight of
worldliness which prevents their realizing it. And when a soul is thus at its best
moments fatally troubled and burdened about many things, God in His mercy bidea
His time ; He cleanses the courts of a Temple which He has predestined to be His
for ever. He cleanses it in His own time and way ; He sends some sharp sorrow
which sweeps from the soul all thoughts save one, the nothingness, the vanity of
all that is here below ; and so He forces that soul to turn by one mighty, all-com-
prehending act to Himself, who alone can satisfy it ; or He lays a man upon a bed
of sickness, leaving the mind with all its powers intact, but stripping from the body
all the faculties of speech and motion, and then through the long, weary hours the
man is turned in upon himself ; and if there is any hope for him at alU if at that
critical moment he is at all alive to the tender pleadings of the All-merciful, ha
will with his own hands cleanse the temple ; he sees the paltriness of the trifles
that have kept him back from his chiefest, from his only good ; he expels first one
and then another unworthy intruder upon the sacred ground. The scourge is
sharp, the resistance it may be persevering ; the hours are long, and they are
weary, but the work is done at last. (Ibid.) Irreverence rebuked: — When
Walter Hook (afterwards Dean of Chichester) was Vicar of Coventry, he was once
presiding at a vestry meeting which was so largely attended as to necessitate^ an
adjournment to the church. Several persons kept their hats on. The vicar
requested them to take them off, but they refused. " Very well, gentlemen," he
replied, " but remember that in this house the insult is not done to me, bat to your
God." The hats were inunediately taken off.
CHAFTEB XX.
Ybbs. 9-19. A certain man planted a Tinejrard. — Lessotu:—!. Let tu be thankful
that God has plamted His vineyard among ns. We are situated, not in any of the
deserts, or wastes, or commons, of the world, but in the vineyard, in " a garden
inclosed," in the very garden of Uie Lord. 2. Let ua inquire whether we be
XX] 8T. LUKE. 465
jrenderisg to the Lord of the vineyard the frnit which He expects in its seasoD.
3. Beware of resembling these wicked husbandmen in their conduct, lest you also
resemble them in their doom. What reception, then, are you giving to God's
ministers, and especially to God's beloved Son ? 4. In the last place, see that you
give to the Lord Jesus that place in your spiritual building which is His due. Let
Him be both at its foundation and at its top. Let Him be both " the author and
the finisher of your faith." (J. Foote, MjI.) God's manifold mercy : — Like the
drops of a lustre, which reflect a rainbow of colours when the sun is glittering upon
them, and each one, when turned in difTerent ways, from its prismatic form shows
«11 the varieties of colour, so the mercy of Grod is one and yet many, the same yet
ever changing, a combination of all the beauties of love blended harmoniously
together. You have only to look at mercy in that light, and that light, and that
light, to see how rich, how manifold it is. (C. H. Spurgeon.) Fruitfulnest the
tttt of valtie: — Years ago in Mentone they estimated the value of land by the
number of olive-trees upon it. How many bearers of the precious oil were yielding
their produce ? That was the question which settled the value of the plot. Is not
this the true way of estimating the importance of a Christian Church ? Mere size
is no criterion ; wealth is even a more deceiving measure, and rank and education
are no better. How many are bearing fruit unto the Lord in holy living, in devout
intercession, in earnest efforts for soul winning, and in other methods by which
fruit is brought forth unto the Lord? {Sword and Trowel.) Ahmed mercy: —
Nothing so cold as lead, yet nothing more scalding if molten ; nothing more blunt
than iron, and yet nothing so keen if sharpened ; the air is soft and tender, yet out
of it are engendered thunderings and lightnings ; the sea is calm and smooth, but
if tossed with tempests it is rough beyond measure. Thus it is that mercy abused
tarns to fury; God, as He is a God of mercies, so He is a God of judgment ; and
it is a fearful thing to fall into His punishing hands. He is loath to strike, but
when He strikes, He strikes home. If His wrath be kindled, yea, but a little, vroa
be to all those on whom it lights ; how much more when He is sore displeased with
a people or person I (John Trapp.) The Son rejected : — Turning to the parable,
notice — I. The Ownsb'b cladi. His right and authorit^r are complete. God
presses His right to our love and service. Blessings are privileges, and privileges
are obligations. II. The Owner's loving patience. There never was an earthly
employer who showed such persistent kindness towards such persistent rebellion.
The account of servants sent again and again, in spite of insults and death, is a
faint picture of His forbearance towards Israel. Mercies, deliverances, revelations,
pleadings, gather, a shining host, around all their history, as the angelic camp was
close to Jacob on his journey. But all along the history stand the dark and blood-
stained images of mercies despised and prophets slain. The tenderness of God in
the old dispensation is wonderful ; but in Christ it appears in a pathos of yearning.
IIL The rejection. IY. The judouznt. It was just, necessary, complete, reme-
diless. V. Thb tinaIi exaltation of the Son. {Charles M. Southgate.) TJie
rejected Son : — I. God's interest in His vineyard. The great truths of the Old
Testament are from the prophets rather than from the priests. The grand progress
of truth has depended npon these fearless men. The age without its prophet has
been stagnated. The priesthood is conservative ; prophecy, progressive. The true
prophet is always great ; truth makes men great. Only by a clear understanding
of the accumulating prophecies of the Old Testament can we appreciate the Divine
care. In this lesson as to the care of God for His vineyard, Christ has marked the
distinction between the functions of the prophets and Himself. They had spoken
as servants ; He as the Son. In such a comparison is seen the transcendent reve-
lation of God in Christ. He was the heir. The interests of the Father were iden-
tical with His own. It was in such a comparison that Christ declared the infinite
grace of God in the incarnation and its purpose. II. The irreverence of uen.
The whole attitude of God toward His Church is that of an infinite condescension
and pity. 1. The attitude of these men toward the truth. The greatest conflicts
have been between the truth of God and the personal desires of men. 2. This
antagonism is manifested in the treatment of those who are righteous. In one
sense he who accepts a truth becomes its personation, and as a consequence must
bear all the malignity of those who hale that same truth. Witness the treatment
of the prophets in evidence. Because Micaiah uttered that which was displeasing
to the government of Israel he was scourged and imprisoned. Because the prophet
Jeremiah gave an onwelcome prophecy to his king, although it was the word of
the Lord, he was thrown into a dungeon for his coorage. No better fate awaited
A5$ THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTEATOB, [CHU. I&
the prophet Isaiah than to be eawn asunder by order of the ruler of God's chosen
people. It was the high priest who obtained a decree for the expulsion of Amof
from Jerusalem. 3. This antagonism to the prophets of the truth is only a lesser
expression of a burning hatred toward God. The spirit of hatred to the prophets
would result in the killing of the Son of God. Whether the truth or man or God
stands in the way of this lust for power, the result is the same. III. The poweb
oT THE PEOPLE. Kepcatedly this truth is brought out in the life of Christ. " They
sought to lay hold on Him, but feared the people." In these few words we recog-
nize the corrective of the terrible accusation against human nature. If such a
history is the expression of what is universal, then we must discern the fact that
the truth is more safe in the hands of the many than of the few. lY. The bovb-
BEiGNTY of THE owNEB OF THE viNEYASD. In the parallel accotmt of this parable in
Matthew, we read the question of Christ : " When the lord, therefore, of the vine-
yard Cometh, what will he do unto those husbandmen ? " In all history this same
truth has been often witnessed. The rejecters of God are self-rejected from Him.
The power that is not used for God is taken from ns and given to those who will
use it. There are two practical suggestions very intimately connected with this
theme that we briefly notice. First : The greatest hindrance to Christ's kingdom
may come from those who are the highest in the administration of its affairs.
Second : The stupidity of wickedness. These very men who robbed God were
robbing themselves. By planning to possess the vineyard they lost it. By at-
tempting to keep the owner away they cast themselves out. God controls His
own kingdom and Church. " The stone which the builders rejected, is become the
head of the comer: this was the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes."
(D. O. Hears.) Parable of the vineyard let to husbandvmn : — I. The mateeialb of
WEIGH THE FARABLS IS COMPOSED are objccts which were familiar in Palestine, or
common in warm countries ; a vineyard, a proprietor, and tenants. IL Let a*
next attend to the objects which oub Savioub had ts view in delivebinq this
PABABLE ; or, what is the same thing, inquire what are the important truths con*
tained in it. The objects of our Saviour in this parable seem to be — 1. To point
out the singular advantages bestowed on the Jews as a nation. 2. Their conduct.
3. Their punishment. 4. The transference of their advantages to others. Infer-
ences : 1. From this passage we may learn that we, as Christians, possess a portion
of that kingdom which the Lord Jesus came to establish. For the Christians came
in the place of the Jews. This kingdom consists in privileges, in blessings, in
superior knowledge, and superior means of improvement. Of those privileges wa
have much cause to be grateful, but none whatever to be proud. For they were not
given because we were better than other nations : but they were bestowed solely
that we might cultivate and improve them, and become the blessed instruments of
conveying them to others. 2. That if we cease to bring forth the fmit of holiness,
the kingdom of God will also be taken from us. God has given us much, and
therefore of ns much will be required. (J. Thomson, D.D.) The Herodiant and
Pharisees combined against Jesvs : — 1. The combination of men of opposite senti-
ments, in a particular case, affords no proof that truth and justice are connected
with their temporary union. 2. In the conduct of the scribes and Pharisees on this
occasion we see the disgraceful artifices which malice leads men to employ. 8.
From this passage we may observe the perfect knowledge which Jesus had of the
characters, principles, and intentions of His enemies. 4. The wisdom of Jesos was
also conspicuous on this occasion. Had He been a mere man, we should have said
He was distinguished by presence of mind. Now His wisdom is strongly displayed
here. He might have refused to answer the question of the Pharisees and Hero-
dians, as the Pharisees had done to Him. Or He might have given some dark
enigmatical reply which they could not have perverted. But, instead of doing so.
He gave a plain decided answer, without fear or evasion. 6. The fearless regard tc
truth which the Lord Jesus displaced on this occasion deserves to be carefully
noticed. He did not mean to decline answering the question, Whether it was
lawful to pay taxes to Csesar. On the contrary. He instantly declared that it was
lawful ; and not only lawful, but obligatory, as they themselves had unwillingly
confessed. For the allusion to the denarius struck them forcibly ; and they went
away admiring the person whom they had come to expose and overwhelm. 6.
Lastly, we may observe the disposition which our Savionr always showed to direct
the attention of His hearers to Hae duty which they owed to God. If, then, we art
to render to God the things that are God's, we must render everything to God;
lor everything we have belongs to Him — our capacities, our opportunities, 9a
CKiP. XX.] ST. LUKE. 4St
advantagos, our blessings. {Tbid.) It will grind Mm to powder. — The madness of
opposing Christ : — " It is said that a hundred thousand birds dy against the lights
of the lighthouses along the Atlantic coast of the United States, and are killed
annually." So says a sSp cut from this morning's newspaper. We need not ba
afraid in these excited times that captious cavillers will put oat our hope. Thd
dark wild birds of the ocean keep coming forth from the mysterious caverns ; they
seem to hate the glitter of the lenses. They continue to dash themselves upon the
thick panes of glass in the windows. But they usually end by beating their wings
to pieces on the unyielding crystal tiU they fall dead in the surf rolling below. {C.
5. Robinson, D.D.) The wreck of infidelity : — Some years ago, a man and his
wife were found living in a wretched broken-down house in a low part of London ;
and although the husband was down with illness, his only bed was a little straw,
with a coarse dirty wrapper for a covering, and a brick for a pillow. An old chair
and a saucepan appeared to be the only other furniture on the premises, while the
wife in attendance was subject to fits, which made her for the time more like a wild
animal than a woman. Though reduced to so wretched a condition, this man was
really gifted and educated ; and in days of health tind strength he had worked with
his pen for an infidel publisher. What, then, was the cause of his downfall ? It
eo happened that the sufferer answered this question himself ; for, casting his dull,
leaden-looking eyes around the room after a visitor had entered, he remarked,
••This is the wreck of infidelity 1 "
Vers. 20-26. They watched Him. — Chritt teas watched, and so are we : — The chief
priests and rulers of the Jews watched Jesus, but not to learn the way of salvation.
They watched TTim with the evil eyes of malice and hatred, desiring to take hold
of His words, to entangle Him in His talk, that they might accuse Him, and deUver
Him op to die. He loved all men, yet He was hated and rejected of men ; He went
about doing good, yet they tried to do Him harm. The enemies of Christ are ever
watching for our fall, esiger to hear or to tell any evil thing about us, ready to cast
the stone of slander against us. Yon know that the whitest robe first shows the
stain, let as remember whose purity we wear if we have put on Christ. Let us strive
" to walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the
days are evil." 6 we are tempted to say or do something which is equivocal,
though the way of the world, let as pause and ask ourselves whether it will bring
discredit on our faith, whether it will dishonour our Master. But there are others
who watdi ns, and in a different manner. The Church in Paradise watches the
Church on earth and prays for it. Our path of Ufe is compassed by a great cloud ot
witnesses ; the saints who have fought the battle and won the crown, they watch as.
St. Paul, resting after his good fight, and his many perils, is watching to see how
we are fighting against sin, the world, and the devil. St. Peter, restored to the side
of Jesus, watches to see iJE any of ns deny their Lord. St. Thomas, no longer
doubtful, watches to see if our faith be strong. Holy Stephen watches as when the
stones of insult and persecution assail as ; ihe forty martyrs, who died for Jesus
on the frozen pool at Sebaste, watch us when the world looks coldly on us, and
many another who passed through fire and water watches as in our battle and the
race that is set before us. Thus with the enemies of God watching for our fall, and
the saints of God watching for our victory, let us watch ourselves, and let our cry
oe, " Hold Thou me up that my footsteps slip not." (H. J. Wilmot-Buxton, M.A.)
Cowards are like eats: — Cowards are Uke cats. Cats always take their prey by
springing suddenly upon it from some concealed station, and, if they miss their
aim in tiie first attack, rarely follow it up. They are all, accordingly, cowardly,
sneaking animals, and never willingly face their enemy, unless brought to bay, or
wounded, trusting always to their power of surprising their victims by the aid of
their stealthy and noiseless movements. [Dallas, " Natural History of the Animal
Kingdom") Whose image and saperscrlptlon hath it 7 — The Divine image in the
soul : — 1. The Divine image ought to be our highest glory. 2. Let the Divine image
which we bear be a constant exhortation to serve God. 3. Never defile the Divine
image by sin. 4. Endeavour to increase every day the beauty of the Divine image.
6. Bespect the Divine image in your neighbour. (Bishop Ehrler.) Man is Ood't
property : — More than all visible things, we ourselves, vhth the facnlties of body
and soul, are Ood's. Man is God's image, God's coin, and therefore belongs to
Ood entirely. I. On what is this DrviNS ownership tounded t 1. On creation.
Man is God's property. (1) As God's creature. All that is created belongs to God,
bj whose omnipotence it was made. (2) As God's creature he bears the DiviiM
458 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xx,
image. 2. On redemption. (1) The soul of the first man was a sopematural imag*
of God, created in original justice and sanctity. (2) In consequence of the first sin,
the soul was deprived of sanctifying grace (Eom. v. 12). (3) God had compassion
on man, and found means (through the Incarnation) to restore His image in the
human soul. II. Consequknces RESULTma fkom this Divinb ownership. 1. W«
should render to God our soul. (1) Our understanding. (2) Our will. (3) Our heart.
2. Our body and all its members. (Grimm.) The medal made useful : — One day,
when Martin Luther was completely penniless, he was asked for money to aid an
important Christian enterprise. He reflected a little, and recollected that he had a
beautiful medal of Joachun, Elector of Brandenburg, which he very much prized.
He went immediately to a drawer, opened it, and said : " What art thou doing there,
Joachim? Dost thon not see how idle thou art? Come out and make thyself
useful." Then he took out the medal and contributed it to the object solicited for.
Bender unto Csesax the thln^rs frbich be Ctesar's. — Casar't due and God's due :—I.
That kings and pbinces have a certain bight and dxte pertaining to rasu bt
God's appointment, which it is not lawtitl for ant mam to keep from thkm. This
is plain here as if Christ had said : "It is of God, and not without the disposing
and ordering of His Providence, that the Roman Emperor hath put in his foot
among you, and is now your liege and sovereign : you yourselves have submitted to
his government, and have in a manner subscribed unto that which God hath
brought upon you ; now, certainly, there is a right pertaining to him respectively
to his place. This he must have, and it cannot be lawful for you, under any
pretext, to take it from him." So that this speech is a plain ground for this.
But what is Cesar's due? 1. Prayer for him (1 Tim. ii. 1). (1) That he may be
endowed with all needful graces for his place, (a) Wisdom, (b) Justice, (c)
Temperance, i.e., sobriety and moderation in diet, in apparel, in delight, &o. (d)
Zeal and courage in God's matters. This it is which will make kings prosper
(1 Kings ii. 2, 3). (2) That he may be delivered from all dangers to which he is
subject in his place. Kings are in danger of two sorts of enemies, (a) Enemies
to their bodies and outward state. Traitors. Conspirators, {b) Enemies to their
souls. Flatterers. 2. Submission to him. By this I mean " an awful framing
and composing of the whole man respectively to his authority." And nowhere,
because I mention the whole man, and man consisteth of two parts ; therefore I
will declare, first, what is the submission of the inner man due to a king by the
Word of God; and then, what is the submission of the outward man. 1. Touching
the submission of the inner man, I account the substance of it to be this — " A
reverent and dutiful estimation of him in regard of his place." " Fear the Lord
and the king," said Solomon. As the " fearing of God " argueth an inward
respectiveness to His Divine majesty, so the fearing of the king intends the like,
the heart carrieth a kind of reverent awe unto him. And this is that honouring
the king which St. Peter giveth charge of (1 Pet. ii. 17). Honour is properly
an inward act, and we honour a superior when our respect is to him according to
his dignity. That this reverent estimation of a king, which I term the substance
of inward submission, may be the better understood, we must consider touching it
two things. (1) The ground of it is a right understanding of the state and condi-
tion ol a king's place, (a) Its eminence. (6) Its usefulness. (2) Now the com-
panion of this reverent esteem of Caesar is a ready and willing disposition to
perform to him and for him any service he may require. 2. I come now to speak
of the outward submission, which is that which is for the testification and mani-
festation of the inward. An outward submissiveness without an inward awfulness
were but hypocrisy ; to pretend an inward respect without giving outward evidence
thereof, were but mockery. This outward submission is either in word or in action.
It includes — (1) Conformity to the laws. (2) Yielding of the person in time of war.
(3) Furnishing supplies. II. That it is not liAWFUi for ant man to deprive
a£mightt God of that which is His doe. " You are careful," saith our Saviour,
"•B it seemeth, to inquire touching Caesar's right, as if you were so tender-
eonsoienced that yon would not keep ought from him that were his. It becometh
yon to be, at the least, as careful for God ; there is a right also due to Him, look
yon to it, that yon give it Him." Thus is the doctrine raised, God must have His
due as well as the king his. Nay, He is to have it much more ; " He is the King
of kings, and Lord of lords. By Him it is that earthly kings do reign. He
beareth rule over the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whosoever He will." Let
me begin by explaining what is here meant by the Lord's due. The oonscionable
performanoe of any good duty is in some sense the Lord's due, because the samt
zx.] BT. LUKE. 451
IB required bj Him; and bo even tbat which was epoken of before, by the
same of Csesar's due, is God'e due, because the law of God binds us to it. When
we speak, therefore, of God's due, we intend thereby that which is more properly
and more immediately belonging to Him. For example's sake — in a house, whereof
every room and corner is the master's, yet that where he lieth himself is more
particularly called his ; bo whereas all good services, even those which appertain
to men, are the Lord's, He being the commander of them, yet those are more pre-
eisely and specially termed His which belong to Him more directly. And of the
does of this sort we are now to treat ; and these may justly be referred to two
general heads. The first I may call His *• prerogative," the other His " worship."
Under God's " prerogative " I comprehend two things. 1. •• That the things which
concern Him must have the pre-eminence." 2. " That He must have absolute
obedience in aU things." And now I come to the next part of His due, " His
worship." By His worship is understood that more direct and proper service
which we do to God for the declaration of our duty to Him, of our dependence on
Him, and of our acknowledgment both to expect and to receive all good and comfort
from Him. Here the particulars to be considered of, under this head of worship,
are— 1. " That He must be worshipped." 2. " That He must be so worshipped as
Himself thinks good." (S. Eieron.) Duty discriminated : — " Go with me to the
concert this afternoon? " once asked a fashionable city salesman of a new assistant
in the warehouse. " I cannot." " Why ? " " My time is not my own ; it belongs
to another." " To whom? " " To the firm, by whom I have been instructed not
to leave without permission." The next Sabbath afternoon the same salesman said
to this clerk, •• Will you go to ride with us this evening ? " "I cannot." " Why f "
" My time is not my own ; it belongs to another." " To whom ? " " To Him who
has said, ♦ Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy.' " Some years passed, and
that clerk lay upon his bed of death. His honesty and fidelity had raised him to
a creditable position in business and in society, and, ere his sickness, life lay fair
before him. " Are you reconciled to your situation ? " asked an attendant. " Tes,
reconciled ; I have endeavoured to do the work tbat God has allotted me, in His
fear. He has directed me thus far ; I am in His hands, and my time is not my
own." {W. Baxendale.) Religion and politics : — It is a common saying that
religion has nothing to do with politics, and particularly there is a strong feeling
current against all interference with politics by the ministers of religion. This
notion rests on a basis which is partly wrong, partly right. To say that religion
has nothing to do with politics is to assert that which is simply false. It were as
wise to say that the atmosphere has nothing to do with the principles of archi>
lecture. Directly nothing, indirectly much. Some kinds of stone are so friable,
that though they vrill Uat for centuries in a dry cbmate, they will crumble away in
a Jew years in a damp one. There are some temperatures in which a form of a
building is indispensable, which in another would be unbearable. The shape of
doors, windows, apartments, all depend upon the air that is to be admitted or
excluded. Nay, it is for the very sake of procuring a habitable atmosphere within
certain limits that architecture exists at all. The atmospheric laws are distinct
from the laws of architecture ; but there is not an architectural question
into which atmospheric considerations do not enter as conditions of the ques-
tion. That which the air is to architecture, religion is to politics. It is
the vital air of every question. Directly, it determines nothing — indirectly,
it conditions every problem that can arise. The kingdoms of this world
must become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ. How — if His
Spirit is not to mingle with political and social truths ? (F. W. Bohertson.)
No division of allegiance : — Our Lord here recognizes no division of allegiance.
He does not regard man as under two masters — as owing duty to Csesar and duty
to God. Is there a trace in all His other teaching that He contemplated such
a division 7 Did ever a word fall from Him to indicate that He looked upon some
obligations as secular and others as sacred * No ; God is set forth by EEim always
and everywhere as the sole Lord of man's being and powers. Nothing man has
can be Cesar's in contradiction to that which is God's. Christ claims all for the
Sovereign Master. Body, soul, and spirit, riches, knowledge, influence, love — all
belong to Him ; there is but one empire, one service, one king ; and life, with all its
complexity of interest, is simple — simple as the Infinite God who has given it,
Bightly understood, therefore, the great precepts of the text are in perfect accord
wiSb tile doctrine of Ood's sole and supreme lordship over every thought, and
faoalty, and posBession of man. " Bender unto Csesar the things that are Cnsar's."
460 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chat, xx.
Why ? Who enacts it ? Who has the right to require it ? The answer i»—
" God." It is a part of your religious obedience to be a loyal citizen. Within
the sphere that belongs to him Caesar claims your service as the ordained repre-
sentaUve and minister of ; God. Civil obedience is an ordinance of the Church ;
civil society is the creation of God Himself. It is He who, through the earthly
ruler, demands your tribute. The result, the order, and the progress of society
are His work ; and thus the principle of aU duty is ultimately one. The inclusion
of the lower obedience in the higher has been well illustrated from the world of
nature. The moon, we know, has its own relation to the earth ; but both have
a common relation to the sun. The moon's orbit is included in the earth's orbit,
but the sun sways and balances both of them ; and there is not a movement of the
moon in obeying the inferior eai-thly attraction, which is not also an act of
obedience to the superior spheres. And just so, God has bound up together our
relation to •' the powers that be " in this world, with our relation to Himself. He
has set us under rulers and in societies as a kind of interior province of His
mighty kingdom, but our loyalty as subjects and our duty as citizens are bat a part;
of the one supreme duty which we owe to Him. {Canon Duckworth.) Secular
and religious duties not in conjlict : — I. Our secular and spiritual relations are co-
existent and co-relative in fact. H. The obligations which arise from each are to
be recognized equitably, and the respective duties performed faithfully. lU. They
ought not to be in conflict, but mutually helpful. Both are of God, and with Him
are no discords. lY. Application of the principle to — 1. Secolar business, society,
politics, &o. 2. Soul culture, worship, Christian work. (Anon.)
Vers. 27-38. There were, therefore, soTen hrethren. — TJie world to eome: —
L That thbbk is anotheb wobld. Our Lord calls it that world. It is evidently
opposed to " this world " (ver. 34) ; " the children of this world." We know a little
of this world. Oh that we knew it aright ! Oh that we saw it with the eyes of
faith! The world of which we speak is a world of light, and purity, and joy.
There is " no night there " (Kev. zzi. 25). Hell is eternal dar^ess ; heaven is
eternal light. No ignorance, no errors, no mistakes ; but the knowledge of God in
Christ begun on earth is there completed ; for we shall know even as we are known
(1 Cor. ziii. 12). U. It will be a great uatteb to obtain that wobld. Notice oor
Saviour's words, " they which shall be accounted worthy to obtain that world."
Oh, it will be a great matter to obtain that world ! It will be a matter of amazing
grace and favour. And oh, what a matter of infinite joy will it be I IIL Some
KIND OF WOBTHIMSSB IS MECESSABT TO THE OBTAIKINO OT THAT WOBLD. " They whlch
shall be accounted worthy to obtain that world." This worthiness includes merit and
meetness ; or, a title to glory, and a fitness for it. Both these are necessary. But
where shall we look for merit? Not in man. lY. The bel&tioms or the pbksent
WOBLD WILL NOT SUBSIST IN THE WOBLD TO COME. OuT Lord says, " They neither
marry, nor are given in marriage." This expression is not intended to dis-
parage that kind of union ; for marriage was ordained by God Himself, while yet
our first parents retained their original innocence. But in heaven this relation will
cease, because the purposes for which it was instituted will also cease. Nor shall
the glorified need the aid of that domestic friendship and comfort which result
from the married state, and which are well suited to our embodied condition ; for
even in paradise the Creator judged it was not "good for man to be alone" (Gen.ii
18). But in heaven there will be no occasion for the lesser streams of happinese^
when believers have arrived at the fountain. Oh, let us learn from hence to sit loose
to all creature comforts. V. In that wobld death will be fob eveb abolished.
This is a dying world. VL The blessed inhabitants of that wobld shall bb
LIKE the ANOELS. " They are equal unto the angels." VII. The besubbeotioh of
the body will pebfect the bliss of God's people. ** They are the children of
God, being the children of the resurrection ; they shall be accounted worthy to
obtain that world, and the resurrection from the dead." (G. Burder.) Lessons :—
Creatures on the brink of the grave should not forget it, nor refuse to look into it.
1. Be reminded that we have persons resembling the Sadducees in our own times.
There are some who seek to subvert the leading truths of religion ; and the method
they pursue is very like that followed by the Sadducees of old. They rarely make
the attack openly, like honest and generons assailants ; but they start difficulties,
and endeavour to involve the subjects of inquiry in inextricable perplexity. 8.
Let us be suitably affected by the doctrines of immortality and the resorrection
here taught. 3. Once more, let as improve this passage in reference to thft
<;hap. rs.] ST. LUKE. 461
-endearing relations of life. We are here reminded that death is coming to break
them all up, and that short is the time we are to sustain them. Far be it from us
to regard them with indifference. BeUgion requires us to fulfil their duties with
all {Section and faithfukiess. Tet, they are of very limited duration, and very
little value, in comparison with eternity. (Jot. Foote, M.A.) The Sadducees
silenced : — I. Give some account of the Sadducees : — A small number of men of
rank and affluence, who had shaken off such opinions and practices as they
deemed a restraint upon their pleasures. They acknowledged the truth of the
Pentateuch, but rejected the tradition of the elders. They also denied a future
state, and believed that the soul dies with the body. II. Consider thb aboument
OF THE Sadducees. III. Gonsideb how Jesus Christ acted oh this occasion.
1. He removed the difficulty which had puzzled the Sadducees. They had not
studied the Scriptures with sufficient attention, and a sincere desire of understand-
ing their meaning. If they had done so, they could not have doubted of a future
state. If, again, they had reflected on the power of God, they would have
concluded that what might appear difficult or impossible to man, is possible
and of easy accomplishment with God. He then explained the difficulty. It
is to be observed, however, that He speaks only of the righteous. On
this subject our Saviour reveals two important truths, — First, that the
righteous never die; and, secondly, that they become like the angels.
2. Our Saviour, then, having removed the difficulty which had embarrassed the
Sadducees, and having at the same time communicated new and important infor-
mation concerning the world of spirits, next proceeded to prove from Scripture th&
certainty of a future state. He argued from a passage in the Book of Exodus, where
God is represented as speaking from the burning bush to Moses, and saying, " I am
the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob " (Exod. iii. 6). It is here particularly
to be observed, that the force of our Saviour's argument rests upon the words, I am
the God. Had the words been I was the God, the argument would be destroyed.
IV. Attend to the inferences which we mat justly draw from this subject. 1.
A difficulty arising from our ignorance is not sufficient to disprove or weaken direct or
positive evidence. 2. Although a future state is not clearly revealed in the Books
of Moses, yet it is presupposed, for the passage here selected can be explained only
on the assurance that there is such a state. 3. From our Saviour's declaration
here, we also obtain the important information, that the righteous, after their
removal from this world by death, do not sink into a state of sleep or insensibility ;
for the passage which He quotes implies that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, after
death, remained alive, and still continued to acknowledge and serve God ; for all
these things are included in what our Saviour says. Now, the inference we draw
is, that what is true respecting the patriarchs we may safely extend to all good men,
that they are all in a similar situation. 4. While informed by our Saviour, in the
parable of the rich man and Lazarus, that immediately after death angels are
employed to conduct the spirits of the righteous to paradise, we are also assured
here by the same authority, that they shall be made like to the angels. When to
these we add the passage quoted above, from the Epistle to the Hebrews, respecting
the office of angels, it appears necessarily to follow that the righteous shall be
elevated in rank and situation ; for they shall associate with celestial beings, and '
consequently will receive all the benefits which can arise from society so pure and
exalted. Nor can we help believing that while thus mingled with angels they will
be engaged in similar duties and employments. {J. Thomson, D.D.) The world
to come: — I. That there is anotbeb state of being beside and beyond the pbb-
SENT statb. None can deny the importance of the question, " If a man die, shall
he live again ? " 1. The traditions of universal belief. It is said that there is not,
perhaps, a people on the face of the earth which does not hold the opinion, in some
iorm or other, that there is a country beyond the grave, where the weary are at rest.
Tet this universality of belief is no proof ; it is but a mere presumption at best. 2.
Certain transformations which take place in nature around us. Such as that of the
butterfly from the grave of the chrysalis, and spring from the grave of winter.
Such analogies, however, although appropriate as illustrations, are radically defec-
tive as proofs. The chrysalis only teemed dead ; the plants and trees onl^ seemed
to have lost their vitality. 3. There is, again, the dignity of man. But while much
may be said on one side of this question, not a little can be said on the other.
" Talk as you will," it has been said, " of the grandeur of man — why should it not -
1>e honour enough for him to have his seventy years' life-rent of God'e aniTerse ?
4. It is bj the gospel alone that life and immortality have been brought to light.
469 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip. xx.
n. TbAT TBB FUTTTRE state in HAHT IUPOBTAST PABTICUIiABS IS WIDELT DIFFERSMT
TBOM THB PRESENT STATE. They differ — 1. In their constitution. " The childrea
of this world marry, and are given in marriage ; " bat there will be nothing of thi»
kind in heaven. The institution of marriage is intended to accomplish two great
objecta. (1) the propagation of mankind. Bat in that world the number of the
redeemed family will be complete, and henoe marrying and giving in marriage will
be done away. (2) Mutual help and sympathy. 2. In the blessedness enjoyed.
(1) Negative. " Neither can they die any more." (2) Positive. " They shall be
equal unto the angels " — in nature, immortality, purity, knowledge, happiness. It
is further added, that they will be " the children of God, being children of the
reiurrection." To the blessing of adoption several gradations appertain. What is
spoken of here is the highest. The apostle refers to it in those striking words,
" Becanae the creature itself shall be delivered," &o. (Bom. viii. 21-23). III. That
BEFORE THIS GLORIOUS STATE CAK BE ENTERED UPON, CEBTAIN PBE-BEQCIBITES ARE
iNDisPENSABLT BEQUiBED. None oan attain the world but those which shall be
accounted worthy. Two things may be here noticed. 1. Our guilty persons must-
be accepted. That can only be done through the Lord Jesus — winning Christ, and
being found in Him, not having on our own righteousness. 3. Our sinful nature
must be renewed. Worthiness and meetness are often used as synonymous terms.
Thus we read in one place, " Bring forth fruits worthy of repentance " ; in another,
•• Bring forth fruits meet for repentance." So with the worthiness in the passage
before us ; it is to be understood as indicating meetness for the heavenly inheri-
tance. Now, nothing that defileth can enter there. Holiness of heart and life i&
an essential qualification. The pure alone shall Bee God. {Expository Outlinet.)
Mercy weavei the veil of secrecy over the future : — Once, we have somewhere read^
there was a gallant ship whose crew forgot their duties on board by the distant
vision of their native hills. Many long years had passed over them since they had
left their fatherland. As soon as one of their number caught, from the top mast^
the first glance of his home-scenes, he raised a shout, " Yonder it is I yonder it is ! "
That shout shot like electricity through every heart on board, all sought to catch,
the same glance, some climbed the masts, others took the telescope, every eye waa
on it, and every heart went forth with the eye ; every spirit was flooded with old
memories and bounded with new hopes. All thoughts of the vessel on which they
stood, and which was struggling with the billows, were gone ; they were lost in the
strange and strong excitement. The vessel mighthave sprung a leak, run on shore,
or sunk to the bottom for ought they thought about her. The idea of home filled
and stirred their natures ; the thought of the land in which their fathers lived and
perhaps their mothers slept ; the land of their childhood, and the land of a thousand
associations so swallowed tip every other thought, that their present duties wera
utterly neglected. Somewhat thus, perhaps, it would be with us, were the particu-
lars of the heavenly world made clear and palpable to our hearts. The veil o£
secrecy drawn over them is woven by the hand of mercy. {D. TJionuu, D.D.\
Reticence of the Bible in regard to heavenly happiness : — Casper Hauser was shut up
in a narrow, dimly -lighted chamber when a little child. He grew to manhood there.
He never saw the earth or the sky. He knew nothing about flowers or stars, moun-
tains or plains, forests or streams. If one had gone to him and tried to tell him o(
these things, of the life of men in city or country, of the occupations of men in shop
or field, the effort would have been a failure. No words could have conveyed to him
any idea of the world outside of his cell. And we are like him while shnt ap in.
these bodies. The spirit must go out of its clay house before it can begin to know
anything definite about life in the spirit world. {Christian Age.) Equal onto tli»
angela. — Equality with angelt: — Glorified saints are equal to the angels. L Ih
THEIR DIGNIFIED POSITION. IL In THEIR SUBLIME WORSHIP. UL Im THEIB VH-
DECATiNO STRENGTH (Fsa. ciii. 20 ; Zech. ziL 8). Like angels, the dead in Christ
shall henceforth excel in strength. Weariness and fatigue shall be for ever unknown.
rV. In theib minibtering bebviob (Heb. i. 14). V. In lotino obbdiehcs. We-
read of angels that they " do His commandments, hearkening to the voioe of Hi»
word." VI. In their earnest btudt op the utstebt op KSDEEMnro IiOTe.
Speaking of the Gospel and its priceless privileges and blessings, Peter says^
" Which things the angels desire to look into" (chap. i. 12). VII. In the jotpux.
zntebest which thet peel in the salvation op sinners. VIIL Im teeib immobtaii.
youth. Angels grow not old, as men on earth do. They wear no traeei of age ;
revolving years tell not on them. (P. Morrison.) EquaU^ of men with angels :—
J. Mxs ABB CAPABLE OP BEING HADE EQUAL TO TH> AMOEu. That man is oapablft
CHAP. XT.] ST. LUKE. 463
of equalling the angels in the duration of their existence, may be very easily shown.
Originally he Tras, hke them, immortal. But what man once possessed, he must
etill be capable of possessing. Equally easy is it to show that man is capable of
being made equal to the angels in moral excellence. The moral excellence of crea-
tures, whether human or angelic, consists in their conformity to the law of God.
Originally he was perfectly holy ; for God made man upright, in Hia own image,
and this image consisted, as inspiration informs us, in righteousness and true holi-
ness. Man is then capable of being made equal to the angels in moral excellence.
Man is also capable of being raised to an intellectual equality with the angels, or
being made equal to them in wisdom and knowledge. The image of God in which
he was created, included knowledge, as well as righteousness and true holiness. He
was, as inspiration informs us, but Uttle lower than the angels. But this small
intellectual inferiority, on the part of man, may be satisfactorily accounted for,
without supposing that his intellectual faculties are essentially inferior to those of
angels, or that his mind is incapable of expanding to the full dimensions of
angelic intelligence. It may be accounted for by difference of situation, and of
advantages for intellectual improvement. Man was placed on the earth, which is
God's footstool. But angels were placed in heaven, which is His throne, His palace,
and the peculiar habitation of His holiness and glory. They were thus enabled to
approach much nearer, than could earth-bom man, to the great Father of lights v
and their minds were, in consequence, illuminated with far more than a double
portion of that Divine, all-disclosing radiance which diffuses itself around Him. If
the mind of an infant can expand, during the lapse of a few years, to the dimen .
sions of a Newton's mind, notwithstanding all the unfavourable circumstances ia
which it is here placed, why may it not, during an eternal residence in heaven, with
the omniscient, all-wise God for its teacher, expand so far as to embrace any finite
circle whatever ? Little, if any, less reason have we to believe that he is capable of being
made equal to them in power. It has been often remarked that knowledge is power ;
and observation must convince every one that it is so. Man's advances in knowledge
have ever been accompanied by a proportionate increase of power. A knowledge of
metals gave him power to subdue the earth. But we have already seen that man ia
capable of being made equal to the angels in knowledge. Again, man is capable of
being raised to an equality with the angels in glory, honour, and felicity. The
glory of a creature must consist principally in the intellectual and moral excel-
lences with which he is endued ; and we have already seen that in these respects
man is capable of being made equal to the angels. XL That in thb futxtbe world,.
GOOD MEN SHALL BE MADE EQUAL TO THEM IN EACH OF THESE PABTICT7LABS. The fact
that men are capable of being made equal to the angels, goes far to prove the truth
nf this proposition. From the appearance of Moses and Elijah on the mount of
transfiguration, it seems evident that they possessed power of various kinds, of
which we are destitute. They had power to descend from the mansions of the
blessed, and to return, and also, as it should seem, to render themselves visible or
invisible, at their pleasure. Indeed it is certain, that in some respects at least, the
powers of the righteous must be greatly increased, or they would be unable to
Bustain that far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, and honour, and
felicity, which is reserved for them in the future world. There is a dreadful
oounterpart to this truth, which, though not mentioned in our text, must
be briefly noticed. Every argument, which proves that good men are capable
of being made equal to the holy angels, may justly be considered a»
proving, with equal clearness, that wicked men are capable of equalling the
fallen angels, who kept not their first estate. (£. Pay$on, D.D.) In
the returrectum taints are a$ angels: — I. Ih heatbm the saints abb holt as-
THE ANOELS ARE HOLT. II. In HEAVEN THE SAINTS, LIKE THE ANGELS, SHALL
XHOAOE IN BECOMING ACTS AND EXEBCiBEB. 1. I Say acts and exercises, for while
heaven is to be a place of rest, it is not to be a place of idleness. In heaven the
saints are to be as angels, and angels, we biow, are active in the service
of God. 2. In particular, the saints, like th« angels, engage in singing the
praises of God. 3. Farther, the saints, like the angels, are engaged in con-
templating the works of Ood, and especially His wonders in providence and
redemption. 4. Yet further, in heaven the saints, like the angels, are engaged
in works of love. The angels, we have seen, are actively employed in the service
of God. The whole method of the Divine procedure, so far as it comes under our
view, seems to be carried on by a system of means or instruments. God fulfils
fiis purposes by agents employed by flim who are blessed themselves va4
464 TBE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohas. «,
conveying blessings to others, who are happy and diffnsing happiness. Even ia
inanimate creation on earth we find that nothing is aseless ; everything haa
a purpose to serve : the stone, the plant, the animal, every part of the plant and
animal has a purpose to serve ; it may be an end in itself, bat it is also a means
towards another end. The ear aids the eye, and the touch aids the ear and
eye, and every member aids every other ; it is good in itself, and is doing good
to others. But these inanimate objects perform their work unknowingly, uncon-
sciously. It is different with angels and the spirits of just men made perfect.
They perform their allotted work knowing what they are doing, and blessed
in the doing of it. Modem science shows us how much material agency can do.
Take, as an example, the electric telegraph, which is every day carrying messages
past your place. A methodical action is performed at one end of a wire, and
in a few moments an intelligent communication is given at the other end, hundreds
of miles away. It is a proof of the capacity of body. We know that our Lord's
body after His resurrection appeared and disappeared, and acted no one could tell
how. But in the resurrection our bodies will be like His, spiritual aud celestial.
They will therefore be fit ministers to the perfected spirit — not, as here, hindrances
at times, but always helps, and ready to fulfil the will of th« spirit. {J. McCosh,
D.D.) The mortal and the immortal : — Ours is a dying world, and immortality
has no place upon this earth. That which is deathless is beyond these hills.
Mortality is here ; immortality is yonder ! Mortality is below ; immortality ia
above. " Neither can they die any more," is the prediction of something future,
not the announcement of anything either present or past. At every moment one
of the sons of Adam passes from this life. And each swing of the pendulum
is the death-warrant of some child of time. " Death," •* death," is the sound of
its dismal vibration. " Death," " death," it says, unceasingly, as it oscillates to
and fro. The gate of death stands ever open, as ijf it had neither locks nor bars.
The river of death flows sullenly past our dwellings, and continually we hear the
splash and the cry of one, and another, and another, as they are flung into the
rushing torrent, and carried down to the sea of eternity. If, then, we would
get beyond death's circle and shadow, we must look above. Death is here, but
Ufe is yonder 1 Corruption is here, incorruption is yonder. The fading is here,
the blooming is yonder. Blessed words are these : " Neither can they die any
more." It is not simply. Neither shall they die any more, but neither can they
die any more. Death, which is now a law, an inevitable necessity, shall then ba
an impossibilty. Blessed impossibility I Neither can they die any more ! They
are clothed with the immortality of the Son of God ; for as the Head is immortal,
so shall the members be. Ah, this is victory over death ! This is the triumph
of life ! It is more than resurrection ; for it is resurrection, with the security that
death can never again approach them throughout eternity. All things connected
with that new resurrection-state shall be immortal, too. Their inheritance is
nnfading. Their city, the new Jerusalem, shall never crumble down. Their
paradise is as much beyond the power of decay as it is beyond the reach of a
second serpent-tempter. Their crowns are all imperishable; and the white
raiment in which they shine shall never need cleansing or renewal. (JH". Bonar,
D.D.) Moses showed at the bush. — The living God of living men: — God is thr
God or aiiL mem, however dieterbnt from each other tbet mat bb. It would
be difficult, if not impossible, to name three men so closely related to each other,
and yet so conspicuously different from each other, as were Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob. Abraham is of the grandest heroic type — heroic in thought, in action, and,
above all, in that faith which is the inspiration both of the highest thinking and
of the no>lest forms of conduct. But what a falling off is there in Isaac I Ha
hardly seems his father's son. Quiet, thoughtful, a lover of ease and good fare,
with no genius for action, his very wife chosen for him as if he were incompetent
even to marry himself, unable to rule his own household, unable even to die —
it woold almost seem, when his time was come, that he fades out of history years
before he slips his mortal coil. Jacob, again, strikes one as unlike both his
father and his grandfather. We think of him as timid, selfish, crafty, unscrupulous,
with none of the innocence of Isaac, little or none of the splendid courage and
generosity of Abraham. What I want you to mark, then, is the grace of God
in calling Himself, as He did for more than a thousand years by the month of
His servants the prophets, the God of each and all of these three men. Different
M they were from each other, they are all dear to Him. He has room enoagh
in His heart for them all. Rightly viewed, then, there is hope for as a^d for
CHAP. XX.] ST. LUKE. 465
all men in this familiar phrase. If God is not ashamed to call Himself their God,
may He not, will He not, be our God too, and train us as He trained them, till
all that is weak and selfish and subtle iu us is chastened out of us, and we recover
the image in which He created us ? II. God our Father will never let Hig
CBiLDBEN DIE. The text our Lord quoted was this: To Moses at the bush —
between four and five hundred years, that is, after Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob
were dead — Jehovah had said, " I am," — not I was — '• the God of Abrahaiii,
and of Isaac, and of Jacob." But how could He still be the God of these men
if they had long been extinct? He is not the God of dead men, but of living men.
The three patriarchs were very certainly not living in this world when God spoke
to Moses. They must, therefore, have been living in some other world. Dead to
men, they must have been alive unto God. Obviously, then, men do not all die
when they die. 1. Because our Lord saw in God the God of Abraham, and Isaac,
and Jacob, He inferred that these men could not die ; that even when they did
die, they must have lived on unto God. And that after all is, I suppose, the
argument or conviction on which we all really base our hope of immortality. " Art
Thou not from everlasting, 0 Lord my God, mine Holy One ♦ We shall not die."
The eternity of God implies the immortality of man. 2. But our Lord at least
reminds us by His words of another ground for hope. Nature has many symbols
which speak of a life capable of passing through death, a life which grows in
volume, in power, in beauty, by its submission to death. Every spring we behold
the annual miracle by which the natural world is renewed into a richer, lovelier life.
Tear by year it emerges from its wintry tomb into the fuller and more fruitful
life of summer. We may not care to base any very weighty arguments on these
delicate and evanescent yet continually-recurring symbols ; but, nevertheless, they
speak to oar imagination and our hearts with a force and a winning persuasiveness
beyond that of logic. III. What is to hinder us from arguing that, if God is still
their God, and they still live unto Him, then God must even now be carrying
ON THE DISCIPLINE AND TRAINING WHICH Hb COMMENCED UPON THEM HERE, and
carrying it on to still larger and happier issues ? If they live, and live unto God,
must they not be moving into a closer fellowship with Him, rising to a more
hearty adoption of His will, >a fuller participation of His righteousness and
love? No one of you will question the validity of such an argument as
that, I think. Ton will all gladly admit that, since he still lives, Abraham
must by this time be a far greater and nobler man than he was when he left
the earth, and must be engaged in far nobler discoveries and enterprises.
ChrigVs answer to the Sadducees : — L Wb will consider it as an argument ad
BOUINEM, AND SHEW THE FITNESS AND 70RGS OF IT TO CONVINCE THOSE WITH WHOM OUB
Satioub DISPUTED. 1. We will consider what our Saviour intended directly and
immediately to prove by this argument. And that was this, That there is another
state after this life, wherein men shall be happy or miserable according as they
have lived in this world. And this doth not only suppose the immortality of the
soul, but forasmuch as the body is an essential part of man, doth, by consequence,
infer the resurrection of the body; because, otherwise, the man would not be
happy or miserable in another world. 2. The force of this argument, against those
with whom our Saviour disputed, will further appear, if we consider the great
veneration which the Jews in general had for the writings of Moses above any
other books of the Old Testament, which they (especially the Sadducees) looked
upon only as explications and comments upon the law of Moses ; but they esteemed
nothing as a necessary article of faith, which had not some foundation in the
writings of Moses. And this seems to me to be the true reason why our Saviour
chose to confute them out of Moses, rather than any other part of the Old Testa-
ment. 3. If we consider further the peculiar notion which the Jews had concerning
the use of this phrase or expression, of God's being any one's God. And that was
this: that God is nowhere in Scripture said to be any one's God while he was
alive. And, therefore, they tell us, that while Isaac lived, God is not called the
God of Isaac, but the "fear of Isaac." I will not warrant this observation to be
good, because I certainly know it is not true. For God doth expressly call Himself
"the God of Isaac," while Isaac was yet alive (Gen. xxviii. 10): "I am the Lord
God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac." It is sufficient to my purpose
that this was a notion anciently carrent among the Jews. And therefore our
Savionx's argument from this expression must be so much the stronger against
them : for if tlie souls of men be extinguished by death (as the Sadducees believed)
what did it signify to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to have God called their Godt
TOL. m. 80
466 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTRAIOR. [ohap. x*
after they were dead ? 4. The great respect which the Jews had for these threa
fathers of their nation, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. They, who had so superstitious
a veneration for them, would easily believe anything of privilege to belong to
them : so that our Saviour doth with great advantage instance in them, in favour
of whom they would be inclined to extend the meaning of any promise to the
ntmost, and allow it to signify as much as the words could possibly bear. So that
it is no wonder that the text tells us, that this argument ptft the Sadducees to
silence. They durst not attempt a thing so odious, as to go about to take away
anything of privilege from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. II. Enquibe whether
IT BE MOBE THAN AN ARGUMENT AD HOMiNEM. The foUowing Considerations would
appear to indicate that our Lord really meant the matter to be regarded as settled
fact. 1. If we consider that for God to be any one's God doth signify some very
extraordinary blessing and happiness to those persons of whom this is said. It i3
a big word for God to declare Himself to be any one's God ; and the least we can
imagine to be meant by it, is that God will, in an extraordinary manner, employ
His power and wisdom to do him good : that He will concern Himself more for the
happiness of those whose God He declares Himself to be, than for others. 2. If
we consider the eminent faith and obedience of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
Abraham left his country in obedience to God, not knowing whither he was to go.
And, which is one of the most unparalleled and strange instances of faith and
obedience that can be almost imagined, he was willing to have sacrificed his only
son at the command of God. Isaac and Jacob were also very good men, and devout
worshippers of the true God, when almost the whole world was sunk into idolatry
and all manner of impiety. Now what can we imagine, but that the good God did
design some extraordinary reward to such faithful servants of His? especially if
we consider, that He intended this gracious declaration of His concerning them,
for a standing encouragement to all those who, in after ages, should follow the
faith, and tread in the steps of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. 3. If we consider the
condition of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in this world. The Scripture tells us,
that " they were pilgrims and strangers upon the earth," had no fixed -ind settled
habitation, but were forced to wander from one kingdom and country to another ;
that they were exposed to many hazards and difficulties, to great troubles and
afflictions in this world ; so that there was no such peculiar happiness befel them,
in this life, above the common rate of men, as may seem to fill up the big words of
this promise, that God would be their God. 4. Then, we will consider the general
importance of this promise, abstracting from the particular persons specified and
named in it, viz., Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob ; and that is, that God will make a
wide and plain difference between good and bad men ; He will be so the God of
good men as He is not of the wicked : and some time or other put every good man
into a better and happier condition than any wicked man : so that the general
importance of this promise is finally resolved into the equity and justice of the
Divine Providence. And now having, I hope, sufficiently cleared this matter, I
shall make some improvement of this doctrine of a future state, and that to these
three purposes. 1. To raise our minds above this world, and the enjoyments of
this present life. 2. The consideration of another life should quicken our prepara-
tion for that blessed state which remains for us in the other world. 3. Let the
consideration of that unspeakable reward which God hath promised to good men
at the resurrection, encourage us to obedience and a holy life. We serve a great
Prince who is able to promote us to honour ; a most gracious Master who will not
let the least service we do for Him pass unrewarded. This is the inference which
the apostle makes from his large discourse of the doctrine of the resurrection
(1 Cor. XV. 58). Nothing will make death more welcome to us, than a constant
course of service and obedience to God. •• Sleep (saith Solomon) is sweet to the
labouring man " : so after a great diligence and industry in " working out our own
salvation," and (as it is said of David) " serving our generation according to the
will of God," how pleasant will it be to fall asleep 1 And, as an useful and well-
spent life will make our death to be sweet, so our resurrection to be glorious.
{Archhithop Tillotton.) Resurrection: an Easter-day Sermon: — In the words of
the text, the ground on which our Blessed Lord declares the resurrection of men
to rest, is well worthy of our deepest attention. He does not say that because He
Himself was ere long to be orncified and to rise again, therefore mankind should
also rise. He goes down even deeper than this, to the very root of all hope and
life for man ; to that on which His own incarnation and death and reiarrection
NSt ; to the very foundation of being — even the nature of God Himself. Becans*
CHAP. XX.] ST. LUKE. 467
<}od is Qod ; the living and tmohangeable God ; becaase He has called U3 into
existence, and made us what we are ; because He has revealed Himself as our Qod ;
and taken us into covenant with Himself, therefore, man shall not — man cannot, —
perish. But there is another most blessed and comforting truth taught us in tha
text ; without which resurrection would cease to be a blessing, would lose all power
to console and strengthen, would become a dark and dismal phantom. God is the
God, — not of solitary and separate souls, — but the God of Abraham, the God of
Isaac, the God of Jacob ; the God of father and son and grandson ; the God who
has appointed and preserves the order of human society, upholds its relationships,
and will not disappoint the pure and sweet affections which have been nurtured in
them. Would Abraham be the same Abraham if there were no Isaac ; Isaac, the
same Isaac, if there were no Abraham and Jacob ? Nay, if the dishonour of
forgetfulness were, in the life beyond the grave, thrown on the human loves and
affections which have been born on earth, would God be the same God ? (/. N.
Bennie, LL^.)
Vers. 41-44. How say they that Christ Is David's son 1 — David, ChrUVs ancestor : —
" How say they that Christ is David's son ? " Reading David's history, we might
«xclaim, ''How, indeed I " Son of David, Son of God : is not this like son of sin,
son of grace ? But if in the ancestor sin abounded, in the descendant grace much
more abounded ; and wisdom will inquire whether there is any relation between the
Buperabounding grace and the abounding sin. We may think of Christ as a
«piritual David, and we may think of David as a natural Christ, in this way : we
may suppose a nature like Christ's, but without what we know He possessed — a
governing, harmonizing spirit of holiness. Imagine that. Imagine one whose
natural endowments resembled Christ's, but without the presiding spirit of holiness ;
then, we say, you would have another variety of David's life — one more distinguished
by nobleness, but one marked and saddened with many an act of dishonour. On
the other hand, if you suppose David to become perfectly spiritual, to have that
presiding holiness which Christ had ; amongst all the ancient saints, there would
have been none so like the Lord Jesus Christ, though still less than He. And thus
it is that we have in David the nature of Christ, but without the Divine harmonio
regulation ; and we have in Christ the nature of David, but not now with the fleshly
irregularities, not sullied by blots, not made the shame as well as in part the glory
of Israel, but utterly free from evil. Christ is, then, considered as David's
descendant, the inheritor of his sensibilities, which shine in our Lord with completest
lustre. He is also the inheritor of his contests ; and our Lord overcomes with
nnvaried and complete victory those temptations which assaulted His ancestor.
And by being at once the possessor of his sensibilities and the inheritor of his
contests. He becomes the expiation of his sins. You will often find in the history
of families that troubles accumulate, and as it were ripen, until they are " laid
upon " some one individual ; that on this individual rests the burden of evil which
has been slowly accumulating. Now, you may have a case in which it seems that
the burden of evil so rests that the man is borne down, crushed, and destroyed ;
and here yon say, through the wickedness of his House, this, the last descendant,
is utterly shaken and ruined. But you may also have a successful fight ; the
burden is on the back, but the strength is in the man. This is at once the most
burdened and most powerful indiTidual sprung from the race. It is he who,
grappling with the evil in its fullest strength, shall retrieve the fortunes of the
family. There are histeric cases which illustrate that principle. In every family
history evil goes on worsening, or good goes on strengthening ; and we may have
instances of men borne down by the evil, and other instances of men oppressed very
greatly and yet triumphing, and so retrieving honour and fortune. Now our Lord
Jesus Christ was a spiritual David ; He shares — possesses, indeed, to the full —
David's sensibilities ; He engages in the moral contests in which David so often
failed ; and He becomes the expiation of David's sins — that is to say. He utterly
annuls that power of sin so manifest and hateful in David, and brings in a strength
of holiness which, as gradually diffused in the breasts of men, shall cause the
instrument that else would be discordant to be a harp of joy — shall reflne from
earthly alloys that sacred metal which, as God's gold, he will work up into the
ornaments and harps of heaven. (T. T. Lynch.)
Vers. 45-47. Beware of the scribes. — The situ of the scribes and Phariteet .*—
The scribes were doctors of the law, who read and expounded the Scriptoz*
468 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chaj. ix.
to the people. They were possessed of the key of knowledge, and cooupie^
the Beat of Moses. The Pharisees were a kind of separatists among the Jews, a»
their name indeed denotes. When Jesns speaks to these men, He no longer wears Hi»
wonted aspect. His language is not that of compassion and tenderness, bat of stern
denunciation. It is important that Jesus should be presented to as under these
two aspects, of forgiving mercy and of relentless wrath, in order to stimulate hope
and to repress presumption. In the text Jesus proceeds to indicate the grounds of
that woe He had denounced upon the scribes and Pharisees. He points out to the
people the crimes with which they were chargeable, and the hypocrisy of their
conduct. It is worthy of notice that He does not content Himself with speaking to
the guilty parties alone. He unveils their character before the face of the world.
They were deceiving the people by their pretences, and therefore the people must
be warned against them. The same thing is true of all pretenders in religion.
Trnth and justice, and love for the souls of men, alike demand that sach pretencea
ehonld be made manifest. The first charge adduced against the scribes and
Pharisees in the text is, that they shut up the kingdom of heaven against men —
that they neither entered into it themselves, nor suffered those who were entering
to go in. When the question is put, what methods did they take to accomplish
this ? the easiest and perhaps the most natural answer would be, that it was by
their extraordinary strictness and outward purity. The mass of the people were
regarded by them as little better than heathens. They abjured the society of such
men ; and one special ground of offence against Jesus was, that He did not imitate
them in this respect. It might be readily presumed, then, that by such austerities
as marked their outward conduct, they rendered religion altogether so repulsive aa
to deter the common people from inquiring into its claims, rather than to invite
them to submit themselves to its authority. Thus, it may be supposed, they shut
np the kingdom of heaven against men. It is notorious that such an accusation a»
this has been always preferred against the pure ministers of a pure religion. The
duty of the minister is to declare the truth as he finds it in the Bible, and to actupoa
the directions he has there received. In thus preaching and acting, however, many
may be shut out from the kingdom of heaven ; it is not he who has closed its gates
against them, but God Himself. But the supposition is very far from being
correct, that the Pharisees were accused of shutting the kingdom of heaven against
men by the strictness and austerity to which they pretended. We shall discover
the real grounds of the accusation by comparing the text with the parallel passage
in the Gospel according to Luke. It is there said (Luke xi. 52) : " Woe unto you
lawyers, for ye have taken away the key of knowledge : ye enter not in yourselves,
and them that were entering in ye hindered." The way, then, in which they shut
the kingdom of heaven against themselves and others, was by taking away the key
of knowledge. In order to this, let us endeavour to ascertain the precise position of
the Pharisee, and the place which he assigned to the word of God. Let us observe
how he used the key of knowledge, and by what precise instrumentality he shut
tip the kingdom of heaven against men. The Pharisees did not deny men the use
of the Bible. They did not conceal the knowledge of its contents. The people
heard it read from year to year in their synagogues. It was explained to them, and their
attention solicited to its truths. How, then, could it be said that they had taken
away the key of knowledge ? The answer to the question is to be found in the fact,
not that they withheld the word of God, but that they made the commandment of
God of none effect by their tradition. They refused to acknowledge the fact that
God is the only teacher and director of His Church. They added to His word
instructions of their own. The Divine authority, if it is to be preserved at all,
must stand apart from and be superior to all other authority. The claims of God
are paramount, and so soon as they cease to be so, tbey cease to be Divine. In
ether words, God is no longer God — His worship is rendered vain — and His com-
mandments become of none effect. Thus the key of knowledge is altogether taken
away, and the kingdom of heaven is shut against men. The fact that the
commandments of men occupied such a place at all vitiated their whole doctrine and
worship, deprived men of the key of knowledge, and shut up the kingdom of heaven
against them. Such a Church ceased to be a blessing, and had become a corse to
the nation. It was a Church not to be reformed, bat to be destroyed. It was rotten
at the very heart, and nothing remained for it but woe. But the text is pregnant
with instruction and admonition to all the professed disciples of Christ. It
impresses npon us the doctrine that the kingdom of heaven is opened by knowledge.
This ib the key that unlocks the celestial gates. We cannot obtain an entrance t*
CHAP, xx.] ST. LUKE. 46t
it in any other way. The lock will not yield to any other power. Not that all
kinds of knowledge are equally available. This is life eternal, to know God and
JesQS Christ whom He hath sent. To be ignorant of Christ is to be shut out of
heaven. To know Jesus Christ is to open up the kingdom of heaven. The highest
gifts, the most shining acquirements, cannot bring us a footstep nearer heaven.
Nothing else avails to open up the kingdom to men but the knowledge of Jesus
Christ. From the text also we learn this doctrine, that the ministers of the Church
have in a certain sense the power of shutting up the kingdom of heaven against
men. They are set up as lights of the world. Their business is to instruct the
ignorant. If they neglect the duties or pervert the designs of their office, how are
men to acquire the knowledge of the truth ? From the doctrines set forth in the
text, let us lay to heart the following practical instructions : 1. Let us learn to read
the Bible, and to Usten to its truths, in the assurance that our eternal destiny
depends upon the knowledge of them. 2. Let ministers also learn their proper
vocation as porters to the kingdom of heaven, and let them beware of handling the
Word of God deceitfully. Let us now proceed to examine the second charge which
Jesus brings against the scribes and Pharisees. It is conveyed in these words —
" Woe unto you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! for ye devour widows' houses, and
for a pretence make long prayers ; therefore ye shall receive the greater damnation."
The crime of the Pharisees was not one, but manifold, and Jesus, in faithfulness,
accumulates His charges against them. Lest for a moment they should forget the
heinous character of these charges. He recapitulates with each the coming doom
which awaited them. This second sin which Jesus charges against the Pharisees
is of a very aggravated kind. It is devouring the houses of widows. Not contented
with making void the commandments of God, these men were guilty of the most
hateful practices. Having usurped a treasonable authority in Divine things, their
lives were characterized by acts of atrocious oppression and cruelty. Insinuating
themselves into the confi(lence of the weak and the defenceless, they made their
high religious profession a covert for the basest covetousness. They become robbers
of the widow and the fatherless. Such wickedness of conduct might have been
expected as the sure result of the corruptions they had introduced into the Divine
worship. Purity of faith is the surest guardian of integrity of life. In the case of
the Pharisees the wickedness was peculiarly hateful. The sin of which they were
guilty was devouring houses, or, in other words, involving families in ruin, by
appropriating and devouring the substance which belonged to them. But this sin
was accompanied with a threefold aggravation. First, the houses they involved
in ruin were the houses of widows. Secondly, their sin was yet farther aggravated
by being committed nnder the pretext of religion. They committed robbery under
the guise of piety. Thirdly, they made an extraordinary profession of religions
zeal. They not only prayed with a view to the more easy perpetration of robbery,
but their prayers were long. Widows were their easy dupes. Thus we are directed
to one of the marks which indicate the mere pretender to godliness, and by which
we shall be able to detect and expose the hypocrite. For the pretender in religion,
having necessarily some selfish object in view, and not being animated by a love of
the truth, may be expected to turn his profession to the best possible account. And
whether for the purpose of gratifying his vanity, of acquiring power and influence,
or of increasing wealth, he will always find his readiest instruments in silly and
restless women. Hence, too readily, among despisers of religion, the reproach has
been taken up against the true and living Church, that its most active promoters,
and most zealous adherents, are women, and that the prayers of its members are
only for a pretence. Surely it would be to infer rashly to conclude, that because
the ministers or members of a Church were signalized by fervent and frequent
prayer, and because devout and honourable women, not a few, were among its most
zealous friends, such a Church was guilty of the Pharisaic crime, and justly lay
under the reproach and the woe denounced in the text. Let us examine and see.
No one can read the personal history of Jesus without perceiving how, in the days
of His earthly ministry, He had among His most honoured and endeared disciples
devout women not a few, whose rich gifts He did not despise, and whose devoted
love He did not spurn. Who was it that blamed the expenditure of a very precious
box of ointment f Is it, on the other hand, an unfailing mark of a hypocrite to
make long prayers ? Doubtless there have been many, in every age, who have
assumed the form of godliness while denying its power, who have drawn near to
God with the mouth, and honoured Him with the lips, while their hearts have been
lar from Him. But if hypocritical pretenders affect this devotion, is it not an
470 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xx,
evidence that prayer is the proper and trne life of the believer ? Why shoald th«
Pharisee pretend to it, if the religious propriety of the thing itself were not felt and
acknowledged ? The hypocrite does not affect that which does not essentiallj
belong to godliness. Jesus did not accuse the Pharisees, and pronounce a woe upon
them, because they received the support of women, even of widows, nor because of
the frequency or length of their prayers. Abstracted, however, from the peculiar
circumstances and aggravations with which the sin was accompanied in the actual
practice of the Pharisees, the thing condemned in the text is, prayer which is
uttered only in pretence, and prayer which has a selfish and worldly end in view.
Widows were the objects against whom the Pharisees put in practice their artful
hj'pocrisy. But it is obvious that whosoever may be the objects of the deception,
the essential character of the sin remains the same. Nor is the nature of the sin
atlected by the extent of the pretended devotion. The pretence is the thing blame-
worthy. It is true the sin becomes more heinous in proportion to the height of the
profession, and the Pharisees are worthy of greater damnation, because they not
only pretended to devotion, but to very high flights of it. Leaving out of view,
however, such aggravating circumstances as these, that their prayer was long, and
that the widows and the fatherless were their prey, we have the essential character
of the sin set before us, as at least worthy of damnation, namely, making a profession
of religion for the purpose of advancing worldly interests, and securing the ends of
earthly ambition. The Pharisees of our day, then, who lie under the woe pronounced
by Jesus, are — 1. Those ministers who enter upon and continue in their office for a
piece of bread. The most pitiable being among all the afflicted sons of humanity
is he who has assumed the holy office of the ministry for the sake of worldly ends
and objects. 2. But the Pharisaic crime is by no means limited to ministers.
Those people are guilty of it, in whatever position they are placed, who, for the sake
of good repute, from fear of worldly loss, or from the desire of worldly gain — or
who, actuated by any earthly or selfish motive whatever, make profession of a
religion which they do not believe. We have yet to examine a third charge which
Jesus brings against the scribes and Pharisees. He accompanies the recital of it
with a denunciation of the same woe he had already twice invoked upon them.
" Woe onto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites I for ye compass sea and land to
make one proselyte ; and when he is made, ye make him twofold more the child of
hell than yourselves." The apostles of deceit and falsehood have often manifested
a zeal in the propagation of their principles which is fitted to minister a severe
reproof to those who know and who believe the truth. This does not arise from the
circumstance that the apostles of error are possessed of more energy and activity of
mind than the friends of truth, but because they have frequently a more hearty
interest in the advancement of their cause. Let there be an opening for worldly
advancement, and the gratification of worldly ambition, and the way is crowded
with rival and eager candidates. There is no remissness of effort among them. The
conquests of early Christianity were rapid and wide, because its apostles had strong
faith and untiring zeal. Prom what has been stated, it will be manifest that it is
not the fact of making proselytes or converts against which the woe of Christ is
denounced. This, on the contrary, is the great duty which He has laid upon all His
disciples ; and the illustrious reward He hath promised to the work is, that they
who turn many to righteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and ever. A
church is doing nothing if it be not making proselytes. It is a dead trunk ready
for the fire. They did not care to make their converts holier and better and
happier men. They made them twofold more the children of hell than themselves.
It was enough that they assumed the name and made the outward profession. It
will be instructive to examine for a little the methods they adopted for preserving
their influence, extending their power, and crushing the truth. We will thus be
able to understand more perfectly the grounds of the condemnation pronounced
against them, and how their zeal should have produced such fruits. 1. In the
ninth chapter of the Gospel according to John we find the record of a miraculous
work of Jesus, in opening the eyes of a man who had been blind from his birth.
The Pharisees became aware that such a miracle had been wrought, and with great
propriety made immediate and diligent inquiry into the reality of the fact. The
means, then, by which they sought to quench the truth — to induce a denial of the
manifest power of God, and to retain the people as their proselytes and followers —
were to bring against Jesus the accusation of breaking the law of the land. He
who did so, they argued, must be a sinner — he could not come from God, and to
follow him would be certain destruction. 2. Throughout the narratives of tha
CHAP, xn.] ST. LUKE. 471
evangelists there are scattered abundant evidences of another instrument of
proselytizing employed by the Pharisees. It is the language of reviling and scorn.
They ridiculed the poverty of the disciples. Doubtless by such reviling and
mockery they might attain a certain measure of success. 3. Another instrument of
the Pharisees for making and retaining proselytes, was misrepresentation and
calumny. They watched the words of Jesus that they might have something to
report to His disadvantage. 4. The Pharisees made converts by force. They took
np the weapons of persecution and vigorously employed them. The charge as
expressed, pronounces woe against them, because of their great zeal in making
proselytes, and because of the lamentable results which followed apon their eon-"
version. {W. WiUon.)
CHAPTER XXL
Tbbs. 1-4. TUB poor widow hath cast in more than they aXL—The widow's
mites : — Onr Lord wished to see ♦' how the multitude cast money into the collection-
chest " — not only how much — anybody could have discovered that — but in what
manner and spirit it was being done : reverently or irreverently — as unto God or
as unto man — so as to display or so as to conceal the offering — with a conscientious
aim to give all that was due, or a self -convicted sense that a part thereof was being
withheld. The searching eye of the Master struck through the outward demeanour
of each passing worshipper, right down to the motive that swayed the hand. He
was reading the heart of each giver. He was marking whether the gift was the
mere fruit of a devotionless habit — a sheer affectation of religious liberality — or,
as it ought to be, a humble and sincere token of gratitude and consecration to God.
These were the inquiries that were engaging the mind of our Lord on this memor-
able occasion. We are not informed how long He had sat or what discoveries He had
made before the arrival of the "poor vndow," but He noticed that she gave but
two " mites " ; and knowing that this was all she had, He discerned the unselfish-
oess and love that prompted an offering which would perhaps be her last oblation
on the altar of the Lord. This act of imfeigned devotion touched Him at once,
insomuch that He immediately called His disciples, and drew their attention to so
striking and instructive a case. It was her gift, rather than any other, that
attracted the greatest interest in the courts of heaven. It was her offering, rather
than any other, that was alone worthy of a permanent record in the Gospel History
and the "books of eternal remembrance." And why? Not only because she
gave " all her living," but because she gave it unto the Lord "with all her heart."
Not at all in a spirit of petulance or desperation, as might have been the case ; not
at all because she saw want staring her in the face, and thought it no longer
worth her while to retain the paltry coins she possessed. On the contrary, it was
the fineness of the woman's spirit, the richness of her gratitude and love, the
wealth of her self-forgetfulness and trust under the severity of her trials, that
gave her little gift the exceeding rareness of its value. She was neither despairing
nor repining, but "walking by faith" and in contentment, reflecting that, not-
withstanding her indigence, there was none to whom she was so great a debtor as
unto the Lord her God, who in His providence had given her all she had, or ever
had had, or ever would have, temporal and spiritual. And out of the depths of
her adoration and thankfulness she says unto herself, "I will go," in iny poverty
and sincerity, " and pay my vows unto the Lord in the presence of all His people,"
oast my slender and oiJy offering into the sacred treasury, and await the goodness
of His hand in " the land of the living." The other worshippers were giving
f ariously, but all " of their abundance " ; or, as the Bevised Version has it, ♦' of their
superfluity." They never missed what they gave. They were sacrificing nothing to
enable them to give. They could have given more, some of them far more, and
never have felt tiie slightest pressure in consequence. But the " poor widow " had
not an iota more to offer. She gave her " uttermost farthing," and she gave it
gladly. (J. W. Pringle, M.A.) The duty of almtgiving : — 1. It is necessary and
scriptural that there be public voluntary contributions for pious and charitable
purposes. 2. Both the rich and the poor should contribute to pious and charitable
purposes, and that according to their respective ability. 8. It concerns us all t«
472 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxu
see that oul contributions be such, in respect of the principles and motives from
■which they flow, as will meet with the Divine approbation. 4. Be exhorted to
cast liberally into the offerings of God, by the encouraging considerations which
are placed before you in His Word. (1) Remember that the eye of the Lord Jesus
Christ is upon you. (2) Bemember, again, the considerations connected with the
amazing kindness of your God and Saviour to you. (3) Be exhorted, once more,
to give liberally, by the consideration of the promise of an abundant recompense,
both in this world and in the world to come. (Jas, Foote, M.A.) The anonymotu
widow : — It is related of Father Taylor, the sailor missionary of Boston, that on
one occasion, when a minister was urging that the names of the subscribers to an
institution (it was the missionary cause) should be published, in order to increase
the funds, and quoted the account of the poor widow and her two mites, to justify
this trumpet-sounding, he settled the question by rising from his seat, and asking
in his clear, shrill voice, " Will the speaker please give us the name of that poor
widow ? " {Christian Age.) The widow's mite : — When it is said that this mite
was all this woman's living, it must, of course, mean all her living for that day.
She threw herself upon the providence of God to supply her with her evening meal
or night's lodging. From what she gave, which the Lord brought to light and
commended, the expression " I give my mite " has passed into a proverb, which
in the mouths of many who use it is ridiculous, if not profane. What ought tc
be the mite of one in a good business which yields him several hundreds a year
clear proflt ? What ought to be the mite of a professional man in good practice,
after all reasonable family claims are provided for ? A man with an income of at
least two or three hundred a year once said to me, when I called upon bim for
assistance in keeping up a national school, " I wiU think about it, sir, and I will
give you my mite." He did think, and his mite was two shillings. Contrast this
with the following. Two aged paupers, having only the usual parish pay, became
communicants. They determined that they would not neglect the offertory ; but
how was this to be done, as they were on starvation allowance ? Well, during the
week before the celebration, they did without light, sat up for two or three hours
in the dark, and then went to bed, and gave the few pence which they saved in oi)
or rushlights to be laid on the altar of God, (M. F. Sadler.) Giving hit all: —
A gentleman was walking late one night along a street in London, in which stands
the hospital where some of our little friends support a bed (" The May Fair Cot,"
in Ormond Street Hospital) for a sick child. There were three acrobats passing
along there, plodding wearily home to their miserable lodgings after their day's
work ; two of them were men, and they were carrying the ladders and poles with
which they gave their performance in the streets whenever they could collect a
crowd to look on. The third was a little boy in a clown's dress. He trotted
wearily behind, very tired, and looking pale and sick. Just as they were passing
the hospital the little lad's sad face brightened for a moment. He ran up the
steps and dropped into the box attached to the door a little bit of paper. It
was found next morning there. It contained a sixpence, and on the paper was
written, "For a sick child." The one who saw it afterwards ascertained, as he
tells us, that the poor little waif, almost destitute, had been sick, and in his weary
pilgrimage was a year before brought to the hospital, which had been a " House
Beautiful " to him, and he was there cured of his bodily disease. Hands of kindness
had ministered to him, words of kindness had been spoken to him, and he had left it
cured in body and whole in heart. Some one on that day in a crowd had slipped a
sixpence into his hand, and that same night as he passed by, his grateful little heart
gave up for other child-sufferers " all the living that he had." It was all done so
quietly, so noiselessly ; but oh ! believe me, the sound of that little coin falling
into God's treasury that night rose above the roar and din of this mighty city, and
■was heard with joy in the very presence of God Himself. The giving out oj
abundance and out of penury : — " Mamma, I thought a mite was a very little thing.
What did the Lord mean when He said the widow's mite was more than all the
money the rich men gave?" It was Sunday afternoon, and the question was
asked by a little child of eight, who had large, dark, inquiring eyes, that were
always trying to look into things. Mamma had just been reading to her the story
from the Bible, and now she wanted it explained. Mamma thought for a few
minutes, and then said, " Well, Luln, I will tell yon a little story, and then I
think yon will understand why the widow's mite was more valuable than ordinary
mites. There was once a little girl, whose name was Kitty, and this little girl had
ever 80 many dolls, almost more than she could count. Some were made of china,
CHAP, zn.] 8T. LUKE. 473
and others were made of wax, with real hair and beaatiftil eyes that woald open
and shut ; but Eitty was tired of them all, except the newest one, which her auntie
bad given her at Christmas. One day a poor little girl came to the door beggings
and Kitty's mother told her to go and get one of her old dolls and give it away.
She did so, and her old doU was like what the rich men put into the treasury. She
could give it away just as well as not, and it didn't cost her anything. But the
poor Uttle beggar girl was delighted with her dolL She had never had bat one
before, and that was a rag doll ; but this one had such lovely curly hair, and she
had never seen any lady with such an elegant pink silk dress on. She was almost
afraid to hold it against her dirty shawl, for fear of soiling it ; so she hurried
home as fast as she could, to hide it away with her few small treasures. Just as
she was going upstairs to their poor rooms, she saw through the crack of the door
in the basement her little friend Sally, who had been sick in bed all summer, and
who was all alone all day, while her mother went out washing, to try and earn
money enough to keep them from starving. As our little girl looked through the
crack she thought to herself, * I must show Sally my new dolly.' So she rushed
into the room and on to the bed, crying, ' 0 Sally 1 see ! ' Sally tried to reach out
her arms to take it, but she was too sick ; so her little friend held up the dolly,
and as she did so, she thought, * How sick Sally looks to-day t and she hasn't any
dolly.' Then, with one generous impulse, she said, ' Here, Sally, you may have
her.' Now, Lulu, do you see ? The Uttle girl's dolly was like the widow's mite —
she gave her all." The largett giver : — The late BiBhop Selwyn was a man of
ready wit as well as of devout Christian feeling. In his New Zealand diocese it
was proposed to allot the seats of a new church, when the Bishop asked on what
principle the allotment was to be made, to which it was replied that the largest
donors should have the best seats, and so on in proportion. To this arrangement,
to the surprise of every one, the Bishop assented, and presently the question arose who
had given the most. This, it was answered, should be decided by the subscription
list. " And now," said the Bishop, " who has given the most ? The poor widow
in the temple, in casting into the treasury her two mites, had cast in more than
they all ; for they of their abundance had cast into the treasury, but she had cast
in all the living that she had." (W, Baxendale.) A Welsh boy'$ offering : — It is
related of a little Welsh boy who attended a missionary meeting that when he had
given in his collecting card and what he had obtained from his friends, he was greatly
distressed because he had not a halfpenny of his own to put in the plate at the
meeting. His heart was so thrilled with interest in the work that he ran home
and told his mother that he wanted to be a missionary, and asked her to give him
something for the collection, but she was too poor to give him any money. He
was disappointed and cried ; but a thought struck him. He collected all his
marbles, went out, and sold them for a penny, and then went to the meeting again
and put it on the plate, feeling glad that he was able to do something to promote
the cause of missions. What one halfpenny can do: — A son of one of the chiefs
of Burdwan was converted by a single tract. He could not read, but he went to
Bangoon, a distance of two hundred and fifty miles ; a missionary's vrife taught
him to read, and in forty-eight hours he could read the tract through. He then
took a basket fall of tracts ; with much difficulty preached the gospel at his own
home, and was the means of converting hundreds to God. He was a man of
influence ; the people flocked to hear him ; and in one year one thousand five
hundred natives were baptized in Arracan as members of the Church. And all
this through one little tract ! That tract cost one halfpenny I Oh t whose half-
penny was it ? God only knows. Perhaps it was the mite of some little girl ;
perhaps the well-earned oflering of some little boy. But what a blessing it was !
{Bowea.) The gifts of the poor : — Sarah Hosmer, while a factory girl, gave fifty
guineas to support native pastors. When more than sixty years old she longed so
to furnish Nestoria with one more preacher that, living in an attic, she took in
•ewing until she had accomplished her cherished purpose. Dr. Gordon has well
■aid, " In the hands of this consecrated woman, money transformed the factory
girl and the seamstress into a missionary of the Cross and then multiplied her six-
fold." But might we not give a thousand times as much money as Sarah Hosmer
gave, and yet not earn her reward ? The true worth of money : — After all,
objects take their colour from the eyes that look at them. And let us be sssored
that there is an infinite difference in the sight of an eye which is the window of a
Mrdid soul and an eye from which looks a soul that has been ennobled by the royal
loaeh of Christ. There are some eyes that read upon a piece of gold nothing oat
474 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cakp. zxi.
the figures that tell its denomination. There are others, thank Grod, that see open
it truths that thrill and gladden and uplift. If the lust of gold has blinded your
eyes to all else but its conventional value, go to the feet of Christ, and to His ques-
tion, •' What wilt thou that I should do unto thee 7 " answer, •• Lord, that mine
eyes might be opened." And when you have learned to look through money into
that iniinite reach that lies beyond it, you will have learned the lesson of the
gospel. Tou may then be a " rich Christian,** making earth brighter and better,
and building for yourself in heaven " everlasting habitations." Liberal
giving : — In a sequestered glen in Burmah lived a woman, who was known as
Naughapo (Daughter of Goodness). She was the Dorcas of the glen — clothing the
naked, feeding the hungry, soothing the afflicted, and often making her little
dwelling the home of the poor, that they might enjoy the privilege of the neigh-
bouring school. Mrs. Mason, the missionary, visiting her, was struck with the
beauty of her peaceful home — evidently a spot which the Lord had blessed. . . .
The day before she left, a pedlar had called with his tempting fabrics for sale ; but
though this poor woman was in poor garments, she had but one rupee for pur-
chases, while on the following morning she and her family put thirteen rupees into
Mrs. Mason's hand, to be deposited in the mission treasury. {Mrs. Wylie's
** Life of Mrs. Mason.") Noble giving: — General Gordon had a great number
of medals, for which he cared nothing. There was a gold one, however, given to
him by the Empress of China, with a special inscription engraved upon it, for
which he had a great liking. But it suddenly disappeared, no one knew when or
how. Years afterwards it was found out by a curious accident that he had erased
the inscription, sold the medal for ten pounds, and sent the sum anonymously to
Canon Millar, for the relief of the sufferers from the cotton famine at Manchester.
{E. Hake.)
Vers. 5, 6. Adorned with goodly stones and gifts. — On the object and %ue of thg
sanctuary : — I. Tb£ circumstances ttmdeb which Chbist uttebed these wobds.
Every attentive reader of Holy Scripture must have remarked this fact, in the his-
tory of the Bible, viz., that whenever and wheresoever God revealed His choice ol
a spot among the sons of men, to " place His Name there " — where He might be
especially present with them, to receive their worship, and to bestow on them Hia
blessing — that spot was always directed and made to be as great a contrast, and aa
much superior as possible to all other places in which men ordinarily abode. But
all this, as the same attentive reading of Holy Scripture must also convince us, waa
immediately directed to its own great and specific objects. It was designed by God
to lead Hieir thoughts upward to Himself. The temple had been a great pro-
bationary blessing to the Jews; it had been ordained of old by God, for the
advancement of their essential and everlasting good ; and it was now foredoomed
to such ruin and desolation, that " there should not be left in it one stone u^n
another, which should not be thrown down,' only because of the way in wmcb
they had abused their privileges, trampled on their mercies, and forgotten the
covenant while they walked in the very presence of their God. XL Application :
1. These words of our Lord give no sort of encouragement to the notion which
has often prevailed, and has been much repeated in our days, of its being utterly
immaterial what kind of fabric we dedicate to the Most High ; that all must be
alike to Him, and the meanest sufficiently acceptable in His sight ; inasmuch as
" He dwelleth not in temples made with hands," and can be as well honoured
within walls of clay, as beneath the stateliest roof that ever was raised by man.
When men live, according to their respective degrees, in a state which God has
prospered— dwelling, if not, like David, in "houses of cedar," at least in those of
competence and comfort — it is not for them to suffer the " Ark of God to remain
within curtains " ; and though to the wanderer in the desert, or the colonist in his
new settlement, the best tent or cot he could procure might be meet for the service of
his God, yet it is not so for a society of Englishmen, dwelling in the very bosom of
their highly favoured country and Church. How far are we using our Eedeemer'a
sanctuary upon earth, in such a manner as that, when this fails, we maybe received
into " a building of God ; a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens " ?
We must not forget the possibility there is that we might be walking in the judicial
blindness of Israel, whilst we are possessed of all the light, and ail the means of
grace, with which the Christian Church is entrusted. (J. PuckU.) Admiration
for tfie outward form rather than for the spiritual meaning : — Is there any one
Christian, however austere, who, on entering the body of oar cathedral not for the
CHAP. XXI.] ST. LUKE. 475
first time bat the twentieth, and allowing his eye to wander along its avenue of
columns, or into the depth at once so mysterious and so impressive, of the distant
choir; or towards those arches, at once light and bold, which, like a vigorous
vegetation on each pilaster, throw out and intertwine their stems at the centre — ia
there any one who has not said to himself. How beautiful this is I what harmony I
what unison among all these stones ! what music in this architecture I what poetry
in this edifice 1 Those who reared it are dead, but though dead they still speak to
us ; and their conception, full of adoration, their conception, a species of prayer,
is so united to their work, that we think we feel it and breathe it as we advance
within these walls which carry us over a vista of ages. Such ia our feeling ; and if
we are not alone, we can scarcely help giving it utterance. Thus, doing what the
disciples did when they exclaimed. What stones ! what buildings 1 might we not
hear ourselves addressed by our Lord in words of reproof, " Is it this you are look-
ing at ? " And why should we not be reproved if our soul goes no farther than our
eye, if it stops where our eye is obliged to stop ; if symbols, appearances, visible
things, hold it captive ; if the splendours of art chain down our heart to the earth
instead of raising it to heaven ? This is the censure which Jesus Christ passes on
His disciples. He had looked into their souls, and there detected that lust of the
flesh, that lust of the eye, and that pride of life, which are the three connecting
chains by which the enemy of God links us closely to outer darkness. The man
and the Jew were equally revealed in that involuntary exclamation ; man, dazzled
by whatever is seen, and filled with contempt for what is not seen ; the Jew, proud
of the exterior pomp of a worship, the deep meaning and internal idea of which
had long escaped him, and attaching himself obstinately to the law — in other
words, a shadow, at the very moment when this law was more than ever a shadow.
Is it this you are looking at ? What ! these few grains of dust, which are large
only because yon are little? Whatl these gifts extorted by fear, vanity, and
custom, from individuals who refused to begin by giving themselves to God?
What i the gorgeous falsehood of these marbles and gildings, of aU those orna>
ments, the pious import of which has long since been forgotten ? Is it this you
are looking at ? (A. Vimt, D.D.) Looking at the true grandeur of Christianity : —
Christianity has taken a form in the world ; it has become visible. Travelling
over ages, and propagating itself in the world, it has assumed a place among the
things to which the world pays regard ; and besides this grandeur of space and
duration which procures it a species of respect on the part of the most indifferent,
it has, by its intellectual grandeur (I mean by the grandeur of the ideas which it
expresses, and those which it suggests), captivated the regard and admiration of
thinkers. Thus is it great after the fashion of the world. Beware of admiring it
most of all for that grandeur. Let us fear lest its true grandeur escape our notice.
Let us not allow our eye to be misled, and oblige Jesus Christ to say to us again,
" Is it this yon are looking at?" How great our misfortune if we should have
entered the empire of the invisible only to link ourselves more securely to the
visible, and if in the kingdom of spirit we should have been able only to find the
world I How miserable, U trusting to those vain and hollow words, " The temple
of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord," we should neglect,
as the prophet says in the same place, thoroughly to amend onr ways and our doings
(Jer. vii. 4, 5). To look only to this twofold greatness of Christianity, the material
and intellectual, is truly to do like the first companions of Jesus Clu-ist, to fix oar
look upon stones. Vast thoughts, secular traditions, splendid recollections, all
these are stones ; cold materials, hard and dead. There are other stones, living
stones, which form together a spiritual building, a holy priesthood (1 Peter ii. 5).
{Ibid.) Warnings: — 1. That sin has laid the foundation of ruin in the most
flourishing cities and kingdoms ; Jerusalem, the glory of the world, is here by sin
threatened to be made a desolation. 2. That the threatenings of God are to be
feared, and shall be fulfilled, whatever appearing improbabilities there may be to
the contrary. It is neither the temple's strength, nor beauty, that can oppose or
withstand God's power. (W. Burkitt.) The destruction of the temple foretold : —
With this scene before them they most have found it harder BtUl to acquiesce in
the thought of the destruction of the city and temple. Bat the prediction of their
overthrow contained an important lesson for the disciples and for us. It is this —
1. ImBTITCTIOMS and BYSTKMg OV SEUOION OPPOSED TO ChBIST, BOWCTXB STBONO
AKD SPLENDID THET HAT APPEAB, ABB DOOMED TO DSSTBCCTIOII. They hftTO nO
guarantee for their continuance and perpetuity in the splendour and toasuTe
strength of their temples. Error is weak and on the road to downfadl, no mattac
476 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip, xbu
how strong it looks, and truth is strong and on the way to victory, no matter how
weak and insignificant it appears. Other religions besides Judaism have iUastrated
these truths. It was thus with the ancient Greek and Boman religions. Whea
Paul went to Ephesus, where the goddess Diana was worshipped, her temple so
luagniiicent and stately was regarded as one of the seven wonders of the world.
Wbat was thus witnessed in the ancient world, wherever and whenever its religions
came in contact and conflict with Christianity, is repeated in every age. It is being
witnessed to-day in Japan and in India where long-established systems of religion,
with imposing rites and magnificent temples, are gradually being undermined by
the influence of the gospel. The splendid and massive structures in which those
religions have been enshrined have no power to preserve them. They are crumb-
ling before the preaching of the Cross. They belong to those transitory '* human
things," whose fate a brilliant English historian compares to that of icebergs drift-
ing southward oat of the frozen seas. ** So long as the equilibrium is sustained
you would think they were stable as the rocks. But the sea-water is warmer thaa
the air. Hundreds of fathoms down the tepid current washes the base of the
berg. Silently in those far deeps the centre of gravity is changed, and then, in a
moment, with one vast roll, the enormous mass heaves over, and the crystal peaka
which had been glancing so proudly in the sunlight are buried in the ocean for ever."
II. ThK disciples of ChBIST ABE TO EXPKCT AKD BE ON TBEIB OOABO AGAINST
IMFOSTOBS AHD FALSE Chbists. " Many shall come in My name, saying, I am
Christ, and shall deceive many." The liability to be deceived by such impostors
exists in all men. For in the souls of all there is an expectation of, or longing for,
a mighty deliverer like the Messiah of the prophets. If Jesus is rejected, or not
confidently believed in as the true Christ, some false Christ is likely to win their
faith and lead astray. IIL Jesus teaches His disciples that befobe His belioiok
FINALLY TBICMPHS THET UUST HEAB AND SITFFKB AMD WITNESS MANY DBEADFtTL AND DIS-
TRES8IMO THINQS AS INCIDENTS IN ITS CONQUEST OF THE WOBLD. " Ye shall hear," he
said, " of wars and rumours of wars. . . . Nation shall rise against nation and
kingdom against kingdom ; there shall be earthquakes in divers places ; there shall
be famines. . . . They shall deliver you up to councils ; and in synagogues ye shall
be beaten ; and before governors and kings shall ye stand for My sake for a testi-
mony unto them." Bat the fearful prophecy was mingled with words that spanned
the dark cloud with a rainbow ol hope. " Be not troubled," He said ; '♦ these things
must needs come to pass . . . these things are the beginning of travail." " They
must needs come to pass," because they were the inevitable consequences of sin —
the retribation long delayed but steadily accumulating, for the sins of the nation in
the past. lY. In this conflict with sin and false bsuqion thbt should bblt
FOB DEFENCE AN» VOB VICTOBY UPON THE DiVINE HELP.
Vers. 7-28. Uaster, liat when shall these things be ? — Judaitm overthrown :--l.
The Masteb's wabnino concsbnino false Chbists. 1. Many will assume the daring
rdle. (1) Some saying, " I am Christ." (2) Others saying, " The time draweth
near." 2. There is danger of being deceived. "Take heed," &c II. The
Masteb's instbcction in bespeot to what must pbeceds His coiono. 1. The great
events which must precede. (1) Political commotion. (2) Physical changes. (3)
Social distresses. 2. The persecution that must precede. (1) Its severity. (2)
Its advantage. (3) Support under it. (4) Assurance and counsel in view of it.
8. Jerusalem's destruction must precede it. (1) This destruction was then near.
(2) This destruction terrible. Lessons : 1. Christ's wonderful knowledge of future
events. (1) He foreknew the destiny of all nations. (2j The opposition with
which Christianity would be met. (3) The trials His disciples would have to
endure. (4) Christ knows no surprise. 2. Christ's wonderful ability to maintain
His gospel and to sustain his followers. (1) No power can overthrow it. (2) His
followers will triumph. 3. Jerusalem's destruction symbolizes the dreadful doom
of those who reject Christ. (D. <7. Hughes, M.A.] The end .-—When I was a
Sunday-school scholar — after I had finished reading my library bocks— I would
look at the words on the last pages, "The end," and underneath these words
were pictures ; some of them I remember. There was a hand holding an inverted
torch, and it seemed to say, " The flame is dying out, this is the end." Another
picture was a candlestick with a candle burned almost oat, and the last flickering
light of the candle said, " The light is going out, soon it will leave you in
darkness." In another book a man was seen as having left his house, the door
was closed and he was shut oat in the outer darkness. He was waUdng in •
OHAv. rsi,] ST. LUKE. 477
Barrow path, and just before him there was a pitfall, and in it were the words,
" The end " ; truly man steps out of this life into the next. There was a picture
I saw only once, but I can never forget the impression that it left on my mind.
It was a midnight scene, with the moon and stars lighting ap the darkness that
hung over a graveyard, and on a tombstone more prominent than the rest were
these impressive words, " The end." So there is an end to a book, an end to onr
days, onr months, our lives, and an end to everything on earth. There is an end
of working, of learning, and, whether neglected or improved, there will be an end
of all our teaching. Sabbath-school scholars and teachers, •' Work while it is day,
for the night cometh when no man can work." {American Sunday School World.)
Experience of an earthquake : — The traveller Humboldt gives an interesting account
of the first earthquake he witnessed. It was at Cumana, in South America. The
first shock came after a strange stillness. It caused an earthquake in his mind,
for it overthrew in a moment all his lifelong notions about the safety of the earth.
He could no longer trust the soil which up to that day had felt so firm under his
feet. He had only one thought — universal, boundless destruction. Even the cro-
codiles ran from the river Orinoco howling into the woods ; the dogs and pigs were
powerless with fear. The whole city seemed " the hearth of destruction." The
hoQses could not shelter, for they were falling in ruins. He turned to the trees,
but they were overthrown. His next thought was to run to the mountains, but
they were reeling like drunken men. He then looked towards the sea. Lo ! it had
fled ; and the ships, which a few minutes before were in deep water, were rocking
on the bare sand. He tells us that, being then at his wit's end, he looked up, and
observed that heaven alone was perfectly calm and unshaken. Many strange
things are yet to come upon the world — earthquakes, overturnings, npheavings.
But amid them all, as the Book tells as, the Christian shall look ap to the
heavenly One, " Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever," and
to His heavenly home which cannot be moved. {From '* Bible Echoes") Fre-
quency of earthquakea: — An earthquake is only a volcano hushed up. When
Stromboli and Gotopaxi and Vesuvius stop breathing, let the foundations of the
earth beware. Seven thousand earthquakes in two centuries recorded in the
catalogue of the British Association. Trajan, the Emperor, goes to ancient Antioch,
and amid the splendour of his reception is met by an earthquake that nearly de-
stroys the Emperor's life. Lisbon, fair and beautiful at ten o'clock on November
1, 1755, in six minutes sixty thousand have perished, and Voltaire writes of them :
•• For that region it was the last judgment, nothing wanting but a trumpet ! "
Europe and America feeling the throb. Fifteen hundred chimneys in Boston
partially or fully destroyed. But the disasters of other centuries have had their
counterpart in our own. In 1812 Caracas was caught in the grip of the earthquake;
in 1822, in Chili, one hundred thousand square miles of land by volcanic force
upheaved to four and seven feet of permanent elevation ; in 1854 Japan felt the
geological agony ; Naples shaken in 1857 ; Mexico in 1858 ; Mendoza, the capital
of the Argentine Bepublic, in 1861 ; Manilla terrorised in 1863 ; the Hawaiaa
Islands by such force uplifted and let down in 1871; Nevada shaken in 1871,
Antioch in 1872, California in 1872, San Salvador in 1873, while in the summer of
1883 what subterranean excitements ! Ischia, an island of the Mediterranean, a
beautiful Italian watering-place, vineyard clad, sarrounded by all natural charm
and historical reminiscence ; yonder Capri, the summer resort of the Roman
«mperors ; yonder, Naples, the paradise of art — this beautiful island suddenly
toppled into the trough of the earth, eight thousand merry-makers perishing, and
some of them so far dovm beneath the reach of human obsequies that it may be
said of many a one of them as it was said of Moses, " The Lord buried him." {Dr.
Talmage.) It shall turn to you for a testimony. — The testimony of life: — The
tale of it shall live on. The light of their lives shall shine through their forms
and reveal the inner glory in eternity. This is the eternal recompense — reve-
lation. The revelation of the Christhke spirit in a world where to be Christlike
is to be glorious and blessed ; where the scars of battle are marks of honour,
and the martyr's brow is anointed like Christ's with the oil of joy and gladness
through eternity. And now what are we doing which shall turn to os for a
testimony at t^at day? A testimony of what? What is the record that shall
be read out about as? What hidden things shall the book of remembrance
feveal? How much is said and done daily because we love God and moit do
His will at whatever cost ? Many a clever stroke of business is done, no doobt ;
many a happy speculation ; or perhaps a brilliant trick, or next door to it. Quits
178 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, rsfc
right, quite fair, no donbt, as business goes in these days, bat not the kincl
of thing which will turn to you for a testimony when it is read out on high.
Bealize it. Set it before your mind's eye. Beings of angelic truth, purity, charity,
all round you, circle beyond circle ; and Christ, who lived that life which it make»
us blush to read about, in the midst. And what is there in your life in tune with
it ; which you will hear read out with joy in that great company ; which makes-
you the blessed freeman of that world in which "the Lamb who was slain " is
King ? What deeds do we leave for recompense at the resurrection of the just ?
No matter what the world thinks about it, the real question is, What do we think
of it ourselves f In the quiet hours when the world is shut out, and its babbling is
silent, what do we think of it ? There is a sterner, surer Judge within than any
that the world can set to weigh us. How stand we before that tribunal ? It wiii
prophesy to us how we shall stand before the bar of Christ at last. (J. B. Brown,
B.A.) I will give you a mouth and wisdom. — Christ's promise the support of
His despised ministers: — I. The prediction here implied, viz., that the apostles
should not fail of adversaries to oppose them. This, indeed, was to be no small
argument of their apostolic mission. For such as engage themselves in the servio*
of that grating, displeasing thing to the world, called "truth," must expect th»
natural issue and consequent of truth, which is a mortal hatred of those who
epeak it. The next thing offering itself to our consideration is, how this enmity
(especially in the apostles' time, which the words chiefly point at) was to exert
itself. 1. For gainsaying; the word in the Greek is dprtivelv, importing oppo-
sition in disputation, with an endeavour to refel or confute what is alleged by
another. And thus we find the apostles frequently and fiercely encountered by
adversaries of very different persuasions, by Jews and Gentiles, and the several
sects belonging to both. They were perpetually railed at as deceivers and impos-
tors, even while they were endeavouring to undeceive the world from those wretched
impostures and delusions which had so long and so miserably bewitched it : in a
word, they were like physicians exchanging cures for curses ; and reviled and
abused by their froward patients, while they were doing all they could for their
health and recovery. But — 2. The other branch of the opposition designed against
the apostles and ministers of Christ is expressed by " resisting " ; a word importing
a much more substantial kind of enmity than that which only spends at the mouth,
and shows itself in froth and noise ; an enmity which, instead of scoffs and verbal
assaults, should encounter them with all that art could contrive or violence execute ;
with whips and scourges, cross and gibbet, swords and axes; and though bare
words draw no blood, yet these, to be sure, would. And such were the weapons
with which they were to act their butcheries upon the Christians ; till at length,
through all the sorts and degrees of cruelty, the same martyrdom should both crown
and conclude their sufferings together. II. Christ's promise to His apostles
Of SUCH AN assistance FROM ABOVE AS SHOULD OVERCOME AND MASTER ALL THEIBT
adversaries' opposition. 1. For the thing promised, "a mouth and wisdom";
that is, an ability of speaking, joined with an equal prudence in action and
behaviour. Which things we will consider first singly, and then in conjunction.
And — (1) For the ability of speaking conferred upon the apostles. It was highly
requisite that those who were to be the interpreters and spokesmen of heaven
should have a rhetoric taught them from thence too ; and as much beyond any that
could be taught them by human rules and art as the subjects they were to speak of
surpassed the subject of all human eloquence. Now this abUity of speech, I con-
ceive, was to be attended with these three properties of it. (a) Great clearness and
perspicuity, (b) An unaffected plainness and simplicity, (c) A suitable and
becoming zeal or fervour. (2) The other and next is that of wisdom, the noblest
endowment of the mind of man of all others, of an endless extent, and of a
boundless comprehension ; and, in a word, the liveliest representation that a
created nature can afford of the infinity of its Maker. And this, as it is in men, is
properly the great principle, directing them how to demean themselves in all the
particular passages, accidents, and occasions of human life, which being in the full
compass of them indeed innumerable, to recount and treat of them all here would
be next to impossible ; but as for that wisdom which most peculiarly belonged to
the first dispensers and ministers of the gospel, I shall only mention two instances,
in which it most remarkably shows itself, namely — (a) That they opposed neither
things nor persons, any further than they stood in their way in the ministry of it.
On the contrary, « I am become all things to all men," sajrs St. Paul, and that
neither to gain favoor nor interest, but only conrertE to Christianity (1 Cor. ix. 2S).
CHAP. XXI.3 ST. LUKE. 47S
(6) The other instance of the wisdom given by our Saviour to His apostles was
their resolute opposing all doctrines and interests whatsoever, so far as they stood
in opposition to the gospel. 2. The person promising, who was Christ Himself :
"I will give you a mouth and wisdom." I lay particular stress and remark upon
this, because Christ seems by this very thing to give His disciples an assurance of
His resurrection. For surely they could not expect to receive gifts from above,
while the giver of them was underground. IH. By what means Christ conferred
THOSE oiTTS UPON Hi3 DISCIPLES AND APOSTLES ; and that we find was by the effusion
of the Holy Ghost, the author and giver of every good and perfect gift, ministerial
gifts more especially. (R. South, D.D.) A scoffer silenced : — One evening, a few
yeare ago, while a few believers in Christ were holding an open-air meeting in the
Caledonian Boad, London, a man commenced to mock the speaker and taunt him
with being paid half-a-crown to come and preach to the people, and even went so
far as to charge the preacher with telling a parcel of lies. No notice was taken of
the mocker for some Uttle time, but as he persisted in making a disturbance, and
declaring that the person addressing the meeting did it for money, and that it was
a good thing for him to be able to get half-a-crown so easily, the gentleman stopped
short in his discourse, and turning to the scoffer, said, " My dear friend, it is you
that are uttering untruths ; I do not preach for half-a-crown, but for a crown, • a
crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me ; ' and
He will give you one too if you will only go to Him and ask for it." The disturber
said but little after this, and stayed till the meeting closed. A martyr's beautiful
reply : — That was a beautiful reply of Margaret Maitland, Scotland's maiden
martyr, to her persecutors. They had bound an aged Christian to a stake far out
between low and high tide, and Margaret herself to another stake nearer the shore.
They hoped that, seeing the struggles and painful death of her companion, she would
be terrified and would recant. She gazed on the awful scene with deep sympathy, but
without any manifestation of fear. When they asked her, " Margaret, what do you
see yonder ? " she replied, •• I see Christ suffering in the person of one of His saints."
She knew that when her turn came to be suffocated by the rising tide Christ would
be with her also ; that He would share in her sufferings ; that He would sustain her
in the terrible ordeal. This is the kind of faith we need for ourselves and for the
Church. In your patience possess ye yotir souls. — Patience : — It should rather
read, By your endurance ye shall gain possession of your lives. It is also " ye shall
bring your spiritual life safely through the coming troubles." It was a sore trial for
the early Christians to be severed from their holy places, from their city home. In
that sundering of cherished ties there lay, we may well believe, an agony that changed
the very nature of those who endured it. But it taught them to look far afield, to
bow down at no single shrine, and sent them forth to evangelize the world. Out of
the ruin of their most cherished relics there grew up a more noble conception of the
Church. Age after age each time of change has seemed to bring with it the end ; afr
each crisis have been heard the same appeals to heaven, the same despair of earth v-
and yet to those who had patience the evil time has passed away, and men have
found themselves living in a fresh air of hope with expanded vision and larger
powers for good. _ Our tranquility is Uttle affected by news of distant suffering. It
is the old Horatian difference between the eyes and the ears. We fancy that our
own troubles are far the worst the world has ever been called on to undergo.
Warnings come from older men to whom the dark cloud seems to cover the heavens.
The young see the sunshine coming up with soft rich colours of promise from
behind the storm. Are there any peculiar causes for alarm ? I. The alarm is as
old as Christendom. II. The existence of some life is a cheering thing. HI, We
need more manliness in our religion ; more that will attract hard-knit men. IV. If
the Christian faith is to declare its Divine origin in the face of vehement attack or
learned contempt, it cannot be by shutting itself up in safe sanctuary and refusing
to enter the field with its antagonists. It is not without anguish that we rise " out
of our dead selves to better things." Yet there is no other way for the nobles ol
mankind. {Dean Kitchin.) On patience : — The possession of our souls is a very
emphatical expression. It describes that state in which a man has both the full
command, and the undisturbed enjoyment, of himself ; in opposition to his nnder<
({oing some inward agitation which discomposes his powers. Upon the least
reflection it must appear, how essential such a state of mind is to happiness. He
only who thus possesses his soul is capable of possessing any other thing with
advantage ; and, in order to attain and preserve this self-possession, the most im-
portant requisite is, the habitual exercise of patience. I ^ow that patience is apt
480 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha». to.
to be ranked, by many, among the more bumble and obscure virtues ; belonging
chiefly to those who groan on a sick bed, or who languish in a prison. If their
fiituation be, happily, of a different kind, they imagine that there is no occasion for
the discipline of patience being preached to them. But I hope to make it appear,
that, in every circumstance of life, no virtue is more important, both to duty and to
happiness ; or more requisite for forming a manly and worthy character. Ife
principally, indeed, regards the disagreeable circumstances which are apt to occur.
But in our present state, the occurrence of these is so frequent, that, in every con-
dition of life, patience is incessantly called forth. I. Patience under provocations.
We are provoked, sometimes by the folly and levity of those with whom we are con-
nected ; sometimes by their indifference, or neglect ; by the incivility of a friend,
the haughtiness of a superior, or the insolent behaviour of one in lower station.
Hardly a day passes, without somewhat or other occurring, which serves to ruffle
the man of impatient spirit. Of course, such a man lives in a continual storm.
He knows not what it is to enjoy a train of good humour. Servants, neighbours,
friends, spouse, and children, all, through the unrestrained violence of his temper,
become sources of disturbance and vexation to him. In vain is affluence ; in vain
are health and prosperity. The least trifle is sufficient to discompose his mind, and
poison his pleasures. His very amusements are mixed with turbulence and passion.
I would beseech this man to consider of what small moment the provocations
which he receives, or at least imagines himself to receive, are really in themselves ;
but of what great moment he makes them by suffering them to deprive him of the
possession of himstlf. II. Patience under disappointments. Are we not, each in
his turn, doomed to experience the uncertainty of worldly pursuits 7 Why, then,
aggravate our misfortunes by the unreasonable violence of an impatient spirit f
Perhaps the accomplishment of oar designs might have been pregnant with misery.
Perhaps from our present disappointment future prosperity may rise. lU. Patiencii
undkb restraints. No man is, or can be, always his own master. We are obliged,
in a thousand cases, to submit and obey. The discipline of patience preserves our
minds easy, by conforming them to our state. By the impetuosity of an impatient
and onsubmitting temper, we fight against an unconquerable power; and aggravate
the evils we must endure. lY. Patience under injuries and wronos. To these,
amidst the present confusion of the world, all are exposed. No station is so high,
no power so great, no character so unblemished, as to exempt men from being
attacked by rashness, malice, or envy. To behave under such attacks with due
patience and moderation, is, it must be confessed, one of the most trying exercises
of virtue. But, in order to prevent mistakes on this subject, it is necessary to
observe, that a tame submission to wrongs is not required by religion. We are by
no means to imagine that religion tends to extinguish the sense of honour, or to
suppress the exertion of a manly spirit. It is under a false apprehension of this
kind that Christian patience is sometimes stigmatized in discourse as no otJier
than a different name for cowardice. On the contrary, every man of virtue ought
:to feel what is due to his character, and to support properly his own rights. Be-
aentment of wrong is a useful principle in human nature ; and for the wisest pur-
poses was implanted in our frame. It is the necessary guard of private rights; and
the great restraint on the insolence of the violent, who, if no resistance were made,
'would trample on the gentle and peaceable. Besentment, however, if not kept
-within due bounds, is in hazard of rising into fierce and cruel revenge. It is the
office of patience to temper resentment by reason. V. Patience under adversity
AND AF7LI0TION. This is the most common sense in which this virtue is understood;
as it respects disease, poverty, old age, loss of friends, and the other calamities which
are incident to human life. In general, there are two chief exercises of patience under
adversity ; one respecting God, and another respecting men. Patience with respeot
to God, must, in the days of trouble, suppress the risings of a murmuring and
rebellious spirit. Patience in adversity, with respect to men, must appear by the
composure and tranquility of our behaviour. The loud complaint, the querulous
temper, and fretful spirit, disgrace every character. They show a mind that is un-
manned by misfortunes. We weaken thereby the sympathy of others ; and estrange
them from the offices of kindness and comfort. The exertions of pity will be feeble,
'when it is mingled with contempt. {H. Blair, D.D.) On patience : — Now the
feelings nnavoidably disagreeable to us, and tempting as to impatience, are chiefly
pain, sorrow, fear, and anger. 1. Pain : under which may be comprehended also
siekness, restlessness, and languid lowness. 2. The next source of impatience before
flMntioned is sorrow : which sometimes is mere sympathy with the calamities of
OHA». xn.] ST. LUKE. 481
others. 3. The next canse of impatience, mentioned before was fear. 4. The last
trial of our patience, of which I proposed to speak, is anger. (T. Seeker.) Patient
»elf-possession in times of trial: — Be collected, that you may be strong; stand still, and
stand firmly, if you can do nothing else ; do not slip back, or step aside, or attempt
anything wrong or questionable. Patience is not merely a passive submission to evil,
a dull, stupid, unfeeling indifference, like the insensibility of wood or stone; it is the
result of thought ; it implies effort ; it is a sort of active bearing up of oneself under
the pressure of calamity, which at once indicates self-possession and secures it ; it
reacts upon that from which it proceeds, and causes it to become stronger and
stronger. I wish now to request your attention to some of the advantages which
flow from obedience to the precept, in the case of Christians, when called to suffer
great affliction, or when exposed to the fear of impending calamity. 1. In the first
place, there is the consciousness of not increasing the affliction by sin. If a
Christian is impatient, and gives way to fretfulness and temper, or other forms of
restiveness under trouble, he not only loses the advantage of calmness and self-
possession, but his conscience receives a fresh injury ; his proper religious feelings
are hurt ; his inward personal peace is disturbed ; and thus the trouble presses
upon him with double weight. It is a great blessing not to be exposed to this.
Z* In the next place, self-possession in a time of trouble will enable an individual to
take a just view of his actual circumstances, and of the nature and ends of the
Divine infliction. We are under the rule and guidance of One who has always aa
object in what He does — an object worthy of Himself, and connected with the peace
and holiness of His Church. 3. In the third place, the man who has full possession
of himself in a time of affliction will be able to engage in certain exercises of mind
which trouble calls to, but which are impossible, or next to it, when the soul is dis-
turbed by agitation and excitement. *' In the day of adversity consider." " Call
upon Me in the day of trouble." "Glorify Me in the flre." "Enter into thy
chamber." "Be still, and know that I am Qod." "My son, despise not thoa
the chastening of the Lord, neither faint when thoa art rebuked of Him."
But none of these things can be done, or done well, if the man is not quiet, patient,.
and self-possessed ; if be is the victim of hurry, alarm, consternation, and surprise.
4. Observe, fourthly, that it is only by such self-possession as the text inculcates^
that an individual will be able to select and apply the proper means of escape from
calamity, or which may help him to meet it, or to counteract its effects. .5. In the
last place, obedience to the text, explained as an exhortation, will best prepare a
man for the end and result of trouble, whatever that result may be. If the cloud
and the calamity pass away, and the man be fuUy delivered from it, he will be able
to look back with serenity and gratitude, free from self-reproach or shame. If
it terminate fatally, for himself or others, he wUl be able to acquiesce, with in-
telligent faith, in the Divine will. {W.Binnie, D.D.) The soul won by patience: —
The Authorised Version reads, "In your patience possess ye your souls." It bida
the imperilled Christian, fortified by promise, to endure to the end, keeping his soul
tranquil and trustful. A beautiful precept, yet inferior, both in reading and render-
ing, but most certainly in the latter, to one other, which is that of the Bevised
Version, "In your patience ye shall win your souls." For the imperative we
substitute the future ; in other words, for precept we read promise. This is one
change — for " possess " we read " win " ; for a soul given in creation, we are bidden
to look for a soul to be given in glory. The case is one of those in which the word
before us always means to acquire, and never means to possess. Now we turn from
a comparison of renderings to tiie appUcation of the saying itself. "In your
patience ye shall win your souls," •'some of you shall be put to death," "ye shall
be hated of all men," " not a hair of your head shall perish," " in your patience ye
shall win your souls." Death itself shall not prevent this ; for the soul here spoken
of is the life's life, the thing which unbelief and unfaithfulness can alone forfeit for
any man, the thing which is saved by faith, the thing which is acquired, gained,
won in the exercise of patience. There is a lower truth in the saying in reference
to this present life. Multitudes of human lives have been won by patience ; the
histories of battles and sieges are in large part histories of the triumph of patience;
cities would have been lost, and fields would have been lost, but for the grace of
patience in the commanders and the leaders. But certainly the converse is true ;
in patience has been defeat, has been disaster, has been bloodshed, a thousand and
ten thousand times ; the analogy of earth and time gives support to the promise
when we read it as it was spoken of the soul and of things heavenly. What is
patience as Christ speaks it ? The Greek word for patience is made up of two part8»
VOL. m. 81
482 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [(ii/A». xo.
one meaning oontinnance, and the other meaning submission ; so that the com-
bined term may be defined as submissive waiting, that frame of mind which is will-
ing to wait as knowing whom it serves, willing to endure as seeing the Invisible ;
recognizing the creaturely attitude of subjection to the Creator ; recognizing also
the filial relationship which implies a controlling hand and a loving mind in heaven.
Submissive waiting, this is patience, and we see, then, why great things should be
spoken of it, why it should even be made the sum of Christian virtues, why to it
rather than to any other grace, the promise should be affixed, " In your patience" —
in the exercise, resolved and unwearied, of the grace of submissive expectancy — " ye
shall at last win your souls." " Then the soul is not yet won ? " Yes and no ; the
soul, the true life of each one, is already redeemed, bought, bought back with
precious blood ; and the soul, the life's life of each one, is already committed to us
by Christ Himself for omnipotent keeping. " I know," St. Paul writes, " whom I
have believed, and I am persuaded that He is able to guard my deposit " — the soul
which I have committed to Him — "against that day." This is true. Our Lord
speaks not here to contradict His own word, or to vitiate His own work, which says
quite indiscriminately in Holy Scripture, "Ye were saved," that is, on Calvary;
" Ye have been saved," this is, in redemption ; " Ye are being saved," that is, in the
work of grace; "Ye shall be saved," that is, in the day of glory. But, in fullest
consistency with all these, there is room for a promise, " Ye shall win your souls."
Let no man presume. There is a sense in which the life's life hangs suspended on
that mark, as St. Paul calls it, which is the goal of the race. " I," he says, " count
not myself to have apprehended." There is a grace of submissive expectancy ;
still, and because there is this, there is a something yet in front of me. At present
I do not quite possess even my own soul. Oh 1 it often eludes me when I would
say, ** All my own I carry with me." Oh I there are many misgivings and doubtinga
in us, even in the things most surely believed. I cannot always command the life's
life, which is the soul, when I would carry it with me to the mercy-seat. I find
earth and the world, flesh, and sense oftentimes too strong and too predominately
present with me just when I would be at my very best for prayer and praise. I
caimot pretend to say that I have quite attained even to the possession of my own
innermost being. A great promise. Now let us lose ourselves for a moment in the
contemplation of this promise, " Ye shall win your souls " ; and then in one last
word see the connection of it with the realm and region of patience. " In your
patience ye shall win your souls " : at last my soul shall be my own. That is the
promise. It is a wonderful interpretation of a wonderful saying appended to the
parable of the unrighteous steward : " If ye have not been faithful in the use of "
that which was so precarious and so fugitive that even while you had it it might
rather be called " another's " — the possession in greater or lesser measure of the
substance of this world — '• who," our Lord asks, " who should give you that which
is your own " — that which is your own, still to be won — the soul, the life's life of
this text? Patience may lack, often does lack, one at least of its ingredients;
there might be a waiting which was no submission, which, on the contrary, was in-
dolence, was procrastination, was dallying, the man sitting still, and letting alone,
and waiting upon chances which are no grace at all, but the opposite; or
there might be a submission which was no enterprise, and waiting upon
Providence with more or less of the resignation which is the ape and shadow
of patience, which has in it no doing nor daring for Christ, no present running
and fighting, and, therefore, no future crown. But who shall speak the
praises of the real gospel, Christian, spiritual patience f (Dean Vaughan.)
Making for ourselves souls : — The revised translation restores this word of Jesus to
its original force. The Lord did not bid His disciples simply to possess their souls
in patience. He told them that through endurance they were to win their souls.
Souls, then, are for us to win. Literally the word used by Jesus means, procure
for yourselves souls. Life is to be to us, in some sense, an acquisition of soul.
This active verb used by Jesus in relation to the soul is suggestive. How may the
disciples acquire their own souls ? Are we to work with the Creator in making our
own souls ? We are to go into life, and, as men in business gain possessions, we are
to procure our souls from life. Souls, then, may not be such ready-made products
of nature as we are accustomed to imagine ; the souls of men are possibly but the
reeds of immortality. They may be the germs scattered by a spiritual power in this
soil of the fiesh, and destined to spring up, and to grow, if we do not succeed in
killing them, into the powers of an endless life. In what ways are we to set about
procuring for ourselves sodLn ? The first thing for as to do is the thing which thoM
«HAP. xn.] ST. LUKE. 483
men had alreadj done to whom Jesus gave this promise that they should win their
aouls. What they had done — the first decisive step which they had taken in the
work of finding their lives — was not, indeed, to acquaint themselves with all know-
ledge, or to peer into all mysteries. They had not even lingered at the doors of the
school of the Eabbies. But when One who spake as never man spake, and who
looked into men's souls with the hght of a Divine Spirit in His eye, came walking
upon the b6ach where they were mending their nets, and bade them leave all and
follow Him, they heard their own being commanded as by the King of truth, and
At once they left all and followed Him. They counted not the cost ; they obeyed,
when they found themselves commanded by God in Christ. This promise, " Ye
shall win your souls," was addressed to men who had surrendered themselves
wholly to that which they had seen, and knew of God. It was a pledge of soul made
to men who had the wills of disciples. This prime condition of winning our souls
remains unchanged, and no simpler or more searching words for it can be framed
than those first requirements of Jesus Christ of every man — "Bepent," " believe."
If a man wishes in all sincerity to gain his own soul, he must begin by turning with
a will from the sin of the world which he knows has laid foul, destructive hand
upon his life ; he must rise, and meet duty, trusting himself with all his heart to
«very whisper of truth and echo of God within him. The first step in the way of
acquiring our souls, let me repeat, is the decision of discipleship. I answer then,
eeoondly, we are to acquire soul by living now with all the soal we do have. If
we are to win souls from life, we must put our whole souls into life ; but the trouble
with us is that we often do not. We live half-hearted, and with a certain reserve
often of ourselves from our every-day life in the world. But you remember how
Jesus insisted that His disciples should serve God and love man with all their
Bouls, and with all their strength. The way to gain more soul and better is to live
freely and heartily with all the soul we do have. Christ alone may show us what
a whole-hearted, whole-souled life should be. He completes lives. He gives soul
and heart abundantly in life. Has He not said we are to love God with all our
minds, and all our hearts, and all our strength? " Yes," some one thinks, " but
how can I in my little tread-mill of a life, in my circumscribed sphere, put my whole
soul into it, live with all my might ? I wish I had an opportunity of life into which
I could throw all my soul — but what am I and my little place ? I know I am not
living with all my heart." But you may 1 You may, if you are willing to learn
Jesus' secret, and to find your life while losing it. Perhaps in the very effort it may
cost us to put our hearts into little things — to do common things as disciples heartily
«s unto the Lord — may be the exercise of soul which God has appointed for us that
thereby we may gain capacity of spirit for the whole service of heaven. Bight here
it may help us to come back to our text. In your patience ye shall win your souls.
Not many of those disciples to whom Jesus was then speaking became distinguished
Christians. They had no great part to play in this world. All but three or four
of the twelve are only names to us. But every man of them had a splendid chance
to win soul by endurance. God giyes to common people this opportunity of winning
on earth souls large enough and good enough to appreciate by aud by what heaven
is. Patience may be the making of a soul. That regiment of men is held all the
morning waiting under fire. They broke camp with enthusiasm enough to sweep
Ihem up to any line of flame. But they are held still through long hours. They
might show splendid courage in action ; but the orders are to stand. Only to stand
still under fire I But that day of endurance is enough to make a veteran of the
recruit of yesterday. The discipline of waiting under life's fire makes veteran
Bouls. Through the habit of endurance God trains often his best souls. If you
keep up heart in your life of trial, by that patience what a soul for God's kingdom
may be won I {Newman Smyth, D.D.) How to use life: — How different life
must look — how different what we call sometimes its strange providences must look
— to the eye of one above who can see souls, and how they are forming for the end-
less life ! And our own souls — is this world absorbing and exhausting them,^r by
the grace of God are we transmuting all our work and experience of life into more
soul and sweeter ? My friends, am I not bringing to you from this word of the
Lord a very simple yet all-sufficient test for everything you are doing or planning
in your lives ? Can I acquire soul by it f Be sure, any course of life which causes
any shrinkage of soul is not right. The open Christian life is constant enlargement
of heart. Long ago the Hebrew poet looked up, and saw that the soul that runs in
the way of the Lord's commandments is enlarged. " Be ye also enlarged," said an
apostle, m Jesus' name. His gospel does not come to you and me with a olosa
484 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [oB4r. xxb
eystem of restrictions confronting us on every hand with mmatnral restraints.
Christ does for us what Satan offered to do for Christ, but never had the power to
do — He gives us all the kingdoms of this world, because He gives us receptive seals
and pure hearts for all God's works and worlds. All things are yours, for ye ar»
Christ's, and Christ is God's. You shall be disciples of the Divine Man. Ton are
here for a little while to procure for yourselves souls, and to help others win their
souls. God's Spirit is here with you to give you hearts in sympathy with all God-
like things. Grieve not that Holy Spirit. Beware of anything which helps kill
eouL A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he
poesesseth. Acquire soull {Ibid.) Self-winning: — This baby has to learn ta
see. He has eyes, sound, olear, lovely orbs into which a mother's eye looks as into
deep wells of love, but when he emerges into consciousness and begins to take note
of things around him, hold up a ball before him, and see how aimless is his grasp
at it. His eye has not yet learned to calculate distances. You know how the blind,
when restored to sight, have to learn to see : sight and seeing are not the same
things. Sight is a gift of nature. Seeing has to be won. That blind man whom
Jesus healed did not at once receive power to see. At the first touch he said, " I
see men, for I behold them as trees, walldng," in vague outline, confused, like the
blending of trees in a grove. "When Jesus laid His hand upon him a second time,
be saw all things clearly. We see the same truth as related to special training of
the senses. We have all heard the story of " eyes and no eyes." One man will
see the material for a volume where another sees nothing but stocks and stonss.
And, going still deeper, there is that moral something which we call self-mastery.
In how many do you see it? How many men do you see who make
their thoughts work on given lines ; who have their hand on the gates
■which shut out vain and wicked thoughts ; in whom the whole moral
and spiritual nature is obedient to law, and is marshalled and massed
and directed by a supreme will ? We say a man is self-possessed. What do we
inean by that, but that there resides in the man a power which holds all hia
faculties at command, and brings them to bear in spite of aU distractions ? There
can be no better phrase to express it. He possesses himself. He can do what he
will with that side of the self which he chooses to use. Man's self must develop
powers of resistance and control. It must be so completely in hand that he can
eay to wind and water, " You shall not possess me and carry me whither you will.
Bather shall you do my bidding, and grind my corn, and turn my lathe, and carry
me whither I wUl." " Nature, red in tooth and claw," roars and pants and ragea
after him. He must win his life from her jaws. And no less does the truth hold
higher up. As we follow human nature upward, it is only the antagonists that
change. The contact and the conflict are perpetuated. The Bible is full of this.
It may indeed be said that the underlying truth of the whole Bible, working itself
out through the successive stages of history and the infinite varieties of humaa
experience, is, how shall a man win his own soul ? A whole economy of secret,
spiritual forces is arrayed against this consummation. Hence it is that Paul says,
" We that are in this tabernacle do groan." Hence we are told of a wrestle which
is not with flesh and blood, but with spiritual hosts ; marshalled and organized evil
in the spiritual realm ; princes of darkness. So, too, our Lord told Peter of an unseen
terrible power, fired with malignant desire to sift him as wheat. And under the
stress of this fact, the whole current of New Testament teaching settles down inta
one sharply-defined channel ; that spiritual mastery, self-possession, self-wielding,
are the outcome only of patient effort and discipline protracted up to the very end.
Accordingly we hear an apostle, far on in his Christian career, saying, " I keep my
body under. " The great feature of this text is that Christ points us away from
circumstances to souls. You stand some day by the ocean swept with a tempest.
It is a grand spectacle. A score of things in the clouds and in the waves appeal to
you. You mark the height of the billows, their tremendous volume and swiftness
and power, their mad struggle round the sunken reefs ; but after all it is not the
grandear or the terror of the scene which most enchains you. Your interest is
concentrated on that ship yonder. You forget the spectacle of the maddened ocean
as you watch her fight with it. The question which fills your mind is not how long
the storm is going to continue, or whether it is likely to become more severe. It is
whether the ship will ride out the gale. And so all circumstances take theit
character from their relation to man's soul. The question is whether the man will
ride out the storm of circumstance ; the whole significance of circurnstance turns
CO whether it will conquer the man or be conquered by him ; whether it will swallow
CHAP. SSI.] ST. LUKE. 485
up the soul, or •whether the man will bring his soul alive and entire out of the
tempest. This is the way in which Christ, as He is pictured in the text, looks out
upon that horrible tempest of blood and fire ; and this is the attitude of the whole
Bible toward the struggle and convulsion of this world. Through it all God has
His eye on man's moral destiny. To us, often, the principal things are the war
and the confusion, the dislocation and the overturning. To Him the principal
thing is the destiny of that soul in the midst of the storm. Will the man win his
soul or not ? Circumstances will adjust themselves if men are right. The great
struggle in God's eyes is not between parties or sects or opinions. It is between the
Boul and the world. Victory is the man's overcoming the world ; not one side of
the world getting the better of the other; not the victory of the man's
native force of will and physical power over the things which assail his fortime
or his reputation, but the perfecting of his spiritual manhood in the teeth of all the
loss and damage and pain which this world can bring to him. You and I will win
this battle if we shall win our souls, (Ibid.) Patience, the precious little herb : —
Two little German girls, Brigitte and Wallburg, were on their way to the town, and
each carried a heavy basket of fruit on her head. Brigitte murmured and sighed
constantly ; Wallburg only laughed and joked. Brigitte said : " What makes you
laugh so ? Your basket is quite as heavy as mine, and you are no stronger than I
am." Wallburg answered : " I have a precious little herb on my load, which makes
me hardly feel it at all. Put some of it on your load as well." " 0," cried Brigitte,
*• it must indeed be a precious little herb ! I should like to lighten my load with
it; so tell me at once what it is called." Wallburg replied, " The precious little herb
that makes all burdens light is called 'patience.' " Jerusalem shall be trodden
down. — The desolation of Jerusalem confirms our faith in God's promises : — Samuel
Rutherford says : •* We too often believe the promises as the man that read Plato's
writings concerning the immortality of the soul. So long as the book was in his
hand, he believed what was said ; but as soon as he laid it down, he began to
imagine that his soul was only an airy vapour that perisheth with the expiring of
the breath. It would greatly help to preserve us from this, and strengthen our
faith, if we oftener compared Scripture with Scripture, and prediction with fulfil-
ment." Two rabbis, we are told, approaching Jerusalem, observed a fox running
up the hill of Zion. Aged Babbi Joshua wept, but Babbi Eliezer laughed.
"Wherefore dost thou weep? "demanded Eliezer. "I weep because I see what
was written in the Lamentations fulfilled: 'Because of the mountain of Zion which
is desolate, the foxes f&\\ upon it.* " " And therefore do I laugh," said Rabbi
Eliezer ; " for when I see with my own eyes that God has fulfilled His threatenings
to the letter, I have thereby a pledge that not one of His promises shall fail, for He
is ever more ready to show mercy than judgment." Restoration of the Jews : — In
the year 1808, the generous Lewis Way, when riding with a friend in Devonshire,
had his attention drawn by a companion to some stately trees in a park they were
passing. " Do you know," said his friend, " the singular condition that is attached
to these oaks ? A lady who formerly owned this park, stipulated in her will that
they should not be cut down until Jerusalem should again be in possession of
Israel ; and they are growing still." Mr. Way's heart was deeply moved by this
incident. The idea of the restoration of the Jews took possession of his mind. In
the following year he succeeded in forming the London Society of the Jews. The
labours of this and other kindred societies have since been so graciously owned,
that in England and on the Continent there are now thousands of Jewish converts,
many of whom are ministers of the gospel, some of them preachers and students
whose names have become almost household words in the Church of Christ.
There shall be signs. — Signs of the times : — The mere simple relations of these
portentous appearances strike us with horror : and Josephus, who has left us a full
history of these times, informs us that they all actually happened at that tragical
period. When he enters upon the subject, he uses some of the very words of this
chapter, proposing to speak of the signs and prodigies which presignified the
approaching desolation ; and he mentions the following horrendous prognostica-
tions : A star, in the shape of a sword, or a comet, pointing down upon the city,
was seen to hang over it for a whole year. There were other strange and
nnaccountable meteors seen in the aerial regions : armies in battle-array, and
chariots surrounding the country and investing their cities ; and this before sunset
The great gate of the temple, which twenty men could scarcely shut, and which
was made fast with bolts and bars, opened of its own accord to let in their enemies:
" for so," says Josephos, " oar wise men understood the omen. At the ninth hoot
48A THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, m
of the night a great light shone upon the temple and the altar, as it it had been
noon-day ; and at the feast of Pentecost, when the priests went at midnight into
the temple to attend their service, they first heard a kind of noise as of persons
removing from a place, and then a voice, " Let us away from hence." And what
Josephus relates is confirmed by Tacitus, a Roman historian of the same age who
had no connection with the Jews. 1. There seems to be a correspondence and
propriety in it, that there should be a kind of sympathy between the natural and
moral world ; that when the kingdoms of the earth are tossed and agitated, the
earth itself should totter and tremble under them; that when the light of the
rational world, the splendour of courts and kingdoms, is about to be extinguished
or obscured, the sun and moon, and other lights of the material world, should abate
their glory too, and, as it were, appear in mourning ; that when some grand event
is hastening to the birth, that terribly illustrious stranger, a comet, should make ua
a visit, as its harbinger, and shake its horrendous tail over the astonished world ;
that when peace is broke among the nations, the harmony of the elements should
likewise be broken, and they should fall into transient animosities and conflicts,
like the restless beings for whose use they were formed. There is an apparent
congruity and propriety in these things, and therefore the argument is at least
plausible ; but as it is drawn only from analogy, which does not universally hold,
I shall not lay much stress upon it. And yet, on the other hand, as there is an
obvious analogy, which does unquestionably hold in many instances, between the
natural and moral world, the argument is not to be utterly disregarded. 2. These
unusual appearances are peculiarly adapted to raise the attention of mankind, and
prepare them for important revolutions. There is a propriety and advantage, if
not a necessity, especially with regard to that part of mankind (and there are
always many such upon earth) whose benefit is intended by these extraordinary
events and revolutions, that they be prepared for them. And they cannot prepare
for them without some general expectation of them ; and they can have no
expectation of them without some warning or premonition of them. Now the
ordinary appearances in nature cannot answer this end, because they are ordinary,
and therefore not adapted to rouse and fix the attention ; and because they really
have no such premonitory signification. And as to the Word of God, it may have
no direct perceivable reference to such extraordinary periods ; and, therefore, can
give us no previous warning of their approach. But these unusual phenomena ar6
peculiarly adapted to this end : their novelty and terror catch the attention of the
gazing world. Such premonitions would be striking illustrations of the goodness
and equity of his administration, who does not usually let the blow fall without
previous warning, and they would contribute to the right improvement of such
dispensations. This, therefore, I think, we may look upon, at least, as a probable
argument ; especially if we add that, as these unusual appearances are, in their
own nature, fit to be premonitions, so — 3. It seems natural to mankind to view
them in that light ; and they have been universally looked upon in that light in all
ages and countries. As to the Jews, the matter is clear ; for Josephus tells us, that
their wise men actually put this construction upon those alarming appearances,
which preceded the destruction of Jerusalem. And as they had been accustomed to
miracles for the confirmation of their religion, they were even extravagant in their
demands of this sort of evidence upon every occasion ; as we find in the history ol
the evangelists. As to the Gentiles, this was the general sentiment of all ranks
among them, not only of the vulgar, but of their poets and philosophers. From
mankind's generally looking for miracles to prove a religion Divine, and from
impostors pretending to them, we justly infer that God has so formed our nature,
that it is natural to us to expect and regard this sort of evidence in this case : and
that God does adapt himself to this innate tendency, and has actually wrought
true miracles to attest the true religion : and we may, with equal reason, infer from
the superstitions of mankind, with regard to omens and prodigies, that God has
given a natural bent to our minds to look for them ; and that in extraordinary
periods he really does give such previous signs of future events. 4. History
informs us, that such unusual commotions and appearances in the natural world,
have, with a surprising regularity, generally preceded unusual commotions and
revolutions in the moral world, or among the nations of the earth. When an
hypothesis is supported by experiments and matters of fact, it ought to be received
as true. And this argument will appear decisive, if we find, in fact, that such
commotions and revolutions in the world have been uniformly preceded by soma
prodigies : for such an uniformity of such extraordinary periods, cannot be the
xn.] ST. LURE. 48T
effect of chance, or of blind natural causes, unadjusted and undirected by an in-
telligent superior power ; but it must be the effect of design, a wise and good
design, to alarm the world, and put them in a proper posture to meet these grand
occurrences. There is nothing more natural, nothing which astronomers can
compute with more exactness, than eclipses of the sun and moon ; and yet thesa
have so regularly and uniformly preceded the first grand breaches, and the total
overthrow of kingdoms and nations, that we cannot but think they were intended to
signify such revolutions ; and thus mankind generally interpreted them. A total
eclipse of the sun happened before the captivity of the ten tribes by the Assyrians ;
before the captivity of the Jews in Babylon ; at the death of Christ, about thirty-
seven years and a half before the last destruction of Jerusalem ; and about the same
number of years before the slaughter of six hundred thousand Jews under Adrian ;
before the conquest of the Babylonians by the Medes ; and before the fall of the
Medo-Persian, Grecian, and Boman empires. Upon the whole, let us endeavour to
put ourselves in a posture of readiness to meet with all events that may be
approaching. Though I know not these futurities, yet I know it shall be well with
them that fear God : but it will not be well with the wicked ; neither shall he
prolong his days, which are as a shadow; because he feareth not before God.
{President Davies, M.A.) Second Sunday in Advent : — This coming is not at
death. Death is nowhere called the coming of Christ. It may be the going of the
saints to Him, but it is not His coming to them, in any such sense as that in
which we declare in the Creed : " He shall come to judge the quick and the dead."
Though, in some sense, always present, there are respects in which He is quite
absent, in which He has been absent since the day of His ascension from the
Mount of Olives, and in which He will continue to be absent until mankind " shall
see the Son of Man coming in a cloud, with power and great glory." And in that
same sense in which He is now absent from the earth, He is again to come to the
earth, when *' every eye shall see Him, and all kindreds of the earth shall wail
because of Him." I. Let us, therefore, in the first place, assuke oxjbselvbs of thk
BCKlPTUBAIiNESS AND OBTHODOXY OF THE DOCTKINE, THAT THE GLORIOUS LOBD JeSDS
ChKIST is BEALLI and LITEEALLT to RETUBN AGAIN IN PEESON TO OUB WOBLD.^ ThiS is
the more important, as the tendencies are to neglect and explain away this article
of the faith. It was a vital and characteristic part of the faith and hope of the
early Christians to look forward to, and to expect, the coming again of the Lord
Jesus. Indeed the whole success of redemption itself is conditioned upon His
return. To strike it out, would confound the whole system of salvation, carry
otter confusion into all attempts intelligently to believe or defend the gospel as of
God, and dry up the heartiest and hopefuUest springs of faith, holiness, and
Christian life. II. With this point settled, let us look next at the signs which
THE Saviour specified as the hebalds of His second coming. These are given with
great particularity in the text before us. Luther distinguished them into two
leading classes ; and we may safely follow him in this, as also in his exposition of
the words which describe them. 1. He finds in the text a Divine prediction of
an ever-growing earthiness, sensuaMty, and unbelief, on the part of the great mass
of men, as the day of judgment draws near. There is to be no millennium of
universal righteousness, liberty, and peace, before Christ comes ; but " evil men
and seducers shall wax worse and worse, deceiving, and being deceived " (2 Tim.
iii, 13). 2. The second class is given with equal distinctness, and embraces many
wonders in nature, so imposing as to challenge universal observation. III.
Finally, let us glance at the sort of affections which the occurrence of these
signs of the Savioue's coming should beget and nurture in our souls. Luther
well read the human heart, when be said, " There be very few who would not
rather that the day of judgment might never come." But this is not the way in
which our Saviour would have us affected by this subject. It is indeed a terrible
thing for the guilty, and is meant so to be, that it may break up their false security,
and arouse them to repentance and a better life ; but it is designed to be a joy and
consolation to all true believers. It is intended to be a thing of precious promise
and of glad hope to them. {J. A. Seiss,D.D.) Ttrror produced by a meteoric
ahower: — During a great meteoric shower in South Carolina, an eye-witness writes :
•* I was suddenly awakened by the most distressing cries that ever fell on my ears.
Shrieks of horror and cries for mercy I could hear from most of the negroes of the
three plantations, amounting in all to about six hundred or eight hundred. While
earnestly listening for the cause, I heard a faint voice near the door calling my
name. I arose, and taking my sword, stood at the door. At this same time I stiU
488 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. \cntt. xa
heard the same Toice heseeching me to rise, eafing : • Oh, my God ! the world is on
fire ! ' I then opened the door, and it is dif&calt to Bay which excited me the most
— the awfuhiess of the scene, or the distressed cries of the negroes. Upwards of •
hundred lay prostrate on the ground — some speechless, and some with the bitterest
cries, but with their hands raised imploring God to save the world and them.
The scene was truly awful, for never did rain fall much thicker than the
meteors fell towards the earth; east, west, north, and south it was the same."
Encouragejnent Jrom Christ's promised advent : — I. The persons unto whom these
words are uttered, in the particle " your " : " Lift up your heads." II. What
things they are of which our Saviour here speais, in the first words of the text :
" Now when these things begin to come to pass." III. The behaviour which our
Saviour commends unto us, in these words: "Look up, lift up your heads."
IV. Last of all, the reason or encouragement ; words of life and power to raise us
from all faintness of heart and dulness of spirit : " For your redemption draweth
nigh." It will not be amiss a little to consider whence it comes to pass that in the
late declining age of the world so great disorder, distemper, and confusion have their
place : and it shall yield us some lessons for our instruction. 1. And, first of all,
it may seem to be natural, and that it cannot be otherwise. For our common
experience tells us, that all things are apt to breed somewhat by which themselves
are ruined. How many plants do we see which breed that worm which eats out
their very heart ! We see the body of man, let it be never so carefully, so precisely
ordered, yet at length it grows foul, and every day gathers matter of weakness and
disease, which, at first occasioning a general disproportion in the parts, must at
the last of necessity draw after it the ruin and dissolution of the whole. It may
then seem to fall out in this great body of the world as it doth in this lesser body
of ours : by its own distemper it is the cause of its own ruin. For the things here
mentioned by our Saviour are nothing else but the diseases of the old decaying
world. The failing of light in the sun and moon — what is it but the blindness of
the world — an imperfection very incident to age ? Tumults in the sea and waters —
what are they but the distemper of superfluous humours, which abound in age f
Wars and rumours of wars are but the falling out of the prime qualities, in the
union and harmony of which the very being of the creature did consist. Scarcely
had the world come to any growth and ripeness, but that it grew to that height of
distemper that there was no way to purge it but by a general flood, " in which, as
it were in the baptism, its former sins were done away" (Hosea iv. 17). 2. But yon
may peradventure take this for a speculation, and no more ; and I have urged it no
further than as a probable conjecture. And therefore I will give you a second
reason. Besides this natural inclination, God Himself hath a further purpose in
it. He that observes the ways of God as far as He hath expressed Himself, shall
find that He hath a delight to show unto the world those that are His ; to lift them
up on high, and mark and character them out by some notable trial and tempta-
tion. To draw this down to our present purpose : To try the strength, the faith,
the love, the perseverance of those who are His, God is pleased to give way to this
tumult and danger in the last days. He sets before us these terrors and affright-
ments, to see whether we fear anything more than Him, or whether anything can
Ehake the reliance and trust which we repose in Him ; whether our faith will be
strong when the world is weak ; whether our light will shine when the sun is
darkened ; whether we can establish ourselves in the power of God's Spirit when
" the powers of heaven are shaken " (Matt. xxiv. 29). And indeed what are all
these signs here mentioned but mormoes, mere toys to fright children with, ii
we could truly consider that, if the world should sink, and fall upon our heads,
it cannot hurt a soul, nor yet so grind the body into dust that God cannot raise
it up again? 3. As sin and iniquity have increased, so have the means to reclaim
it. As wickedness hath broken in as a flood, so hath judgment been poured forth,
and doth swell, wave upon wave, line upon line, judgment upon judgment, to
meet it, and purge it, and carry it away with itself, and so run out both together
into the boundless ocean of God's mercy. This is God's method ; who knows
whereof we are made, and therefore must needs know what is fittest to cure us.
If His little army of caterpillars, if common calamities, will not purge us. He
brings in swoid, and famine, and pestilence, to make the potion stronger. III.
Our third general part was the consideration of the behaviour which our Savionz
commends unto us in these words: "Look up, and lift up your heads"; words
borrowed from the behaviour which men use when all things go as they would
bave them. As herbs, when the sun comes near them, peep oat of the earth,
•HAP. xzz.] ST. LVKE. 489
or as summer-birds begin to sing when the spring is entered, so onght it to
be with U3 " when these things come to pass." This winter should make us a
spring; this noise and tumult should make us sing. Wars, famines, plagues,
inundations, tumults, confusion of the world, these bring in the spring of all true
Christians ; and by these, as by the coming of summer-birds, we are forewarned
that our Sun of Righteousness draws near. 1. Fear is a burden that maketh us not
able to look upwards, towards that which might rid and ease us of it, but towards
something that may hide aud cover us. 2. Grief is another weight that presseth
down. "Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul?" saith David (Psa. xlii. 5, 11).
3. These two, fear and sorrow, are the mother and the nurse, the beginners and
fomenters, of all murmuring and repining. What aire all the pleasures, what
are all the terrors, of the world to him that is made one with Christ, who conquered
also 7 That therefore this doctrine may pass the better, which at first sight is but
harsh and rugged, we will show you — 1. That it is possible to arm ourselves with
such courage and resolution in common calamities. 2. That it is a great folly not
to do so. 3. What impediments and hindrances they be which overthrow our
courage, and take our hearts from us, when such things as these come to pass.
1. And, first, of the possibiUty of this doctrine. And, if we look a little upon the
manners of men, we shall find them very apt and ready to plead impossibilities and
difficulties where their own practice confutes them. Now to manifest the possibility
of this, I think I cannot do it better than by an ensample : and I will give you one,
and that too of an Ethnic man, that knew not Christ, nor His rich promises, nor
ever heard of the glory of the gospel. There is a hill in Italy, Vesuvius they call
it, which is wont sometimes to break out in flames of fire, to the terror and amaze-
ment of all that dwell nigh unto it. The first time that in the memory of man it
fired, was in the days of Vespasian the emperor ; at which time it brake forth with
that horrible noise and cry, with that concussion and shaking of the earth near
about it, with that darkness and stench, that all within the compass thought of
nothing now but eeternam illam et novissimam mundo Tioctem, "that time was
ended, and the world drawing to its dissolution." Pliny, the great philosopher,
and the author of the famous "History of Nature," lay then at Micenum, not
far ofi : and out of a desire he had to inform himself, he drew near to the place
where he thought the fire began. And in the midst of that horror and confusion
BO undaunted and fearless was he that he studied, and wrote, and ate, and slept,
and omitted nothing of his usual course. His nephew, a great man afterwards
with Trajan the emperor, oat of whom I take this history, reports himself, that
being there at that time, notwithstanding all the terrors and affrightments, yet
he called for his books, he read, he noted, as if he had not been near the
mountain Vesuvius, but in his study and closet: and yet was at that time but
eighteen years of age. I have been somewhat the more large, besides my custom,
in opening the particulars of this story, because it is the very emblem, the very
picture, of the world's dissolution, and of the behaviour which is here enjoined
Christians when that time shall come. What, though there be signs in the sun and
moon and stars ? must my light thereof be turned into darkness? must my sim set
at noon, and my stars, those virtues which should shine in my soul, fall out of
their sphere and firmament? When the world is ready to sink, do thou raise
thyself with expectation of eternal glory. 2. I have done with the first point — the
possibility of the doctrine, that we must arm ourselves with courage and resolution
against common calamities. I proceed now to the second — that it is an argument
of great folly not to do so. Is it not a great foUy to create evil, to multiply evils ;
to discolour that which was sent for our good, and make it evil; to make
that which speaketh peace and comfort unto us a messenger of death ? 3.
Let na now consider the lets and impediments, or the reasons why our
hearts fail as at such sights as these. I shall at this time only remove
a pretended one ; having spoken of self-love and want of faith, which are
retd and true hindrances of Christian courage. The main pretence we make for
onr pusillanimity and cowardice is our natural weakness, which we derived from
oar first parents, and brought with as into the world. Fear not, therefore : why
should we fear ? Christ hath subdued our enemies, and taken from them every
weapon that may hurt us. He hath taken the sting not only from sin, but from
those evils which are the natural issues and products of sin. He hath made
afQictions joyful, terrors lovely, that thoa mayest "look ap" npon them, and " lift
ap thy head." I have done with this pretence of natural weakness, and with
my third part; and I oome now to the foorth and last, the enoooragement
490 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chaj. xxi»
cnr Saviour giveth: "For your redemption draweth nigh." IV. And "when
these things come to pass," when such terrible signs appear, this news is very
Beasonable. " As cold waters to a thirsty soul " (Prov. xxv. 25), so is the promise
of liberty to those " who have been in bondage all their life long " (Heb. ii. 15),
under the fear of those evils which show themselves unto us, and lead us captive,
and keep us in prison, so that we cannot look up. How will the prisoner even sing
in his chains, when news is brought that his ransom is paid, and his redemption
near at hand ! It is a liberty to be told we shall be free : and it is not easy to
determine whether it more affect ns when it is come, or when it is but in the
approach, drawing nigh ; when we are free, or when we are but told that shortly
we shall be so. And indeed our redemption is actus individuus, " one entire act " ;
and we are redeemed at once from all ; though the full accomplishment of it be by
degrees. But we may say truly of this first redemption what some in St. Paul
said falsely of the second resurrection, This redemption's time " is past already "
(2 Tim. ii. 18) ; past on our Bedeemer's side, nothing left undone by Him : only it
remains on ours to sue out our pardon, and make our redemption sore. And there-
fore there is another redemption that they call prceservantem, " which settles and
establishes us, preserves " us in an angelical state, free from sin, from passions,
from fear. And when this comes, we shall sin no more, hope no more, fear no
more: all sins shall be purged out, all hope shall be fulfilled, all tears shall be
wiped from our eyes, and all trembling from our hearts. And this is the redemp-
tion here meant, the only trust of the Christian, the expectation of the faithful.
(A, Farindon, D.D.) Signs of nearing redemption : — Ere autumn has tinted the
woodlands, or the cornfields are falling to the reaper's song, or hoary hilltops like
grey hairs on an aged head give warning of winter's approach, I have seen the
swallow's brood pruning their feathers and putting their long wings to the proof ;
and though they might return to their nests in the window eaves, or alight again
on the housetops, they darted away in the direction of sunny lands. Thus they
showed that they were birds bound for a foreign clime, and that the period of their
migration from the scene of their birth was at hand. Grace also has its prognostics.
Tbey are as infallible as those of nature. So when the soul, filled with longings
to be gone, is often darting away to glory, and soaring upwards, rises on the wings
of faith, till this great world, from her sublime elevation looks a little thing, God's
people know that they have the earnest of the Spirit. These are the pledges of
heaven — a sure sign that " their redemption draweth nigh." Such devout feelinga
afford the most blessed evidence that with Christ at the helm, and " the wind " that
" bloweth where it hsteth " in our swelling sails, we are drawing nigh to the land
that is very far off ; even as the reeds and leaves and fruits that float upon the
briny waves, as the birds of strange and gorgeous plumage that fly round his ship
and alight upon its yards, as the sweet-scented odours which the winds waft ont to
sea assure the weary mariner that ere long he shall drop his anchor and end his
voyage in the desired haven. (T. Guthrie, D.D.)
Vers. 29-33. Behold the fig-tree and all the trees. — The parable of the Jig-tree: —
I. Teaching of xbs pabable. 1. Shows course and sequence of events as certain
and necessary as the processes of nature. AH is in progress. Be sure of the
issue. Be alive to the tokens of its approach. 2. The incongruity of the com-
parison is its instruction. Its purpose to fix attention not on an end, but on a
beginning ; not on what going, but on what coming ; not on tokens of dissolution,
but on hidden life stirring beneath, after last storm to break out into the " kingdom
of God." II. Use op its teachino. 1. See that it belongs to you. 2. Live
nnder the sense of what is coming. You need it — (1) To prevent this present world
from absorbing you. (2) To prevent it from depressing yon. {Canon T. D.
Bernard.) The big clock: — Do you know that God has a big clock, bigger than
any one yon have ever seen, bigger indeed than Big Ben at Westminster. But thia
big clock does not make any noise, yon can never hear it ticking ; and it does not
strike, but yet it goes on, year after year, year after year, marking the time. What
do yon think is the face of this clock? It is the earth ; the fields and meadows and
hedgerows in every part of the world — that is the face of this clock. And what do
you think are the figures upon this dial? They are flowers and birds and
leaves. God's big clock does not tick, but it lives ; it does not strike the hours,
only some flowers open out or die away when the hour has come. Isn't that what
Jesus meant when He said, Look at the fig-tree and all the trees ; they are beginning
BOW to put out buds. "Very well ; you know by that that this is spring-time, and
amAt. XX3.] 8T. LUKE. 491
by tiiat you knew that snminer !■ coming near. The huds tell what o'clock it is by
the time of year, WTien you were learning to tell the time on the face of the clock
on the mantel-shelf, how did you begin ? "Was it not by first learning the quarters ?
When the long hand was half-way down on the right, you knew it was a quarter
past ; when it was half-way up on the left, you knew it was a quarter-to ; and when
it was down between these, you knew it was half-past ; and when it was up between
them you knew the clock was going to strike the hour. Well, just as there are four
quarters in our clocks so there are four quarters in this big clock we are speaking
about. The first quarter is springtime, half-past is summer, quarter-to is autumn,
and when winter comes the year is ended. When you look at the trees and flowers
you can pretty well tell what o'clock it is by the year. But standing between the
quarters of the clock there are other figures. How many of these are there
altogether? Twelve, are there not? And how many months are there in a year?
You know — twelve. So, you see, this clock has got all the figures, and, what is
stranger still, it marks all the figures by flowers and fruits ; for there are different
flowers that come out every month of the year. If a smart boy were to keep his
eyes about him, and understood things as he walked in the country, when he found
certain trees beginning to bud and certain flowers beginning to peep up, he would
say. This must be the month of January ; for these always come out in January.
Later on, if he saw some others, he would say. This must be February ; for these
always come out in February, And so through all the year, if he was clever, he
would find the flowers and trees telling him what month it was. But there is
something stranger still about this clock of God's ; and you must remember it, so
that from time to time during the year you may learn to use your eyes and notice
what God is doing in the fields. It is this : God's clock tells the hours of the day
as well as the months of the year. The months are the twelve figure? ; but you
know that between the twelve figures there are the little minutes, and these minutes
are made up of moments. Now the minutes in God's big clock are days, and
the moments are hours, and the clock tells them all. What then can be the
meaning of this big clock ? Surely it is to tell us that time is passing. Does it not
plainly say that if we do not grow right in the springtime of our life, we shall not
be able, when the summer comes, to go back to the springtime and mend what has
been wrong ? You would not like to grow up wicked, would you ? Then learn to
grow as the flowers grow. How is that ? By always looking at the sun, and taking
its light, and following it, for the flowers follow the sun with their heads, and so
they become beautiful. Do you the same with Jesus — follow Him with your hearts.
(J. B. Howatt.) Heaven and earth shall pass away. — Heaven and earth shall
•past away : — It is something to startle us, and make us ask ourselves, if indeed
such things can be ; whether He is in earnest who says so, and whether the world
which practises upon us by its looks as though it were eternal, is indeed such an
imposter, and we who believe it, so foolish and so ignorant 1 Yet so it is. Now,
it seems to some of you, I dare say, as to most men, that this is a great deal more
astonishing than that anything so inconsiderable, materally considered, as a man,
Bhould pass away, as you see happen every day by death. It seems a pity to break
to pieces so goodly a machine as heaven and earth, and uproot its adamantine basis.
But if so, I think you are wrong. It seems to me nothing at all astonishing, that
anything for which we have no longer a use should finally be thrown aside, or broken
up, and the old materials put to some other purpose, be it an ordinary implement,
or be it a world. It seems to me very reasonable and very likely in itself, that, in
the infinite wisdom and power of God, one world should be ripened, so to say, out
of another, as you see the fruit come out of the flower, and the flower out of
the bud, so that the first shall decay before the higher one can be per-
fected. It is very reasonable that, as a mere manifestation of power, in
order to show to his creatures the strength of His right hand, and the
absolute independency of His will, God should dash in pieces, from time
to time, or consume by the breath of His nostrils, what was made by
His word, and stood only by His sufferance. Besides, in the elements out
of which heaven and earth are made, there is no thought or feeling; they
are brute, dead things ; and are capable neither of pain nor pleasure. Whether
they abide or not in the forms into which God has thrown them, it is the same to
them ; no harm is inflicted on them ; they are as unconscious of change as they are
impotent to feel or will. But, if heaven and earth must pass away, another conse-
quence will follow, which is to every one of us of awful importance. If the earth,
such as it now is, shall be utterly destroyed, manifest it is, that oar present life.
492 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chai. xbu
and cares, and pleasures, and occupations, all that men make their happiness of,
will likewise be brought to an end. And this brings me to another point — and a
reason for the passing away of the present world, which I have not yet mentioned,
though it might easily occur to any thoughtful mind. It is a condemned world ;
sentence is passed upon it I And it is condemned, because it is guilty, and all over
polluted 1 And do not wonder at this, for you know with what feelings we regard a
chamber or a house in which a murder, or some abominable crime, has been com-
mitted ; how we shrink from it and abhor it, and hate the sight of it, and should
think it the greatest misery in the world, if we have any feelings worthy of man, to
be compelled to take up our abode within it. A sort of guilt, as well as involuntary
pollution, seems to attach to the very floors and senseless walls which have wit-
nessed the crime, and have not fallen down or opened upon the wicked in the midst
of their wickedness. And we should rejoice at seeing them pulled down to the
ground, and the last memorial of the crime removed from our eyes 1 Well, bo it is
exactly in regard to the world in which we live, with all its majestic mechanism, its
living forces, and all the ornaments which God's hand has thrown round abont it.
It is stained with six thousand years of sin. And this brings us to another portion
of the question. If heaven and earth shall pass away, shall anything succeed into
their room, or shall that space which they occupied be utterly blank and desolate ?
The answer is, no. So to say, there shall rise two new worlds, or such a change as
comes to the same thing, out of the ruins of it ; even as oat of the earth destroyed
by the flood there sprrmg forth that in which we now dwell. There shall be the
new heavens and new earth, in which dwelleth righteousness, and the face of God's
countenance shineth for evermore — the habitation of those who have lived and died
in the Lord. And on the other hand, the world, where the light is darkness, and
the life is death, and the good is evil, and weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of
teeth are the voice thereof — even the habitation of the ungodly for ever and ever.
And this gives yon the true reason, dear brethren, why the judgment is now sus-
pended, and son and moon are shining, and night and day, and spring and harvest,
come and go, and all things remain as at the beginning. It is that God's last dis-
pensation npon earth may have full room and time to display itself in all its com-
binations with human good and evil, before the voice from the throne shall proclaim
that it is finished. It is that, in the sight of all His creatares, the patience and
long-suffering of God, which leadeth to repentance, might have full epace and
opportunity in which to show themselves, and vindicate to the uttermost the
exceeding forbearance of our heavenly Father even towards them that perish ! It
is that, year after year. His saints may be gathered in till, in the fulness of time,
the flock which he has given to Christ shall have been called out of all nations and
languages, and the Saviour be satisfied in the sight of His soul's travail. {J. Qarhett.)
XO.J words shall not pass away. — The words of Jesus permanent : — ^I. Tne words of
Jesus Christ, the words which He spoke for our direction, for our purification, for
our comfort, for oar redemption, have not passed, and shall not pass away. Oar
human intellect accepts them with reverence, and must ever retain them. Our
human passions acknowledge their salutary power, and look up to them for per-
petual control and guidance. Our human fears are soothed by them, and cannot let
them go. Our human hopes are informed, elevated, and sanctified by them, and
constantly resort to them for refuge, and lean upon them for rest. All oar
human affections have borrowed from them Divine light and warmth, and mast
reflect that light and warmth for ever. II. " Heaven and earth shall pass away."
Giving to this sentence an individual application, we may feel that heaven and
earth pass away from the sight of all of us. Fancies as brilliant as the blue vault
above us, promises as fair, expectations and resolves as high, and possessions which
we have deemed as firmly founded as the earth itself, have vanished, and will again
vani^; and what is there left behind? The words of Christ are left, when the
visions break, and the possessions disappear — words of patience, and coarage, and
comfort, always left for the strengthening of our hearts, if our hearts will hear and
accept them. The words of Jesus are the promises of God the Father to the souls
of men. When eyes are growing dim, and the heart is ceasing to beat, and heaven
and earth are passing away, as they sorely will from all of as, what remains for the
eoul's help and reliance but the words of Jesas, which are the promises of God ?
III. And let us remember that the words of Jesus, attested as they are by the
Father who sent Him, permanent as time has proved them, true, and satisfying,
and lasting as the human soul has found them, are not only the promises of God
for man's hope and trust, but the law of God for man's final jadgment. As ■ooh
OTAP. XXX.] ST. LUKE. 493
they will remain, when heaven and earth, in any and every sense, have passed
away. The words of Christ, essentially permanent, and surviving all change, will
meet oor souls in the last day, and be pronounced upon them, for acquittal or for
doom. And certaiu and necessary it is, that the sentence which will be adjudged
unto ns hereafter by those words, will be in strict accordance with the observance
or the neglect with which we treated them here, before our present heaven and earth
had passed away. {F. W. P. Greenwood, D.D.) The ineffaceable ward : — On one
occasion when William Dawson, the Yorkshire Preacher, waa giving out a hymn,
he suddenly stopped and said : " I was coming once through the town of Leeds, and
saw a poor little half-witted lad rubbing at a brass plate, trying to rub out the
name ; but the poor lad did not know that the harder he rubbed the brighter it
shone. Now, friends, sing: —
* Engraved as in eternal brass
The mighty promise shines ;
Nor can the powers of darkness rase
Those everlasting lines.' "
rhen, M ihongh he saw the devil robbing, he said : *' Satan eannot nib it off—
' His hand hath writ the Saored Word
With an immortal pen.' "
The enduring vDord$ : — An infidel in London had a wife who possessed a Bible which
she regularly read ; being annoyed at this, the man, who had frequently tbireatened
to do so, threw the book upon the fire. This appears to have taken place at dinner-
time. He then left home to go to his work, but soon returned to see if the last
vestige of the volume had disappeared. The woman, who naturally felt distressed
at her loss, said she thought it must be completely burned ; but her husband stirred
the ashes to see if such was the case, when he read what fastened itself upon his
mind, and led to his conversion — " Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My
word shall not pass away." The sister of this man was the wife of a London
pastor ; and just when the Bible was burning she was earnestly praying for her
brother's conversion. {Sword and Trowel.)
Vers. 34, 35. Surfeiting^ and dronkennesa. — Gluttony and drunkennett to be
avoided : — L I will attempt to show you the evils and mischief ow these sins
WHICH ouB Savioub HEBE CAUTIONS OS AOAiNST. Be it known to you, then, that
miserable are the effects and fruits of these vices. Gluttony and greediness drove
our first parents out of Paradise. They tell us that Heliogabalus used to bring his
parasites into dining-rooms that had deceitful floors, and thence they fell and were
destroyed. This is but an emblem of the ruin which attends those who are addicted
to immoderate eating and drinking. Besides what I have said already, I will farther
show you the pernicious effects of this luxurious practice in these five particulars.
1. This vice is generally fatal to men's estates, as the wise man observes, and
therefore dissuades from this folly (Prov. xxiii. 20, 21). 2. How unspeakably per-
nicions is this sin to the body as well as the estate ! 3. This sin is injurious not
only to the body of man, but to his mind and soul, his better and more refined part.
Its operations are stified and choked, its faculties are rendered dull and useless,
and the excellent spirit which was made to look up to heaven bows down to the
earth, becomes gross and carnal, and is plunged into dirt and mire. 4. Luxurious
eating and drinking are the nurses of wantonness and uneleanness. 5. Contempt
and disgrace are the just reward of luxury. II. I am to lay down cebtain boles
AND DIBECTIONB WHEBEBT TOO UAY OBDEB T0UB3ELVE8 ABIOHT IN THE USE OF THE
PLEASUBES OF MEAT AND DBiNE. These are things natural and necessary, and there-
fore lawful and innocent in themselves. 1. Offend not as to quantity; eat and
drink no more than what is requisite. Nature is content with slender provision,
«nd Christianity maintains the same moderation. 2. Offend not as to quality, that
is, be not over-curious in the choice of your meats and drinks. 3. Desire not to
faro more costly than is agreeable to your condition. 4. Be careful that you spend
not too much time in eating and drinking. 5. (And which is near a-Un to the
former rule) Make it not your grand business to eat and drink. 6. Then these
bodily refreshments of meat and drink are lawful and commendable, when they are
accompanied with charity towards the needy. 7. Let your eating and drinking b*
194 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cmr. xn.
attended not only with charity, hut with all other testimonies of religion and serving
God. Among the pagans their tables were sacred. It should be much more bo
among Christians, that is, we should make them serviceable to virtue, and to the
promoting of our own and others' spiritual good. III. I will propound to you some
HELPS AND AS8I8TAKCES. 1. That you may not offend God by the extravagant use
of meats and drinks, begin within, and strive to check your undue appeHtes there.
Intemperance and luxury begin at the heart ; stifle it there. 2. You may be helped
in the discharge of the duty which I have been treating of, by understanding your-
selves aright, by considering your excellent nature and make. 3. To antidote you
against this immoderation m meats and drinks, think seriously of the dreadful
judgments of God which attend this sin (see Isa. v. 11 ; Amos vi. 1, *c.). 4, Think
of death and judgment, and the serious consideration of these will be serviceable to
check you in your intemperate courses. {John Edwards, D.D.) Ruined hy
drink: — The following fact is related by a worthy clergyman, who lived and
officiated not far from this place. •* There are persons so hardened in sin, and so
totally given up of God, that neither sickness nor death can make any impression
on them. I remember one of this unhappy description, in the county of Essex,
whom I both visited during his illness, and interred after he was dead. He was
a clever fellow, and of good family, but so totally depraved, that when one of his
bottle companions wrote to inform him that he was about to die and go to hell,
and desired to know what place he should bespeak for him there, he sat down
and gave him for a reply, that he did not care where it was if there was only
brandy and mm enough. Thus he lived, and soon after died a martyr to spirituous
liquors, cursing and blaspheming, notwithstanding all that could be done to bring
him to a better mind. Being possessed of two bank bills, of the value of ten.
pounds each, which was all the little property he had left, — 'Now,' said he to
a person who stood by, ' when I have spent these in brandy and rum, I shall be
content to die and go to hell.' He sunk, however, before they were expended,
and left just enough to bury him." (Essex Remembrancer,) The luaniry and
tcorldliness of the present age : — I. First, thb wabnino. To whom is that warning
addressed? "Take heed to yourselves; . . . for as a snare shall it come on all
them that dwell on the face of the whole earth." You see there is a contrast drawn
between yourselves and the whole earth. " Yourselves " shows ns to whom the
warning is spoken — it is to the Church. To His own washed, saved, sanctified
ones, He says, " Take heed to yourselves." He says to them, "Take heed to your-
selves, lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting, and drunken-
ness and the cares of thi" life." Mark that expression, " at any time." It would
seem as though the prophecy has a continuous bearing, from the time that it was
delivered up to the end of the world — that this warning is spoken to the Church of
God in all ages. Take notice here that the heart is spoken of as meaning the inner
life of a Christian. Take heed lest the springs of spiritual life be weakened by the
cares, or the frivolities, or the ease, or the luxury, or the gains, or the occupations
of this present life. The word " overcharged " literally means " weighed down."
You see that not only surfeiting and drunkenness are spoken of, but " the cares of
this life." On the one hand the Lord speaks of all the glare of earth, on the other
hand He speaks of the toil of earth. II. Now, see the beason of the wabnino —
" For as a snare shall it come upon all them that dwell upon the face of the whole
earth." The meaning of this is, that the day of the Lord will take the world by
surprise. III. Thirdly, we come to speak of the peecept gbounded upon thb
WABNINO, and the reason of the warning — " Watch ye, therefore, and pray always,
that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that shall come to pass,
and stand before the Son of Man." You may have marked in history, that before
empires fell, or great capitals were destroyed, luxury in the empire or in the capital
had reached a climax. It was so at Herculaneum and Pompeii ; it was the case at
Bome. Every species of indulgence, luxury, and comfort seemed to be gathered
together by the inhabitants around, when the burning mountain poured forth its
flames, while streams of lava buried the cities, and hurried the people into eternity.
And so, when Bome was taken by the Goths, or northern nations, it had reached
the highest point of luxury, pomp, and pride. So Babylon is described in the
Revelation — whatever that Babylon means — it is described as saying, just before
it is destroyed — "I sit as a queen, and am no widow." In the very height
of her pomp — in the very zenith of her pride — in the midst of her mag-
nificence, God casts her down, and she sinks like lead in the mighty waters. It
will be so, doubtless, with the nations of the world — with the kingdoms of pro*
CHAP, xn,] ST. LUKE. 195
fessing Christendom — with the great capitals of Europe ; there will be pride, an(3
Itixary, and magnificence, and men will be passing their time in ease and affluence,
and self-indulgence, " when sudden destruction shall oome upon them, as travail
upon a woman with child, and they shall not escape." Watch ye, therefore;
watch against the prevailing taste for show — watch against the prevailing love of
ease — watch against the selfishness of the age, the luxury that creeps even into the
Church ; watch and take heed, brethren, lest you tread in the world's footsteps.
{W. Pennefather, M.A.) A heart overcharged with care : — I. Let us, think, then,
in the first place of where this injunction beaIjLY applies to cs — When is the
heart " overcharged with care " ? Distinguish between care and sorrow. God
sends sorrows but He never sends cares. No one can doubt the necessity for
sorrow, it has a part in our development which nothing else can fulfil, and, there-
fore, as long as God loves us and would do His best for us we may be sure we shall
suffer, and that such suffermg never need be a curse, but care always must. Who
are the most miserable to-day? Not the sorrowful, but the careworn. When
Christ said " Take heed lest your hearts be overcharged with care," He pointed to
life's great tyranny. When, then, does this concern us ? The word means
** oppressed," " weighed down." 1. Then it is true when the heart is not able to
rise. Spiritual aspirations have not quite died out nor are heavenward promptings
ever felt, but the soul cannot respond to them ; response needs thought, time,
effort, and these cannot be spared, so life is absorbed by the earthly, and the higher
things are as though they were not. Then, indeed, the heart is overcharged
(oppressed, weighed down) with care. 2. So, too, is it when the heart has no room
for the play of its best affections. So I say is it right to be so absorbed by business
that we are practically lost to everything else, are practically slaves to money-
getting, and deadened to those influences and enjoyments by which our better
nature is developed and the deep places of our heart satisfied ? We cannot believe
it is. 3. And so, too, when the heart finds care to be a burden that crushes it.
God means us to be free from oppression. His promises and requirements and the
provisions of His grace all point to that : " Come unto Me and I will give you
rest," says He, "peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you," " be careful
for nothing," " take no anxious thought," " the peace of God which passeth all
understanding shall keep your heart and mind." II. Consider what oub lobd
BAYS ABOUT THIS STATE. "Take heed 1 " He says, "take heed to yourselves lest
kt any time your hearts be overcharged with care." That is, you may fall into this
state unawares, to avoid it needs much watchfulness. Glance at two or three facts
which blind us to the perils of a care-burdened heart. 1. For instance, it seems
inseparable from duty. The tendency of our time is opposed to calm life, and
•Ten to calm pauses in the midst of life. How seldom one sees a really quiet face i
Care need not be, that is. Let us not be misled into it with the idea that it is
unavoidable, that we cannot perform our proper task and keep our proper place
■without being oppressed by it. Christ's " Take heed I " means that if we will, for
all appearance to the contrary, we may escape the evil. 2. Then, it seems con-
sistent with devotion to Christ. That is another point which makes us think
lightly of care — there seems to be no sin in it. But see the company this keeps
in the text : " Hearts overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness and cares I "
" Surfeiting and drunkenness and cares " — these are classed together in the mind
of Christ. Then failure in these matters, as much as failure in the other, is to be
abhorred as disloyalty to God. Care springs from very evil roots, from unbelief
and waywardness and very often from an idolatrous spirit. Therefore let us not
go into it or live in it deceived as to its nature, as though it were harmless, but let
us shrink from it alarmed at our Lord's warning : " Take heed ! " — " Take heed
lest at any time your heart be overcharged with care." 3. Then, too, it seems the
natural result of temperament. That is another fact which blinds us to its evil»
for we are apt to excuse certain forms of wrong-doing if we have, as we think, a
tendency to them. Let us give up making light of the sin of care because it is
natural, and of thinking that because it is natural it is unconquerable. Consider,
thirdly, what this wobd of oob Lobd tet fubtheb implies. The command not
under any circumstances to have " hearts overcharged with care," is a most solemn
assurance that this is possible. We can rise to some measure of it at once, but its
full measure is the fruit of spiritual culture. Briefly notice the lines this culture
must take. I. We must train ourselves to undertake nothing but at the bidding of
God, Cares are largely due either to a consciousness that we have taken onr
fliflairs into our own hands and must be responsible for the result, or to a feebW
496 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. tb.
realization that having obeyed God we are His servants and an thaa under Hi4
protection. Deliberate obedience is one of the great secrets of peace. 2. And ws
must train ourselves to commit our cares fearlessly to Him. Many of them are
self-imposed, and, as I implied, it will not be easy to lose their burden. We mu3t
avoid such. 3. I need only add that we must train ouirselves to regard oommuoioa
with God as our first duty. For that communion is the basis of ^e faith I speak
«L (C. New.)
Ver. 36. Watch ya, therefore, and pray always. — Christian preparation for the
coming of the Lord : — The subject of our inquiry to-day will be — " What practical
effect ought the doctrine of the Lord's second coming to have on you and me,
living when and where and as we do 7 " On the certainty of that coming, I need,
I suppose, say very little. On the manner of that coming, we possibly may not be
agreed ; the time of it is expressly and purposely concealed from us. Two things,
therefore, seem to me to have a right, as elements, to induence our practice in this
matter ; the absolute certainty that the day will come, and the absolute uncertainty
when it will come. In fact, in both these respects we are in much the same situa-
tion as we are, when in health and strength and the prime of life, with regard to
the day of our death. We know that it must be; but no sign appears of iU
immediate approach. And from this example, so common and so well understood,
we may perhaps be able easily to deduce our duty in the other case. The wise
course with regard to the inevitable day of one's death appears to be this : never
to lose sight of the certainty of it, but to keep ourselves ever ready, while at the
same time we do not morbidly brood over the fact, nor allow it to interrupt oar
duties in life. And here, as in that other case, we must avoid a diseased and
restless state of anticipation, as well as the opposite extreme of entire forgetfulness.
But perhaps it may be said, In laying down rules for the one consideration, that of
our own deaths, are we not also including the other, the expectation of the coming
of the Lord ? Certainly, in some particulars the two great events coincide ; but by
no means in all. And it may be profitable for a few moments to ask ourselvea
wherein they are identical, and wherein each has its region peculiar to itself.
They coincide in that each event, as far as we are concerned, will put a limit to
this our present state of existence ; but they differ, in that the one will do this for
ourselves alone ; the other, for all mankind. And this is a strictly practical
consideration; for I suppose few of as are so selfish as to corifine our
anticipations and provisions to ourselves alone, but we all extend them
over those who are to come after as. The certainty, then, of the day
of the Lord will influence those provisions, if we look on it as
bringing the limit of this state of time ; we shall be rather anxious to do
present good with our substance, making moderate provision for our successors,
than to lay the foundations of great possessions, and starve our charities to do so.
Again, they differ, in that the one brings to ourselves alone the final state ; the
other completes the great scheme of redemption. The number of God's elect will
be accomplished, and His glorious kingdom will have come. And such a con-
sideration, while it may not have much distinctive influence upon our individual
Christian lives, ought to have much upon our regard of our relative duties, and oar
efforts for spreading Christ's gospel on earth. {Dean Alford.) On preparing
for ChriaVa coming rather than for death : — Of all the subjects on which we may
speculate as to our own state and destination, perhaps none is so mysterious, none
so difficult to form a definite idea of, as the condition of the dead after the act of
death ; on the other hand nothing is more simple and clear, than their state after
the coming of the Lord. There is, then, this consideration, which is worthy at
least of our notice ; that the looking for and waiting unto the day of the Lord
brings us something more definite, something immediately following it of a more
tangible kind, more calculated to make a deep impression on us, than the con-
templation of the day of our own death. The realities consequent on the one are
«nd must be, even to the strongest faith, shrouded in a mist which is to as
Impenetrable ; the other, with its realities, stands forth boldly before us, marked
oot in all its features by the hand of Christ HimseU. So that the man who waits
for the Lord's coming is likely to be more definite, more assured, more manly and
determined in whatever effects on his character such anticipation may have, than
ht who merely looks forward to his own death. Moreover, when we compare the
two as to the qaestion, whidb best befits the Christian as an object of thought
•nd expectation — we cannot, I think, hesitate a moment. The New Testameofc
OKAP. XXI.] ST. LUKE. 497
is fall of exhortations to watch and prepare for the Lord's coming. From His owd
discourses while on earth in the flesh, through those of the apostles in the Acts,
through the Epistles of St. Paul, St. Peter, St. James, St. John, St. Jude, even to
the latest written words of the Spirit in the Bevelation, no command is more
frequent, none more solemnly impressed on ns, than that we should keep that great
event constantly in view, and be ever ready for it. Whereas we shall hardly find
one exhortation, addressed directly to as as Christians, to be ready for the day of
our own death. And why so ? clearly not because such readiness is not necessary
— far from it indeed — but because the greater absorbs the less: because the-
promise of our ascended Saviour — His return to us — His coming to take account of
His servants — includes in it all that the other possibly could do, and very much'
more ; because death is at the best but a gloomy thing, bearing trace of the curse,
accompanied with pain and sorrow, whereas the Lord's coming is to His people a
thought full of joy — the completion of their redemption, the beginning of their
reign of glory. (Ibid.) Preparation of heart : — ^We want, in our pre-
paration for the day of the Lord, lightness of heart ; hearts which we can lift up^
to heaven where our treasure is ; hearts which are not tied down to this earth —
not cleaving to the dust. And how may we lighten our hearts? The first
lightening — the first rolling oft of the burden which weighed so heavily on them,
is the work of God's Spirit in the day of His power ; is that setting free from the
load of sin by the blessed eftects of justifying faith in Christ, in which the law of
the Spirit of life makes us free from the law of sin and death. But how may we
best keep them, when thus lightened, from again accumulating a burden, and being
weighed down from their proper object of contemplation and desire ? Listen to
our Lord's command. It is the surfeiting of this world's employments and
pleasures which thus clogs the heart. This, then, of all things is to be shunned, if
we would be prepared for that day. You cannot, beloved, be casting yourselves
fully into the arms of the world, and be prepared for the coming of the Lord.
The two things are absolutely incompatable. If you choose the part of eagerness
about things present, that day will come upon you unawares — whether it come
with the sign in the clouds and the resurrection trumpet, or with the sinking of the
flesh and heart, the curtained chamber, the bedside group fading away from the
failing vision. (Ibid.) The command to watch: — Two facts concerning His
advent are plainly stated and they are all that a majority of His Church will
perceive, namely : that we are ignorant of the time of the end ; that it will be
sudden. I. The ready soul is the diligekt. II. The beadt soul is the
VIGILANT. III. The beadv boul is the pbatkeful. {De Witt S. Clark.)
The safety of prayer : — Our Lord did not so much urge the duty of praying as
the safety of prayer. L To this, then, let us first turn our thoughts. Jesus
mentioned as the special aim of prayer : " That ye may be accounted worthy
to escape all these things," i.e., calamities, that their city, nation, race, and, in fact,
the human family were liable to experience, but yet might escape if only they
would seek to be accounted "worthy " to do so. The word " worthy " as here used
calls for examination ; for if it be taken in the sense of deserving because faultless,.
there is no use in saying anything about it : we are not that ; and we never caa
60 be *' accoimted worthy," having already committed aggravated offences against
God without number, which have brought compromises of guilt and stains upon
our souls. The idea of merit, however, which the word " worthy " usually carries
with it, is not at all intended in this verse. The verb used is a military term
really, meaning to conquer, to win a victory, to prevail against another, against
an enemy, against bafQing influences and hindering circumstances. Hence the
meaning of the word in the text is : that they might be able to prevail and
escape all the calamities Jesus had been speaking of. The Bevised Version
sustains this interpretation. It gives the text : " But watch ye at every season^
making supplication that ye may prevail to escape all these things that shall
come to pass, and to stand before the Son of Man." It was not that He counselled
His disciples to deserve or merit safety through their good conduct, although
their good conduct was to be as binding as ever, but to pray that they might
be tenacious of purpose, anyielding, and therefore, successful in overcommg
temptation, walking so faithfully with their Lord Jesus Christ, as to practise good
conduct and persevere in it. 11. Mind, they were to pray that they might be
tenacious. On that they ought to resolve; ought to set out to be tenacious
in Christian living, in overcoming human oppositions, surmounting temporal
obstacles, social lundrances, threats of rulers, frowns of society, oppositions oi
VOL. m. 82
498 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xa.
families, clamours of self-interest, desires for enjoyment, and lusts that ruin the
goal — bearing their cross to follow after Jesus ; but still, in addition to all this, nay
in order to accomplish all this, they were to make continual and systematic
applications to the Host High God. Wherever you have failed tell it to God ;
in perfect frankness confess it to Him, and ask Him to account you worthy to
escape all forces of temptation, and all calamities that are, or are to be, consequent
on Bin ; or as the Eevised Version has the text : " Make supplication that you may
prevail to escape," every evil of ungodliness, whether already wrought in the
callousness of your heart, or in a weakness of character growing out of self-love,
or in the fearful sorrows that are to be experienced on Christ's rejection of your
undying soul in the judgment day. (Dr. Truvibull.) Watching : — L Watch
ovEB YOUB oDTQOiNGs (Mark vii. 20). II. Watch oveh the incomings. See to
it that mind and heart are ever filled with such suggestions as can carry the
stamp of Christ's approval. III. Watch oveb youb soBBouNDraos. Your life
has to be lived in the midst of hindering difficulties and influences. Then
tmderstand your life. Know the power of your circumstances. IV. Watch ovkb
10UB OPPORTUNITIES. You wUl have opportunities (1) of growing in grace ; (2)
of showing faithfulness to your Lord ; (3) of serving Him in your daily sphere.
{The Weekly Pulpit.) Watching: — ^I. Its peculiae chabacteb. The very quint-
essence of all faith ; the very reason why faith is necessary for the true life
The soul in which burns the light of faith looks forward, and by looking forward
is helped to step forward, expecting some strange yet true results. The will is
strengthened to assert itself, sometimes on ventures which appear without
foundation, but which are based upon the reality of what is to come. So the
Christian can go forward with confidence and security. 1. From the call of
Abraham to the present day, the supreme attitude of God's children has been that
of expectancy. 2. Just as the Israelites looked for the first coming of the Messiah,
eo Christians look for the second coming in power and great glory. II. The
EssENTiAii BENEFITS OF wATCHiNO. 1. It is a power which, though often latent
and unobserved, is still a power of incalculable force. The unknown reserve of
spiritual influence which lies at the root of the sincerely Christian character.
2. The watcher is always ready. No haziness about life, or uncertainty about
its aims. (Anon.) Watchfulness: — See that sentry at the gate of an encamp-
ment or a fortress — mark his measured tread, his martial port, his anxious though
determined countenance — his quiet and searching glance, as he repeats his
constant walk — that soldier is awake ; but he is more — he is upon his guard — his
mind is full of his important trust — he feels the weight of his responsibility.
But see — his frame becomes relaxed, his form grows less erect, his movements
lose their regular mechanical succession — his look is vacant or abstracted, he
no longer looks afar oS and at hand in search of approaching danger, he has
«ither forgotten it, or ceased to reckon it so imminent. And yet the man is wide
awake ; not only are his eyes still open, but they see surrounding objects ; all
his senses are still active, and his mind, though distracted from his present
duty, is as much at work as ever ; for no sooner does the slightest sound arouse
him, than, as if by magic, he recovers his position and the tension of his muscles,
he resumes his measured walk, his mingled air of circumspection and defiance,
and his look of bold but anxious scrutiny. Even before, he was awake ; but now
he is awake and at the same time on his guard. Precisely the same difference
'exists between a simple wakefulness in spiritual matters — a wakefulness of under-
standing, conscience, and affection, and the active exercise of spiritual vigilance ;
ithis is impossible without the other, but the other does not necessarily involve
this. In both oases, that is, in the literal and spiritual case supposed, there
is a sensible gradation of remissness or the opposite. We have seen the sentry
■wholly losing for a moment the recollection of his solemn trust ; but this is not
the only way in which he may unconsciously betray it. Look at him again.
Every look, every motion, now betokens concentration of his thoughts and
feelings on the danger which impends, and against which he is set to watch.
Perhaps he is now motionless, but it is only that his eye may be more steadfastly
iixed upon the point from which the enemy's approach is apprehended. In that
point his whole being seems to be absorbed. Aiid you can see at a glance that
ne is ready, even for the first and faintest intimation of a moving object on
that dim horizon. But while he stands like a statue, with his face turned
iowards that dreaded point, look beyond him and behind him, at those forms which
ate becoming every moment more and more defined against the opposite quarter
<Bap. XXI.] ST. LUKE. 499
of the heavens. He hears them not, because their step is noiseless; he sees
them not, becaase bis eye and all his faculties are employed in an opposite
direction. While he strains every sense to catch the first intimations of
approaching danger, it is creeping stealthily behind him, and when at last his ear
distinguishes the tramp of armed men, it is too late, for a hostile hand is already
on his shoulder, and if his life is spared, it is only to be overpowered and disarmed
without resistance. And yet that soldier was not only awake, but on his guard
— his whole being was absorbed in contemplation of the danger which impended ;
but, alas, he viewed it as impending only from one quarter, and lost sight of
it as really approaching from another. We may even suppose that he was right
in looking where he did, and only wrong in looking there exclusively. There
was an enemy to be expected from that quarter, and if this had been the only
one, the sentry's duty would have been successfully performed; bat he was
not aware, or had forgotten, that the danger was a complex one — that while the
enemy delayed his coming, another might be just at hand, and thus the very con-
centration of his watchfulness on one point defeated its own purpose, by
withdrawing his attention from all others. By a slight shifting in the scene,
I might present to you the same man or another, gazing not at one point only,
but at all ; sweeping the whole visible horizon with his eye as he maintains his
martial vigil. See with what restless activity his looks pass from one distant
point to another, as if resolved that nothing shall escape him, that no imaginable
source of danger shall remain unwatched. That man might seem to be in every
sense awake and on his guard — surprise might seem to be impossible — but hark !
what sound is that which suddenly disturbs him in his solitary vigils 7 he looks
hastily around him, but sees nothing, yet the sound is growing every moment
louder and more distinct; *♦ a voice of noise from the city" — "the voice of them
that shout for mastery " — •' the voice of them that cry for being overcome " !
Doubt is no longer possible — it is — it is behind him — ^yes, the enemy for whom
he looked so vigilantly, is within the walls, and the banner which he thought
to have seen waving at a distance, is floating in triumph just above his head.
The cases which I have supposed are not mere appeals to your imagination.
They are full of instruction as to practical reaUties. They vividly present to us
in figurative forms the actual condition of the soul in reference to spiritual
dangers. {J, A. Alexander, D.D.) Before the Son of Man. — Before the Son of
Man: — I. BiaiD bequikeuents of His standard. 1. Consecration. Implies
self-surrender. The doctrine of the Cross lies at the threshold of Christian living.
2. Parity. Involves thought of the heart, speech, actions. 3. Non-resistance.
" Overcome evil with good." This is the law of the New Testament, though
not of nations or of the world. 4. Forgiveness of injury. Goes beyond passive
indifference. Exacts positive affection. II. Duty of standino befobb Him.
Every time we hear the gospel, we " stand before the Son of Man." Every time
we witness EUs ordinances, we are brought face to face with Him. How ? Either
condemned or justified. Christ is the great Befiner of men. It is our duty to
stand before Him. 1. Because His is the only perfect standard. He makes no
mistakes. 2. Because it is the only way to secure His favour. Once men put
Him on trial ; now the order is reversed. He demands that every man be put to
the test, to show his quality. To refuse to submit to Christ's judgment, is to
confess cowardice. 3. Because by this we reach our proper place. The scientific
principle is here appUed. It is a species of "natural selection" — "the survival
of the fittest." Conclusion : To stand before the Son of Man implies — 1. Your life
in harmony with His. 2. Watching and prayer. 3. His favour and divinest
blessing. {H. S. Lobingier. )
Vers. 87, 38. The Mount of Olives. — Contemplations on Olivet: — It will not be
difficult to conceive how our Lord passed this sleepless night on the Mount of
Ohves. L Night fobebodings oveb the doom of the city which had bejbcted
Him. Can we wonder that His thoughts that night were sad ? Meet the facts fully
and attentively, of — 1. Christ's grief over the apostate city. 2. Christ's grief over
the doomed city. He knew the inseparable connection between sinning against
Christ and impending doom. 11. Night beflections upon His pbofhecies which
FORESHADOWED THE END. Desccration of the Holy City ; slaughter and dispersion
of Qod's people ; dire international struggles ; decadence of faith, &c. UI. Night
anticipations of the cijObin.. ti:vENTS OF His earthly cabeeb. He clearly read each
Incident cf His nearing anguish, and He carefully confronted it all. Nothing coald
600 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, ra,
divert Him from His goal. IV. Night pbepabation fob thb subrenceb to Hb
KEABiKO DEATH. 1. Why this readlncss to meet death ? He would save others ; not
Himself. 2. For whom this readiness to die ? For false friends and hating foes.
(W. H. Jellie.) Work and prayer: — The life of the Lord Jesns on earth was a,
true human life ; and it is only as we fully recognize this fact that we can find in
it an example for our guidance. Here is a brief but instructive record of one
important portion of His ministry on earth — itself a type of His whole course. The
day was given to work — the evening to quiet rest, meditation, and prayer. Both
were necessary to the fulfilment of His mission, and both are essential to the com-
pleteness of our Christian character. Here are two elements of Christian excel-
lence, apparently apposite, yet both must be blended in one who would attain tO'
the fulness of the stature of a perfect man in Christ Jesus. Many have tried, are
trying, to separate them. There have been ages, there are still individuals and
parties in whom there is an excess of the devotional — an excess, because it is to the
exclusion of the active part. Man can never pray too often or too earnestly ; but
if his whole ideas of religious duty be confined to the reading of so-called spiritual
books, the attendance on the pubhc worship of God, or the performance of certain
acts of private devotion — if the whole time that is not spent thus is regarded as
something removed from the sphere of religion — if the ordinary work of the world
be looked on as something that is fitted to lower the tone of the soul, and to inter-
fere with spiritual earnestness — if even active service for Christ be depreciated, then
the true character of a Christian Ufe is altogether forgotten. There is the opposite
danger, and it is perhaps that into which we are most prone to fall. Ours is the
age of activity— from every side come to the Christian calls for earnest labour, for
the overthrow of error, for the enlightening of ignorance, for the diffusion of the
Gospel, for the relief of suffering and poverty, for the advancement of the number-
less institutions which seek the advancement of Christ's kingdom. Demands of this
character are incessant ; and if obedience to them be the whole of our religion — if
such engagements prevent heart-searching, God-seeking, quiet meditation, and
earnest prayer — if they draw us away from that self-communion which is the true
prelude to communion with God — if all is bustle, excitement, outward struggle,
there is sure to be weakness. I. It will not need much argument to prove that
ACTIVE liABOUBB FOB ChBIST ABE AN ESSENTIAL PAST OF ChBISTIAN DUTY. The life of
Christ is the model for all true human lives. In the perfection of His self-sacrifice,
in His readiness for all kinds of service, in His eagerness to search out opportunities
for blessing man, in His indifference to every motive or feeling that would have
held Him back in His ministry of love — in the resolve so early announced, that He
must be about His Father's business, our great Master inspires and guides us. His
own teachings indicate clearly that His followers are not to be recluses dwelling:
apart from their kind, but men taking their place in the world's associations and
movements, that they may affect them for good. They are the salt of the earth, and
that salt must be applied to the mass which it is to season and preserve, else where
were its value ? Surely it argues no want of charity to say that all these pleas argue
an absence of true love to Christ. Men complain of want of opportunities, want ot
adaptation, want of intellect, when their one grand deficiency is want of heart.
Love will quicken languid feelings, multiply the few talents, ennoble that which
else were mean, breathe courage into trembUng hearts, and make the foolish wise
to win souls. Difficnlties that to sluggards seem insuperable, will but stimulate its
ardour and reveal its strength. II. The Cheistian man must have his times fob
BETiBEMSNT AND PBAYEB. This is the Other lesson taught by the brief record of the
last week of our Lord's ministry on earth. Now as the crisis draws near and the
cross is in immediate prospect, still more does His spirit crave that retirement in
which, with strong crying and tears, He can make His supplication to His heavenly
Father. To us the spectacle is alike sublime and mysterious, yet full of instruc-
tion. The glories which belong to the God cannot make us forget that He has
become in all respects like to us, and that as our elder brother He teaches us our
need, and shows us where we must seek for strength and succour. For we, too,
need our times of rest for meditation, self-examination, and prayer. Soul and body
in this follow the same law. Science tells us, and experience confirms the truth,
that food is not more needful for the body than rest. Want of sleep will exhaust
and kill as well as want of food. So with the souL Asleep in the full sense it
ought never to be, but rest, cessation of conflict, labour, and trial, it does need.
Constant excitement, unrelaxing toil, unceasing struggle, would have the same
effect on it as on the body. We feel, in our bodily life, need for even more than the
•HAP. zxn.] 8T. LUKE. 60]
night of sleep. Who can tell the blessing to the world, even as a mere physical
good, of the Christian Sabbath ? Our Good Shepherd knows our need, and there-
lore He has still waters to which He leads His flock — " waters of restings," where
oar spirits, exhausted by work or warfare, may find the refreshment they require.
He calls ns, therefore, to rest and prayer, that we may find the " renewing of the
Holy Ghost," Thus the earnest worker is prepared to be the most importunate
pleader with God, and the fervent prayer, in its turn, fills the sonl with the inspira-
tion of a barning zeal and the confidence of an assored faith. {J, O. Eogertt B.A.)
CHAPTER XXn.
Ykbb. 1, S. Sought how they might Mil Him. — The eonspiraey agairut Christ : —
This chapter gives us a sad and sorrowful relation of the chief priests* conspiracy
against the life of our blessed Saviour; in which we have three particulars
observable : 1. The persons making this conspiracy, the chief priests, scribes, and
elders ; that is, the whole Jewish sanhedrim, or general council ; they all jay their
malicious heads together, to contrive the destruction of the holy and innocent
Jesus. Thence learn, that general councils have erred, and may err funda-
mentally, both in matters of doctrine and practice ; they did not befieve Jesus to
be the Messias, after all the miracles wrought before their eyes, but ignominiously
put Him to death. 2. The maimer of this conspiracy against the life of our blessed
Saviour ; it was clandestine, secret, and subtle. They consulted how they might
take Him by craft, and put Him to death. Learn thence, that Satan makes use of
the subtlety of crafty men, and abuseth their parts as well as their power for his
own purposes and designs: the devil never sends a fool on his errand. 3. The
circumstance of time when this conspiracy was managed, at the feast of the passover.
{W. Burkitt).
"Vers. S-€. Then entered Satan into Judas. — Progressive wickedness : — Men do
not become great villains at once. Souls are not like meteoric bodies, that are
blazing amongst the stars at one moment, and the next in some dark pit on earth,
wrapped in a noxious and sulphurous smoke. They are rather like trees, they fall
by degrees. See that great monarch of the forest I For years disease has been in
its roots, and a long succession of foul insects have been gnawing at its vitals.
Slowly and silently the decline goes on. At first the outward symptoms are
scarcely visible. A few withered leaves on one of its branches on a certain spring
are first noticed by the old woodman. The next spring, and not only withered
leaves are seen, but perhaps a leafless branch or two. Thus through many a long
year the deterioration proceeds, until at last it is rotten to the core, and only
awaits some slight breeze blowing in the right direction to strike it down. One
morning a gentle gust of air sweeps through the wood, the tree falls with a crash
that sbakes its neighbours, vibrates through the forest, and appals the district with
its boom.
Vers. 7-13. Oo and prepare ns the passover. — Preparation for the Last Supper: —
Passover just at hand. Day of preparation. The Lamb to be offered is Himself.
" Go and prepare — get ready — for Me; let it be heart-preparation." 1. This prepa-
ration was general. All Old Testament teachings, histories, prophecies, and events
were a preparation for the death on the cross. " Go, prepare to meet Me around
that taole of commemoration." 2. When, or at what time, concerned the disciples.
Your time to prepare is now. 3. The character of this command. Lnperative.
*' Go." Now Grotius, who lived to be fifty before he made this preparation, said,
" I have passed the whole of my life laboriously doing nothing." Cast away your
sins, your prayerlessness. " I have lost ten years ; I give the rest to Jesus," should
be the resolution of youth. 4. Tou will need to carry nothing in there. The feast
is prepared. (S. E. Tyng, I>.D.) Preparation for the Lord's Supper : — Part of
the preparation for the Lord's Sapper consists in learning about Christ. Uulesa
we taxow fiim we cannot remember Him. If we know little about Him out
Mmembranoe of Him \nll be poor and shallow. Suppose yon were asked to dt
602 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. (0=^' 'tm.
something, to illuminate your house or to plant a tree, in remembrance of some on«
of whom you had never heard — Bocehoris, for instance — you might do it ; but what
sense would there be in your doing it? You know nothing about him. What yaa
did would be a mere external and formal observance. If I told you that according
to Manetho he was the only monarch belonging to the twenty-fourth dynasty of
Egyptian kings, he would still be nothing more than a name to you. Was he a
good king or a bad king ? Did he build temples, pyramids, great pubho works,
make canals, establish wise and beneficent laws, fight famous battles, contribute to
the civilization and happiness of his people, or did he do nothing? Was his
reign long and glorious? Was he remembered after his death with love and
honour ? Or was his memory execrated ? You don't know ; I believe no one
knows. His name stands in a list of ancient kings, that is all we can say, and to
do anything in remembrance of him would be an unmeaning ceremony. Bemem-
brance must be based on knowledge, and the richer our knowledge the more vivid
is our remembrance. When there is to be any public celebration of a great man,
when a statue is to be erected or a building opened in his honour, the newspapers
tell us about his life, and about what he did for the country ; and speeches are
delivered to recall the grounds on which his memory deserves to be perpetuated.
And so a large part of the proper preparation for the Lord's Supper consists in
learning all we can know about the Lord Jesus Christ. The four Gospels are the
best preparation for the service. {R. W. Dale.) The last passover : — L Christ's
DESiKE TO EAT THE PASSOVER. This in another place is expressed in the strongest
terms (Luke xxiL 15). Now, this he might do for the following reasons : 1. It
was the Lord's passover, so called in Exod. xii 11. 2. Hereby he gave an un-
deniable proof, that He was made under the ceremonial as well as moral law. 3. This
was His last passover, and had an immediate relation to His subsequent sufferings.
4. The company with which He was to eat the passover, and the gospel ordinance
He was about to institute in its room, might increase the ardour of His desire.
Hence those tender words : " I shall eat the passover with My disciples." IL Notice
THE piiACB IN WHICH Christ WOULD EAT THIS PASsovEB. Not in fierod's, or the High
Priest's palace ; for He who took upon Him the form of a servant, did not affect
state and grandeur. Not in the magnificent dwelling of a Boman officer, or Jewish
ruler, where He might be attended with a numerous retinue of servants ; He came
not to be ministered to, but to minister. Now this may be considered as emble-
matical— 1. Of the gospel Church. 2. It may resemble the renewed and sanctified
heart. " Commune with your own heart " ?Psa, iv. 4). " Enter into your own
chamber " (Heb.) The furiaished room may also resemble a heart endowed with all
the gifts, and adorned with all the graces of the Spirit. (B. Beddome, M.A.)
Vers. 14-20. With desire I have desired to eat this passover with yon. — The last
fossover — Christ's desire for it : — " This passover before I suffer 1 " It tells ns,
surely, that there was some connection between the passover and the suffering of
Christ, and a special connection in this passover at which He and His disciples were
now sitting down. Let us think of some of the reasons why the Saviour desired so
earnestly to join in this last passover before He suffered. 1. One reason was, that
the passover had now reached its end, and fuund its full meaning. The ancient
covenant, which changed the slaves of Egypt into God's servants, gives place to the
new, which changes his servants into His sons, and commences that golden chain, "If
children, then heirs : heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ," &o. And here, too, are
the means of the redemption. The passover, which sprinkled with the blood of the
covenant the door-posts in the land of Egypt, descends until its last victim dies
beneath the shadow of the cross of Christ. Its efficacy is gone, for He^ has
appeared who is to finish transgression, to make an end of sin, and to bring in an
everlasting righteousness. At best it was a shadow, but now the great reality has
come, "Christ our passover, sacrificed for us." It is no unconscious victim, but
one who freely gives Himself, the just for the unjust, that He may bring us to God.
2. Another reason why Christ desired to be present at this passover was, for the
support of His own soul in the approaching struggle. "Before I suffer 1 " He had
a terrible conflict to meet, for which He longed, and at which He trembled. We
may feel startled at the thought that the Son of God should be dependent on such
aid at such a moment. And yet it is in keeping with all His history — ^with the
whole plan of redemption. The Divine and human are inseparably interwoven in
the life and work of Christ. 3. We are led naturally to this further reason— that
Christ desired to be present at the last passover because His friends needed special
cuue. XXII.] ST. LUKE. 503
comfort. " To eat this passover with you before I suffer." He desired to make Hia
converse with them at this passover in the upper chamber a strength and conso-
lation to them against the sore temptations they were to encounter. And may we
not believe that Christ still prepares His people for what may be lying before them,
and that He employs His comforts " to prevent " them — to go before them — in the
day of their calamity. When darkness is about to fall, God has lamps to put into
the hand by anticipation. He who made His ark go before His ancient people in all
their wanderings, causes the consolations of His Word to smooth the way of them
that look to Him. He knows what painful steps are before us in the journey of
life, what privations, what bereavements — it may be that the most solemn step of
all must ere long be taken — and He desires to eat this passover with us " before we
suffer." 4. The last reason we give for Christ's desire to be present at this passover
is, that it looked forward to all the future of His Church and people. At the close
of the last passover, Christ instituted that communion of the Supper which has
come down through many generations — which goes forth into all the world as
the remembrance of His death and the pledge of the blessings it has purchased for
us. How frail this little ark which His hand has sent out on those stormy waters,
but how safely it has carried its precious freight ! And this presence of His, at the
first communion, looks still further — on to the period when, instead of His Spirit,
we shall have Himself. He desired to take His place in person at the first com-
munion in our world, and when the great communion opens in heaven, He shall be
seen in His place once more. {J. Ker, D.D.) The Lord's Supper : — We need not look
for great things in order to discover great truths. To those who reach after God he
will reveal his deepest secrets through things insignificant in themselves, within the
routine of common lives. No event occurs more regularly than the daily meal.
None, perhaps, gathers around it so many pleasant associations. Its simplest
possible form, in Christ's time, consisted in eating bread and drinking a cup of
wine. Into this act, one evening, He gathered all the meaning of the ancient sacri-
fices ; all sacred and tender relations between Himself and His followers, and all
the prophecies of His perfected kingdom. L The pbbparation. •« They made
ready the passover." Note concerning the making ready that — 1. It was deliberate.
The room was selected and secured. The hour was appointed. Two of the
disciples were chosen to prepare the lamb and to spread the table. The Lord's
Supper is not less, but far more, rich in meaning than was the ancient passover. It
requires the preparation of mind and heart made by private meditation, and by the
gathering together beforehand of disciples for prayer, conference, and instruction.
2. It was exclusive. "I shall eat the passover," Christ said, "with My disciples."
No others were invited, because no others were fitted to share in the ceremony
which He was to inaugurate. 3. It was famUiar. He drew closer to His disciples
as the time approached in which He was to teach them how to celebrate His great
act for the redemption of the world. Such times must be cherished as the warm,
spring hours of spiritual growth. 4. It was solemn. The shadow of the greatest
tragedy in the world's history, close at hand, hung over them, as they went through
the silent streets to the prepared guest chamber. His manner, His words, His
actions, were filled with the consciousness of it. II. The betkateb pointed out.
1. It leads each true disciple to self-examination. 2. It helps to reveal to Himself
the false disciple. Judas knew that he was out of place in that upper chamber.
The Lord's table, which symbolizes the most intimate fellowship with Him, is a
means of leading selfish men to begin to realize the awful and utter loneliness ol
sin. 3. It helps us to realize the baseness of a false confession of Christ. UL The
SnpPEB INSTITUTED. 1. A now sacrifice. Oxen, sheep, and doves had for centuries
been slain as a sign that through life offered in sacrifice, human Ufe that had been
forfeited by sin might be restored. But from that night the broken bread takes
the place of all these, and represents to us the body of Christ given as a sacrifice
for siimers. 2. A new covenant. 3. A new kingdom, which was begun when first
Christ through the Holy Spirit began to rule in one human heart. {A. E. Dunning.)
The happineis of attending Tlie Communion : — During the sunshine of his prosperity.
Napoleon I. thought httle of God and religious duties. But when his power had
been broken, and he was an exile at St. Helena, he began to see the vanity of
earthly things, and became earnest and attentive to religion. Then it was that he
returned a very remarkable answer to one who asked hirn what was the happiest
day in his Ufe. "Sire," said his questioner, "allow me to ask yon what was
the happiest day in all your life? Was it the day of your viotoiy at Lodi7
at Jena? at Austerlitz? or was it when yon were crowned emperor?" l&o,
604 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. (chap, xzn,
roy good friend, replied the fallen emperor, " it was none of these. It waB
the day of my first communion I That was the happiest day in all my life 1 "
Sacraviental service : — I. How intekse thb Satioub's love for vb must have been,
in that His desire was not extinguished by the knowledge that it was to be His
death-feast. II. How close His fellowship with men, as shown in that He desired
to spend such an hour in their company. III. How bageb the Masteb was to
MAKE the disciples BEALIZE THE NEABNESS OF THE HEAVENLY BLES8INQ He WOULD
ruBCHASE FOB THEM, and to give them a pledge of it for their assurance. " I will
uot eat any more thereof, until it be fulfilled," Ac. The Lord's Supper, then insti-
tuted, is thus designed to be — 1. An evidence of Christ's undying love. 2. An
assurance of His intimate fellowship. 3. A confirmation of His promise of the
everlasting blessedness. {Anon.) The Last Supper : — I. The passoveb pbbpaeed.
This preparation is suggestive of three things. I. The dispensation in which Christ
and His apostles still were. 2. The all-comprehensive knowledge possessed by
Christ. 3. That in the midst of enemies Christ still had friends in Jerusalem.
II. The passoveb eaten. I. Our Lord's punctuality (ver. 14). 2. Our Lord's
intense desire in respect to this passover. (1) Because the last He would celebrate
with them. (2) Because He would impress them with the connection between Him-
self as God's Lamb, and the paschal lamb. (3) Because He would awaken in them
an intense desire for His second coming, when He would sit down with them in the
Kingdom of God. III. The passoveb bupeeseded. 1. By the estabhshment of an
ordinance which commemorates the true passover (see 1 Cor. v. 7). 2. By the
assurance of the better hope which this ordinance affirms (Heb. vii. 19-22).
3. By the emblematic re-cmcifixion of our Lord, which should inspire them to a
constant remembrance of His personal love for them (1 Cor. xi. 24). Lessons : 1.
Retrospection essential. (1) Bread broken. (2) Wine poured out. 2. Introspec-
tion essential (1 Cor. xi. 28). 3. Prospection essential (1 Cor. xi. 26). (D. C
Huglies, M.A.) The cup of suffering and of Communion: — I. That communion
BETWEEN ChBIST AND BELIEVEBS WILL BE BENEWED IN HEAVEN. Even On this Side
heaven, seasons of pure spiritual communion are not denied us. This exhausts
the Saviour's idea. His words are to be taken not literally, but spiritually.
The wine is put for the thing represented — the joys and the felicities of
the final state, and to drink the wine new with Him is to partake the inmost
pleasure of His soul. II. This communion will be pebfect and unmixed. We
receive only in part ; and this necessarily renders every act of communion im-
perfect. But in heaven it will be otherwise. Our nature will be so purified and
transformed, as that every power and every property will be an avenue to convey
the stream of life and glory into the soul. The fellowship will be that of perfected
spirits. There will be no darkness in the understanding, no error in the judgment,
no guilt in the conscience, no sin in the heart. IH. This communion will bb
unintebbupted and etebnal. Sublime and refreshing as are the seasons of spiritual
joy which we experience on earth, they are, generally speaking, but of short dura-
tion. Here perpetuity of enjoyment is impossible, but there it is certain. The
union between the Saviour and the soul will never be dissolved, and therefore the
fellowship will never end. Here we are overtaken by fatigue and exhaustion, but
there we shall be endowed with immortal vigour ; here sickness and infirmity often
intervene, but there the inhabitants shall never say they are sick ; here we enjoy
communion at intervals, there it will be eternal. IV. This communion will bb
heightened by the pbesence and the fellowship of the whole bedeemed Chubch.
It is no common joy which we experience even in the most private communion ; but
this joy is heightened when we can blend with other souls in harmony with our
own. What, then, must be the communion of the coming world, where we shall hold
immediate fellowship not only with God and the Bedeemer, but at the same moment,
and in the same act, with angels and the whole Church of the redeemed ? Dehght-
ful is the union and fellowship of minds on earth I Wben heart communes with
heart it is like the mingling dew-drops on the flower. But this union will be height-
ened in heaven. There we shall find none but kindred minds, with which it will
be impossible not to unite. The blessedness of the future world is in reserve for ,
those only who belong to the kingdom of God on earth. Into the heavenly opm-
munion none will be received, but those who have here held feUowship with a risen
and glorified Saviour. {R. Ferguson, LL.D.) He took bread, and gave thanks,
and brake It. — The Holy Communion : — I. Holy Communion — what is it 1 1. ij
is Christ's own ordinance. Being a communicant is the test of the reality of your
Christian profession. 2. It is the command of the Great Master. Emphatie,
CHAF. XXII.] ST. LUKE. 806
plain, straightforward, definite. A test of our faithfulneBS as the servants of
Christ. 3. It is the dying wish of the best of Friends. You cannot disregard it,
and be true to BQm. 4. Its great importance is taught plainly by the teaching and
practice of the early Church. It was at first the only act of united worship. And
it was celebrated at least every Lord's Day. II. What is its nature ? 1. It is a
memorial. A picture for all time of Christ's body broken and blood shed for the
sins of man. (1) A memorial to God the Father. In our prayers we say, " through
Jesus Christ our Lord " ; or some such words; t.«., we plead before the Father what
He has done for us. In the Holy Communion we say, " for Jesus' sake " not in
words, but in the very acts which He Himself has taught us. Thus it is our highest
act of prayer. (2) A memorial to ourselves. How easily we forget. This refreshes
our memory, and rekindles our love. (3) A memorial to an unthinking or un-
believing world. A witness to men that we beUeve in Jesus, who lived and died
and stiU lives for us. 2. It is a means of grace. Jesus Himself is pleased in this
ordinance of his own appointment to give us Himself. 3. It is a bond of union
between ourselves and others. In partaking together one sacred food we, made one
with Jesus, are brought nearer to one another. (1) A bond of union between
those who belong to the same earthly family. (2) A bond of union between those
who belong to the same congregation. (3) A bond of union between all Christiana
who love the Lord Jesus. (4) A bond of union between those who are resting in
paradise. III. Who ought to come ? 1. Those who know how poor their love is,
and want to love God more. 2. Those who are trying to serve God, and fail
because they are weak, and need strength. 3. Those who are sinful, but desire to
become holy. 4. Those who are careful and troubled about many things, and long
for rest. IV. Who ought not to come ? 1. Those who are sinning, and do not
want to give up their sin. 2. Those who think themselves good enough. The self-
satisfied obtain no blessing, for they seek none. V. How to come. 1. Humbly.
Why ? Because we are not worthy to come. 2. Trustingly and simply. Taking
God at His word, and not asking questions. 3. Earnestly. Meaning what we are
doing. Not because others come, but because we realize that in our sinfulness and
our unworthiness we find the strongest reason why we ought to come. ^ 4. Reve-
rently. Humbly realizing the presence of Jesus, and earnestly desiring His
blessing. 5. Eegularly. Have a fixed rule about it. Do not leave it to be done at
any time when it is convenient or suits you. 6. More and more frequently. Aa
you grow older you ought to be more earnest, and in order to serve God better yoa
must seek more help. The grown-up man is not content with the same amount of
food as the child ; and the man who is desirous to grow up into the full measure
of the stature of Christ, needs more spiritual nourishment than the man who is
only a babe in Christ. 7. Early. When your thoughts are fresh, your heart free
from cares and worries, your mind undisturbed by worldly things. Give to God
the best you can. Let Him have the first of the day. (C. J. Eidgeway, M.A.)
The Holy Communion : — I. The obdinance itseut. IL Its chakactebistics. 1. A
Divine ordinance. 2. A perpetual ordinance. 3. A binding and obligatory ordi-
nance. 4. It should be a frequent ordinance. No Lord's Day without the Lord's
Supper, in. Ths spibit in which it shouu) be obbebved. 1. Deep humility of
mind. 2. Grateful love to Jesus. 3. Faith. 4. Love to all mankind. 6. Joyous
hope. IV. The advantages arising tbom obedience to this command of Cekist's.
1. The soul will be strengthened. 9. Christ will be increasingly precious.
8. Holiness will be increased. 4. Heaven will be desired. Application: 1. Address
regular communicants. Come in a right spirit. Be watchful, humble, prayerful,
Ac. 2. Address irregular communicants. Why so ? It is disobedience, inoonsia
tency, injurious to yourselves, Church, world. 8. Those who never commune a<
all. (1) The conscientiously doubtful. Do you hate sin? Believe in Christ, &g.
Are you willing to obey him? Then draw near, Ac. (2) Those who are really-
unfit for the Lord's table, are also unfit for death, judgment, eternity. {J. Bums,
D.D.) The Sacrament of Holy Communion : — In preserving this festival, we are
nrged alike by affection and duty. L The act. L To stir up your pure minds by
way of remembrance, we may point out the simplicity of this act. 2. But though
• simple it is significant. The material forms and visible things, represent spiritual
and invisible realities. 8. The participation of this Sacrament is a manifestation
of Christian unity (1 Cor. x. 16, 17). 4. This act is commemorative. 6. This
ordinance is also sealing. A pledge of Divme mercy. A covenant act. 6. This
Sacrament is also prospective. " Till He come." 11. Ths coumamo. •• This do."
L Unanimonsly. 2. Frequently. 8. Gratefully. 4. Reverently. & Wtrthilj.
608 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. rtu.
"Discerning the Lord's Body." {R. M. Willcox.) The Lord's Supper :—Tht
Lord's Supper — what a title 1 How full of memories, how it carries us back into
the very heart of the past ! What a solemn night it tells of — what a meeting — what
a parting ! The Lord's Supper, however often it is celebrated, always ought to
carry us back to the institution. For the little company of the disciples it was a
night of gloom. The week had opened amid Hosannas ; for a moment it had
seemed as if the Saviour was to be the hero and the idol of the multitude. But the
acclaims died away. The bitter hostility of the rulers reasserted itself in a series
of angry or crafty assaults ; and now we are on the very eve of that other and most
opposite cry — •' Away with Him ; crucify Him. His blood be on us, and on our
children." The fortunes of the new gospel, as man must judge, were that night at
the very lowest ebb. As the event advances it is made quite evident that this is a
parting meeting, and that the Lord and Master knows it. He speaks of Himself as
departing, not on a temporary journey, but by a violent death. People who are
bent upon explaining away everything that is remarkable, still more everything that
is superhuman in the Gospels, have denied that the words " Take, eat, this is My
Body ; Drink ye all of this, for this is My Blood," were words of institution at all.
They say that they were merely a pathetic way of typifying to the disciples His
approaching death, and had nothing to do with any future conomemoration of it
when He should be gone. It is not necessary to argue this point, because we have
the clearest testimony from the earliest date rationally possible ; the testimony of
friends and foes ; of Christians and Pagans ; of St. Paul and St. Luke ; of Pliny
no less than Justin Martyr, that those who heard the words did understand them
as words of institution, and did act upon them as such. The breaking of the
bread, the coming together to eat the Lord's Supper were phrases of perpetual re-
currence as soon as there was any Church founded, and wherever that Church
spread itself over Asia and Europe; and that custom, always, and everywhere,
explained itself by going back to the scene in the guest-chamber the night before the
Crucifixion. But now, if the words had this meaning, the thought comes upon us
with great force, how wonderful is it that our Lord, Imowing that this was His last
night upon earth as a man in flesh and blood, instead of regarding it as an end,
looks upon it as a beginning, speaks of it as a preliminary, a necessary preliminary
to results foreseen and foreknown, in particular to what He calls the remission or
dismissal of sins, and gives directions for the perpetual remembrance of Hia
approaching baptism of blood, in an ordinance which is to have for its marked
feature the symbolic eating and drinking of His own Body and Blood. Brethren,
this is a great thought. Our Lord in the same night in which He was betrayed,
the very night before He suffered, did not look upon that betrayal or upon that
passion as a disaster, as a blow struck at His work, or His enterprise, but rather as
its necessary condition. It is the fore-ordained consummation. The same night
in which He was betrayed, and in the clearest foresight of His Crucifixion, He
founds an ordinance. He institutes a sacrament in express recognition, and for the
everlasting remembrance, of His death of violence and torture, of ignominy and
agony. Well, now let us pass on to the very words of the institution, so much
more surprising and startling than if they had merely spoken of commemorating
His death — " Take, eat, this is My Body " ; " Drink ye all of this, for this is My
blood." It would not have been at all startling, and not at all surprising, if our
Lord had bidden His disciples to come together from time to time to meditate upon
His cruel and suffering death. A mere man might have thought of this, might
even have made it a religious service to go over the particulars of His passion,
partly as a memorial to a lost friend, and partly for the encouragement of serious,
devout, and humble living. But this cannot be said of the expressions before us —
" Take, eat, this is My Body." " Drink this, for it is My Blood." So far from thia
being the common language of a dying friend, it would be language of which all
would shrink from the hearing or the uttering. Brethren, it speaks for itself, that
they must have regarded Him who said, " Take, eat, this is My Body," as one alto-
gether different from any common, or any merely human person. It would be
cruelty, it would be impiety, it would be insanity in any friend, living or dying, to
use such expressions concerning himself. They say this, if they say anything, "My
death shall be your life ; " '* My body is given. My blood is outpoured for you." In
that death is involved the life of the world. In tiiat separation of flesh and blood
which is the act of dying, the sins of the world are taken away ; yet this is not ai
a single isolated fact just to be accepted, just to be relied upon, without corollary or
consequence — not so. " I, the dying, the once dead, shall be alive again after
CHAP, xm.] ST. LUKE. 507
death, and be your life, not as a dead man, but as one alive after death ;
so must you deal with Me. You must receive Me into your hearts, you must,
as it were, eat Me and drink Me, so that I may enter into your very being, and
become a part of you ; not as a man in human form treading upon the earth, com-
panying with you as a man with his friends, but in a totally different manner, aa
one that died and was dead, but who now liveth to die no more ; as one that has
died and risen again ; as one that is now in heaven ; as one that has the Holy
Spirit, and sends Him forth for perpetual indwelling in the hearts of His people."
So eat, so drink, for refreshing, and for sustentation. " The flesh profiteth nothing" ;
no, not though you could hold in the hand and press with the teeth the very body of
the Crucified. The flesh, even the sacred flesh,profiteth nothing; " it is the Spirit that
quickeneth." One moment of spiritual contact with the risen and glorified is worth
whole centuries, whole millenniums, of the corporeal co-existence, (Dean Vaughan.)
The advantages of remembering Christ : — I. We are to inquire, first, what is implied
IN RBMEMBEBiNQ Cheist. 1. There is evidently implied in this remembrance a
knowledge of Him, a previous acquaintance with Him. He must have occupied
much of our thoughts, have entered into our hearts, and been lodged in
the deepest recesses of our minds. 2. Hence to remember Christ implies
a heart-felt love for Him. 3. Hence to remember Christ implies also a fre-
quent and affectionate recalling of Him to our minds, II. Let us proceed to
inquire why Cheist has left tjs this commakd to eemembeb Him. 1. He has
done this for a reason which ought greatly to humble us. He has said, "Remember
Me," because He knows that we are prone to forget Him. 2, But our proneness to
forget Christ is not the only reason why He has commanded us to remember Him.
He has given us this command, because He desires to be remembered by us, 3.
The great reason, however, why Christ has commanded us to remember Him, is
this — He knows that we cannot think of Him without deriving much benefit to our-
selves. in. What, then, aee the advantages besulting from an habitual bbmem-
brance of Jesus ? This is our third subject of inquiry ; let us proceed to consider
it. 1. The first of these benefits is comfort to the soul, when wounded by a sense
of sin. 2, An habitual remembrance of Christ has a tendency also to elevate our
affections. 3. This heavenly -mindedness would lead us to a third benefit resulting
from this remembrance of Christ — patience and comfort in our affliction b. 4. The
remembrance of Christ tends also to keep alive within us a holy hatred of sin,
Kothing makes sin appear half so hateful, as the cross of Christ; nothing so
effectually checks it when rising in the soul, as the thought of a dying Saviour.
O let me never crucify the Son of God afresh 1 IV, But if wb would habitually
bbmembeb Cheist, let us not foegbt the command given ds in the text,
" This do in remembrance of Me." We soon forget objects which are removed from
oar sight ; and our Lord, who knows and pities this weakness of our nature, has
given us an abiding memorial of Himself. He has appointed an ordinance for this
very purpose, to remind us of His love. (C. Bradley, M.A.) Christ wanting to be
remembered : — The Holy Communion is the memorial of our Redeemer's sacrifice,
I. Chbist wants to be bemembeeed fob what He has done fob us. We never
must forget the past, or lose sight of Calvary, Great Prophet, we must ever think
of what He has done to teach ; Great Priest, what He has done to atone ; and Great
King, what He has done to win the allegiance and devotion of our hearts. II, Odb
LOBD WANTS TO BE EEMEMBEBED IN WHAT He IS DOING FOB US. He liveS tO Carry
on and to carry out His work of grace in our hearts and lives. III. Christ wants
TO be bemembeeed fob what He is under pledge to do. We anticipate the
coronation of our King, and the marriage-supper of the Lamb. Veils hide Him
now; we long- for the vision of His face. (R. Tuck, B. A.) The Holy feast : —
1. A feast of charity. 2. A feast of commemoration. 3, A feast of sanctified
communion. 4. A feast of hope, (J. B. Owen, M.A.) The Sacrament of Holy
Communion : — I. A direction from Chbist — '• Do this," 1. Addressed by our
Lord (1) to the apostles, and (2) through them to the whole catholic Church. 2.
Spoken as a Friend to His Mends, 3. Spoken instructively. As oar Prophet,
4. Spoken authoritatively. As our King, Christ expects us to keep this our military
oath with Him. If an earthly commander had but to say to his servant, " go," and
he went ; and " come," and he came ; how much more "ought we to be in subjectioQ
to the Father of spirits and live?" " See then, oh believer, that ye refuse not
Him who speaketh. " Do not come to the Holy Table — (a) formally ; {b) grudgingly,
or of necessity. But come — (a) humbly; (b) reverently; (c) faithfully. II. An
axPLANATOBT MOTivB — " In remembrance of Me." {R, S. Brocket M.A.) The eup
608 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap.
ofreconeiliation : — Warburton and Tucker were contemporary bishop and dean in th«
same cathedral. For many years they were not even on speaking terms. It was
on a Good Friday, not long before Warburton's death ; they were at the Holy Table
together. Before he gave the cup to the dean, he stooped down, and said in tremu-
lous emotion, " Dear Tucker, let this be the cup of reconciliation between us." It
had the intended effect ; they were friends again to their mutual satisfaction.
(Christian Age.) The Lord's Supj>er : — I. The instctution of this holt bit».
"This do" — that is, do what I am doing. To do what Jesus did we are to take
bread and wine. And we are to take this bread and wine, not for an ordinary meal
for they "had supped"; and St. Paul says, "If any hunger, let him eat at
home," — but for a sacramental feast, a means of feeding in our souls upon the Body
and Blood of Christ our Saviour. Again, if we would do what Jesus did, we must,
before we eat that bread and drink that wine, have them consecrated : " Jesus
blessed" ; and, as St. Paul says, " the cup of blessing which we bless." Next, we
are to have a minister to consecrate them. We do not find that any disciples meet-
ing together could consecrate the elements, for in Matthew we are told, that " Jesus
blessed it and brake it, and then gave it to the disciples and said. Take, eat, this is
My Body." Again we find, that in doing this, our Lord accompanied it with prayer.
II. The purpose of the Lord's Supper — " do this in remembrance of Me." The
remembrance of Jesus may be considered actively or passively — " this do in remem-
brance of Me " — that is, to remind Jesas of us, or to remind us of Jesus. The
expression may be applied both ways, and may be profitably considered in either
view. We have need of reminding Christ of us, of our necessities, our wants, our
joys, and our sorrows, as in Isa. xliii. 26. In Numb. x. 9, we have the same truth of
reminding God of us set before the Jews, and so again in Mai. iii. 16, 17. In this view of
these words, we have then this truth set before us that, in that holy ordinance, we
remind Jesus of His covenanted mercy, of His dying love, the price it cost Christ to
purchase our souls, the greatness of His promises, the reality and truth of our faith in
Him, the necessity we have to bring before Him our weakness and our woes. We remind
Him that we do indeed believe in Him, and that, believing in Him, we cling to His
precious covenant. In taking of the memorials of His dying love, we remind Him
that we are those of whom He has said, " He that believeth on Me, though He were
dead, yet shall he live, and whosoever liveth and believeth on Me shall never die."
But again, the remembrance of Jesus, taken passively, implies that we remember
Jesus ; our remembrance of Jesus implies, not merely a remembrance of one act
of the Saviour, of one truth, or one fact connected with His gospel or His life, but
a remembrance of Himself. He does not say, do it in remembrance of the cross —
do it in remembrance of the garden, but, do it in remembrance of Me— My person
—My oflSces— My qualities— My whole being— Christ Jesus our Redeemer — our
Friend. Eemembrance of Jesus must vary in intensity, and affection, and character,
in proportion to our knowledge of His love. His grace, His kindness, and His truth,
and of our habitual abiding in Him in our own souls. III. Who are the pbrbohs
THAT ought to PARTAKE OF IT ? IV. ThE DUTY OF OBSERVINO IT. It WaS giveU for
disciples. {J. Baylee, D.D.) The Lard's Supper an emblem and memorial :-~l.
It is AN EMBLEM. The question is, then, what unseen things do these simple objects
represent ? 1. The human nature of Christ ; His incarnation. 2. The deaUi of
Christ, too, is shadowed forth in this ordinance. We have more than bread before
as in it, it is bread which has been broken ; and more than vrine, it is wine which
has been poured forth. 3. The consecrated elements are emblematical also of the
great end and design of our Lord's incarnation and death. H. Let us now go on
to another view of this ordinance. It is a memorial. " This do," He says, " in
remembrance of Me." Bnt it is not Himself simply considered, that our Lord calls
on us here to remember ; it is Himself as these emblems set Him forth, given and
bleeding for us ; it is Himself in His humiliation, sufferings, and death. Why the
institution of an ordinance to bring things like these to our remembrance ? 1.
Partly, perhaps, on account of the joy Christ Himself feels in the recollection of them.
His heart overflows with joy at the thought of His cross and passion, and He would
have us think of them and sympathize with Him in His joy. 2. The remembrance
of Christ's incarnation and death is of the utmost importance to us ; therefore also
He may have established this memorial of them among us. " All our fresh springs "
are in our crucified Lord, and therefore He brings Himself frequently before us as
our crucified Lord that we may go to Him as the great source of our mercies, and
take of His blessings. 3. There is another reason to be given for the setting up of this
memorial of our Lord's sufferings — it is our liability to forget them. (C. Bradle^, M.A.)
CBif. xxn.] ST. LUKE. 503
Christ's vicarious death : — A single verse, written on paper, now yellow with age,
hangs on the wall of a nobleman's study in London. It has a remarkable history,
and has, in two notable instances, at least, been blessed of God to conversion. The
verse was originally composed by Dr. Valpy, the eminent Greek scholar and author
of some standard school books. He was converted late in life, and wrote this verse
«8 A oonf essiou of faith : —
** In peace let me resign my breath,
And Thy salvation see ;
My sins deserve eternal death,
But Jesus died for me."
On one oooasion Dr. Marsh was visiting the house of Lord Boden, where he held a
Bible reading with the family. He mentioned Dr. Valpy's conversion by way of
illustration in the course of his remarks, and recited the verse. Lord Boden was
particularly struck with the Unes, wrote them out, and afifixed them to the wall of hia
study, where they still are. Lord Eoden's hospitable mansion was often full of
visitors, among whom were many old army officers. One of these was General
Taylor, who served with distinction under Wellington at Waterloo. He had not, at
that time, thought much on the subject of religion, and preferred to avoid all dis-
cussion of it. But soon after the paper was hung up he went into the study to talk
with his friend alone, and his eyes rested for a few moments upon the verse. Later
in the day Lord Boden upon entering his study came upon the general standing
before the paper and reading it with earnest face. At another visit the host noticed
that whenever General Taylor was in the study his eyes rested on the verse. At
length Lord Boden broke the ice by saying, " Why, General, yon will soon know that
verse by heart." " I know it now by heart," replied the general, with emphasis
and feeling. A change came over the general'tf^ spirit and life. No one who was
intimately acquainted with him could doubt its reality. During the following two
years he corresponded readily with Lord Boden about the things which concerned
his peace, always concluding his letters by quoting Dr. Valpy's verse. At the
end of that time the physician who attended General Taylor wrote to Lord Boden
to say that his friend had departed in peace, and that the last words which fell
from his dying lips were those which he had learned to love in his lifetime.
A young relative of the family, an officer who served in the Crimea, also
saw it, but turned carelessly away. Some months later Lord Boden received the
intelligence that his young acquaintance was sufTering from pulmontiry disease,
and was desirous of seeing him without delay. As he entered the sick-room
the dying man stretched out both hands to welcome him; at the same time
repeating Dr. Valpy's simple lines. "They have been God's message," he
said, **of peace and comfort to my heart in this illness, when brought to my
memory, after days of darkness and distress, by the Holy Ghost the Comforter."
The ordained memorial: — I. The main object of ihb Sdppeb is a pebsonaii
MEMORIAL. "In remembrance of Me." We are to remember not so much His
doctrines, or precepts, as His person. Bemember the Lord Jesus at this Supper —
1. As the trust of yoor hearts. 2. As the object of your gratitude. 3. As the Lord
ol your conduct. 4. As the joy of your lives. 5. As the Bepresentative of your
persons. 6. As the Bewarder of your hopes. Bemember what He was, what He
IS, what He will be. Bemember Him with heartiness, concentration of thought,
realizing vividness, and deep emotion. II. The mbmoeial rrsELP is stbiking. 1.
Simple, and therefore like Himself, who is transparent and unpretentious truth.
Only bread broken, and wine poured out. 2. Frequent — " as oft as ye drink it,"
and so pointing to onr constant need. He intended the Supper to be often enjoyed.
8. Universal, and so showing the need of all. " Drink ye all of it." In every land,
aU His people are to eat and drink at this table. 4. His death is the best memory
of Himself, and it is by showing forth His death that we remember Him. 6. Hia
covenant relation is a great aid to memory ; hence He speaks of — " The new cove-
nant in My Blood." We do not forget Adam, our first covenant-head ; nor can we
forget our second Adam. 6. Our receiving Him is the best method of keeping Him
in memory ; therefore we eat and drink in this ordinance. No better memorial
ooald have been ordained. III. The object aimed at is itselt imvitino. Since
we are invited to come to the holy Supper that we may remember our Lord, we may
safely infer that — 1. We may come to it, though we have forgotten Him often and
sadly. In fact, this will be a reason tot coming. 2. We may oome, though othen
510 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chaf. xxn,
may be forgetful of Him. We come not to judge them, but to remember Him onr
selves. 3. We may come, though weak for aught else but the memory of Hi».
goodness. 4. It will be sweet, cheering, sanctifying, quickewing, to remember
Him ; therefore let us not fail to come. {C. H. Spurgeon.) The Sacrament
better than a sermon : — Frequently to me the Supper has been much
better than a sermon. It has the same teaching-power, but it is more'
vivid. The Lord is known to us in the breaking of bread, though our eyes
have been holden during His discourse. I can see a good meaning in the
saying of Henry III., of France, when he preferred the Sacrament to a sermon : "I
had rather see my Friend than hear Him talked about." I love to hear my Lord
talked about, for so I often see Him, and I see Him in no other way in the Supper
than in a sermon ; but sometimes, when my eye is weak with weeping, or dim with-
dust, that double glass of the bread and wine suits me best. {Ibid.) The ends
for which the Holy Cominunion is appointed : — 1. It is appointed to be a memorial
of Christ. 2. It is a standing evidence of the truth of Christianity. 3. It furnishes
an opportunity of the open profession of the Christian religion in general, and,
especially, of our trusting in the sacrifice of Christ for forgiveness and acceptance
with God. 4. Another end of the Lord's Supper is to be an act of Church fellow-
ship, or communion. 5. The Lord's Supper gives an opportunity of covenanting
with God, and engaging to be the Lord's. He who partakes of the Communion is,
by that very act, as completely and voluntarily bound to serve the Lord, as if he
had engaged aloud to do so in the plainest terms of speech, or subscribed, with his
own hand, a written deed to that effect. It follows, too, by necessary consequence,
that, though he is not bound to anything to which he was not in duty bound before,,
yet, if he abandon himself to sin, he is justly chargeable with breach of engage-
ment. This argument does not rest on anything peculiar to the Supper ; but it
applies to it with particular force. 6. Another very comprehensive end of this
ordinance is to be a means of cherishing all the graces of the Divine life. We say
of cherishing them, not of implanting them ; for, though the grace of God is not ta
be limited, and may reach the heart, for the first time, in any circumstances, those
who partake of the Lord's Supper ought already to be possessed of the Christian
character in some degree. 7. Once more, this ordinance is intended to lead oar
thoughts forward to our Lord's second coming. It is not only retrospective, but
prospective. It is not only a remembrance of something past, but an anticipation
of something future. {James Foote, M.A.) Remembering Jesus : — In remem-
brance of Him I What a flood of recollections comes back to us as we think on
these words. To every class, age, and character amongst ub those words are
spoken. To you babes and children He says, " Do this in remembrance of Me, the
Child Jesus, who for you once lay as a babe in the manger at Bethlehem, who for
your sakes grew as a child in favour with God and man, who was obedient to His
parents, a gentle, holy Child ; do this, be obedient, be gentle, be loving, keep your
baptismal vow in remembrance of Me. " It speaks to you, young men, and says,
" Do this, keep yourselves pure, flee fleshly lusts which war against the soul, be
helpful, be earnest, not slothful in business, labour honestly in your appointed task,
do this in remembrance of Me, who as a young man was pure and earnest and
helpful, who laboured patiently and obscurely in lowly Nazareth." He speaks to
all who have money or time or influence at their disposal, He says, " Do this, go
about doing good, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, comfort the fatherless and the
widow ; never turn your face from any poor man ; if thou hast much, give
plenteously, if thou hast little do thy diligence to give gladly of that little, do this
in remembrance of Me, the Man Christ Jesus, who went about doing good, who
gave up all time, glory, honour, wealth, life itself, for others, who sought out the
ignorant and ihose who were out of the way, who dried the widow's tears, who
ministered to the sick, who was not ashamed to help and comfort even the publican
and the fallen woman, who suffered hunger and thirst, and want, and insult for Hia
people ; O you, who are called by My name, do this in remembrance of Me, for in
that ye do such things unto the least of My people, ye do it unto Me, and verily ye
have your reward." To you who are anyways afflicted and distressed He speaks
and says, " Do this in remembrance of Me, bear this cross meekly in remembrance
of that bitter cross of Mine, for what sorrow is like unto My sorrow, what night ot
agony can equal that night in Gethsemane, what grave can now be without hope
since that one grave in the Garden which was unsealed on Easter morning f " (If.
J. Wilnwt Buxton, M.A,) The memorial of Jesus :—l. Tmt ewunotioh o» k
OSBPLY DEVOTSD FSIEND. II. ThB IMJONCTION OF 1 DBPABTSD FbIUD. lit
CBAP. rm.] ST. LUKE. 811
What do wb bpeciallt commemobatb bt oub compliancb with this command?
His death, as a sacrificial atonement for our sins, and as the most remarkable
display of His love for us, though sinners. IV. In commemorating Christ's death
bj this ordinance, wb recall thb ionomint, bepboach, and shamb Hb endubbi>
ON OCR BfHAiiF. V. Reflect that these things, mobe than all othebb, abe wobtht
OF BEINQ HELD IN ETEBLASTINa BEMEUBBANCB. YI. HeBE, TOO, WB KEEP IN
remembrance TBANSACTIONS in WHICH EVEBT QEMEBATION HAS THB SAMB INTEREST,
AND WHICH PRESENT TO ALL THB SAMB MOST INTITINO AND SOLEMN ASPECTS. VIL
Once more, in the same direction of thought, we observe that, in thb celebbation
OF DEEDS OF PROWESS AND PATRIOTISM, THB BEMOTEB THE PERIOD OF THEIR PER-
FORMANCE, THE LESS IS THB INTEREST AWAKENED BY THEM, while io relation tO
the great event which we this day commemorate, thb remoter the aoe and
GENERATION, THB DEEPEB WILL BB THB INTEBEST FELT IN IT, AND MORS NOMBBOUS
WILL THBT BB WHO CELBBBATB IT. YIII. In THIS OBDINANCB CHRISTIANS ARB
CALLBD UPON TO BEMBMBEB AN UNSEEN FrIEND, UNTIL THB APPOINTED PERIOD OF HiS
REAPPEARANCE. IX. FrOM THB SIMPLE NATUBE OF THE SYMBOLS EMPLOYED, WB INFEB
THAT THIS COMMEMORATION IS TO BE UNIVERSAL AS THB ChUBCH, AND EXTENSIVE AS
THE WORLD. X. Notice the peculiar CHARACTEB of THIS COMMAND AS DISTINOUISHED
FBOM ALL OTHERS ENJOINED BY DiviNE AUTHORITY. This oommemorative command
is not issued to us so much in the manner of a Lord and lawgiver, as in the
character of a claim of gratitude and affection. The Creator commands thus, " Do
this and live ; or, fail to do, and die." So does the Lawgiver command — " Thou
Shalt do this in fear of Me, and of the penalties of disobedience." But our Lord's
command in the text speaks to us in a very different manner. He does not say,
" Do this in fear of Me as God," but " Do this in remembrance of Me, as>
Redeemer" — "Do this, I beseech you, as you love Me, and as I have loved you.
I have done My work — ' It is finished.' Now do your part in remembrance of this
finished work.'' In obeying this command, we obey it as having especial and
peculiar reference to the Mediator. Other commands, hke those of the moral law,
respect the providence and moral government of God, and the benefit of man — this
one directly issues from, and gives glory to, the dying Redeemer, the God-man,
" the Author and Finisher of our faith." In His other commands Christ addresses
us as our Master, our Shepherd, our Divine and Supreme Teacher — in this He
instructs us in our duties to God, to our neighbour, and to ourselves. All His other
commands appear to point outwards in the direction of various rights and duties ;.
thie command only points inwards : others, away from Himself — this, to Himself,.
"Do this in remem'brance of Me— in remembrance of My body, My blood. My death..
That death which I endured for your sakes, do you at least remember for My sake.**'
{J. E. Leifchild, M.A.) Design of the Lord's Sup'per : — I. Commemorative. 1.
"In remembrance of Me" — the end. 2. "Do this" — the means. II. Repre-
SBNTATiVB. 1. The bread, or Christ's body, represents His personality, or the
Incarnation. 2. The wine, or Christ's blood, represents His work, or the Atone-
ment. 3. The bread and wine, the body and blood, represent the incarnate'
career. IH. Proclamative. An immortal witness to tiie crucifixion (1 Cor. xi.
26). IV. CovENANTiVB (Lukc xxii. 20). The engagement both Divine and human.
V. Communicative (1 Cor. x. 17). VI. Associative. Personal membership in
Christ is universal co-membership of Christ's people. VH. Anticipative (Matt>
ixvi. 29). The dirge gUdes into the psean. Hint of the new heavens and new
earth. Bridegroom and bride at the same marriage -supper of the Lamb (Rev.
xix. 6-9). (National Baptist.) The blood of the new covenant : — I. Thb new
COVENANT OF FOBOiTENEss AND LIFE. The new reminds of the old. From the old
we may learn what to look for as essential features of the new. Take three illus-
trations— 1. The covenant with Noah, on leaving the Ark. 2. The covenant witit
Abraham, on entering Canaan. 3. The covenant with Jloses, on leading the>
people from Egypt. The new covenant is an engagement between God and man,,
through Christ, who acts as representative of God to man and of man to God. It
implies mutual pledges. On God's side is pledged forgiveness ; remission of sins ;
and life, in its fullest, highest meaning. On man's side is pledged the obedience-
oi faith. IL The blood which seals and sanctions the covenants. Look again.
at the three cases mentioned. Each covenant was sealed with blood. Noah took,
of the clean beasts for his offering, which devoted the spared lives to the service of
God. Abraham divided the creatures, when he entered into his covenant. And
Moses sprinkled with blood both the book and the people, when the covenant was
ratified. Why always with blood ? Because the blood is the symbol of the life^
S19 TUE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xxiU
and, so, shedding blood was a symbolical way of taking a solemn vow to give the
whole life to obedience. Then see how Christ's blood becomes the seal of the nev^
covenant. Take Christ as Mediator for God. He condescended to our weakness,
and pledged His very being, His very life, to His faithfulness towards us. In this
sense He is God's sacrilice. Take Christ as mediator for man. And in this He is
man's sacrifice. Then two things come to view. 1. He seals our pledge that we
will spend Ufe in obedience, serving God up to and through death. In accepting
Christ as our Saviour, we acknowledge that He has taken this pledge for us. 2. In
giving His blood. His life, to us to partake of, Christ would give us the strength to
keep our pledge. Illustrate by the Scottish Covenanters, opening a vein, and
signing with their life-blood the " Covenant " on the gravestone, in Greyfriars
Church, Edinburgh. What, then, is the pledge which we take afresh in each
sacramental act ? Obedience unto death. The obedience of faith. What is the
pledge we receive afresh in every sacramental act ? The assurance of Divine for-
giveness, and eternal life. Why do we take the sacramental emblems together f
In order that we may be mutual witnesses ; and then true helpers one of another
in keeping our pledge. {TJie Weekly Pulpit.)
Vers. 21-23. The Son of Man goeth. — The Son of Man, and His going : — I. Thr
Son of Man. 1. Beference of the appellation. Nothing is more certain than that
the appellation, " the Son of Man," belongs to Jesus Christ, and is peculiar to
Him. 2. Origin of the appellation (see Psa. xviii. 17). 3. Meaning of the
appellation. When the Messiah is termed " the Son of Man," the term fixes the
mind both on the reality of His manhood, and on the circumstances which dis-
tinguish Him among men. It marks Him as truly a man, a descendant of man ;
but it as really marks Him as standing out from the rest of men. The leading
thoughts suggested by the designation, " the Son of Man," as given to our Lord
Jesus Christ, are these : that He is a real man, truly a partaker of human nature ;
that He is a perfect man, the normal man, man as he should be ; that He is the
representative man, the second Adam, charged with the responsibilities of the race;
that He is the God-man, a true man in nnion with the true God ; finally, that He
is the predicted man, the great subject of New Testament prophecy ; a man, a son
of man — the man, the son of man. H. The going of the Son of Man. The pre-
destined, predicted " going " of this Son of Man comes now to be considered.
♦' The Son of Man," said the Son of Man Himself, goeth, " goeth as was deter-
mined, goeth as it is written." Heaven was His original abode — earth was His
present residence; but it was not intended to be His permanent dwelling-place.
He had come from heaven to earth, and was to go from earth to heaven. When
He came. He came not unsent. He was commissioned to do a great work, and,
^hen that work was accomplished, He was to return to Him that sent Him.
1. He went to the grave. 2. He went to the grave as it is written. Before pro-
ceeding farther in tracing the Son of Man's amazing journey, it may be well for ua
here to stop and inquire how, when He went thus to the grave, He went " as it is
written " ? Here, there are three remarks which deserve our attention — (1) He went
in the character in which it was written He should go ; (2) He went in the dis-
position in which it was written He should go ; and (3) In many of the particular
and even minute details of His progress. He went "as it was written." (1) He
suffered and died as a pubUc person, the representative of His people, the victim
of sin. He suffered for us, the just in the room of the unjust ; and this is as it
was written. (2) He went, as we have seen, in the spirit of the most entire self-
devotedness, cheerful resignation, magnanimous fortitude. No man took His life
from TTitn ; He laid it down of BKmself. And all this was written of Him. (3) The
agony in (Jethsemane was as it was written ; also His betrayal, the particular
insults and injuries done Him, the manner in which His death was accompUshed,
the circumstances of His funeral, &e. 3. He went to heaven. 4. He went to
heaven as it is written. (D. Brown, D.D.)
Vers. 24-30. He that Is greatest among yon let him be as the younger.— How
to he the greatest in Christ's Kingdom: — I. Thebe is a nboessabt and natcbaIi
DEBnat ts HAN FOB suPBBioBiTT. I. It is taken for granted that the principle
exists universally. 2. It is admitted that the desire is an inherent principle. S. It
is therefore a holy and righteous principle. 4. It is a necessary principle. II. The
BEST HBN HAT FAIL TO DISCOVEB THE TBUB WAT TO H0N0X7B AND DIQNITT. 1. The
caase of the disciple's failure This strife arose in the absence of the Saviooz,
•EAT. XTTT.] ST. LUKE. 513
2. The spirit of their failure. " Accoonted." Carnal, external, worldly ambition.
8. The manifestation of their failure. III. Fidelity to Cheist in teiaii QnAiiiFiEs
FOB THE HioBEB spHEBES AND HONOUBS IN His KiNODOM. 1. Adherence to Christ
brings us into contact with the greatest trials. 2. All true disciples cleave to
Christ, even in His trials. 3. Christ will honourably acknowledge and reward
fidelity in His disciples. (1) It is honour as reward for humble service. (2) It is
distinguished honour. (3) It will be satisfying honour. (2'. M. Evans.) The
evils of worldly ambition: — I. The dispute akose — 1. Out of ignorance as to the
nature of the kingdom of Christ. 2. Out of the worldly ambition of their own
hearts. H. The Lobd bebuked this spirit of wobldlt ambition. By drawing
their attention to His own example. Application : 1. Show the widespread preva-
lence of this worldly ambition in the Church. 2. Urge lowliness of mind. (1) By
the strong commendation Christ bestows on it. (2) By the injury done to the
cause of Christ, when His followers manifest the opposite spirit. {F, F. Goe. M.A.)
Lessons : — 1. Beware of a proudly aspiring and envious spirit. Seek not to rise on
the ruins of others, or by trampling on others. 2. Bemember wherein true great-
ness consists, and follow after it. It consists in high attainments in piety and
usefulness. 3. Whatever your attainments may be, be humble, if you would be
great. 4. Let the disciples of Christ continue with Him, notwithstanding every
trial. {James Foote, M.A.) Self-seeking : — ^I. The narrative we are considering
discloses what effect self-seeeino had on the disciples. 1. It blinded their eyes to
the glory of the Son of God. They saw, indeed. His mighty works, and longed to
be able to do such works themselves; but the hidden life of righteousness and
peace and love they did not see and were not yet capable of seeing. Darkness
cannot comprehend the light. Men seeking conspicuous places cannot understand
the mind which was in Christ Jesus, who made Himself of no reputation, humbled
Himself, and became obedient even to the death of the cross. 2. The self-seeking
spirit plunged the disciples into a quarrel on the eve of a great occasion. 3. The
self-seeking spirit put the disciples into a false attitude of presumption, under,
taking more than they were able to do. " Jesus answered and said, Ye know not
what ye ask." 4. The spirit of self-seeking confused their notions of dominion.
They had adopted the maxims of the Gentiles, and were in danger of believing
that a man was great simply because he exercised authority. IL Self-sacbifice.
1. The courage of self-sacrifice. It shrinks back from no danger, fears no hard-
ship, and is superior to all suffering. He took the twelve disciples apart and said
nnto them : " We go up to Jerusalem ; and the Son of Man shall be betrayed, con-
demned, and crucified." Knowing all things that should be accomplished, He went
forward; He went forward that they might be accomplished. 2. The universality
of self-sacrifice. Because this is the way of the Son of Man, therefore it must
become the way of every man. Each man is to take up his cross. Each man is to
become like the man. 3. The reward of self-sacrifice. Spiritual promotion comes
according to just and immutable law. 4. The kingdom of self-sacrifice. They
would reverse the maxims of the Gentiles, and reckon the servant greater than the
master. (Edward B. Mason.) " As he that doth serve " : — Dr. Muhlenburg gave
a beautiful illustration of obedience to his Master when he once took up a tray of
dishes in St. Luke's hospital and carried them down to the kitchen. Someone
meeting him, and protesting against his doing such menial work, he quickly said,
*' What am I, but a waiter in the Lord's hotel ? " The law of service : — The desire
for distinction is one of the radical principles of our nature ; never so crucified and
buried but that, in unexpected ways and moments, it may revive, and rise again
in power. In the world we find it, and in the Church. Charles Y. could lay off
the Imperial purple, but could not so easily dispossess himself of the imperial will.
Simon Stylites, on his pillar in the Lybian desert, was as willing to draw crowds
out after him as any most lordly Bishop of Alexandria. The decrepit anchorite, in
spite of his austerities, was still a man ; his stomach hungry for bread, his heart
hungry for applause. This subtle passion is strongest in the middle and more
athletic period of life. It comes in between the love of pleasure, which besets our
youth, and the love of gain, which besets our age. Though liable to desperate
abuse, this passion, like every other, was benevolently given. If it causes wars, and
builds up oppressive institutions, poisoning the hearts and cursing the lives of men»
it is likewise one of the sharpest spurs to honourable toil, inspires the grandest
achievements, and strikes its deepest roots into the deepest natures. It is, then,
not to be fought against, as an enemy to virtue, but drawn into service rather, aa
u) ally. I. Tbue gbeatness is mot indicated bithss bt a conshcdous positioh,
VOL. in. 63
514 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xxtt.
OB THS BUZZ OF POPUiAB A.FPiiAnsE. Exalted stations add nothing to hnman
stature. A great reputation may chance to balloon a very little man. II. Tbob
GBEATNESS IS NOT INDICATED INFALLIBLY EVEN BY THE PBE8ENCE OF OEEAT ABILITIBS,
OB GBEAT ACQUISITIONS. Hero-woiship is a perpetual fact in history. Mankind ara
sadly prone to be fascinated by mere ability, or what is so esteemed, irrespective of
its exercise ; by mere learning, irrespective of its aims and uses. We encounter
this idolatry in every walk of life. Much lamentation is poured out over what is
called dormant power — Cromwells that lead no armies, Newtons that write no
"' Principia," Miltons that build no lofty rhymes. Men are named in every circle,
<of whom it is remarked that they are possessed of great abilities, if they would
only exercise them ; or possessed of great learning, if they would only use it. No
doubt there is such a thing as having one's talent, a real talent, laid up in a napkin.
But there is probably much less of waste in this way than is commonly supposed.
There is a meaning, perhaps, in that feature of the Gospel parable, which represents
the idle talent as being a solitary and single one ; a talent in some one direction,
as that of a mere chemist, mathematician, linguist, or logician. Ability of this
sort, thus partial, limited, and narrow, may doubtless be content to slumber, or
exercise itself only in trifling. But true greatness cannot justly be predicated of any
such ability. Beal power has fulness and variety. It is not narrow like lightning,
l)ut broad like light. The man who truly and worthily excels in any one line of
endeavour, might also, under a change of circumstances, have excelled in some
other line. He who eight times led conquering legions into Gaul, could also write
matchless commentaries describing their exploits. He who fought at Marengo and
Austerlitz, could also build Alpine roads and construct the Code Napoleon. He
who sang " Paradise Lost," could also pen ablest state papers. III. The ideal
Ain> MEASUBE OF GREATNESS, AS SET BEFOBE US BY ChBIST HiMSELF, CONSISTS IN
USEFULNESS. He who does the greatest amount of good in this world is the
i;reatest man. This is the Christian sentiment. It is also at bottom the universal
sentiment. The Titans of ancient fable, who piled mountains together, and
fitormed the heavens, were not great, only huge. Hercules was great by virtue of
the twelve great labours which he performed. Grecian art, faultless as it was,
failed of being great by being sensual. Hindoo generals are not great leaders, for,
though they wield vast masses of men, they wield them to little or no purppse. He
is not great, who merely wastes the nations ; only he is great who saves and serves
them. This rule, which the historic judgment of the world thus proceeds upon, is
more an instinct than a principle. Christianity lays it down with emphasis as the
highest law. According to this law, he only is great of heart who floods the
■world with a great affection. He only is great of mind who stirs the world with
great thoughts. He only is great of will who does something to shape the world
to a great career. And he is greatest who does the most of all these things, and
does them best. As to the particular sphere in which a man shall lay out the
labour of his life, this must be determined by a wise regard to individual tastes,
talents, and circumstances. Each must choose for himself the employment and
sphere best suited to his gifts. But all must choose with one heart, one purpose,
in the fear of God, and under the light of eternal realities. lY. The motives to
THE ADOPTION OF SUCH A BULE OF LIFE ABE OBVIOUS AND STBONG. 1. It is the key
to happiness. God is infinitely happy in His boundless beneficence. Christ was
happy in giving Himself up a sacrifice for the world. In all ages, the happiest of
men have been the busiest and most beneficent. 2. It enhances power ; relative
power and actual power. He who works for God and man, with the least of
solicitude about himself, has all the forces of Providence working with him. All
these forces are powerful, so is he ; and their triumph is his triumph. Moreover,
the benevolent affections are the best stimulants of the intellect, the best allies and
energizers of the will. Henry Martyn was twice the man for going to Persia that he
would have been had he remained in England; and consequently has twice the fame.
it is by dying that we live. It is only the good and the self-denying who rule us from
their urns. 3. It is noble. Selfishness is pitiful and paltry. (JK. D. Hitchcock, D.D.)
He that Berveth, — The servant of sinners :— We find in these words a double
reference — first, to the character, and secondly, to the office, of the Son of Man ;
to His character as the lowly one, to His office as the servant. For the purpose of
bringing both these things before His disciples. He makes use of those marvellong
words, "I am among you as the Serving One." Consider three things in reference
to this service. I. Its histoby. It is not with His birth in Bethlehem that
Christ's service begins. His visit to our first father in paradise was its true oom«
^WAP. rxa.] ST. LUKE. 615
mencemeot. After that we find Him, age after age, visiting the children of men,
and always in the character of one ministering to their wants. At His ascension
Hi only entered on a new department of service; and as the Advocate with the
Father, the Intercessor, the Forerunner, we see Him still serving. Nor, when Ha
comes again in strength and majesty, as King of kings and Lord of lords, does Ha
lose sight of His character as the Ministering One (Luke xii. 37). II. Let us oon-
«iDEB THE NATUBE OF THIS BEEvicE. It is in all respects like Himself — like Him
who, though He was rich, for our sakes became poor. 1. It is willing service. His
"varied rounds of service are no heavy task. He is the willing servant of the
needy. 2. It is a loving service. Out of no fountain save that of love could
such amazing, such endless acts of service flow. The loving and the serving are
inseparable. 3. It is self-denying service. To continue ministering, day after
day, in the midst of reproach, and opposition, and injection, was self-denial and
devotedness such as man can hardly either credit or conceive. 4. It is patient^
■unwearied service. He has compassion on the ignorant, and on them that are out
of the way. He breaks not the bruised reed ; He quenches not the smoking flax.
By day or by night we find Him ever girt for service. 5. It is free service. Ic
cannot be bought, for what gold could purchase it ? Neither does it need to be
bought, for it is freely rendered. III. Its ends and objects. It is to sinners that
this service is rendered ; and there is much in this to exhibit the ends which it
has in view. This gracious servant of the needy is willing to be employed by any
one, no matter who, let him be the poorest, and the sickliest, and the feeblest of
«11 who ever sought a helper, a protector, or a guide, on their way to the kingdom.
■{H. Bonar, D.D.) The life of service : — Let us ask ourselves why our Lord has
done so much for mankind in proposing a life of service as the true life of man.
'Service, I apprehend, is thus necessary in some shape for all of us, because it
involves the constant repression of those features of our nature which constantly
tend to drag it down and degrade it. Aristotle remarked, more than two thousand
vears ago, that all our faulty tendencies range themselves under the two heads of
(temper and desire — bad temper or ill-regulated desire. When the one element is
not predominant in an undisciplined character, you will find, in some shape, the
other, and sometimes you will find the one and sometimes the other at different
periods in the life of the same man. Now, service — that is, the voluntary under-
taking of work in obedience to the Higher Will — is a corrective to each o£ these
tendencies. 1. It is a corrective, first of all, of temper in its ordinary and every-
day form of self-assertion or pride. The man who serves from his heart cannot
indulge in self-assertion ; he represses self if he tries to perform his service well.
Each effort, each five minutes, of conscientious service has the effect of keeping
self down, of bidding it submit to a higher and more righteous will ; and this
process steadily persevered in ultimately represses it, if not altogether, yet very
oonsiderably. And what a substantial service this is to human nature and to
human character. Be sure of this, that self-assertion, if unchecked, is pitiless
when any obstacle to its gratification comes in its way. The self-asserting man
delights in making an equal or an inferior feel the full weight of his petty import-
ance ; he enjoys the pleasure of commanding in the exact ratio of the pain or
discomfort which he sees to be the cost of obedience ; and thus, sooner or later, self-
assertion becomes tyranny,!and tyranny, sooner rather than later, means some revolt
which carries with it the ruin of order. The tyrant in the State, in the family, in the
office, in the workshop, is the man bent on the assertion of self ; and, despite the
moments of passing gratification which he enjoys, such a tyrant is really mora
xniserable than his subjects, for the governing appetite of his character can never be
adequately gratified ; it is in conflict with the nature of things, it is in conflict with the
4aw8 of social life, it is in conflict with the Divine will ; and when it is repressed,
curbed, crushed by voluntary work in obedience to a higher will, a benefit of the
very first order has been conferred on human nature and on human society. 2.
And in like manner work voluntarily undertaken in obedience to a higher will
corrects ill-regulated desire. Distinct from gross sin is the slothful, easy,
«nervated, self-pleasing temper which is the soil in which gross sin grows. The
New Testament calls this district of human nature concupiscence — that is to say,
misdirected desire — desire which was meant to cleave to God — at least, to centre in
God the eternal beauty, but which, through some bad warp, does, in fact, attach
itself to created objects, and generally to some object attractive to the
tenses. This evil can only be radioaily cured by making God the object
«i desire — that ia to say, by a love of God; and a true love of God will
516 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. (chip, xxb,
express itself in service — the service of man as well as of God (1 John iv
20). Service keeps this ill-regulated desire at bay, and it centres the aoul'd
higher desire or love more and more perfectly on its one legitimate object.
And then, incidentally, it braces character, and this is what is wanted if a man is
to escape from the enervation of a life of sensuous and effeminate ease. (Canon
Liddon.) The glory of service : — Helpfulness is the highest quality of the
human life. Service is the crowning glory of man. The serving type is the
noblest type of all the manifold varieties of human development. The principle
of the text is not to the effect that service is one and the same with, or altogether
made up of, what we know as the activities of life. *' And if I bestow all my
goods to feed the poor, and if I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it
profiteth me nothiug." That it is not always what we call the most active life
which is the most useful. Activity is not all of service. There is the moral power
static, as well as the moral power dynamic. Again, let us note that service does
not discard the element of beauty or the splendour of intellectual gifts. Beauty,
rightly so named, binds up ever within it a factor of highest value. A beautiful
picture is nothing less than a moral force in the world. The Madonna face, the
Madonna form, through the centuries rebuke coarseness, teach purity, uplift
human thoughts, refine human souls. So with flowers. Their beauty has a moral
value. The window-sill which lifts them up is twice blessed. It blesses him who
plants and him who passes. The law of service, as proclaimed by highest
authority, refuses her not beauty as an ally. All that is meant is that, when Beauty
Etands by herself, divorced from Service, then the latter is higher, nobler. So also
of the splendour of mental gifts. This splendour also may rest upon, may add a new
beauty and a new power to that which is the highest type of human life. But
when it stands off by itself, when it offers itself as a substitute for or a rival of
service, then to the latter must be given the pre-eminence. Measured by the true
standard of human greatness, the inventor of the Calculus is less of a man than
the founder of London's ragged schools. It is better and it is nobler to help one
poor, vicious human life into a pure and happy immortality than it is to weigh th»
Bun or to write equations for the planets. The same must also be said when high
station is brought into comparison with helpfulness. But let us turn to the direct
consideration of the great canon of human worthiness. I. Helpfulness is more
LIKE, IN MOKE PEEFEOT HARMONY WITH, THE DiVINE BEAUTT, WITH THAT DiVINB
BEAUTY WHICH HAS ITS EVENEK APOCALYPSE UPON NATURE'S FIELD AND IN THE HUMAN
SOUL. Even upon His material works has God stamped the law of sympathetic
service. Bead this written out in the clouds of the sky. These are the great
water-carriers of the world. And how diligently, how joyously, they carry on their
labour of love 1 The huge masses skip and whirl and chase each other like lambs
at play ; but, however weary, they never think of laying down the burden which
they bear. And the mountains, too, are in service. Look upon the Andes,
vertibral ridge of a continent. They are a giant hand raised to catch and redis-
tribute the moisture of the trade-winds from the Atlantic, thus sending it back
across the plains in healthful and life-giving streams. And water, too, serves. By
one of its lines cold is carried southward, and by another heat is carried north-
ward, thus diminishing the inequalities of temperature and making the earth f
pleasant residence for man. So is it through every department. Nature is an
organism. Not a drop of water leads a selfish life, not a wind-blast is without its
mission. And let that human life which dares to lift heavenward the formal pro-
iession as the fulfilment of the Divine demand — let such a one take his rebuke
from ocean's lips I Let him hear it sounding in the winds of heaven 1 Let him
hear it thundered forth by the everlasting mountains. Human lives are not
wanted in this world for ornament. God has prettier things for this purpose.
And such a life, I say, is in full harmony with the Divine. For a long time th&
world and man knew not God. In this ignorance and blindness we can well
imagine men asking the question, •' What is God ? " To whom is He like ? Is He
the Zeus of the celestial world, full of vindictiveness and passion f Is He th»
Oriental monarch, luxuriously lounging in the palace room of the universe? And
while men so questioned, the door of heaven opened, and a Divine one in visible
form walked forth before the eyes of men. And this form, what was it f " That
of a servant." He bore men's burdens. He healed men's sicknesses. He com-
forted human sorrows. He went about doing good. He gave His life a ransom
for many. And now that the Divine Spirit is in the world the manifestation i»
ine same. He, too, comes in service. He is the Advocate, the Comforter, His
CEAP. xxn.] ST. LUKE. Elt
the soft hand which wipes away the falling tear and binds up the broken heart.
Such ia the Divine, such is Deity. II. But, in the second place, of all moraii
FORCES, HELPFULNESS IS THE MOST POTEKT IN THE EDIFICATION OF INi>IVIDUAIi
CHABACTEB. There is nothing which grounds a man in truth and righteousness so
firmly, there is nothing which lifts him up so surely, as the doing of good to
others. This, indeed, is only the highest illustration of a law wide as the realm
of human life. The bird which sings for others gladdens its own heart with its
song. The brook which flows with music for listening ears grows more clear and
limpid as it flows. Old ocean's mighty tides and racing gulf streams, which ever
serve the need of man, paint the great deep with its spotless blue, and bring safety
and life to all the mighty host which march and counter-march within its hollow
bed. In doing good, everything in God's universe gets good. Service of others is
highest service of self, and the best way for any man to grow in grace is to move
forward into service. III. But, again, helpfulness is more lasting, more
IMMORTAL, THAN ANTTHiNO ELSE OF HUMAN LIFE. " Whether thcrc be prophecies,
they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be
knowledge, it shall vanish away. But charity never faileth." Bad as is this
world, it is good enough to transmute and to hold immortality within it. The
beauty of the beneficent deed, the widow's two mites, the alabaster box of
ointment, Sir Philip Sidney's cup of cold water ; the passing shadow of Florence
Nightingale, which the dving soldier strove to kiss; above all, the patient and
gentle self-denial of the Christ life — these are pictures which this world — God's
world, after all — will not let fade. The suns of centuries rise and set upon them.
Consider what this canon of human worthiness calls for of those who would
receive honour under it. 1. This, first of all : personal goodness. In this world
of ours the tares grow together with the wheat. Service of man calls for a
servant first of all ; and this can no one of us be who is not disinterestedly in love
with his kind, and true and pure in all his works. To do good works which shall
endure we ourselves must be good. 2. In the second place, tbe canon of the text
demands that we should be willing to help when help is required. 3. The law of
the higher type also makes this a duty. We should seek opportunities for doing
good. The glory of the patriarch of Uz was written in these words, " The cause
that I knew not I searched out. " 4. The principle of the text teaches also the
obligation of self-training. If we do not know how to help now, why, then, we
should learn. If we are unfit for service now, we must make ourselves fit. Con-
genital infirmities may be corrected. The inertia of selfish idleness and of
grasping covetousness may be overcome by him who, upon his knees, opens hia
heart to the entrance of the Divine Spirit. The enthusiasm of humanity may be
caught from the example and inspiration of Jesus Christ. The mill-wheel will
cease to revolve when the waters of the rushing stream are cut off ; the moving
train will stop when the glowing heat cools within the hidden chamber ; and
charity in this world will degenerate into a professional schedule without inspira-
tion and without power when the name of Jesus is no longer writ by the hand of
Faith upon its banner. (5. S. Mitchell, D.D.) Servus servorum: — I. Ocb
Lord's position. 1. In the world our Lord was not one of the cultured few on
'whom others wait. He was a working-man, and in spirit Servant of servants. 2.
In the circle of His own disciples He was one that served. 3. In celebration of
Holy Supper, He was specially among them " as He that serveth," for He washed
His disciples' feet. 4. In the whole course of His life, Jesus on earth ever took
the place of the servant or slave. His ear was bored by His entering into
covenant. " Mine ears hast thou digged, or pierced (Psa. xl. 6 (margin) ; Exod.
xxi. 6). His office was announced at His coming, "Lo, I come to do thy will 1 "
(Psa. xL 7 ; Heb. x. 5-9). His nature was fitted for service : He " took upon Him
the form of a servant " (Phil. ii. 7). He assumed the lowest place among men
(Psa. xxii. 6 ; Isa. liii. 3). He cared for others, and not for Himself. " The Son
of Man came not to be served but to serve " (Mark x. 45). He laid aside His own
will (John iv. 34 ; vi. 38). He bore patiently all manner of hardness (1 Peter ii.
23). n. The wonder or it — that He should be a servant among His own servants.
The marvel of it was rendered the greater — 1. As He was Lord of all by nature
and essence (CoL, i. 15-19). 2. As He was superior in wisdom, holiness, power,
and in every other way, to the very best of them (Matt, viii 26, 27 ; John xiv. 9).
8. As He was so greatly their Benefactor (John xv. 16). 4. As they were such
poor creatures, and so unworthy to be served. lU. The explanation of it. We
mast look for thie to His own nature. 1. He is so infinitely great (Heb. i. 2-4).
518 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, jxiu,
2. He is so immeasurably full of love (John xv. 9; 1 John iii 16). IV. Thb
IMITATION OF IT. 1. In checrfully chooaing to fulfil the most lowly offices. 2. la
manifesting great lowliness of spirit and humility of bearing (Eph. iv. 1-3 ; Phil.
ii. 3 ; 1 Peter v. 5). 3. In laying ourselves out for the good of others. Let self-
eacrifice be the rule of our existence (2 Cor. xii. 15). 4. In gladly bearing iuj astice
rather than break the peace, avenge ourselves, or yrieve others (1 Peter ii. 19, 20 ;
iii. 14). 5. In selecting that place in which we receive least, and give most ;
choosing to wait at table rather than to sit at meat. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Christlike service : — A true character can never be built on a false foundation ; oa
the denial of a fact or on pretending not to see it. There are greater men and Icoa ;
stronger and weaker ; wiser and less wise ; men fit to rule and men fit only to ba
led; some who can teach and others whose business it is to learn. The right
relationship between men is to be reached, if at all, by a manly acknowledgment of
the facts which divide them and the individual superiorities which set one above
another. It is he who can rightly say, " Master and Lord am I " ; who can also
Bay with the fullest emphasis, *' I am among you as the servant " 1 I. Since, then,
THE MORAL CHABACTERISTIC8 OF THIS VOLUNTABY SERVICE WCTC those which gave it WOrth,
let us try in a few words to disentangle these moral characteristics and understaud
them. They may be summed up, I think, in these two : in unselfish love as tJtie
root-virtue, and in lowliness of mind as the specific shape which love must taka
when it girds itself to serve. II. Taking, then, these words of Jesus, "I am in the
midst of you as your attendant," to be virtually descriptive of His whole positios
ON earth and the spirit of His entire career, we find that His life may be described
thus : it was a voluntary service of other men, rooted in pure love for them, aud
carried out with such lowliness of mind as deems no office degrading which can be
lovingly rendered. Notice next, more expressly than we have yet done, that such
lowly, loving service of others was not in His case an occasional effort or a mere
ornament of character exhibited now and then. It formed the staple of His life.
Christ came, not to be ministered unto, but to minister ; not to enrich Himself, either
with nobler or baser wealth, but to impoverish Himself that He might make many
rich. With Him it is not, as with other men, " I will sit at table, and do you wait
on Me " ; but it is, " you sit at table, and I will wait." III. But is this, after all,
A MORE excellent WAT WHICH Jesos HAS SHOWN ? Wherein is it more excellent f
The King's Son came among us. We called Him our " Lord and Master," and we
said well ; but He was as one who served us ! Now we know that the Father on
high is like unto Him. The divinest part of His relationship to His creatures lies
here, that being Lord of all He makes Himself the servant of all. How is He by
day and night creation's unwearied watcher, provider, attendant, benefactor 1 The
lions roar and He feedeth them. Not a sparrow falls but He heeds it. The liliea
spin not, yet He clothes them. True, patient minister to each creature's need, in
whose loving eyes nothing is too minute to be remembered nor too mean to be
served ; He is for ever with tender humble carefulness laying His might and His
providence and His inventiveness and His tastefulness at the service of all creation.
What 1 cries out the heart of the proud, is this your conception of the Eternal ?
Were not all things made for His glory, then ? Yes, indeed, for His glory ; but not
in the ignoble sense we so often intend ! Not made to be sacrificed to His pleasure.
Not made for a boastful display of His omnipotence or skill ; nor as mere trappings
or attendants to lend dignity to His court. Away with such vain thoughts, borrowed
from the barbaric and vulgar splendour of an Oriental despotism I Verily, the uni-
verse is the mirror of its Creator's glory ; but it is so because it shows Him to be
prodigal of His love, lavishing His care upon the least, stooping to adorn the
poorest, and made then supremely glad when He can see His creatures glad. The
glory of God ; where is it ? that He ministers to all ! His blessedness ; what is it P
to make others blessed ! I see, then, that when the Son came among us as a servant,
it became Him as a son to do so, for it became the Father whose Son He was. Ilr
was a prolongation only, although a right marvellous one, of that character whose
Divineness men had been slow to see, but which God the Maker had pencilled with
light across His creation. (/. 0. Dy kes, D.D. ) Continued with Me in My tempta-
tions.— The tolitarirusas of Christ in His temptations: — We get here a wonderful
glimpse into the heart of Christ, and a most pathetic revelation of His thoughts and
experiences ; all the more precious because it is quite incidental, and, we may say,
unconscious. I. The tempted Christ. " In My temptations" — so He summed up
His life 1 The period to which He refers lies between the wilderness and the garden,
»ad includes neither. His whole ministry was a field of oontinaal and diversified
OOP. xxn.] 8T. LUKE. 51t
temptations. No sham fight. 1. Let us think of the tempted Christ, that oar con
ceptions of His sinlessness may be increased. His was no antried and cloistered
virtue, pure because never brought into contact with seducing evil, but a militant
and victorions goodness, that was able to withstand in the evil day. 2. Let us think
of the tempted Christ, that our thankful thoughts of what He bore for as may ba
warmer and more adequate, as we stand afar off and look on at the mystery of Hia
battle with our enemies and His. 3. Let as think of the tempted Christ, to make
the lighter burden of oar cross and oar less terrible conflict easier to bear and to
wage. So will He continue with ua in our temptations, and patience and victory
flow to us from Him. II. Thb lonely Chbist. The most solitary man that ever
lived. His nearest kindred stood aloof from Him. Even in the small company of
His friends, there were absolutely none who either understood Him or sympathized
■with Him. Talk of the solitude of pure character amid evil, like Lot in Sodom, or
of the loneliness of uncomprehended aims or unshared thoughts — whoever ex-
perienced that as keenly as Christ did ? The more pure and lofty a nature, the more
keen its sensitiveness, the more exquisite its delights, and the sharper its pains.
The more loving and unselfish a heart the more its longing for companionship ; and
the more its aching in loneliness. That lonely Christ sympathizes with all solitary
hearts. If ever we feel ourselves misunderstood and thrown back upon ourselves ;
if ever our heart's burden of love is rejected ; if our outward lives be lonely and
earth yields nothing to stay our longing for companionship ; if our hearts have
been filled with dear ones and are now empty, or but filled with tears, let us think
of Him and say, " Yet I am not alone." He lived alone, alone He died, that no
heart might ever be solitary any more. III. The grateful Christ. His heart was
gladdened by loving friends, and He recognized in their society a ministry of love.
Where there is a loving heart there is acceptable service. It is possible that our
poor, imperfect deeds shall be an odour of a sweet smell, acceptable, well-pleasing
to Him. Which of us that is a father is not glad at his children's gifts, even though
they be purchased with his own money, and be of little use ? They mean love, so
they are precious. And Christ, in like manner, accepts what we bring, even though
it be chilled by selfishness, and faith broken by doubt, and submission crossed by
self-will. {A. Maclaren, D.D.) I appoint onto you a kingdom. — Called to a
kingdom : — There was once a young prince, heir to the throne of Bussia, who was
giving himself to every form of dissipation. He took up his residence in Paris, and
entered heartily into all its gaieties. One evening, as he was seated with a number
of young profligates like himself, drinking, gambling, and making merry, a message
was privately conveyed to him that his father was dead. Pushing away from him
the dice and the wine-cup, he rose up and said, " I am emperor 1 " and forthwith
announced that his must henceforth be a different kind of life. Young men, I have
to tell you to-night of a kingdom to which you are called. To you the Lord Jesus
says, " I appoint unto you a kingdom, as My Father hath appointed unto Me." To
no meaner rank are you to aspire than to that of "kings and priests unto God."
But when the day came that Saul was actually to be made king, the youth was
" not to be found." He had hid himself among the stuff. Saul concealed amid
the baggage, perhaps the comnussariat for that large assembly of people ; hidden,
tall fellow as he was, amid the heap of boxes and baskets of all kinds — is he not
a picture of many a young man whom God is calling to a kingdom, but who is chin-
deep in business, bo absorbed in worldly matters that he cannot attend to the
affairs of his soul ? {J. T. Davidson, D.D.)
Vers. 81-84. Bataa hath desired to have yon. — The temptation of St. Peter: —
Our Lord is conversing here with His dear disciples a little before His crucifixion.
In the tenderness of ^s heart, He almost thanks them for their faithful adherence
to Him (vers. 2S-30). And now comes a sudden transition, showing us the strong
feeling at work at this time in our Lord's breast. He thinks the next moment of
the perils these men will have to pass through in their way to those thrones, and
gives them abruptly a warning of one of them. I. We must begin with this wabn-
iNO. 1. See in it our Lord's knowledge of the invisible world. We know nothing
of Satan but what we are told. But the Lord Jesus does see him as he goes about ;
and He not only sees him, He can look into his heart and discern the secret purposes
and desires of it. 2. See next here the crafty policy of Satan. " He hath desired
to have you,'' oar Lord says ; **yoa especially; you, believers in Me, rather than
the Jews or heathen around you ; yoa. My most beloved disciples," &o. Why ?
Ceoaaae they stood more in his way than any others. 3. We may see here the
620 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. zzh.
limited power of Satan. He cannot touch one of these men without God's permis*
eion. U. Leaving now the other disciples, let as look at the effect of this wabn*
iNO ON ONE OF THEM, Peteb. " SimoH, Simon, behold, Satan hath desired to have
you." 1. Observe, that it excited his love. If mere feeling could have made a
martyr, Peter was already prepared to be one. 2. And observe again — this warning
did not shake Peter's self-confidence. And yet it was given in a manner calculated
to shake it. It made no impression on him or a very faint one. 3. And mark
again — this warning did not prevent Peter's fall. III. We may come now to
another point in the text — the tendeb meect of oub Lobo to Peteb notwith-
STANDING HIS SELF-SDFFiciENCT AND FALL, OT rather, in anticipation of his self-
suflSciency and fall. " I have prayed for thee," He says, " that thy faith fail not."
1. We must be struck at once, I think, with tiie lowUness of this language. Our
Lord has been speaking just before in the almost unveiled dignity of the Godhead.
He has been manifesting, too, a knowledge of Satan and a knowledge of the human
heart such as none but the infinite Jehovah can possess ; and yet when His fallen
apostle is to be rescued, what does He say f " I will rescue him " ? or, as in Paul's
case, "My grace is sufficient for him " ? No; He speaks now as a feeble man;
"The mighty God only can rescue him. I have prayed for him." What a view
does this give us of our Lord's humility ! And what a view, too, of the awful
nature of sin I of the difficulty of extricating even a servant of God out of it I
2. Observe, too, the peculiar tenderness of His love for those who are peculiarly
tempted. 3. And there is the intercession of our Lord to be noticed here — its
infiuence on our preservation from sin or recovery from it. Faith lies at the root
of every grace. It is that within as which first lays hold of the Lord Jesus, and it
is that which keeps hold of Him. It seems the lowest, the poorest, and meanest
of all graces, but it is notwithstanding the most active and operative of all ; it
secretly does the most. (C Bradley, M.A.) The sifting of Peter: — I. Thb
CHAEACTEB OF Peteb. The character of Peter is a very marked one. His character
stands out in bold prominence and relief, like an object situated on a height, and
seen between us and a clear sky. We notice at once his natural sincerity and bold-
ness, his vehemence and self-confidence ; his liability to be hurried away by the
tide of events and the current of prevailing feeling. We perceive that as a disciple
of Christ he is under the guardian care and grace of heaven ; but we discover sin
lurking within, and bursting forth from time to time as the liquid fire of the
volcano breaks out from the mountain whose surface may be covered with the
loveliest foliage. His love to Jesus was genuine and sincere — for with all his fail-
ings Peter was no hypocrite ; yet he not infrequently resists the will of his Master,
and at times is positively ashamed of Him. He is zealously affected in every good
thing, but his zeal is often unthinking and impetuous, and proceeds from a self-
confident and self-righteous rather than a humble and trustful spirit of dependenc;
on God ; and it comes forth when it should be restrained, and fails when it shoultt
flow. II. Temptation of Peteb by Satan. " Satan hath desired to have you, that
he may sift you as wheat." We see that we are to regard our temptations as
coming from Satan the tempter, the accuser. He who rebelled against God in
heaven seeks to thwart His will on earth. " The devil entered into Judas Iscariot,"
whom he hurried from one crime to another till he laid violent hands on himself.
May he not succeed also with his brother apostle ? In tempting us Satan takes
advantage of two circumstances. He employs the world to sedace us, and he
addresses the corruption of the heart. First, he takes advantage of the ciroum-
stances in which we are placed, and of the worldly and sinful character of those
with whom we mingle. Breathing as we do an infected atmosphere, we are apt to
take in malaria which breeds moral disease. III. The eecoveey of Peteb, thbouoh
THE PBAYEB OF Jesus SUSTAINING HIS FAITH. It is of vast moment that Christians
should know wherein lies the secret of their strength. It lies first of all in the
intercession of Christ, and secondly in their remaining faith. 1. It does not lie
primarily in yourselves — in the liveliness of your feelings or the strength of your
resolutions. Purposes formed in our own strength are like the writing upon the
sand, which is swept away by the first breath of the tempest or the first swelling of
the tide. The believer's steadfastness does not lie in himself, but in another.
His strength is in the foundation on which he rests, and that foundation is the Bock
of Ages. How was it that Peter was restored ? The cause was to be found iu
ihe work of Christ. " I have prayed for thee." He was recovered, not by the
meritoriouB power and efficacy of his own prayers, but by the prayers of Christ.
When Peter was brought to repentance he prayed ; but there is a previous ques-
eHAP. rxn.] ST. LUKE, 621
tion — What bronght him to repentance ? If Christ had not first prayed for him,
he had never prayed for himself. 2. There was, however, a secondary power, and
this was Peter's faith. IV. The command, " when thou abt converted, strengthen
THY BRETHREN." In this conversion there was much searching. This we learn
from the interview with which our Lord favoured Peter after His resurrection.
•' Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou Me ? " was the question ; and Peter could
answer. Brethren, according to the sins of which you are conscious, so let your
love and zeal now be in the service of God. (J. McCosh, D.D.) The sifting of
life : — The figure which Christ here makes use of in order to describe the severe
ordeal through which Peter, the most prominent of all the disciples, was to pass, is
a very significant one ; and we cannot believe that it was used by chance, or with-
out full intention. The sifting of wheat is a most hard and thorough, but a most
necessary, process. The wheat, as it has grown, has become associated with the
protecting chaff, which it is necessary should be blown away, and with the foreign
substances taken from the earth and from the air, which must be separated. Before
the wheat is ready for use, it must be sifted or winnowed ; no pains must be spared
to make the process as thorough as possible. Only an enemy to the wheat, or a
disbeliever in its true powers, would desire to spare it such an ordeal. As it falls,
after such a process, into the receptacle which has been prepared for it, solid and
clean, its value is greatly enhanced. There is now no doubt about its true nature
and the work to which it should be put. It carries out all the points of the analogy
to notice that Peter is not promised that he shall be saved from the sifting process :
no hand is put forth to hold him securely sheltered ; no cloud wraps him away from
danger. Peter is too valuable to be thus treated. If he is wheat he must be sifted.
I. And so we learn the great lesson from Christ, that ditficdlties are as necessart
AND BENEFICIAL FOR THE SOUL AS WINNOWING IS FOR THE WHEAT. The wiuds Of tempta-
tion blow, and the poor, lightly-weighted souls are carried away ; wbile the strong
ones are stripped of many things in which they trusted, and the true power of principle
becomes more evident in their lives. The question of the winnowing floor is always
being repeated : Are you wheat or chalf 1 1. There is the shifting of change of
position, the pouring from vessel to vessel — a process under which the light grains
are removed, and which finds its parallel in the change of life's demands. You are
rich, and the qnestion the next day is. Can you stand poverty ? or you are
poor, and the sudden access of prosperity tests your real ability and weight. Will
the one rob you of your spirit, or the other of your humility ? If they will, then
you have been sifted with the result of proving that you are but chaff. Changes
from joy to sorrow or from sorrow to joy, from light to dark or from dark to Ught —
those have revealed the substance of many a man to as ; and we have said, " I
thought that he could stand it better," or we have exclaimed, " What a noble man
he is I He is just as he was before, not puffed up by his exaltation, not broken by
dejection." 2. And there is the sifting of progress : ideas and men aU pass through
that. New tests are applied, just as ever new sieves, with closer and closer meshes,
wait for the falling grain with sharper discrimination at each stage of the process.
The truth of one generation or one age of life is sifted before it is accepted by the
next. Some accretion, some profitless protecting husk, is cast off, and the sub-
stance is more valuable than ever. The man finds, after life's experience, that not
one particle of the truth as to honesty, virtue, and God has proved itself false,
although he smiles at the childish conceptions which enshrined it for him, and
which long ago passed away ; and with each generation God's truth is made simpler
and clearer to the eyes of all. II. But what has Satan to do with it ? Satan
rejoiced at the anticipation of this process and longed to see it begin, because
he did not believe that Peter could stand it ; he does not believe that any man
can, and he longs, therefore, to see men come under the test. At first this sifting
seems to give evil the advantage. But the meaning of those words of Christ's
gradually comes out : " Fear not them that kill the body, and after that have no
more that they can do." There is an ultimate kernel of life which the sifting cannot
touch. It is a reality which defies all the processes of ultimate solution which can
be brought against it. That is the belief which makes a man strong to endure
temptation, brave to pass through all changes, courageous to march with all pro-
gress of ideas. It was to the soul that Christ spoke ; on it all His work was based.
When He had once seen that soul conscious of itself and of its power in the heart
of a man. He was not afraid to let the world sift him, though he might be a man with
as many weaknesses and foibles as Simon Peter. Let them be shaken off and
blown away, like corrupting substances or infolding chaff. When that was all dona
522 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xrn
the man remained. III. I think, then, that we can understand that tone of
confidence with which Jesus speaks of the trial which is to befall ffis great
disciple. To His eye the conditions are not hopeless. He does not deprecate the
struggle, but rather in it anticipates the defeat of Satan. But the tone of confidence
is still more sublime when the means of steength and victoet are considered.
The whole of the sifting process administered by its great master and confident
authority, Satan, is to be brought to bear ; and yet Peter will not succumb because
Christ has prayer for him that his faith fail not. See how Christ puts Himself
against the world. Through that prayer the life of Peter was inade strong to bear
the ordeal ; through that prayer he was able to defy the world and Satan. That
prayer told of the relation which He had established between that disciple tor
whom, and the Father to whom, it was offered. He stood between the two. The
subject, the offerer, the receiver of the prayer, were one in their purpose and
desire to overcome and bafQe Satan. Defeat was impossible. (Arthur Brooks.)
ChrUVs warning to Peter : — 1. The greatness or nearness of the danger. There are
Bome souls that there is no delaying or dallying with them ; but if ye will save
them at all, ye must save them quickly ; ye must deal roundly and nimbly with
them if ever ye intend them any good. The Spirit of God, He speaks quick, and
He speaks often, again and again, where He would prevent from danger. 2. The
security of the person warned. Peter was not more in danger than he was insen-
sible of his danger. 3. The affection of the Monitor or person that gives the
warning ; that is also in the doubling of the appellation. It is a sign Christ's heart
was much in it, and that He bore a singular love and respect to Peter, in that He
does thus passionately admonish him. Love is full of sohcitude and carefulness
for the party beloved. The matter of the admonition or the warning itself. 1.
The persons aimed at. They are here said to be you. He spake before to Peter in
the singular, Simon, Simon ; now it is you, in the plural. To signify thus much
unto us ; that there's the same condition of all befievers as of one. That which
befalls one Christian it is incident to all the rest. The reason of it is this — because
they all consist of the same natures, and are acted by the same principles. (1)
Tou believers, rather than other men. Satan's aim is especially at such, to get
them. As for wicked and ungodly persons, who are yet in their unregenerate con-
dition, he has them already. And there are two considerations especially which
do lay ground to this practice in him. (a) That absolute antipathy and hatred and
contrariety which is in him to goodness itself, yea, to God Himself, who is the
chiefest good. The devil, because he hates goodness itself, therefore he assaults
it wherever he finds it. (h) It proceeds from that envy and pride which is in him.
(2) You eminent believers rather than other Christians. This is the manner of
Satan to cast his sticks most at those trees which are fullest of fruit ; where he
spies more grace than ordinary, there especially to lay his chiefest assaults. There
is a double reason for it which does encourage him to it — First, it is the greater
victory ; and secondly, it is the greater advantage. He does more, both in it and
by it. The use of this to ourselves is — First, to teach Christians not to trust to
their own habitual graces nor to the number or measure of them. Secondly, we
learn, hence, not to pass uncharitable censures upon the servants of God which are
under temptations, as to conclude them therefore to be none of His servants. (3)
Tou apostles and ministers rather than other eminent believers. I. The pesiom
itself — Satan hath desired you. As here is Satan's restraint, so moreover his malice
and boldness of attempt. 1. Here is implied Peter's ignorance and present
nnadvisedness. He was not aware of this attempt of Satan. So is it Ukewtse with
many others of God's servants. Satan does secretly lay siege unto their souls, and
they do not discern it. It is a great piece of skill to know indeed when we are
tempted, and to be apprehensive that we are under a temptation. 2. We see here
also the love of Christ, who helps our ignorance in this particular, and advises us
where we are less regardful. 3. Here is also, as sometimes, the eminency and con-
epicuousness of the temptation. (1) To have you to corrupt you. (2) This were
enough to make as look about ns ; that Satan would have us to corrupt us, but yet
that is not all — he would have us to afflict us too. As Satan would weaken our
faith, so also darken our comfort ; and as he would draw as into sin, so likewise
trouble as and torment us for it. U. The amplification of it. And to sift or
winnow yon as wheat. 1. Take it in an ill sense ; as Satan's intent, so to winnow
you, is to shake and remove you. This expression shows the unweariedness of
Satan in his attempts npon the godly, and his several courses which he takes with
them, to annoy them. He shifts them and he removes them from one temptatioB
OBAP. xxn.] ST. LUKE. 5S3
to another. But — 2. It may also be taken in a good sense ; and so, as expressing
to OB the event of Satui's practices, though beyond his own desire and intention.
The winnowing of the com in the fan, it is not for the hurt of it, but for the good
of it. And they fit them also for future service. We see here how also God out-
wits Satan and destroys his own plots by himself. {J. Horton, D.D,) Peter's
sifting : — I. The disceimtnation which otjb Loed makes ik prating tor Hia
DISCIPLES. Why single out Simon for this peculiar distinction ? Because he was
the weakest, the most in danger, the most hable to fall. His rashness Eind impul-
eiveness would expose him to the fiercest assaults, and render him least able to
tesist. Let ns learn from this that tiie easily tempted ones are they to whom
Christ's sympathy and helpfulness go out in most tender interest. II. Thb
NATrRE OF THE HELP WHICH ChRISI GAVE TO PeTEB IN HIS PERIL. 1. NoticC the
individuahty of this intercession. " For thee." Each one of us is the object
of Christ's particular watchfulness and care. 2. Christ made His supplication
before the danger came. " I have prayed." He did not wait until the disciple
was in the snare before He sought help for him. 3. The petition itself.
What did Jesns ask for His imperilled disciple? Not that he might escape
the trial, for he needed just this experience ; not even that he might not fall ;
but that his faith might not fail, might not suffer an utter and endless eclipse
as had that of Judas. HI. Thb resttlt of Peter's sifting. Chafi sifted out,
pnre wheat left. IV. Through his painful experience, Simon was prepared
TO BE A MORE HELPFUL MAN. " When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren."
He was to use his new knowledge, gained by his sad and painful experiences, in
blessing others. Whatever God does for us, He wants us to do in torn for others.
All the lessons He teaches ns, He wants ns to teach again. (J. R. Miller^ D.P.)
The benefits of sifting : — There are defects in many characters which apparently
can be removed only by some terrible experiences like those of Peter. This seems
to have been true of David. Mingled with all his noble qualities, qualities which
made him, when purified, the man after God's own heart, there were many evil
elements of which his nature had to be cleansed ; and he also was allowed to fall
into Satan's hand to be sifted. Bat from that sifting he came a new man, cleansed
and enriched. Many of David's sweetest songs received their inspiration from the
experience of his fall and eclipse, and from the painful chastening he endured. In
every matored life, however many the noble qualities, there are also many faults
and defects bound up with the good. For example, one has firmness, and &:mnes3
is a good quality ; but it is yet a very chaffy firmness. Some of it is stubbornness ;
part is selfish pride ; part is most unamiable obstinacy. There is a good element
there, but there is also much chaff which must be blown away before it can be
noble. Christlike firmness. By and by, when mid-life has come, and when the
defects have been sifted out, you will see a firmness stable as a rock, yet gentle as
the heart of a little child. It has been cleansed of its chaff in the gusts of trial,
and is now pure, golden wheat. Or there is pride in the character. It makes a
man arrogant, self-willed, haughty. But pride is not altogether an evil quality. It
has in it an element of nobleness. It is the consciousness of dignity, of Divine
birthright, of power. As it appears, however, in early years, there is much in it
that is offensive and bad. The man must be winnowed until the unlovely qualities
are removed, till the arrogance and tbe selfwill are gone. At length you see the old
man, after many experiences of trial and pain, lordly and regal still, but gentle,
humble, benevolent, with a sweet spirit, using his noble gifts for lowly service, with
his fine hands washing the feet of humble disciples. Pride has not been destroyed ;
it has been sifted, cleansed, and sanctified. Or take gentleness ; even this quality,
beautiful as it is, may be very chafiy. It may be weakness ; it may be the absence
of firmness, mixed np with timidity and want of strong moral principle. The
gentleness is golden, but the defects must be got out. Take, once more, what we
call temp( r. A man is easily provoked, swept away by sudden gusts of anger.
Now, temper itself is not a bad quality. It is not to be destroyed, as we sometimes
say. Without temper a bar of steel becomes like lead. A man without temper is
■weak and worthless. We are to learn self-controL A strong person is one who has
a strong temper under perfect mastery. These are simple illustrations of the
sifting which Peter experienced. Every one has, in greater or less degree, to pass
throngh the same processes in some way. Sometimes the separation and cleansing
go on qnietly and gradually, nnder the kindly culture of the Spirit. Sometimes
kiflietioiia are God's messengers — sickness, or sorrow, or pain. Sometimes tempta-
tion is necessary, the buffeting of Satan. All of us have in ns by nature, eyen ijtez
524 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xxn.
regeneration, much that is nnlovely, mnch that can never enter heaven, and mast
in some way be got out of us. In Guido's painting of '* Michael and the Dragon '*
the archangel stands upon the fallen foe, holding a drawn sword, victorious and
supreme ; but the monster beneath him yet lives. It cowers and writhes. It dares
not lift up its head, but it is not yet slain. This is a symbol of the conquest of grace
over the old nature in the best of us. It is not dead, though under our feet ; and
this old evil must be got out. The process may be long and painful, but Christ is
lookiDg on, and every experience of sifting should leave us a little purer. Thus it
is that even our falls, if we are Christ's, make as holier. Evil habits conquered
become germs of character. An old man sat dreaming one day about his past,
regretting his mistakes and follies, and wishing he had never committed them. He
made a list on paper of twenty things in his life of which he was ashamed, and was
about to seize an imaginary sponge and rub them all oat of his biography, thinking
iiow much more beautiful his character would have been if they had not been com-
mitted. But to his amazement he found that if there were any golden threads
running through his life, they had been wrought there by the regrets felt at
wrongs ; and that, if he should wipe out these wrong acts, he would destroy at the
same time whatever of nobleness or beauty there was in bis character. He found
that he had got all his best things oat of his errors, with the regret and the repent-
ing which foUowed. There is a deep truth here — that our mistakes and our sins, if
we repent of them, will help in the growth and upbuilding of our character. We
can make wrong the seed of right and righteousness. We can transmute error into
wisdom. We can make sorrows bloom into a thousand forms like fragrant flowers.
Our very falls, through the grace and tender love of Christ, become new births to
oar souls. In the hot £res of penitence we leave the dross, and come forth as pure
gold. But we must remember that it is only Christ who can make our sins yield
blessing. (Ibid.) St. Peter's sifting and conversion: — 1. The secret may be told
in a few words. The cause and spring of the most obvious defects in the apostle's
character was that large and assured confidence in himself which made him so
quick to speak, so prompt to act. But, throughout Scripture, as in human nature,
self-confidence is opposed to faith or confidence in God, Everywhere, too, we are
told that God dwells only in the humble, lowly, contrite heart. So that if God was
to take up His abode with Peter, if the impulsive and vehement strength of the
man was to be schooled into stedfastness and hallowed by the indwelling of the
Holy Ghost, in order that, being himself divinely moved and led, he might rightly
lead the Apostolic Company during those first critical months in which the founda-
tions cf the Church were laid, then, obviously, his self-confidence must be purged
oat of him, and replaced by the humility with which God deUghts to dwell. On
no other terms could he be fitted for the work to which he was called. And there-
fore it was that Satan " obtained " him — obtained, i.e., permission to sift and purge
self-trust out of him. If the process was severe, the task and honour for which it
prepared him were great ; and greatness is not to be achieved on easy terms. It is
a cruel spectacle, one of the saddest on which the stars have ever looked down — a
brave man turned coward, a true man turned liar, a strong man weeping bitterly
over the very sin which of all sins might well have seemed impossible to him I
But would anything short of this open and shameful fall, this fracture at his
strongest point, have sufficed to purge him of that self-confidence which we have
seen to be so potent and so active in him up to the very instant of his fall t And
if nothing else would have so suddenly and sharply sifted it out of him, and
wrought into him the humility which fitted him to receive the Holy Ghost and to
found the Church which Christ was about to redeem with His precious blood, shall
we complain of the severity of the process by which he was purged from a dangerous
self-trust and made meet for a task so honourable and blessed? Shall we not
rather ask that we too may be sifted even by the most searching trials, if we too
may thus be made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and be qualified for a Divine
service ? 2. So far, then, we have seen how Satan obtained Peter, that he might
sift him. But if Satan obtained, Christ prayed for him, and even obtained him in
A far higher sense ; for He obtained that Peter should only be " sifted," and that
the sifting should issue in his " conversion." It is to this second part of the process
that we have now to turn our thoughts ; for the conversion of the apostle was no
less gradual, and no less complete and wonderful, than his fall. Event meets and
answers event, false steps are retrod, broken threads are taken op and worked in,
triumphs of faith are set over against failures in faith, denials are retrieved by
eonfessions ; the evil in the man is sifted out of him, the good cultivated, consoli-
«BAr. xxn.] ST. LUKE. 6'ili
dated, made percianent ; and in and throngh all this strange and mingled discipline
vre see the grace of God at work to prepare him for the most honourable service
and the highest blessedness. Let as be sare, then, that God has a plan for as no
less than for Peter, a plan which dominates all oar fugitive impulses, and change-
ful passions, and broken purposes, and unconnected deeds. Our lives are not the
accidental and purposeless fragments they often seem to us to be. God is so dis-
posing them as that we may be sifted from all evil, converted to all goodness. His
end for ns being that we may become perfect and entire, lacking nothing. {8.
■Cox, D.D.) Satan's prayer, and Christ's : — Three parties are before us in these
words — three parties to a crisis — the sinner, the sinner's friend, and the sinner's
foe. A conflict is revealed to us — a conflict between two of the parties with
reference to the third. The conflict is a conflict of prayer. It is by prayer that
the great rivals strive for the mastery. Of the two prayers, that of Satan is
first in order. The adversary speaks first, and makes his request. Jesus follows
him. The suit of Jesus is founded upon the adversary's demand, and is shaped
accordingly. There is the prayer of Satan, and then there is the counter-prayer
of oar Lord. How fares it with the two requests ? The answer is favourable —
favourable to both. Is Satan's prayer granted ? It is. Yes I Satan succeeds in
his application, and Peter is handed over to him to be sifted as wheat. It is easy
to discover the reason. He might boast that if he had been allowed to subject
Peter to the ordeal Jesus would not have been able to carry Peter safely through ;
and that, if he had been suffered to try, he could have plucked the sheep from the
Shepherd's hands. It is necessary that Satan's defeat be directly and manifestly
the work of Christ. The prayers, then, are granted. Let us see what their
import is. Satan's request is, that he may be allowed to tempt Peter. He
expresses his desire to have Peter, that he may sift him as wheat. He would sift
him as wheat ; that is, in the same way. Wheat is sifted by being shaken up and
down. He would sift Peter by the shock and agitation of great and sadden trials.
He would sift him as wheat ; that is, for the same purpose. Wheat is sifted that
it may be known what amount of wheat there is, and what amount of chaff, as
well as for other reasons. He would sift Peter, in order to show what measure of
genuine faith is in him, and perhaps to show that no true faith is in him, and that
Peter himself, with his great professions, is chaff entirely, and not wheat at all I
What now is the prayer of Jesus f Does it betray any fear ? It might seem to
betray fear, if it were that Satan's request should be denied. But He prays not
that the trial may not come. What, then, does Jesus pray for ? "I have prayed
for thee, that thy faith fail not." His request is that Peter's faith may not be
wholly or finally overborne. It is that Peter may not have too little faith for the
emergency that is at hand to keep him from being an apostate and a castaway.
The Saviour has a glorious purpose with reference to the serpent. He means to
plant His own foot on the serpent, and to braise his head. Let as now deduce
some lessons from the scene which has been surveyed. These prayers may afford
ns much instruction. 1. For one thing, we learn somewhat of the malice of the
devil. He knows nothing of love or pity. 2. But if the malice of the devil
appears, so do the love and compassion of Jesus. The contrast between them is
beautiful. The spectacle of Satan praying against Peter and Jesus praying for him
brings oat in strong relief the kindness of the Friend that sticketh closer than a
brother. The sympathy of Jesus is also here exemplified. 3. Again, there is a
lesson here, that ought not to be lost upon us, respecting the craft and hypocrisy of
Satan. In the very presence of God we find him trying to hide his malice under
cover of something like a zeal for nprigbtness and truth. His insinuation is that
Peter's religion is but a pretence ; and he would fain appear as a friend of truth,
who is prepared to show this if he is allowed. His motive, forsooth, is less to do
harm to Peter than simply to unmask him for the sake of truth, and to prove him
to be what he really is. He does not want to corrupt Peter's mind ; oh, no I He
would merely show it to be corrupt already 1 But there is a lesson, on the other
hand, to encourage and comfort us. Jesus is watchful, and Jesus is wise. 4. One
lesson more. We may learn the excellence of faith. Mark the testimony of the
Saviour Himself : " I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not." And we have
not the testimony of Jesus alone. We have Satan's involuntary tribute to this
capital grace. It was the faith of the apostle that he was about to assail, and, if
possible, to extinguish. Peter had signalized himself by his faith. It was his
faith that produced his renowned confession, " Thou art the Christ, the Son of the
living Qod." The confession was gall and wormwood to Satan ; he ooald not
628 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xxll.
forget or forgive it ; and be denounced, in his rage, and determined to strike at»
the faith from which it sprang. He dislikes, and he fears, the faith of Ood'ft
people. And not without reason. It is faith that unites us to Christ, and keeps
up the communication vi'ith His fulness. If the foe can but break that blessed
bond of connection, he will have us for his own. {A. Gray.) Satan's power is
limited : — 1. The Bible doctrine of Satan's existence is strikingly corroborated by
the devilish in society. 2. His existence has been revealed in mercy to us. 3.
He has the wiU to destroy us, but not the power. 4. He is ever active. 6. We are
saved from his cruel and hellish hate by the intercession of Christ. {Anon.}
I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fall not. — Christ's prayer for Peter : — I. The
ESSENTIAL FACTS iuvolved in the occurrence. 1. It was an hour full of trial and
danger for all the disciples. 2. Peter especially was in danger. 3. Christ prayed,,
not simply for them all, but for Peter particularly and personally. 4. The specific
point in his spiritual condition to which the prayer was directed, was the preserva-
tion of his " faith." 5. Christ also advised him of all the facts in the case — of the
greatness of the peril, the source of it, and the duty of the hour. U. The fbac-
ncAL TBCiHS it teaches for all time. 1. Christ really interposes to save His people
when in peril. 2. He intercedes for particular persons. 3. Christ's intercessions
go into effect only through the moral or spiritual state of the disciple. 4. Faith is
the special element of the Christian's security. 5. Christ's prayers, as well as BUs
design and desire, as to each one, look beyond the individual to others. " Strengthen'
thy brethren," 6. Christ's intercessions are not in vain, but take effect even when
they seem to falL {M. Valentine, D.D.) Divine help in temptation : — Now, what
the Lord said to Peter, He still virtually says to all His people : " I have prayed
for thee, that thy faith fail not." When Mrs. Winslow was bereaved of an affec-
tionate husband, deprived of fortune, and in a strange land, and friends far away,
*' The enemy," she said, " seemed to sift me as wheat. I would steal away and
weep in agony, for I lost my hold and confidence in Him who had said, ' I will
never leave thee nor forsake thee.' " This buffeting of the adversary, however, was.
but for a season, for afterwards, through the helpful grace of her Lord, her faith
revived, and she was able to say, " He is all and everything He said He would be.
He is my joy by night and by day, my stay in trouble, my strength in weakness,
the lifter-up of my head, my portion for ever. God be praised 1 God be praised 1 "^
Not less touching is the recorded conflict and triumph of a young disciple. A
Christian mother, not long ago, finding, as she sat beside her dying boy, that Satan
had been dealing with him, said, " Does he ever trouble you, George? " " Oh yes ;
he has been very busy with me, especially when I have been weak, telling me I was
too great a sinner and could not be saved." " And what did you say ? " "I told
him I had a great Saviour " ; and then he added, " I think the tempter is nearly
done with me now." Some weeks before his death he had been saying, " There is
light in the valley " ; and turning to his mother, he said very solemnly, " Ah, it
would be a dark valley without a light ! " On the last day of his life she said to
him, " Is there hght in the valley now, George ? " " Oh, yes, yes ! " And when
further asked, " Is Satan done with you now ? " " Well, I think he is almost. He
is lurking near, however ; but Jesus is nearer." {R. Macdonald, D.D.) Christ'*
praying for Peter: — In this adversative but, there is a threefold antithesis or oppo-
sition, which may be here observed and taken notice of by us. First, an opposition
of the persons, Christ against Satan. It is the devil that assaults, bat it is the
Saviour that labours to divert it. And there is a great matter in this — a potent
assistant is a great encouragement against a potent assailant. Now, thus is Christ,
in comparison of Satan. He has the greater prevalency with Him, especially in
approaches to God, and the requests which He makes to Him for His people. The
second is, the opposition of actions or performances, praying against desiring.
Satan has but desired, yea, but Christ has prayed. But He ohoses rather here to
do it by prayer, that He might hereby sanctify this performance to us, and show
us the efficacy of it as to the vanquishing of temptations themselves. The third is,
the opposition of success, establishment against circumvention. Satan has desired
to have you, but I have so ordered the matter that thy faith shall not fail notwith-
Btanding. His attempts upon thee shall be in vain. Which latter now leads me
from the first general part to the second here in the text ; to wit, the matter^ of
Christ's prayer, or the thing itself requested by Him in these words, "That thy faith
fail not." For the negative — First, to consider that what it is not. Where we may
observe that it is not that Peter might have no temptation befall him ; that, one
would have thought, had been more suitable. When He had said before " Bataxt
VBAt. nn.] SI. LUKE. 627
hath desired to have you," we might have expected He should have said next, " but
I have prayed that he shall have nothing to do with you." This it pleases God to
Buffer and permit upon divers considerations. First, for their greater abasement and
humiliation. The servants of God are apt sometimes, where grace is not more
watchful in them, to be advanced and Ufted up in themselves. Secondly, as ta
breed humility, so also to breed compassion and tenderness of spirit to others.
Christians, as they are apt sometimes to be too well opinionated of themselves ; so
a'so to be now and then too harsh and rigorous towards their brethren. Thirdly,
God suffers His servants to be tempted for the honour of His own grace in support-
ing them and keeping them up, and for the confusion Ukewise of the enemy in his
attempts upon them. Let us not, then, have our armour to get when our enemy is
coming upon us, but be furnished aforehand ; and remember that we trust not to
any grace which we have already received, but be still labouring and striving for
more. The second is the positive part of it in the words of the text, "that thy faith
may not fail." To take them absolutely as they he in themselves, and so they
do signify to us the safety of Peter's condition ; and, together with him, of all
other believers. Their faith, it shall not fail. This, it may be made good unto us
from sundry considerations. 1. The nature of grace itself which is an abiding
principle. Faith is not a thing taken up, as a man would take up some new fashion
or custom, but it is a thing rooted and incorporated in us, and goes through the
substance of us, it spreads itself through the whole man, and is, as it were, a new
creature in us. 2. The covenant of grace, which is an everlasting covenant. " I
will make an everlasting covenant with them " (Jer. xxxii. 40). 3. The spirit of
grace, which is not only a worker but an establisher and a sealer of this faith in us,
and to us (2 Cor. i. 20). That the servants of God they shall have their faith much
upheld in such conditions. We have this implied, that a steadfast faith is a
fiingular help in temptatioru Now, the efficacy of faith in temptation is discem-
able in these particulars — (1) As it pitches us upon the strength and power of God.
That which keeps up ft soul in temptation, it is an almighty power, it is a power
which is above all the powers of darkness itself. (2) Faith helps in temptation as
it lays hold upon the promises of God, (3) As it lays hold upon Christ, and pitches
us, and fastens us upon Him, we are so far safe and sure in temptation, as Christ
has any hold of us and we of Him. When the stability of a Christian is said to
depend upon the prayers of Christ, this is exclusive of any virtue or merit of their
own. The consideration of this doctrine is very much still for the comfort of
believers, as to this particular. They may from hence, in the use of good means,
be very confident, and persuaded of their perseverance, because they have Christ
praying for them. And there are two things in this that make for them. The one
^e, as I said, first, the acceptance which Christ is sure to have with His Father.
Secondly, As there is Christ's acceptance, so the constancy of His interceding for
ns. If Christ should only pray for us sometimes we might seem to be no
longer upon sure terms, than such times as He prayed for as; "but now He
ever hveth to make intercession for us." (eT*. Horton, D.D.) When thou art
converted, strengthen thy brethren. — Peter helped by his fall to strengthen
his brethren : — L On the first view of such a crime as Peter's, wk should scpposb
THAT Alil. HIS IMFLUENCS OVBB HIS BBETHBEN, ALL HIS ABILITT TO DO GOOD, HIS
CAPACITT TO IMPABT STBEMOTH TO OTHBBB, WBBB LOST, AND THAT FOB EVEB. At the
most, he could only hope to be forgiven, and to live as an unnoticed believer,
brooding in the shade over his ingratitude and content to take an obscure place
during tibe remainder of his life. For consider in what position he would now be
placed. 1. First his own shame would naturally bring with it a sense of weakness,
and would furnish a good reason for concentrating his efforts upon himself. 2. His
brethren in such a case would naturaUy lower their opinion of him. 3. His
brethren would naturaUy feel that a man of such glaring sins was not the man
k) be put foremost in their efforts to do good outside of the Church. U. But, not>
withstanding all this, it may be tme, under a system of grace, that thb manifesta-
tion OF chabacteb which is hade bt a pabticulab sin hat tubm into a blessino Ta
HiH who is allowed TO FALL INTO IT. In this csse it is not sin, but an outward
sin that is the source of good, and this is accomplished, not in the ordinary course
of things, but through the grace of the gospel. Of two persons In the same moral
condition before the eye of God one may be untempted and so far forth innocent,
while the other yields to a temptation, before which the first also would have fallen,
bad it been allowed to assail him. Now I say in such a case as this the outward
sin may under the gospel be made a blessing to him who commits it ; nay, more.
628 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. tCHAP. xxtt,
the blessing may extend beyond himself to all around him. He may become •
wiser, better, stronger Christian than he was before. 1. And this will be mad«
apparent, if we consider that in this way he arrives at a better knowledge of hia
own character and is impressively warned against his own faults. 2. But secondly,
a person who is thus recovered from his sins has the practical power derived from
a renewed hope of forgiveness. 3. A person in Peter's condition appeals to the
affections of the Church, and he has a closer hold upon them than if he had never
become a kind of representative of Divine grace. {T. D. Woolsey.) Tlie ministry
of a converted man : — I. Jesus employs converted sodls to do His work. The
testimony of living men glorifies Christ. II. A converted man can givb a reason
FOB HIS FAITH. A Workman who has been employed in the manufacture of
machinery is best able to explain the principles aud manner of its work. III. A
CONVERTED MAN CAN SPEAK CONFIDENTLY. IV. A CONVERTED MAN SPEAKS WITH
SYMPATHY, AS NO ONE ELSE CAN. Lcam — 1. The Strength of the ministry. 2. Grace
is given to be employed for others. 3. We must use means, and be very diligent in
the use of them, if we would strengthen our brethren. (Canon FremantU.)
Second conversion: — I. What is meant by second conversion. It implies that
there has been a first conversion; that is, a principle of true piety has been
implanted in the bosom, but it has hitherto been there in a weak, imperfect form.
The heart has been changed, but the change is superficial and defective. The
repentance is sincere, but not deep and thorough. The faith is real, but not strong
and controlling. The love is genuine, but iuconstant and feeble. And so of all
the Christian graces ; they exist in him who has had a first conversion, but in an
imperfect, partially developed state, weak, unstable, unsymmetrical, and bearing
but little fruit in the life. Now the effect of a second conversion is to take the
subject out of this low, inadequate, and ineffective state of piety, and raise him
higher, and make him more faithful in the Divine life. The antecedents of this
change are often very similar to those that precede first conversion. It commencea
in a serious, scrutinizing view of one's spiritual state and prospects. The subject
of this change becomes dissatisfied with his present type of religion. As he passes
tihrough this second conversion as I call it, he seems to himself to enter into a new
epiritual region. He sees Divine things in a clearer and more affecting light than
he ever did before. II. Its reality as a matter of experience. The apostles
before and after Pentecost. Through the gift of the Spirit they rose to holier love,
to a more spiritual faith and hope in Christ, and to a greater consecration to Hia
service. The late Dr. Judson, of the Burmah Baptist Mission, after he had been
years in his field of labour, earnestly engaged in his work, and no doubt as a true
Christian man, experienced a change in his religious feelings and views which, in
all its essential elements, may properly be regarded as a second conversion, and
which gave a new impulse and a new power, as well as a greatly increased
spirituality, and joy, and hope, to the whole of his subsequent life. The late Judge
Beeve, of Litchfield, furnishes another remarkable example illustrating the point
jiow ander consideration. For many years after he professed religion he was satis-
fied to keep up the usual routine of religious observances, but with little of the life
and enjoyment of a clear, indwelling spirit of piety. Then he passed through a
great and most decided change in his Christian experieuce and character, in which
he felt as if old things bad indeed passed away, and all things had become new to
him. From that time till the close of his life he enjoyed great nearness to God and
peace of mind, and his path became like that of the sun, shining more and more
4Qnto the perfect day. III. Why a second conversion is necessary to prepare osa
*o BE truly and eminently USEFUL IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE, or in promoting the
spiritual good of others. 1. It is necessary because first conversion is often
very superficial. It does indeed change the heart and turn the affections towards
God and Divine things ; but the whole inner man is far from being subdued to the
obedience of Christ. Much land remains yet to be possessed. 2. A second
conversion is often necessary to bring the soul into a nearer union and a deeper
sympathy with Christ. 3. This second conversion of which I speak, brings those
who are the subjects of it to see and feel the miserable condition of such as are oat
of Christ and perishing in sin. 4. Second conversion qualifies those who are the
Bobjects of it, to do good in the most acceptable and successful manner. It begeta
« new spirit of homUity, tenderness, and love in the soul ; gives tone to the voice
and look to the eye, imparts an aspect of benevolence and kindness to the whole
manner and style of address, and makes it entirely apparent, when attempting to
40 good to others, to converse vriih them for example on the subject of personal
CKAT. xziz.] 8T. LUKE. 529
religion, that yon are moved to it by real concern for their salvation. This, beyond
anything else, disarms opposition, subdues prejudice, gives access to the heart
and conscience, and is well-nigh sure to render your efforts successful. 5.
When the heart is deeply imbued with the feelings implied in second conver-
sion, God's presence may be expected to be with you, to guide and crown with
success your endeavours to do good to others. {J. Hawes, D.D.) Conversion
and strengthening : — I. Coxvebsion. 1. The essential, primary idea is that of a
corporeal turning roimd, without anything to limit it. But to this original notion,
which is inseparable from the word, usage in many cases adds certain accessory
notions. One of these is, the idea of turning in a definite direction ; that is,
towards a certain object. The difference is that between a wheel's turning on its
axis and a flower turning towards the sun. But in some connections there is a still
further accession to the primary idea ; so that the words necessarily suggest, not
the mere act of turning, nor the act of turning in a definite direction, but the act
of tarning from one object to another, which are then, of course, presented in
direct antithesis to one another. Thus the magnetic needle, if mechanically pointed
towards the south, is no sooner set at liberty than it will turn from that point to
the north. In this case, however, there is still another accessory motion added to
the simple one of turning, namely, that of turning back to a point from which it
had before been turned away. And this idea of return or retroversion may, of
course, be repeated without limit, and without any further variation of the meaning
of the term used, which is still the same, whether the turning back be for the first
or second, tenth or hundredth time. All these distinctions or gradations may be-
traced also in the spiritual uses of the term. As thus applied, conversion is a
change of character, that is, of principles and affections, with a corresponding
change of outward life. Now, such a change may be conceived of, as a vague,,
unsettled, frequently repeated revolution of the views and feelings, without any
determinate character or end. But the conversion spoken of in Scripture is relieved
from this indefiniteness by a constant reference to one specific object to which the
convert turns. It is to God that all conversion is described as taking place. But
how, in what sense, does man turn to God? The least and lowest that can be sup-
posed to enter into this conception is, a turning to God, as an object of attention
or consideration — turning, as it were, for the first time to look at Him, just as we
might turn towards any object of sense which had before escaped attention or been
out of sight. 2. Sometimes, again, the idea is suggested that we not only turn to
God, but turn back to Him. This may at first sight appear inconsistent with the
fact just stated, that our first affections are invariably given to the world and to
ourselves. But even those who are converted, for the first time, from a state of
total aUenation, may be said to turn back to God, in reference to the great original
apostasy in which we are all implicated. As individuals, we never know God till
we are converted. As a race, we have all departed from Him, and conversion ie
bat turning back to Him. But this expression is still more appropriate, even in
its strict sense, to the case of those who have already been converted, and are only
reclaimed from a partial and temporary alienation, from relapsing into sin, or what
is called, in religious phraseology, declension, and, in the Word of God itself»
backsliding. That the term conversion may be properly applied to such a
secondary restoration, is apparent from the language of the text, where it is used
by Christ Himself, of one who is expressly said to have had faith, and faith which
did not absolutely fail. II. Conversion tends to the btbenoxhenino of others.
In answer to the question, How does conversion tend to this result ? the general fact
may be thus resolved into three distinct particulars : 1. It enables men to strengthen
others. 2. It obliges men to strengthen others. 3. It disposes men to strengthen
others. The convert is enabled to confirm or rescue others by his knowledge of
their character and state. He knows, not only what he sees in them, but what he-
feels or has felt in himself. He knows the difficulties of the restoration — how
much harder it is now to excite hope or confirm faith, how much less effective either
warning, or encouragement, or argument is now than it once was — how precarious
even the most specious reformation and repentance must be after such deflections.
This advantage of experimental knowledge is accompanied, moreover, by a
oorresponding liveliness of feeling, a more energetic impulse, such as always
springs from recent restorations or escapes. Out of this increased ability arises,
by a logical and moral necessity, a special obligation. This is only a
specific application of a principle which all acknowledge, and which the Word
fli Ood explicitly propounds, " To him that knowe^ to do good and doettt
▼ou m. 84
630 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. xstt.
it not, to him it is sin." It needs not so much to be explained or estab-
lished, as to be exemplified from real life. The recognition of the principle
is there unhesitating and unanimous. He who has been recovered from the power
of a desperate disease by a new or unknown remedy, is under a peculiar obligation
to apply it, or at least to make it known, to all affected in like manner. Hence the
ransparing, universal condemnation of the man who, from mercenary motives, holds
an his possession secrets of importance to the health or happiness of others. He
who is mercifully saved from shipwreck, often feels especially incumbent on him-
self the rescue of his fellows. He must do what he can even though he be exhausted ;
how much more if he is strengthened. The heart must beat in concord with the
reason and the conscience. And it does so in the case of the true convert. (/. A .
Alexander, D.D.) Strengthening the brethren: — That the brethren may be weak
in faith, in love, in humility, and in some departments of Christian duty, is clearly
implied in the command to strengthen them. But this cannot be done by aban-
doning them. How, then, can it be accomplished? 1. By being always in the
iplace, and punctually discharging the duty which the Lord requires of you, accord-
ing to your covenant. 2. By the spirituality of those who are turned from any
particular course of sinfulness. 3. The brethren may be strengthened by our meek-
ness, and other mild graces. 4. Nor should this work of strengthening the brethren,
be a matter of mere contingence. It must be undertaken systematically. Each
Christian should adopt a system of doing good, and carry it out in all the branches
of a Christian life. 5. He should strengthen them, by meeting with them in circlea
for prayer. 6. He will also encourage them, by praying for them. 7. He will en-
courage them by his conversation. (J. Foot, D.D. ) Peter after his restoration : —
I. First, it is his dtjtt. He has gone astray, and he has been brought back ; what
better can he do than to strengthen his brethren ? 1. He will thus help to undo
the evil which he has wrought. Peter must have staggered his brethren. 2. Be-
sides, how can you better express your gratitude to God than by seeking to strengthen
your weak brethren when you have been strengthened yourself ? 3. Do you not
think, too, that this becomes our duty, because, doubtless, it is a part of the Divine
design f Never let us make a mistake by imagining that God's grace is given to a
man simply with an eye to himself. 4. By the way, the very wording of the text
seems to suggest the duty : we are to strengthen our " brethren." We must do so
in order that we may manifest brotherly love, and thus prove our sonship towards
God. 5. Let as see to it, dear friends, if we have been restored, that we try to look
after our weak brethren, that we may show forth a zeal for the honour and glory of
our Lord. When we went astray we dishonoured Christ. II. Now secondly, hb hJiS a
>QnALiTicATioN FOB IT. This Peter is the man who, when he is brought back again,
can strengthen his brethren. 1. He can strengthen them by telling them of the
ibittemess of denying his Master. He went out and wept bitterly. 2. Again, Peter
was the man to tell another of the weakness of the flesh, for he could say to him,
'*Do not trust yourself." 3. But he was also qualified to bear his personal witness
to the power of his Lord's prayer. He could never forget that Jesus had said to
him, " I have prayed for thee." 4. And could not Peter speak about the love of
Jesus to poor wanderers? 5. And could not Peter fully describe the joy of restora-
tion? in. And now, lastly, the restored believer should strengthen his brethren,
because it will be such a benefit to himself. He will derive great personal bene-
ifiit from endeavouring to cherish and assist the weak ones in the family of God.
1. Brother, do this continually and heartily, for thus you will be made to see your
own wetness. 2. But what a comfort it must have been to Peter to have such a
charge committed to him! 3. And, brethren, whenever any of you lay your-
selves out to strengthen weak Christians, as I pray you may, you will get
benefit from what you do in the holy effort. (C H. Spur g eon.) Christ's
command to Peter : — 1. Here is an enlargement of personal conversion, to
fraternal or brotherly confirmation. He that is converted himself,^ he mast
strengthen his brethren. And that in divers respects — (1) In a way of faithfulness,
as closing with that end for which they are converted themselves. The reason
why God does bestow snch a measure of grace or comfort upon this or that particular
-Christian, it is not for himself only, but for others, that so they may be so much
*he better, or comf ortabler for his sake. (2) In a way of thankfulness, " When thou
Art converted, strengthen thy brethren " ; upon this account likewise, we cannot
Ibetter testify our acknowledgments of God's goodness, in the bestowing of grace or
.comfort npon oar own souls, than by impartmg and commanioating it to others,
^rae thankfalness, it hath, for the most part, joy with it. (3) Oat of eeal to th«
•«HAP. xxn.] ST. LUKE. 531
^017 of God. We should endeavour others' conversion, that so God may
have more glory by it. The more that sinners are converted, the more is
God honoured. (4) Out of love to ourselves and our own good. The more we
strengthen others, the more indeed do we confirm ourselves, whether in grace
or comfort. This oil, it increases in the spending ; and this bread in the
breaking of it. And to him that thus hath, it shall be given. This is done
divers ways, as — (a) By discovering and laying open the flights of sin, and the
subtilties of the spiritual enemy, (b) By quickening and exciting and stirring up
one another to good, we do hereby strengthen our brethren. There is nothing does
more strengthen men in goodness, than the practice of goodness, (c) By imparting
and communicating of our own experiences, we do hereby likewise strengthen our
brethren ; when we shaU show them what good we ourselves have found by such
and such good courses. This is a means not only to draw on, but to confirm
others with us. To help us, and enable us hereunto, we must labour especially for
such graces as are conducing to the practice of it, as — (1) A spirit of discerning,
whereby to judge aright of the case and condition which our brethren are in. It
is a great part of skill in a physician, to be able to find out the disease, and to know
the just temper and constitution of his patient's body ; and so is it also for a
healer of souls. (2) A spirit of love and tenderness and condescension. There
is a great deal of meekness required in a spiritual strengthener and restorer
(GaL vi. 2). (3) A spirit of faith, whereby we do believe ourselves those things
which we commend to others. 2. The confinement of brotherly confirmation to
personal conversion. He that will strengthen his brethren, he must himself be
first of all converted. Peter, till himself be converted, he cannot confirm or
strengthen his brethren, whether in comfort or grace. When we say, he cannot do
it, this holds good according to the notion of a threefold impossibility which is ia
it. (1) In regard of the performance; he cannot strengthen his brethren in this
respect, who is himself unconverted. The reason of it is this : because persons in
such a condition, they are devoid of those graces which are requisite to such a
performance. ^2) Cannot do it, in regard of acceptance ; God will not take it so
well from him, m his making and pretending to do it ; neither is it altogether so
satisfactory to men. (3) Cannot, in regard of success. He that is himself uncon-
verted and unexperienced in his own heart, he cannot speak so profitable to others,
and to the good of their souls. Nothing goes to the heart so much as that which
comes from it. (J. Horton, D.D.)
Yer. 88. Both to prison and to death. — Religious emotion : — That violent im-
pulse is not the same as a firm determination — that men may have their religious
feelings roused, without being on that account at all the more likely to obey Qod in
practice, rather the less likely. As a general rule, the more religious men become,
the calmer they become ; and at all times the religious principle, viewed by itself, is
calm, sober, and deliberate. Let us review some of the accidental circumstances I
speak of. 1. The natural tempers of men vary very much. Some men have ardent
imaginations and strong feelings ; and adopt, as a matter of course, a vehement
mode of expressing themselves. No doubt it is impossible to make all men think
and feel alike. Such men of course may possess deep-rooted principle. All I would
maintain is, that their ardour does not of itself make their faith deeper and more
genuine ; that they must not think themselves better than others on account of it ;
that they must be aware of considering it a proof of their real earnestness, instead
of narrowly searching into their conduct for the satisfactory fruits of faith. 2.
Next, there are, besides, particular occasions on which excited feeling is natural,
and even commendable ; but not for its own sake, but on account of the peculiar
circumstances under which it occurs. For instance, it is natural for a man to feel
especial remorse at his sins when he first begins to think of reUgion ; he ought to
feel bitter sorrow and keen repentance. But aU such emotion evidently is not the
highest state of a Christian's mind ; it is but the first stirring of grace in him. A
sinner, indeed, can do no better ; bat in proportion as he learns more of the power
of true religion, such agitation will wear away. The woman who had been a sinner,
when she came behind our Lord wept much, and washed His feet with tears. It
was well done in her ; she did what she could ; and was honoured with our Saviour's
praise. Tet it is clear this was not a permanent state of mind. It was but the
first step in religion, and would doubtless wear away. It was but the accident of
a season. Had her faith no deeper root than this emotion, it would soon have coma
to an end, as Peter's zeal , 3. And further, the accidents of life will occasionally
ftS2 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [otap. mv
agitate ns — affliction and the pain ; bad news ; though here, too, the Psalmist describes
the higher excellence of mind, viz., the calm conlidence of the believer, who " will
not be afraid of any evil tidings, for his heart standeth fast, and believeth in the
Lord." In times of distress religious men will speak more openly on the subject of
religion, and lay bare their feelings ; at other times they will conceal them. They
are neither better nor worse for so doing. Now all this may be illustrated from
Scripture. We find the same prayers offered, and the same resolutions expressed^
by good men, sometimes in a calm way, sometimes with more ardour. Observe how
calm Job is in his resignation : " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ;
blessed be the name of the Lord." And on the other band, how calmly that same
apostle expresses his assurance of salvation at the close of his life, who, during the
struggle, was accidentally agitated: — *• I am now ready to be offered. ... I have
kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness."
These remarks may suffice to show the relation which excited feelings bear to true
rehgious principle. They are sometimes natural, sometimes suitable; but they are
not religion itself. They come and go. They will gradually lose their place within
us as our obedience becomes confirmed — partly because those men are kept in per-
fect peace, and sheltered from all agitating feelings, whose minds are stayed on
God ; partly because these feelings themselves are fixed into habits by the power
of faith, and instead of coming and going, and agitating the mind from their sud-
denness, they are permanently retained so far as there is anything good in them,
and give a deeper colour and a more energetic expression to the Christian character.
Now, it will be observed, that in these remarks I have taken for granted, as not
needing proof, that the highest Christian temper is free from all vehement and.
tumultuous feeling. But, if we wish some evidence of this, let us turn to our Great
Pattern, Jesus Christ, and examine what was the character of that perfect holiness
which He alone of all men ever displayed. And can we find anywhere such calm-
ness and simplicity as marked His devotion and His obedience? When does He
ever speak with fervour or vehemence ? Consider the prayer He gave us ; and this
is the more to the purpose, for the very reason that He has given it as a model for
our worship. How plain and unadorned is it 1 How few are the words of it 1 How
grave and solemn the petitions ? What an entire absence of tumult and feverish^
emotion ! To conclude : Let us take warning from St. Peter's fall. Let us not
promise much ; let us not talk much of ourselves ; let us not be high-minded, nor
encourage ourselves in impetuous bold language in religion. {J. H. Newman,
D.D.)
Vers. 39-46. The mount of Olives. — The mount of Olives : — The mountains are
Nature's monuments. Like the islands that dwell apart, and like them that give
asylum from a noisy and irreverent world. Many a meditative spirit has found in
their silence leisure for the longest thought, and in their Patmos-like seclusion
the brightest visions and largest projects have evolved ; whilst by a sort of over-
mastering attraction they have usually drawn to themselves the most memorable
incidents which variegate our human history. And, as they are the natural haunts
of the highest spirits, and the appropriate scenes of the most signal occurrences, so
they are the noblest cenotaphs. I. Olivet reminds vb or the Saviodr's pity fob
SUCH AS PERISH (see Luke xix. 37-44). That tear fell from an eye which had looked
into eternity, and knew the worth of souls. II. The Mount of Olives reminds us
OF THE Redeemer's agony to save. III. The Mount of Olives is identified with the
■applications and intercessions of Immanuel, and so suggests to us the Lord Jesus
as thb obeat example in prater. 1. Submission in prayer. In praying for His
people, the Mediator's prayer was absolute : " Father, / wilV But in praying for
Himself, how altered was the language 1 " Father, if it be possible, let this cup
pass from Me : nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt." 2. Perseverance in
prayer. The evangelist tells that there was one prayer which Jesus offered three
times, and from the Epistle to the Hebrews v. 7, we find that this prayer prevailed.
3. The best preparation for trial is habitual prayer. Long before it became the
scene of His agony, Gethsemane had been the Saviour's oratory. " He ofttimes
resorted thither." IV. The Mount of Olives recalls to us the Saviour's affection
FOB His OWN. I fear that the love of Christ is little credited even by those who
have some faith in His finished work, and some attachment to His living person.
{Jama Hamilton.) Being in an agony. — Je$iu in the Garden of Qethtenuine : — Jesus
commenced His sacred Passion in the garden for these reasons : I. Bkcausb He
iMTBKDU) TO 0B8XBTX A PIOUS CUSTOM. 1. It was His cnstom, after He had preached
CBAP. zxu.] ST. LUKE. 683
und wrought miracles, to retire and betake Himself to prayer. 2. It should be oni
cDBtom, too, to recollect ourselves in prayer, especially when the day's work is over.
II. Becacsb chabitt and obedience tJEGED HiM. 1. Charity towards the master ol
the house, who, having left the supper-room at His disposal, should not be molested
by the seizure of Jesus. 2. Love and obedience to His heavenly Father. IH.
Ik ordeb to fulfil the type of David. When Absalom had revolted against his
father, David and the people went over the brook Kedron, and they all wept
with a loud voice. Christ went over the same brook now, accompanied by His
faithful friends. IV. As second Adam He would make satisfaction in a oabden fob
THE SIN OF THE FIBST AdAH WHICH HAD BEEN COMMITTED IN A GARDEN. {J. Marchunt.)
Gethsemane : — Now let us look at this scene of pain and agony in the life of Christ,
and see what lessons it supplies to us. And I remark — I. It was solitaby suffeb-
ING. " He was removed from them. " He was alone. How weird and sombre the
word I How it throbs with painful life 1 And does not your experience substantiate
the same thing ? "What a recital you could give of pain, and sorrow, and heart-
ache, and stern conflict you have borne and sustained in solitude into which your
dearest earthly friend must not enter. But I remark further that this scene in the
life of Jesus was one of — II. Intense suffering. It is an hour of supreme agony 1
TBie betrayer is at hand, the judgment hall, the mockery, the ribald jeers of the
populace, the desertion of His friends, the false charges of His enemies, the shame
and pain of the cross are just before Him. The bitterness of death is upon Him.
IIL Earnest pbayeb. " He prayed the more earnestly." What I Christ pray ?
Did He need the help of this provision of the Infinite Father to meet the exigencies
of sinful dependent man ? Yes, the Man Jesus needed to exercise this gift. It
was the human Christ that was suffering. Prayer is an arrangement in the
economy of infinite wisdom and goodness to meet the daily needs of human lives.
But see again, in this time of great suffering there is — IV. Devout submission to
THE Divine will. "Nevertheless not My will, but Thine, be done." Christ here
reveals a force and beauty of character of the highest and most perfect kind.
When a man can be thus brought to put himself into harmony with the Divine
plan and purpose, so as to say in true submission and surrender, " Thy will be
done," he gets to the very heart of the saint's "higher life" on earth ; this is about
as full a " sanctification " as can be attained this side heaven. This is one of the
grandest, the greatest, and hardest, yet the sweetest and most restful prayers I
know. " Thy will be done." This prayer touches all things in human life and
history from centre to circumference, nothing is left outside its sweep and compass.
It is the hfe of heaven lived on earth — the soul entering into deep and abiding
sympathy with the character and will of God, and going out in harmony with the
Divine plan to " do and suffer " all His righteous wiUl What are some of the
lessons suggested by this suffering scene in the life of Christ ? 1. Every true man
has his Gethsemane. It may be an "olive garden," where is everything to minister
to the senses, and meet the utmost cravings of the human heart so far as outer
things are concerned. Or, it may be out on the bleak unsheltered moor, where the
cutting winds and blinding storm of sickness and poverty chiU to the very core of
his nature : or in any of the intermediate states of life, but come it does. 2. To
pass through Gethsemane is a Divine arrangement, a part of God's plan for
perfecting human lives. Christ was there not merely because it was His " wont "
or habit, but as part of a Divine plan. He was drawn thither by unseen forces,
and for a set or definite purpose. It was just as much the will of God as was any
other act or scene of His life. 3. To pray for the cup to pass from us should
always be subject to Christ's condition, " If it be Thy will." 4. God ever answers
true prayer, but not always in the way we ask. Of this we may be sure, that He
will either lift us from the Gethsemane of suffering, or strengthen us to bear the
triaL 6. In great suffering, submission to the Divine will gains strength for the
greater trial beyond. 6. I learn, finally, this grand lesson, that I would by no
means miss — that in aU, above, and beyond, and through all, the Lord God reigns.
(J. r. Higgint.) Jesus in Gethsemane: — I. Upon the very threshold of our
lesson lies the weighty truth: Wob'b bittebest cup should bk taeen when it
IB TBB means 07 HIGHEST USEFULNESS. Wasted Suffering is the climax of tragedy.
Many broken hearts would have lived could it have been clear that the crushing
woe was not fruitless. Unspeakable the boon if earth's army of sufferers could
test on the knowledge that their pain was serrioe. IL Fboh oub Loan's exampus
WB LXABN THB EELPFULNSS8 IK BOBBOW OT BXLIANCS UPON HUMAN AND DiVINB COM-
tAKIOKSHIF COXBIKXD. UL Oto LcAD'B OBUCIAL OBBDIEMCX IS THE OABDSM AOOH1
6S4 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, txa,
REFLECTS THE MAJESTY OP THE HUMAN WILL AND ITS POSSIBLE MASTERY OF ETKBT
tbiaIj in peefect obedience TO THE DiviNE WILL. However superhuman Jesus'
Buffering, He was thoroughly human in it. He had all our faculties, and used them
as we may use ours. It is no small encouragement that the typical Man gives as
an example of perfect obedience, at a cost unknown before or since. In the mutual
relations of the human and Divine wills all merit is achieved and all character
constructed. IV. Jesus' soul could have beeh "sorbowful even unto death"
ONLY AS His suffeeings were vicarious. V, Gethsemane's darkness paints
sin's ouilt akd ruin in faithful and enduring colour. It is easy to think lightly
of sin. VI. Gethsemane throws portentous light upon the woe of lost souls.
VII. Our lesson gives terrible emphasis to the fact and seriousness op im-
possibilities with God. Our Lord's agonized words, " H it be possible," establish
the rigidity and absoluteness of governmental and spiritual conditions. God's will
and plans are objective realities ; they have definite and all-important direction
and demands. (S. L. B. Speare.) The will of God the cure of self-will: — Awful
in its bliss, more awful yet is the will in its decay. Awful power it is, to be able for
ourselves to choose God ; terrible to be able to refuse Him. We have felt, many of
us, the strangeness of the power of will in children ; how neither present strength,
nor persuasion, nor love, nor hope, nor paiu, nor punishment, nor dread of worse,
nor weight of authority, can, for a time, bend the determined will of a little child.
We are amazed to see a power so strong in a form so slight and a mind so childish.
Yet they are faint pictures of ourselves whenever we have sinned wilfully. Wa
marvel at their resisting our wisdom, knowledge, strength, counsel, authority,
persuasiveness. What is every sinful sin but a resistance of the wisdom, power,
counsel, majesty, eloquent pleadings of Almighty God in the sinner's soul ? What
is it, but for the soul which He hath made, to will to thwart His counsel who hath
made it, to mar His work, to accuse His wisdom of foolishness, His love of want of
tenderness, to withdraw itself from the dominion of God, to be another god ta
itself, a separate principle of wisdom and source of happiness and providence to
itself, to order things in its own way, setting before itself and working out its own
ends, making self-love, self-exaltation, self-gratification, its object, as though it
were, at its will, to shape its own lot as much as if there were no God. Yea, and
at last, it must will that there be no God. And in its worst decay, it accomplishes
what it wills, and (awful as it is to say) blots God out of its creation, disbelieving
that He is, or will do as He has said, or that He will avenge. Whoever wills that
God wills not, so far dethrones God, and sets up his own will to dispute the
almightiness and wisdom of the eternal God. He is a Deicide. It matters not
wherein the self-will is exerted, in the very least things or the greatest. Antichrist
will be but the full unhindered growth of self-will. Such was the deep disease of
self-will, to cure which our good Lord came, in our nature, to fulfil the Father's
will, to will to suffer what the Father willed, to " empty Himself and become
obedient unto death, and that the death of the Cross." And since pride was the
chief source of disease in our corrupted wills, to heal this, the eternal Son of God
came as now from His everlasting glory, and, as a little Child, fulfilled His
Father's will. And when He entered on His ministry, the will of His Father was
the full contentment, refreshment, stay, reward, of His soul, as Man. And then,
whereas the will of God is done either by us, in active obedience, or on us and in
as by passive obedience or resignation in suffering, to suffer the will of God is the
surest, deepest, safest, way to learn to do it. For it has least of self. It needeth
only to be still, and it reposeth at once in the loving will of God. If we have
crippled oarselves, and cannot do great things, we can, at least, meekly bear
chastening, hush our souls and be still. Yet since, in trials of this sort, the soul
is often perplexed by its very suffering, it may be for your rest, when ye shall be
called to God's loving discipline of suffering, to have such simple rules as these.
1, It is not against the will of God even strongly to will if it should be His wUl,
what yet may prove not to be His will. Entire submission to the will of God
requireth absolutely these two things. Wholly will whatsoever thoa knowest God
to will ; wholly reject whatsoever thou knowest God willeth not. Beyond these
two, while the will of God is as yet not clear unto thee, thou art free. We most
indeed, in all our prayers, have written, at least in our hearts, those words spoken
by our dear Lord for us, " Not as I will, but as Thou." We shall, in whatever
degree God hath conformed our will to His, hold our will in suspense, even while
yet uncertain, ready to follow the balance of His gracious will even while we,
tremblingly watch its motions, and our dearest earthly hopes, laid therein, seern^
OUF. xxn.] ST. LUKE. SSS
ready gradually to sink, for the rest of this life, in dust (2 Sam. xvi. 10). And so
thou, too, whatever it be which thou wiUest, the health and life of those thou lovest
as thine own soul, the turning aside of any threatened scourge of God, the healing
of thine aching heart, the cleansing away of harassing thoughts or doubts entailed
upon thee by former sin, or coldness, or dryness, or distraction in prayer, or dead-
ness of soul, or absence of spiritual consolation, thou mayest without fear ask it
of God with thy whole heart, and will it wholly and earnestly, so that thou will
therein the glory of God, and, though with sinking heart, welcome the will of God,
when thou knowest assuredly what that will is. 2. Nor again is it against the will
of God that thou art bowed down and grieved by what is the will of God. And even
when the heaviness is for our own private griefs, yet, if it be patient, it, too, ia
according to the will of God. For God hath made us such as to suffer. He willeth
that suffering be the healthful chastisement of our sins. 3. Then, whatever thy
grief or trouble be, take every drop in thy cup from the hand of Almighty God.
Thou knowest well that all comes from God, ordered or overruled by Him. How
was the cup of thy Lord filled, which He drank for thee ? 4. Again, no trouble is
too small, wherein to see the will of God for thee. Great troubles come but seldom.
Daily fretting trials, that is, what of thyself would fret thee, may often, in God'»
hands, conform thee more to His gracious will. They are the daily touches,
whereby He traces on thee the likeness of His Divine will. There is nothing too
slight wherein to practise oneness with the will of God. Love or hate are the
strength of will ; love, of the will of God ; hate, of the will of devils. A weak
love is a weak will ; a strong love is a strong wilL Self-will is the antagonist of the
will of God ; for thou wert formed for God. If thou wert made for thyself, be self
thy centre ; if for God, repose thyself in the will of God. So shalt thou lose thy
self-will, to find thy better will in God, and thy self-love shall be absorbed in the
love of God. Tea, thou shalt love thyself, because God hath loved thee ; take care
for thyself, because thou art not thine own, but God careth for thee ; will thine own
good, because and as God willeth it. " Father, nevertheless, not as I will, but as
Thou." So hath our Lord sanctified all the natural shrinkings of our lower will.
He vouchsafed to allow the natural will of His sacred Manhood to be " amazed and
very heavy " at the mysterious sufferings of the cross, to hallow the " mute shrink-
ing " of ours, and guide us on to His all-holy submission of His will. {E. B. Pusey, D.D.)
Christ's preparation for death : — 1. The prayer of Christ. In a praying posture He
will be found when the enemy comes ; He will be taken upon His knees. _He was
pleading hard with God in prayer, for strength to carry Him through this heavy
trial, when they came to take Him. And this prayer was a very remarkable prayer,
both for the solitariness of it, " He withdrew about a stone's cast " (verse 41) from
His dearest intimates — no ear but His Father's shall hear what He had now to
say — and for the vehemency and importunity of ft ; these were those strong
cries that He poured out to God in the days of His flesh (Heb. y. 7). And for the
humility expressed in it : He fell upon the grotmd. He rolled Himself as it were in
dust, at His Father's feet. 2. This Scripture gives you alge an account of the
agony of Christ, as well as of His prayer, and that a most strange one ; such as in
all respects never was known before in nature. 3. You have here His relief in this
His agony, and that by an angel dispatched post from heaven to comfort Him. The
Lord of angels now needed the comfort of an angel. It was time to have a little
refreshment, when His face and body too stood as full of drops of blood as the drops
of dew are upon the grass. 1. Did Christ pour out His soul to Ood so ardently in
the garden, when the hour of His trouble was at hand ? Hence we infer that
prayer is a singular preparative for, and rehef under, the greatest troubles. 2. Did
Christ withdraw from the disciples to seek God by prayer ? Thence it follows that
the company of the best men is not always seasonable. The society of men is
beautiful in its season, and no better than a burden out of season. I
have read of a good man, that when his stated time for oloset-prayer
was come, he would say to the company that were with him, whatever
they were, " Friends, I must beg your excuse for a while, there is a Friend waits to
speak with me." The company of a good man is good, bat it ceases to be so, when
it hinders the enjoyment of better company. One hour with God is to be preferred
to a thousand days' enjoyment of the best men on earth. 3. Did Christ go to God
thrice ujwn the same account? Thence learn that Christians should not be dis-
couraged, though they have sought God once and again, and no answer of Peace
eomes. If God deny yea in the things you ask. He deals no otherwise with you than
He did with Christ. 4. Was Christ so eatnest in prayer that He prayed Himself
f8« TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap.
into a very agony? Let the people of God bloBk to think how anlike their spirits
are to Christ, as to their prayer-frames. Oh, vrhat lively, sensible, quick, deep, and
tender apprehensions and sense of those things abont which He prayed, had Christ!
Though He saw His very blood starting out from His hands, and His clothes dyed
in it, yet being in an agony, He prayed the more earnestly. I do not say Christ is
imitable in this ; no, but His fervour in prayer is a pattern for us, and serrea
severely to rebuke the laziness, dulness, torpor, formality, and stupidity that is in
our prayers. Oh, how imlike Christ are we 1 His prayers were pleading prayers,
full of mighty arguments and fervent affections. Oh, that His people were in this
more like Him ! 5. Was Christ in such an agony before any hand of man was
upon Him merely from the apprehensions of the wrath of God with which He now
contested ? Then surely it is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living
God, for our God is a consuming fire. 6. Did Christ meet death with such a heavy
heart ? Let the hearts of Christians be the lighter for this when they come to die.
The bitterness of death was all squeezed into Christ's cup. He was made to drink
Tip the very dregs of it, that so our death might be the sweeter to us. {J. Flavel.)
The agony in Gethsemane : — L Meditating upon the agonizing scene in Gethsemane
we are compelled to observe that our Saviour there endured a grief unknown to any
previous period of His life, and therefore we will commence our discourse by raising
the question, what was the cause of the peculiab gbief of Gethsemane ? Do
you suppose it was the fear of coming scorn or the dread of crucifixion? was it
terror at the thought of death ? Is not such a supposition impossible 7 It does
not make even such poor cowards as we are sweat great drops of blood, why then
should it work such terror in Him ? Eead the stories of the martyrs, and you will
frequently find them exultant in the near approach of the most cruel sufferings.
The joy of the Lord has given such strength to them, that no coward thought has
alarmed them for a single moment, but they have gone to the stake, or to the block,
with psalms of victory upon their lips. Our Master must not be thought of as
inferior to His boldest servants, it cannot be that He should tremble where they
were brave. I cannot conceive that the pangs of Gethsemane were occasioned by
any extraordinary attack from Satan. It is possible that Satan was there, and that
his presence may have darkened the shade, but he was not the most prominent
cause of that hour of darkness. Thus much is quite clear, that our Lord at the
commencement of His ministry engaged in a very severe duel with the prince ol
darkness, and yet we do not read concerning that temptation in the wilderness a
single syllable as to His soul's being exceeding sorrowful, neither do we find that
He " was sore amazed and was very heavy," nor is there a solitary hint at anything
approaching to bloody sweat. When the Lord of angels condescended to stand foot
to foot with the prince of the power of the air, he had no such dread of him as to
utter strong cries and tears and fall prostrate on the ground with threefold appeals
to the Great Father. What is it then, think you, that so peculiarly marks off
Gethsemane and the griefs thereof ? We believe that now the Father put Him to
grief for ns. It was now that our Lord had to take a certain cup from the Father's
hand. This removes all doubt as to what it was, for we read, «' It pleased the
Lord to bruise Him, He hath put Him to grief : when thou shalt make His soul
an offering for sin." " The Lord hath made to meet on Him the iniquity of us all."
Yet would I exhort you to consider these griefs awhile, that you may love the
Sufferer. He now realized, perhaps for the first time, what it was to
be a sin bearer. It was the shadow of the coming tempest, it was the
prelude of the dread desertion which He had to endure, when He stood
where we ought to have stood, and paid to His Father's justice the debt which was
due from ns ; it was this which laid Him low. To be treated as a sinner, to be
smitten as a sinner, though in Him was no sin — this it was which caused Him the
agony of which our text speaks. U. Having thus spoken of the cause of His
peculiar grief, I thmk we shall be able to support our view of the matter, while we
lead yon to consider, what was the character of the orief itself ? Trouble of
spirit is worse than pain of body ; pain may bring trouble and be the incidental
cause of sorrow, but if the mind is perfectly nntroubled, how well a man can bear
pain, and when the soul is exhilarated and lifted up with inward joy, pain of body
is almost forgotten, the soul conquering the body. On the other band the soul's
sorrow will create bodily pain, the lower nature sympathizing with the higher. III.
Our third question shall be, what was oub Loan's solace in all this ? He
resorted to prayer, and especially to prayer to God under the character of Father.
Ill oonolasion : Learn — 1. The real humanity of oar Lord. 8. Tb« siatchlesg lavs
CBAP. xxn.] ST. LUKE, 687
of Jesus. 3. The excellence and completeness of the atonement. 4. Last of all*
what must be the terror of the punishment which will fall upon those men wha
reject the atoning blood, and who will have to stand before God in their own proper
persons to suffer for their sins. {C. H. Spurgeon.) Gethsemane : — I. Coma
hither and behold the Saviour's unutterable wok. We cannot do more than
look at the revealed causes of grief. 1. It partly arose from the horror of His soul
when fully comprehending the meaning of sin. 2. Another deep fountain of grief
was found in the fact that Christ now assumed more fully His official position with
regard to sin. 3. We believe that at this time, our Lcrd had a very clear view of
•U the shame and suffering of His crucifixion. 4. But possibly a yet more fruitful
tree of bitterness was this — that now His Father began to withdraw His presence
from Him. 5. But in our judgment the fiercest heat of the Saviour's suffering in
the garden lay in the temptations of Satan. " This is your hour and the power of
darkness." " The prince of this world cometh." IL Turn we next to contemplate
THE TEMPTATION OF OUR LoRO. 1. A temptation to leave the work unfinished. 2.
Scripture implies that our Lord was assailed by the fear that His strength would
not be sufficient He was heard in that He feared. How, then, was He heard ?
An angel was sent onto Him strengthening Him. His fear, then, was probably
produced by a sense of weakness. 3. Possibly, also, the temptation may have
arisen from a suggestion that He was utterly forsaken. I do not know — there may
be stern er.trials than this, but surely this is one of the worst, to be utterly forsaken.
4. We think Satan also assaulted our Lord with a bitter taunt indeed. You know
in what guise the tempter can dress it, and how bitterly sarcastic he can make the
insinuation — " Ah ! Thou wilt not be able to achieve the redemption of Thy people.
Thy grand benevolence will prove a mockery, and Thy beloved ones will perish. "
IIL Behold, the bloody sweat. This proves how tremendous must have been the
weight of sin when it was able so to crush the Saviour that He distilled drops of
blood 1 This proves, too, my brethren, the mighty power of His love. It is a very
pretty observation of old Isaac Ambrose that the gum which exudes from the tree
without cutting is always the best. This precious camphire-tree yielded most sweet
spices when it was wounded under the knotty whips, and when it was pierced by the
nails on the cross ; but see, it giveth forth its best spice when there is no whip, no
nail, no wound. This sets forth the voluntariness of Christ's sufferings, since
without a lance the blood flowed freely. No need to put on the leech, or apply the
knife ; it flows spontaneously. IV. The Saviour's prater. 1. Lonely prayer. 2.
Humble prayer. 3. Filial prayer. 4. Persevering prayer. 5. Earnest prayer. 6.
The prayer of resignation. V. The Saviour's prevalence. His prayers did speed,
and therefore He is a good Intercessor for us. "How was He heard ? " 1 . His mind was
suddenly rendered calm. 2. God strengthened Him through an angel. 3. God
heard Him in granting Him now, not simply strength, but a real victory over
Satan. I do not know whether what Adam Clarke supposes is correct, that in the
garden Christ did pay more of the price than He did even on the cross ; but I am
quite convinced that they are very foolish who get to such refinement that they
think the atonement was made on the cross, and nowhere else at all. We believs
that it was made in the garden as well as on the cross ; and it strikes me that in
the garden one part of Christ's work was finished, wholly finished, and that was
His conflict with Satan. I conceive that Christ had now rather to bear the absence
of His Father's presence and the revilings of the people and the sons of men, than
the temptations of the devil. I do thiiik that these were over when He rose from
His knees in prayer, when He lifted Himself from the ground where He marked His
visage in the clay in drops of blood. (Ibid.) The agony of Christ: —
L The person or the illustrious Sufferer. 1. The dignified essential Son of
God. 2. Truly and properly the Son of Man. Had oar nature, body, soul. II.
Tee aoont which He endured. 1. The agony itself. (1) Deep, Intense mental
suffering. (2) Overwhelming amazement and terror. 2. The cause of Christ's
agony. It arose — (1) From the pressure of a world's guilt upon Him. (2) From
the attacks of the powers of darkness. (3) From the hiding of the Divine counten-
ance. 3. The effects of the agony. He fell to the ground, overwhelmed, prostrated,
and sweat as it were, great drops of blood. IH. The peayeb which He offered.
♦• He prayed more earnestly." Observe — 1. The matter of His prayer. It was for
the removal of the cup (verse 42). As man, He had a natural aversion to pain and
■offering. 2. The spirit of His prayer was that of holy sabmission, devout resig-
nation. 8. The manner of His prayer. 4. The intensity of His prayer. The
(HMcesi of His prayer. Application : 1. Learn the amazing evil of sin. 3. Tha
j(38 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxn.
expensiveness of our redemption. 3. The sympathy of Christ (Heb. iv. 15). 4.
The necessity of resignation to the will of God. (J. Bunw,D.D.) The Saviour'$
bloody sweat: — I. The causes of the bloody sweat. 1. A vehement inward
struggle. (1) On the one hand He was seized by fear and horror of His passion
and death. (2) On the other hand He was burning with zeal for the honour o£
God and redemption of men. (3) How great will be the anguish of the sinner at
the sight of everlasting death and the endless pains of hell I 2. The representation
of all the sins of the past, present, and future. 3. The consideration that His
passion would prove useless to so many. U. Thb mannek of His sweating blood.
1. He sweat blood in the strict sense of the word. (1) Natural blood. (2) In a
natural way. 2. He was full of sorrow. 3. He fell upon His face. (J. Marchant.)
The witness to the power of prayer : — I. An act of beal prayeb is great, powebfuIj,
AND BEATJTiFtJii *, a Spirit in an energy of pure, subdued, but confident desire, rising
up and embracing, and securing the aid of the mighty Spirit of God. If we can
believe the power of prayer, we may put forth the force of the soul and perform that
act. How then can we learn that power? My answer is. From Christ. Every-
where Christ is the Representative Man. This in two senses. 1. He is human
nature in sum and completeness as it ought to be. To see humanity as God
imaged and loved it, to see humanity at its best, we must see onr Master. 2. And
Christ represents to us perfect human conduct. To see how to act in critical situa-
tions we must study Christ. In critical situations ? Yes 1 there is the difficulty,
there also the evidenced nobleness of a lofty human character. I need hardly say
(for you know who Christ was) the most critical moments in human history were
the moments of the Passion. Oh, perfect example 1 Oh, severe and fearful trial I
Christ knelt alone amidst the oUves, in the quiet garden, in the lonely night, and
near, His weary, sleepy followers. It is a simple scene, but Christ's spirit was in
action. What was the significance of the act? It was very awfuL It was an
" agony," a life-struggle, a contest. Much was involved in that moment of apparent
quietude, of real struggle ; but one lesson at any rate is important. Examine it.
Here we have a witness to the power of prayer. II. The agonv was liteballt a
contest. "What was the nature of the struggle f It was a contest with evil ; of that
we are certain, although the depth and details are wrapped in mystery. Anyhow
the struggle was with a force of which, alas ! we ourselves know something. No one
can live to the age of five-and-twenty, and reflect with any degree of seriousness on
himself or on the world around him, without knowing that evil is a fact. "We find
its cruel records in the blood-stained pages of history. We listen, and amidst what-
ever heavenly voices, still the wail of its victims is echoing age after age down the
" corridors of time." Our own faults and follies will not efface themselves from
the records of memory ; in the brightness of the flaring day of life they may fade
into dim and shadowy outline, but there are times of silence — on a sick-bed, in iba
Btill house at midnight, in the open desolation of the lonely sea — when they rise
like living creatures, spectral threateners, or blaze their unrelenting facts in charac-
ters of fire. Their force was not realized in the moment of passion. But conscience
bides its time, bears its stern, uncompromising witness when passion is asleep or
dead. Sin is a matter of experience. It has withered life, in fact, in history, with
the deathly chill and sadness of the grave. Somehow all feel it, but it is prominent
and stern before the Christian, He can never forget, nor is it well he should, that
we are in a world in which, when God appeared in human form. He was subjected
to insult and violence by His creatures. That is enough. That is, without con-
troversy, the measure of the power, the intensity of evil. If there is to be a contest
with evil, it is clearly a contest with a serious enemy. III. How can we thbow
BACK so FiEBCE A powEB ? The ANSWER BBOADLV IS, RELIGION. RcUglon is a personal
matter ; it must hold a universal empire over the being of each of os ; it must rouse
natural forces only by being in possession of supernatural power. ^ Brothers, to
possess a religion which can conquer sin we must follow our Master in the severity
of principle, of conviction, of unflinching struggle. The external scene of His trial
was simple, but He fought, and therefore conquered. Certainly He fought with
evil, "being in an agony." IV. "Fought with evil." "What do yon mean ?'*
yon ask. Evil 1 Is evil a thing, an object, like the pyramids of Egypt, or the roar-
ing ocean, or an advancing army ? Evil is the act of choice of a created^ wilL It
is the rejection by the creature of the laws of life laid down, not as tyrannical rules,
but as necessary truths, by the Creator. Evil takes three active forms, so says
Scripture, so we have learned in the Catechism : the aocnmnlated force of bad
opinion, that b " the world " ; or the uncertain revolt of our own corrupt desires.
«KAr. xxn.) ST. LVKS, 638
that is " the flesh " ; or a living being wholly surrendered to hatred of the Creator,
that is " the devil." Think of the last. You realize the severity of the contest in
remembering that you fight with a fiend. Satan is a person. In this is he like our-
selves. Of man it is said " he has thoughts of himself." This is true of Satan ; he
can think of himself, he can purpose v?ith relentless will, he can plan with
unparalleled audacity. There are three specific marks of his character — 1. He ia
inveterate in his hatred of truth. He is a liar. 2. He is obstinate in his abhor-
rence of charity, pure intention, and self-sacrificing devotion. He is a murderer.
3. He shrinks from the open glory of goodness. He is a coward. To " abide in the
truth," to " love good," and " love one another with a pure heart fervently," and to
have holy fearlessness in the power of God is to be in direct opposition to him.
From this it is evident that our contest is with a tremendous enemy, and that
against us he need never be victorious. My brothers, there are two shadows pro-
jected over human life from two associated and mysterious facts — from sin, &om
death. In that critical moment when the human will is subjected to the force of
temptation and yields to its sway, in that solemn moment when the human spirit
is wrenched away for a time from its physical organism, there is a special power
dangerously, not irresistibly, exercised by the being who is devoted to evil. A hint
of this is given in Scripture in the allusion to the spirit "that now worketh in the
children of disobedience," a hint of this dark realm certainly in the prayer by the
grave-side that we may not "for any pains of death fall " from God. There is a
shadow-land. How may we contemplate it without hopeless shuddering, how think
of entering it without despairing fear ? Now here is a palmary fact. Christ our
strength as well as our example boldly entered, and in the depths of its deepest
blac^ess conquered the fiend. " He was made sin " ; " He became obedient unto
death " ; and for all who will to follow Him, His love. His devotion is victorious.
" We are more than conquerors through Him who loved us." Yes I In union with
Christ we can do what He did. 0 blessed and brave One 1 We may follow His
example and employ His power. His power I How may we be possessed of it ? In
many ways. Certainly in this way. It is placed at the disposal of the soul that
prays. This is in effect the answer of Christ's revelation to the question. Why
should we pray ? Two facts let us remember and act upon with earnestness. 1.
The value of a formed habit of prayer. Crises are sure to come, and then we are
equally sure to act on habitual impulse. Christ learned in His humanity and
practised Himself in the effort of prayer, and when the struggle reached its cUmax,
the holy habit had its fulfilment. " Being in an agony He prayed." And — 2. It is
in moments of contest that real prayer rises to its height and majesty. " When my
heart is hot within me," says the Psalmist, "I will complain " ; and of Christ it is
written, " Being in an agony He prayed more earnestly." Prayer, too, as the
Christian knows, is not always answered now in the way he imagines most desirable,
but it is always answered. If the cup does not pass, at least there is an angel
strengthening the human spirit to drain it bravely to the dregs. Subjectively, there
is comfort ; objectively, there is real help. What might have been a tragedy
becomes by prayer a blessing ; desire which if misdirected might have crushed and
overwhelmed us, becomes when truly used with the Holy Spirit's assistance a raw
material of sanctity. Certainly from prayer we gain three things: a powerful
stimulus, and strength for act or suffering ; a deep and real consolation ; and the
soothing and ennobling sense of duty done. {Canon Knox Little.) Our Lord's
bloody sweat : — There are some who only suppose that by this phraseology the mere
size of the drops of perspiration is indicated. But the plain meaning of the
language is that the sweat was bloody in its nature ; that the physical nature of our
Lord was so deranged by the violent pressure of mental agony that blood oozed
irom every pore. Such a result is not uncommon in a sensitive constitution. The
face reddens with blood both from shame and anger. Were this continued with
intensity, the blood would force its way through the smaller vessels, and exude from
the skin. Kannigiesser remarks, "If the mind is seized with a sudden fear of death,
the sweat, owing to the excessive degree of constriction, often becomes bloody."
The eminent French historian, De Thou, mentions the case of an ItaUan cfiScer who
commanded at Monte-Mars, a fortress of Piedmont, during the warfare in 1552
between Henry II. of France and the Emperor Charles V. The officer, having been
treacheroasly seized by order of the hostile general, and threatened with pubUo
execution unless he surrendered the place, was so agitated at the prospect of an
ignominious death that he sweated blood from every part of his body. The same
trriter relates a similar occurrence in the person of a young Florentine at Borne,
640 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, rm,
nnjustly pat to death by order of Pope Sixtns V., in the beginning of his reign, and
concludes the narrative as follows : " When the youth was led forth to ezeoution,
he excited the commiseration of many, and, throagh excess of grief, was observed
to shed bloody tears, and to discharge blood instead of sweat from his whole body."
Medical experience does so far corroborate the testimony of the Gospels, and shows
that cutaneous hemorrhage is sometimes the result of intense mental agitation.
The awful anguish of Him who said, " My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto
death," was sufficient cause to produce the bloody perspiration on a cold night and
in the open air. (J. Eadie, DJ).) The angel vho ttrengthened Jesiu : — On a
certain occasion, when the Bev. J. Bobertson had been preaching one of a series of
sermons, on "Angels in their revealed connection with the work of Christ," Dr.
Duncan came into the vestry and said : " Will you be so kind as to let me know
when you are going to take up the case of my favourite angel ? " *• But who is he.
Doctor ? " " Oh 1 guess that." " Well, it would not be difficult to enumerate all
those whose names we have given us." " But I can't tell you his name, he is an
anonymous angeL It is the one who came down to Gethsemane, and there
strengthened my Lord to go through His agony for me, that He might go forward
to the cross, and finish my redemption there. I have an extraordinary love for that
one, and I often wonder what I'll say to him when I meet him first." This was a
thought Dr. Duncan never wearied of repeating, in varied forms, whenever the sub>
ject of angels turned up in conversation. Succoured by an angel: — In the
Ecclesiastical History of Socrates there is mention made of one Theodoras, a martyr
put to extreme torments by Julian the Apostate, and dismissed again by him when
he saw him unconquerable. Bufinus, in his History, says that he met with this
martyr a long time after his trial, and asked him whether the pains he felt were not
insufferable. He answered that at &cst it was somewhat grievous, but after awhile
there seemed to stand by him a young man in white, who, with a soft and comfort*
able handkerchief, wiped off the sweat from his body (which, through extreme
anguish, was little less than blood), and bade him be of good cheer, insomuch that
it was rather a punishment than a pleasure to him to be taken off the rack. When
the tormentors had done, the angel was gone. Angelic ministry :■ — The only child
of a poor woman one day fell into the fire by accident, and was so badly burned that
he died after a few hours' suffering. The clergyman, as soon as he knew, went to
see the mother, who was known to be dotingly fond of the child. To his great sur-
prise, he found her calm, patient, and resigned. After a little conversation she told
him how she had been weeping bitterly as she knelt beside her child's cot, when
suddenly he exclaimed, " Mother, don't you see the beautiful man who is standing
there and waiting for me ? " Again and again the child persisted in saying that
" the beautiful man " was waiting for him, and seemed ready, and even anxious, to
go to him. And, as a natural consequence, the mother's heart was strangely
cheered. (W. Baxendale.) The safeguard against temptation: — " Satan," says
Bishop Hall, " always rocks the cradle when we sleep at our devotions. If we would
prevail with God, we must wrestle first with our own dulness." And if this be need-
ful, even in ordinary times, how much more so in the perilous days on which we are
entering 7 Whatever we come short in, let it not be in watchfulness. None like to
slumber who are expecting a friend or fearing a foe. Bunyan tells us " that when
Hopeful came to a certain country, he began to be very dull and heavy of sleep.
Wherefore he said, * Let us lie down here, and take one nap.' * By no means,' said
the other, ' lest sleeping, we wake no more.' * Why, my brother? Sleep is sweet
to the labouring man ; we may be refreshed, if we take a nap.' • Do you not remem-
ber,' said the other, ' that one of the shepherds bid us beware of the Enchanted
Ground ? He meant by that, that we should beware of sleeping.' " " Therefore let
us not sleep, as do others ; but let as watch and be sober." Slumbering and back-
sliding are closely allied. {R. Macdonald, D.D.)
Vers. 47-63. Judas, betrayest thou the Son of Man with a Usb. — T?ie traitor't
kiss : — I. A TRAITOR AUONO THE DisciFLEB. Many of them were weak in faith and
carnal in apprehension, but only one a traitor. U. Thb chabactkbistio or his
TREASON. Betrayed Lord into cruel hands of foes. Professed followers of Christ
may betray Him to the scorn of the world, giving the sceptic arguments for hia
infidelity, and the worldly excuses for rejection of Christ. lU. The hannzb or
THE BETBAYAU A kiss. 1. It was the accepted token of affection. 2. It was here
prostituted to the basest of ases. 8. It was received with lamblike meekness by
Him who knew it meant treachery. lY. Thet betbay the Son of Mam wm 4
CHAT. ruL] 8T. LUKE. 641
SI88 WHO — 1. Compliment and deny Him with the same lips. 2. Profess to be
nnited with Him at His table, and then act as lovers and servants of the world.
3. Exalt His humanity to the skies, and deny His rightful divinity and the efficacy
of the atonement. {Homiletic Eeview.) Christ betrayed by Judas : — I. By whom
Chbist was bbtbated. " Judas, one of the twelve." Not an occasional disciple
who had fastened himself upon the Lord's company, not one of the seventy who
had been sent forth by two and two ; one of the called, the chosen ; one singled ont
from the great mass of mankind for the office of a foundation-stone in the Church
of God. II. Let ns consider some of the aqgbavations or this febfidious
CONDUCT ON THB PABT OF JuDAS. Judas was Hot Only squal with the rest of the
apostles, but he was allowed to carry the bag, which would certainly appear to
invest him with a sort of official superiority. III. The ends fob which Chbibt's
BETBAYAL WAS PEBUiTTED. That it was of mere permission we know. God has
abundance of snares for taking the wise in their own craftiness ; He has ten
thousand accidents at command by which to mar a well-concerted plot. Yea, even
after the capture had been effected, twelve legions of angels waited the bidding of
Christ to rescue Him from the traitor's power. But God will not avail Himself of
theae means. IV. Let us now consider some of the mobal lessons which seem to
be conveyed to us by this history. 1. We see how needful it is that we, each one
of OB, look well to the state of our own hearts. Here is a man who knew the truth,
who had preached the truth, who had wrought miracles for the sake of the truth ;
and yet became a castaway. Now, why was this? He "held the truth in
unrighteousness." The man who has been a hypocrite in religion is very rarely
recovered; he deceives others, but yet more fatally does he deceive himself.
2. Again : the history teaches us how little security against our falhng away, there
is in the possession of eminent spiritual advantages. "Judas Iscariot, one of the
twelve." 3. Again : we learn from this history how insensible and unperceived is
the progress of the downward course in sin. When a man once enters on the way
of transgression, he can never tell where he shall stop. Neither wickedness nor
holiness attain to their full stature all at once. We cannot suppose that Judas had
the remotest thought of his treachery when he first accepted the invitation to
become one of the apostles. 4. The enslaving power of the love of this present
world. (D. Moore, M.A.) The treason of Judas : — 1. Hence in the first place we
learn, that the greatest professors had need be jealous of their own hearts, and look
well to the grounds and principles of their professions. 2. Learn hence also, that
eminent knowledge and profession puts a special and eminent aggravation upon
sin. To sin against clear light is to sin with a high hand. It is that which makes
a sad waste of the conscience. 3. Learn hence, in the third place, that unprin-
cipled professors will sooner or later become shameful apostates. 4. Moreover in
this example of Judas you may read this truth — that men and women are never in
more imminent danger than when they meet with temptations exactly suited to
their master-lusts, to their own iniquity. O pray, pray, that ye may be kept from
a violent suitable temptation. Satan knows that when a man is tried here, he faUs
by the root. 5. Hence, in like manner, we are instructed, that no man knows
where he shall stop when he first engages himself in a way of sin. 6. Did Judas
sell Christ for money ? What a potent conqueror is the love of this world ! How
many hath it cast down wounded ? What great professors have been dragged at its
ohariot-wheelB as its captives ? Pliny tells us that the mermaids delight to be in
green meadows, into which they draw men by their enchanting voices ; but saith
he, there always lie heaps of dead men's bones by them. A lively emblem of a
bewitching world 1 Good had it been for many professors of religion if they had
never known what the riches, and honours, and pleasures of this world meant. 7.
Did Judas fancy so much happiness in a little money, that he would sell Christ to
get it ? Learn, then, that which men promise themselves much pleasure and con-
tentment in, in the way of sin, may prove the greatest curse and misery to them
that ever befel them in the world. 8. Was there one, and but one, of the twelve
that proved a Judas, a traitor to Christ ? Learn thence, that it is a most unreason-
able thing to be prejudiced at religion, and the sincere professors of it, because
some that profess it prove naught and vile. 9. Did Judas, one of the twelve, do
BO ? Learn thence, that a drop of grace is better than a sea of gifts. Gifts hava
some excellency in them, but the way of grace is the more excellent way (1 Cor. xiL
81). Gifts, as one saith, are dead graces, but graces are living gifts. There is
many a learned head in hell. These are not the things that accompany salvation.
It is better for thee to feel one Divine impression from God upon thy heart than to
643 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxo,
have ten thousand fine notions floating in thy head. Jndas was a man of parts,
but what good did they do him ? 10. Did the devil win the consent of Jadas ta
such a design as this ? Could he get no other but the hand of an apostle to assist
him ? Jjearn hence, that the policy of Satan lies much in the choice of his instru-
ments he works by. No bird, saith one, like a living bird to tempt others into
the net. Austin told an ingenious young scholar the devil coveted him for an
ornament. He knows he hath a foul cause to manage, and therefore will get the
fairest hand he can to manage it with the less suspicion. 11. Did Judas, one of
the twelve, do this ? Then, certainly, Christians may approve and join with such
men on earth whose faces they shall never see in heaven. 12. Did Judas, one of
the twelve, a man so obliged, raised, and honoured by Christ, do this ? Cease then
from man, be not too confident, but beware of men. " Trust ye not in a friend, put
no confidence in a guide, keep the door of thy lips from her that lieth in thy
bosom" (Mic. vii. 5). (J. FUivel.) The betrayal: — I. Lkt us tajkbt awhile,
AND SEE OUB LOBD UNQBATEFULLY AND OASTABDLY BETBAYED. 1. It is appointed
that He must die, but how shall He fall into the hands of His adversaries ? Shall
they capture Him in conflict ? It must not be, lest He appear an unwilling victim.
Shall He flee before His foes until He can hide no longer ? It is not meet that ^
sacrifice should be hunted to death. Shall He offer Himself to the foe ? That
were to excuse His murderers, or be a party to their crime. Shall He be taken
accidentally or unawares? That would withdraw from His cup the necessary
bitterness which made it wormwood mingled with galL (1) One reason for the
appointment of the betrayal lay in the fact that it was ordained that man's sin
should reach its culminating point in His death. (2) Beyond a doubt, however,
the main reason for this was that Christ might offer a perfect atonement for sin.
We may usually read the sin in the punishment. Man betrayed his Ood. There-
fore must Jesus find man a traitor to Him. There must be the counterpart of the
sin in the suffering which He endured. Tou and I have often betrayed Christ. It
seemed most fitting, then, that He who bore the chastisement of sin should be
reminded of its ingratitude and treachery by the things which He suffered. (3^
Besides, brethren, that cup must be bitter to the last degree which is to be the equiva-
lent for the wrath of God. (4) Moreover, we feel persuaded that by thus suffering
at the hand of a traitor the Lord became a faithful High Priest, able to sympathize
with us when we fall under the like affliction. 2. Now let us look at the treason
itself. You perceive how black it was. (1) Judas was Christ's servant, what if I
call him His confidential servant. (2) Judas was more than this : he was a friend,
a trusted friend. (3) The world looked upon Judas as a colleague of our Lord's.
(4) Our Lord would look upon Judas as a representative man, the portraiture of
many thousands who in after ages have imitated his crime. 3. Observe the
manner in which Christ met this affliction. (1) His calmness. (2) His gentle-
ness. II. Grant me your attention while we make an estimate of the man by whom
the Son of Man was betrayed — Jcdas the bkteaybe. 1. I would call your atten-
tion, dear friends, to his position and public character. (1) Judas was a preacher ;
nay, he was a foremost preacher, " he obtained part of this ministry," said the
Apostle Peter. (2) Judas took a very high degree officially. He had the dis-
tinguished honour of being entrusted with the Master's financial concerns, and
this, after aU, was no small degree to which to attain. The Lord, who knows how
to use all sorts of gifts, perceived what gift the man had. (3) You will observe
that the character of Judas was openly an admirable one. I find not that he com
mitted himself in any way. Not the slightest speck defiled his moral character so
far as others could perceive. He was no boaster, like Peter. 2. But I call yonr
attention to his real nature and sin. Judas was a man with a conscience. He
could not afford to do without it. He was no Sadducee who could fling religion
overboard ; he had strong religious tendencies. Bat then it was a conscience that
did not sit regularly on the throne ; it reigned by fits and starts. Conscience was
not the leading element. Avarice predominated over conscience. 3. The warning
which Judas received, and the way in which he persevered. 4. The act itself. He
sought out his own temptation. He did not wait for the devil to come to
him ; he went after the devil. He went to the chief priests and said, " What will
ye give me ? " Alas 1 some people's religion is grounded on that one question.
4. We conclude with the repentance of Judas. He did repent; but it was the
repentance that worketh death. The man who repents of consequences does not
repent The ruffian repents of the gallows but not of the murder, and that is no
lepentanoe at aU. Haman law, of course, mast measure sin by consequences, but
ciur. rm,] ST. LUKE, 6«
God's law does not. There is a pointsman on a railway who neglects his duty ;
there is a collision on the line, and people are killed ; well, it is manslaughter to
this man through his carelessness. But that pointsman, perhaps, many times
before had neglected his duty, but no accident came of it, and then he walked home
and said, " Well, I have done no wrong." Now the wrong, mark yon, is never to
be measured by the accident, but by the thing itself, and if you have committed an
offence and you have escaped undetected it is just as vile in God's eye ; if you have
done wrong and Providence has prevented Uie natural result of the wrong, the
honour of that is with God, but you are as guilty as if your sin had been carried
out to its fullest consequences, and the whole world set ablaze. Never measure
sin by consequences, bat repent of them as they are in themselves. (C H.
Spurgeon.) Treachery to Christ: — I. Observe, the person addbessed— -Judas.
One on whom the Saviour had conferred many benefits, and who had made
an open profession of His name. Betrayest thou I II. Observe, the pebsoii
SPEAKING — Jesus. The title which Jesus here assumes, in calling Himself
the Son of Man, may teach us the following things — 1. That He is really
and properly Man, as well as truly Divine. 2. The phrase, Son of Man, seems
intended to denote the meanness of Christ's origin, and the poverty of His outward
condition. 3. Christ's assumption of this character may teach us to consider Him
as the Saviour of all nations ; or of all that ever wUl be saved, out of every
kindred, tongue, and people. He is not the Son of this or that particular people,
but the Son of Man, and the Saviour of all them that believe, by whatever name
they may be distinguished. 4. The term Son of Man seems to have been pre-
figured and foretold as a title which belonged to the expected Messiah. lU. Thb
QUESTION WHICH Jesub PUIS TO THB TBAiTOB I " Betrayest thou the Son of Maa
with a kiss ? " Improvement : 1. We have here a loud call to be jealous of our owi*
hearts, and to exercise a holy watchfulness over them. More especially, if we regard
our immortal interests, let us carefully avoid the following things — (1) Self-confi-
dence. The fear of falling is a good security against it. (2) The secret indulstence-
of any sin : this was the ruin of Judas. (3) Beware of a profession without
principle, the form of godliness without the power. Those who have no root in
themselves will soon wither away. 2. We see how far a person may go in the way
to heaven, and yet fall short of it. 3. Let us admire and adore the infinite wisdom-
of God, who brought so much real good out of so much aggravated evil. {B.
Beddome, M.A.) He touched his ear, and healed him. — Jesus the Restorer : —
Jesus wrought a miracle to repair the mischief which Peter had done. Thus, by
one act, in one moment, Christ made Himself the repairer of the breach. The evil^
which His follower had done, was cancelled ; and, through the kind interposition
of a special act, the injured man was none the worse — but rather the better — and
the harm, of which a Christian had been the occasion, was neutralized by his
Master. I do not know what we should any of us do if we might not hope that
this is still one of the blessed offices of Christ. We go through life meaning to do
good ; but oh ! how often — through some ignorance, or indiscretion, or self-will —
doing exactly the reverse ! Happy is it for us if we might believe that Christ
comes after us to undo the harm — nay, that by one of His gracious transformations.
He comes afterwards to turn to benefit the very thing which we have dona
hortingly. In the retrospect of life there was, it may be, a long period before you
knew God — ^when your influence was all on the wrong side ; your example and your
words were always for the world, and sometimes for what was positively sinful 1
How many a bad and well-nigh deadly " wound " must you have been making
during those years upon the minds of those among whom your remarks and your
actions were being flung about with such utter carelessness I How many a young
companion, years back, may have learnt then to cany with him a life-long scar
through some idle word of yours. Through the infinite patience, and tho
abounding grace of our God and Saviour, you have become a Christian ; and yoa
now love the Lord Jesus Christ as you love nothing else in earth or heaven ; and,
at this moment, yoa could not have a bitterer thought than to think that yoa
had ever done anything to keep a sool from Jesns ; or to give a moment's pain to
one of His little ones. Now, may you take it as one of the wonderful provisions of
your new state — as one of the blessings into which yoa have been admitted — that
the Christ, whom you now call yours, will prevent the consequences of what yoa did
in those days of sinful blindness — that He will restore what yoa destroyed, that fine
bloom to that delicate conscience, it may be, of one of yoor early friends ; that Ha
will rectify the ill — that He will " toaoh " with Hit own virtoe the afflicted part.
$44 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha?. xxiu
and that He will " heal " all that " wound." Why may we not believe all thia f
Was not that the spirit of the Man, that night, when He stood upon the Mount of
Olives ? And is He not the same Restorer now ? Do not think because man made
your trouble, therefore God will not deal with the trouble. It rests with you. If
you bring a sin to Christ believingly, He will take away that sin. If you bring a
sorrow to Christ believingly, He will take away that sorrow. (/. Vaughan, M.A.)
"Vers. 55-62. Peter followed afar oflF. — Deciiion of character enforced : — I. What
us IMPLIED IN FOLLOWING THE LoBD AFAB OFF. Not giving the whole heart's affection
to Him. 11. What csuallt induces ant persons to do so. 1. The fear of man.
2. The love of the world. III. Why we should determine to follow Him fullt.
1. It is dishonourable to God to follow Him afar off. 2. It is ruinous to our peace
to be undecided in religion. 8. To follow the Lord afar off is injurious to the
general interests of religion. Allow me, in closing, to inquire — 1. Do you follow
the Lord at all ? 2. If you are following the Lord, how are you following Him ?
Is your heart in your professed subjection to Jesus Christ? What motive
influences your conduct ? (W. Mudge.) Peter: — I. The ma». A man of great
natural audacity and force ; coarse, homely, rugged, stout, tenacious, powerful, of
that class of men, not large, who break down old walls, and bring in new ages.
And yet a man of variable impulses, and of changeful moods. Under strong excite-
ment, he stood firm as a granite rock. Hence his surname, " Peter." But the
quick heat might be quickly chiUed. And then the granite crumbled. The rock
became a sand-heap. His judgment could not always be trusted. His greatest
strength was sometimes his greatest weakness. His large, warm heart over-
mastered him. It was hard for him to be parted from his friends. It was hard foi
him to go against the wishes and opinions of his associates. Even those with whom
iie might be casually in contact, had undue power over him ; not from lack of
positive convictions of his own, but because his great, hungry heart craved sympathy
and fellowship. He wanted men to think well of him, and feel kindly towards him.
An over-weening love of approbation was his one great weakness. And so he lay,
as such men always do, very much at the mercy of his companions and his
circumstances. II. Thk sin of Peter. There was really no excuse for it. He was
in no personal danger. All he had to fear was a momentary contempt from servants
and soldiers. Yet the paltry desire of standing well in the estimation of those who
happened to be about him, menials as they were, caused him to prove false to his
Lord. Miserable man 1 It makes us blush to think of him ; so brave in meeting
swords and clubs, so cowardly in meeting sneers. III. His bepentamoe. The re-
proving look of Christ, standing meek among His buSeters, and soon to start foi
Cavalry, was too much for the false and recreant disciple. "He wept bitterly,^'
they tell us ; and we may well believe it, for he was at heart a good, true, brave
man, and when he came to himself he despised and abhorred himself for the
momentary weakness which had allowed him so basely to deny his Lord. . . .
And so his character stands before us in proportions that do not appal and mock
XLS as something quite miraculous and above our reach. While we stand in awe of
him as an apostle, we are able to embrace him as a man, and walk on after him
towards heaven. Nay, our interest in him is altogether peculiar. Majestic in his
original endowments, we admire him. Inexcusable in his fall, we pity him.
Elastic and fearless in his subsequent career, we accept it as a full and glorious
atonement for every slip and every error of his life. If he was cowardly in the
courtyard of Caiaphas, he made up for it by being a hero at his crucifixion, when ha
asked his tormentors to nail him to the cross with his feet turned upwards into
heaven. lY. The practical bbabimg or our subject is direct and obvious. It
might not be quite right theologically, to thank God for Peter's sin. But since he
<lid sin, we certainly ought to be very thankful for the record of it. Had Judas
alone offended, afterwards perishing by his own hands, and sinking to his own place.
Christians, once sinning, might well grow desperate. Had Peter stood, as John
did, unshaken and unsuUied, our hard struggle with manifold infirmities would be
far harder than it is. But now we have a sinning Peter before us ; an apostle
grievously sinning, but grandly recovered. And while we blush to look upon him,
there is comfort in tiie sight. Be encouraged, my feeble, imperfect, wavering
brother, not indeed to sin, nor yet to think lightly of sin; bat if yoa fuive
sinned, to go and sin no more. Bemorse belongs to Judas. Penitence to
Peter. Penitence, and a better life. (R. D. Hitchcock, D.D.) The Lord
<tani6d and looked upon Peter. — Pettr't tin and rettoration: — I. A aaniTooa
CHAP, xxn.] ST. LUKE. 545
BIN. 1. Its elements. (1) Falsehood. (2) Cowardice. (3) Profanity. (4)
Persistence. 2. Its aggravations. (1) His close connection with Christ. (2)
His recent special privileges. (3) The repeated warnings given him. (4) His
strong professions of devotion. (5) The urgent demands of the time and place.
3. Its instigations. (1) The failure was surprisingly sudden ; (2) of brief duration ;
(3) never repeated. 4. Its chief causes. (1) Self-confidence. (2) Blindness to
near danger. (3) Neglect of precautions. (4) The fear of derision. H. Aobacious
BE8TOBA.TION. 1. How was it brougbt about? (1) By a predicted coincidence
(ver. 60). (2) By the Saviour's penetrating glance (ver. 61). (3) By the
action of memory. 2. What proof have we of its genuineness ? (1) His
contrite sorrow. (2.) His amended life. Learn: 1. The weakness of the
strongest. 2. The sufficiency of Christ's grace. (M. Braithioaite.) The
repentance of St. Peter: — First w« learn the possibility of perfect repentance
after grace has been forfeited ; of a return to God from sin committed after special
favours and gifts of love. Further, there was a wonderful mercy overruling St.
Peter's fall, bringing out of it even greater good. It was made to teach him what
otherwise he seemed unable to learn. He needed to learn distrust of self. And
thou who despondest at some past fall, hast thou no similar lesson to learn of
deeper humility, of closer dependence on God? Hast thou had no self-trust?
Has thy strength always been in prayer and watching ? And the key-note of his
Epistles is — "Be clothed with humility." "Be sober, and watch unto prayer."
May not this be thy case— that the foundations of thy life need to be laid lower, i»
a more perfect self-abasement ; a deeper humility : a more entire leaning upon God»
a more complete abandonment of all high thoughts, independence of will, self-
glorying, vanity, spirit of contradiction, and such-like; that beginning afresh^^
these hindrances being removed, thou mayest hide thyself from thyself, hide thy-
self in a perpetual recollection of the Divine presence and support, as the only stay
and safeguard of thy frail, ever-falling humanity ? Moreover, St. Peter is not
merely the assurance to us of the possibility of a perfect restoration after falling
from God, he is also the model of all true penitents. The first main element of
St. Peter's recovery was a spirit of self-accusation, a ready acknowledgment of sin
and error. Here, then, is one essential element of true repentance — self-accusa-
tion at the feet of Jesus. And how needful a lesson to learn well. The saddest
part of our sin is, that we are so slow to confess it. Sin ever gathers round it an
array of self-defences. Subtleties and evasions, special pleadings, shrinkings from
humiliation, Ungerings of pride, all gather round the consciousness of sin, and
rise up instantly to hinder the only remedy of guilt, the only hope of restoration.
Again, from St. Peter we learn that faith is a main element of restoration, pre-
served to him through the intercession of his Lord — "I have prayed for thee, that
thy faith fail not." Now faith is not the belief of any particular dogma, nor is it
the same as a spirit of assurance, neither is it any peculiar feeling appropriating
some special promise ; but it is the bent, the aim of the whole soul. It is the
prevailing direction of all the powers of man toward God ; it is the apprehension
of the inner man embracing, grasping the invisible ; living in things which are
unseen and eternal, and raising him out of the sphere of sight which lives in
things that are temporal. Faith may lay hold of one particular promise at one time,
of another at another. And thus he had learnt to regard sin in the light of another
world — sin abstractedly in itself, as a loss of spiritual life, as a thing abhorrent to
God, as an utter contrariety to all that his soul was aspiring after. To rise thus
above all the worldly consequences of sin, all its mere temporal effects, to read
one's sin in the light of God's countenance, to view it as we shall view it on oar
death-bed, stripped of all accidents, with its awful consequences, as we pass
into eternity — this is the attribute of faith ; and through the preservation of his
faith, as our Lord assures us, St. Peter arose from his fall. Oh 1 how much need
have we to pray, " Lord, increase our faith"; that we may see our sina in their
true form and colour. The sense of sin depends on our view of sanctity. As we
grow better, we see sin clearer. As we have more of God, we realize evil more
vividly. The greatest saints are therefore the deepest penitents. The bright light
of purity in which they live sets oft more vividly the darkness of the spots which
stain thie field of their souls' life. The more they advance, the more truly they
repent. As, e.g., we see more the power of truth, tiie more we are ashamed of oar
deceits. As we perceive love and largeness of heart, so we despise oor selfishness.
The more God shines into us, the more we loathe our own vileness. We judge by
the contrast. There is one more feature of a true repentance which is exhibited
VOL. HL dfi
g4e THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chaf. xxn,
in St. Peter. His repentance turned upon his love ol the person of Christ. Thii
had been long the moving principle of his life. His indignation at the idea o£ hi«
Master's suffering : his refusing to be washed before the administration of the
blessed Sacrament ; his taking the sword, and then striking with it ; his entering
the judgment-hall— were all impulses of a fervent, though nnchastened, love — a
love to our Lord's person. And this was the secret power of that look which our
Lord, when He turned, cast upon him. It may seem as though St. Peter's love to
our Lord were too human, too much that of a man toward his fellow. It did
indeed need chastening, increased reverence, more of that deep, adoring awe which
St. John earher learnt ; and which St. Peter learnt at last in the shame and humi-
liations of his fall. But love to our Lord must needs be human — human in its
purest, highest form. The Incarnation of (Jod has made an essential change in
the relations between God and man, and so in the love that binds us. He took our
nature, and abideth in that nature. He is Man eternal, as He is God eternal. He
loves, and will evermore love us, in that nature, and through its sensations, and
He draws ub to love Him through the same nature, with the impulse of which
humanity is capable. He loved with a human love, and He is to be loved in return
with a human love. He consecrated the human affections to Himself in His
human form as their proper end, so that through His humanity they might centra
upon the eternal Godhead. Love is of the very essence of repentance, and love ia
ever associated with a person, and the true movement of the deepening and
enduring love of penitents circles around the Person of Jesus Christ and Him
crucified. In conclusion, I would briefly point out two habits of devotion necessary
to be cherished, in order that the grace of such a repentance as we have been con-
templating may be the more worked in us. One is the habit of meditation on the
Person of Jesus Christ Again, love can be cherished only by habitual intercourse,
or ever-renewed inward feeding on the beloved object. If there be no converse, or
communion of thought, love must decline and die. And how can an invisible
person become the object of love, except by inward contemplation ? But it is not
in the nature of the human heart to love another, unless that other become a
constant companion, or unless his beauty and amiableness become strongly
impressed on the soul, and be borne always in remembrance. The grace of God
moves and operates according to the laws of humanity. Grace is above nature, but
it is according to nature. It acts on nature, and raises nature up to the level of
God, but is human still. What, then, would stir the heart to love according to
nature, the same wUl stir the heart to love above nature. And what is this but the
contemplation of the object, followed by an habitual feeding upon it ? The second
point is this : we must learn to measure the guilt of our sins by the sorrows of God
in the flesh. We have no proper rule of our own by which to measure the guilt
or sin. Sin has ruined this lower creation of God. Sin brought the flood and the
fire of Sodom, and it has in its train disease, and famine, and war. It has created
death, and made death eternal. All these are as certai* rules and proportions by
which we can form some estimate of the guilt of sin. But they are partial and
imperfect measures, after all. The only true and adequate measure is the blood
of God Incarnate and the sorrows of His sacred heart. Learn, then, to look at
Bin in this connection — not sin in the aggregate, but individual sins. Measure by
this price the special besetting sin of thy nature. Weigh it in the scale against the
weight of the sacrifice which bowed to the cross the Incarnate God. (Canon
T, T. Carter). Peter's presumptuous sin and sorrowful repentance: — I. Conitobnck
AND FBK8XJMPTI0N ABB VKBT UNPEOMISING SIGNS OF STEDFASTNBSS AND PEBSBVEBAMCB
n» BBLiaioN. Trust in God is one thing, and trust in ourselves is another ; and
there is reason to think that they will differ as much in the success that attends
them as they do in the powers upon which they are founded. It is in vain for you to
promise yourselves a superiority under trials and temptations, uilless you lay the
right foundation, by imploring the aid and assistance of God's Holy Spirit, whose
province only it is to confirm the faithful to the end. II. From this example of
St. Peter we may learn also what little reason there is to promise ourselves
SUCCESS AGAINST TEMPTATIONS WHICH ABB o» OCR OWN SEEKING. St. Peter had warning
given him, and was told by One whose word he might have taken, that he was not
able to undergo the trial, which he seemed so much to despise. But try he would,
end learnt to know his own weakness in his miscarriage. God knows our strength
better than we ourselves do ; and therefore, when He has warned us to avoid the
occasions of sin, and to fly from the presence of the enemy, it is presumption t(V
think oarselves able to stand the attack, and oar preparations to meet the dang«K
'. jxa.] ST. LUKE. 547
mast be rain and ine£fectu»l. When we strive not lawfully, even victory is dia-
hoT]oarable, and no saccess can justify disobedience to orders. IIL From thd
example of St. Peter we may learn how gbeat the asvantaqes of bbottub and
BABiTDAL HOLINESS ABE. Good Christians, thongh they may fall like other men
through passion, or presumption, or other infirmities, yet the way to their repent-
ance is more open and easy ; their minds, not being hardened by sin, are awakened
by the gentlest calls, and the sense of virtue revives upon the first motion and
suggestions of conscience. St. Peter fell, and his fall was very shameful ; but his
repentance was as surprising and remarkable as his fall. lY. You may observe
that THE SINS OF THE BEST MEN ABE EXPUTED WITH THE OBEATEST SENSE OF SOBBOW
AND AFFLICTION. It is impossible to have a sense of religion, to think of God and
ourselves as we ought to do, without being affected with the deepest sorrow for our
offences. When men are truly concerned, they do not consider what they are to
get by their tears, or what profit their sorrow will yield. The soul must vent its
grief ; and godly sorrow is as truly the natural expression of an inward pain as
worldly sorrow, however they differ in their causes and objects. {Bishop Sherlock.)
Peter'$ $in, and Peter'a repentance : — I. Peteb's sin. 1. The sin itself. It was the
denial of his Lord. He denied that be knew Jesus. He was ashamed to own his
connection with Jesus. And he yielded to the impulse of his shame and base fear.
2. But, secondly, let us attend to the circumstances of Peter's sin. We cannot
take the measure of it, or see it in a just light, till these are considered. The cir-
cumstances are of two sorts. (1) In the first place, there are the aggravating cir-
cumstances— (a) The first circumstance of an aggravating nature was the rank ha
held among tbe followers of Jesus. Peter was more than an ordinary disciple. He
was one of the twelve. He was an apostle. Moreover, he was one of the three
nearest to the Lord in intercourse and love, (b) The second circumstance of aggra-
vation was, that Peter had been warned of his danger, (c) It was also an aggrava-
ting circumstance in the case, that Peter had made great professions. When we
read the sad story of his threefold denial, we are disposed to exclaim, What can
this mean 7 Is this the bold confessor wbo was the first to avow his faith in the
Messiahship of Jesus? (d) Fourthly, Peter's sin took an aggravation from the
4urcumstance that it was committed in the presence of Jesus, (e) Peter denied his
Lord at a time of love. He had just received the Holy Communion. And now
the Passion of the Saviour was begun. (2) The extenuating circumstances in
Peter's case. It is no less important to mark these, than to consider, as has been
done, such as were of an aggravating nature, (a) First, then, it was an extenuating
circumstance tbat he was surprised into the commission of his sin. The denial
of his Lord was not deliberate. (&) Secondly, an important circumstance of
extenuation was, that the sin was contrary to the tenor of Peter's life, (c) It
should not be overlooked, that it seems to have been Peter's love for Christ that
exposed him to the temptation by which he was overcome, (d) Fourthly, Peter
was comparatively ignorant. Some allowance must be made, m the case of our
apostle, for the prejudices which affected the universal Jewish mind. We must not
judge him as if he had understood, as we do, or as he himself did afterwards, by what
means it was that the peculiar work of Jesus, as the Messiah, was to be accom-
plished, (e) It is fit we should remember that the hour and the power of darkness
were come. II. Peteb's bepentance. 1. Its origin. (1) Christ's prayer was the
procuring cause of it. (2) The instrumental cause, (a) Christ's look, (b) Christ's
word. (3) The influence of the Spirit of God was the efficient cause. 2. The
-signs, tokens, and manifestation of Peter's repentance. (1) He went out. A change
came over his feelings, and he could remain no longer in the society of the irreli-
gious servants and officers. (2) He deeply mourned for his sin. (3) He sought
the society of Christ's disciples. (4) His love to the Lord revived. 3. The accept-
ance of Peter's repentance. (1) A message sent through the holy women. (2)
Christ's interview with him alone. (3) The more public interview in Galilee. 4.
Peter's repentance thus graciously accepted, what were the issues of it? He was
the boldest of the bold, from that time forward, in confessing Christ. There was
iess boasting than there had been before ; but he never flinched again. There were
no more denials. {A. Gray.) Peter*s restoration: — L First, let us look at the
LoBD. WHO LOOKED UPON Petsb. 1. I SCO in that look, first, that which makes me
«xclaim — What thoughtful love I Jesus is bound, He is accused, He has just been
smitten on the face, but His thought is of wandering Peter. He looked to others,
but He never looked to Himself. I see, then, in oar Lord's looking upon Peter, a
irondronsly thoughtful love. 2. I exclaim next, what a boondless oondesoenaion t
648 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chat. XX«
He had acted most shamefully and ciHelly, and yet the Master's eye songht him
out in boundless pity 1 3. But then, again, What tender wisdom do I see here t
"The Lord turned, and looked upon Peter." He knew best what to do; He did
not speak to him, but looked upon him. 4. As I think of that look again, I am
compelled to cry out, " What Divine power is here ! This look worked wonders.
I sometimes preach with all my soul to Peter, and, alas I he likes my sermon and
forgets it. I have known Peter read a good book full of most powerful pleading,
and when he has read it through, he has shut it up and gone to sleep. I remember
my Peter when he lost his wife, and one would have thought it would have touched
him, and it did, with some natural feeling ; yet lie did not return to the Lord, whom
he had forsaken, but continued in his backsliding. See, then, how our Lord can do
with a look what we cannot do with a sermon, what the most powerful writer
cannot do with hundreds of pages, and what affliction cannot do with even its
heaviest stroke. U. Let us look into the look which the Lobd gate to
Peteb. Help us again, most gracious Spirit ! 1. That look was, first of all, a
marvellous refreshment to Peter's memory. " The Lord turned, and looked upon
Peter." He saw the Man whom he loved as he had never seen Him before. This
was He who called him, when he was fishing, to become a fisher of men ; this was
He who bade him spread the net, and caused him to take an incredible quantity of
fishes, insomuch that the boat began to sink, and he cried out, " Depart from me ;
for I am a sinful man, 0 Lord " ; this was He who had made him walk on the water,
and at other times had rebuked the winds, and raised the dead. This was He with
whom Peter had been upon the Mount of Transfiguration I 2. Next, that turning
of the Master was a special reminder of His warning words. Jesus did not say it
in words, but He did more than say it by His look. " Ah, Peter 1 did not I tell you
it would be so ? " 3. Surely it was, also, a moving appeal to Peter's heart. 4. What
do you think that look chiefly said ? My thought about it, as I turned it over, was
this : When the Lord looked upon Peter, though He did refresh his memory, and
make an appeal to his conscience, yet there was still more evidently a glorious
manifestation of love. If I may be permitted humbly and reverently to read what
was written on my Master's face, I think it was this — "And yet I love thee, Peter,
I love thee still t Thou hast denied Me, but I look upon thee still as Mine. I
cannot give thee up." 6. Again, this look penetrated Peter's inmost heart. It is
not every look that we receive that goes very deep. 6. One fact may not escape
our notice : our Lord's look at Peter was a revival of all Peter's looking unto Jesus.
The Lord's look upon Peter took effect because Peter was looking to the Lord. Do
you catch it ? If the Lord had turned and looked on Peter, and Peter's back had
been turned on the Lord, that look would not have reached Peter, nor affected him.
The eyes met to produce the desired result. 7. This look was altogether between
the Lord and Peter. Nobody knew that the Lord looked on Peter, except Peter
and his Lord. That grace which saves a soul is not a noisy thing ; neither is it
visible to any but the receiver. III. Now I must go to my third point : Let us
liOOK at Peteb afteb the Lord had looked at him. What is Peter doing ? 1.
When the Lord looked on Peter the first thing Peter did was to feel awakened.
Peter's mind had been sleeping. 2. The next effect was, it took away all Peter's
foolhardiness from him. Peter had made his way into the high priest's hall, bat
now he made his way out of it. 3. The look of Christ severed Peter from the
crowd. He was no longer among the fellows around the fire. He had not another
word to say to them ; he quitted their company in haste. It is well for believers to
feel that they are not of the world. Oh, that the arrows of the great Lord would
this morning pierce some soul even as a huntsman wounds a stag I Oh, that the
wounded soul, like Peter, would seek solitude 1 The stag seeks the thicket to bleed
and die alone ; but the Lord will come in secret to the wounded heart, and draw-
out the arrow. 4. That look of Christ also opened the sluices of Peter's heart ;
he went out, and wept bitterly. There was gall in the tears he wept, for they were
the washings of his bitter sorrow. 6. Yet I want you to notice that that look of Christ
gave him relief. It is a good thing to be able to weep. Those who cannot weep are the
people that suffer most. A pent-up sorrow is a terrible sorrow. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Condemned by a look : — ^When Sapores, Kling of Persia, raised a violent persecution
against the Christians, Usthezanes, an old nobleman, a courtier, that had served ia
Sapores' government in his minority, being a Christian, was so terrified that he left off
bis profession. But he, sitting at the court-gate when Simon, an aged holy bishop,
was leading to prison, and rising up to salute him, the good bishop frowned apon
Aim, and turned away his face with indignation, as being loth to look upon a maa
CHAP, isa.] ST. LUKE. 548
that had denied the faith : Usthezanrs fell a weeping, went into his chamber, put
off his courtly attire, and broke out into these words: "Ah, how shall I appear
before the great God of heaven whom I have denied, when Simon, but a man, will
not endure to look upon me; if he frown, how will God behold me when I come
before his tribunal ? " The thought of God's judgment-seat wrought so strongly
upon him, that he recovered his spiritual strergth, and died a glorious martyr.
{SpeTicer.) Peter'g penitence: — Dr. Moody Stewart was once praising some
preacher to Dr. Duncan, who said, " He's too unbroken for me ; plenty of learning
and talents, but too unbroken yet." You speak about being broken in business, do
you know anything of being broken in heart ? The man who has been broken him-
self will be tender to other broken men. There is a story told in the Early Church
how, if the cock crowed when Peter was preaching and the echoes came into tha
Church, he could go no further. The sermon was cat short; but when he began
again there would be an unction and tenderness in it which would satisfy the most
broken sinner in the congregation. {J. Whyte.) God connects His moral com-
mands with natural objects : — Instead of giving His moral command as a mere
abstract announcement addressed only to the ear, which would then be in danger
of being forgotten. He linked His words with objects which appealed to the eye,
and were fitted to call up, when the eye rested upon them, the moral ideas con-
nected with them. Though driven out of Eden, God has pursued the same plan in
educating and disciplining man out of the consequences of the fall, as He pursued
in Eden to keep him from falling. He connected his whole moral history as
closely as before with the objects around him. Everything with which he deals
preaches to him. The thorns and thistles coming up in his cultivated fields remind
him of the curse ; and the difficulties and disabilities which he finds in earning his
daily bread are proofs and punishments to him of his sin. As truly as God made
the tree of life to be a sacrament, as it were, in the midst of Eden, to keep alive in
Adam's heart perpetually the conditions of life ; as truly as Jesus associated the
moral lesson to Peter with the crowing of the cock, so truly does God still make
nature one of the great powers by which dead consciences and sluggish memories
are awakened. Our moral experiences and actions are thus as closely linked with
the trees and flowers as they were in Paradise. In our progress through life we are
continually impressing our own moral history upon the objects around us ; and
these objects possess the power of recalling it, and setting it before us in all its vivid-
ness, even after the lapse of many years. Our feelings and actions pass from our-
selves and become a part of the constitution of nature, become subtle powers
pervading the scenes in which we felt and performed them. They endow the
inanimate earth itself with a kind of consciousness, a kind of moral testimony
which may afterwards witness for or against us. We cannot live in any place, or
go through any scene, without leaving traced of ourselves behind in it ; without
mixing up our own experiences with its features, taking its inanimate things into
our confidence, unbosoming ourselves to them, colouring them with our own nature,
and placing ourselves completely in their power. They keep a silent record of
what we are and do in the associations connected with our thoughts and actions ;
and that record they unfold for us to read when at any time we come into contact
with them. And hence the significance of God's own words, " He shall call to the
heavens from above, and to the earth, that He may judge His people." There is a
moral purpose, as I have said, in all this. It is not for the mere vivifying of our
feelings of pleasure or pain that the objects of nature are endowed with this strange
power of association. God meant it to perform a most important part in our
moral training. He meant it to remind us of sins which we should otherwise have
forgotten, and to awaken our consciences that would otherwise have slumbered.
By associating our sinful thoughts and actions with outward objects. He designed
that they should be brought and kept before us in all their reality in order to pro-
duce the proper impression upon us, instead of allowing them to sink into the
vague, ghostly abstractions which past sins are apt to become in the mind. And
not seldom has this silent power of witness-bearing, which lurks in the scenes and
objects of nature, been felt by guilty men, bringing them to a sense of their guilt.
{H. Macmillan, LL.D.) The effect of an external agency, in order to quicken a
dead conscience and route a torpid memory : — George MacDonald, in his story of
** Bobert Falconer," relates a well-authenticated incident of a notorious convict in
one of our colonies having beeen led to reform his ways, through going one day
into a church, where the matting along the aisle happened to be of the same pattern
•■ that in the little English church where be worshipped with his mother when •
500 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. XXXU
boy. That old familiar matting vividly recalled the memories of childhood, " the
mysteries of the kingdom of innocence," which had long been hid and overpowered
by the sins and sufferings of later years. An unfortunate outcast, sunk in misery
and vice, wandering in the streets of a large city, meets suddenly a child carrying
a bunch of some common wild flowers — hawthorn, cowslips, or violets. A chord
is touched which has long slumbered in the outcast's bosom. The innocent past
comes back ; the little child sitting on the fond mother's knee ; the long, happy
wanderings in the summer woods and hawthorn- shaded lanes ; the cottage home,
with all its old-fashioned ways and dear delights ; all this sweeps over her like a
blissful dream at the sight or smell of these humble wild flowers. Overpowered by
the recollections of the past, and the awful contrast between what she was and
might have been and what she is now, she turns away and weeps bitterly, perhaps
to see at that moment the tender, reproachful eye of Him whom she has long denied,
fixed upon her, and to hear His words of pity, " Go in peace, and sin no more."
Two young men are spending their last evening together amid the rural scenes ia
which they have been bred. They are going up to the great city on the morrow to
push their fortunes, and are talking over their plans. While they are conversing,
one of those little Italian boys who penetrate to the remotest nooks with their
hurdy-gurdies, comes up and plays several tunes, which attract their attention, and
draw from them a few coins. The young men part. One prospers by industry and
talent ; the other gives himself up to dissipation, is sent adrift, and becomes a
wreck. Worn out with debauchery, and in the last stage of disease, he sends for hia
former friend. They meet ; and at that moment the sound of a hurdy-gurdy ia
heard in the street. It is the little Italian boy playing the same tunes which ha
played on that well-remembered evening when the friends bade farewell to the
country. It wanted but this to fill up the cup of the dying man's shame and
sorrow. All that he has hazarded for the pleasures of the city comes rushing upoa
his memory. He has lost his money, his health, his character, his peace of mind,
and his hope of heaven ; and he has gained in exchange sorrow, pain, privation,
an insupportable weariness of life, and a dread of death. That sound of the Italian
hurdy-gurdy comes to him like the crowing of the cock to Peter. It is the turning
point of his life. It awakens within him '• the late remorse of love "; and he dies
in the peace of Divine pardon and acceptance. All these are not mere fancy
pictures ; they are true to life ; they have often happened, and the number of them
might be indefinitely increased. Such examples impress upon our minds the
solemn truth that there is nothing really forgotten in this world. [Ibid.) Lessons
from the fall of St. Peter : — 1. Mark and admire the honesty and impartiality of
the sacred historians. All four state this blot on Peter's character ; and their
combined account presents it fully and with many dreadful aggravations. 2. Let
the example of Christ, in this case, teach us to pity and to seek to restore the fallen.
3. Let us consider Peter's denial of his Lord as a warning to us all. We may soon
become very guilty, and be exposed to shame in an unguarded moment ; and there
is hardly any sin we may not be guilty of, if left to ourselves. 4. Let us be on otu:
guard against the particular causes that led more immediately to Peter's fall. (1)
Self-confidence. (2) Indecision. (3) Fear of man. (4) False shame. (5) Bad
company. 5. Let those who, like Peter, have fallen, imitate Peter in his repentance.
{Jas. Foote, M.A.) The repentance of Peter: — I. Peteb's bepentance. 1. The
repentance of Peter is ascribed, in the first instance, to a circumstance apparently
unimportant. The crowing of a cock. How observant then ought we to be of all which
Burronnds or befals us ; and how anxious to obtain from it instruction in righteous-
ness I 2. The text ascribes it also to the interposition of Christ. Without this, the
warning voice of the cock would have been heard in vain. 3. But what followed the
look which the compassionate Saviour directed towards His fallen apostle ? It was
a look of the mildest reproof and the tenderest pity, but the lightning's flash could not
have done more. Piercing his heart, it produced there that serious reflection from
which his contrition sprung. II. Peter's sorrow. 1. ffis sorrow was of a softening
nature. " He wept." It was not that horror of soul, which has its origin solely in
fear, and leaves the heart as hard as it finds it It was the sorrow which springs
from love, and fill the breast with the tenderest emotions, while it disquiets and
humbles it. 2. But the sorrow of Peter was acute, as well as softening. He not
only wept, but he wept " bitterly." And bitterly does every sinner weep, who really
bewails his transgressions. 3. The sorrow of Peter was, further, a secret sorrow ;
a grief which sought retirement. "He went out " when he wept. Not that he wa«
now afraid to acknowledge Christ, or onwilling to condemn himself for the orima
iMAr. rm.] ST. LUKE. 651
which he had committed ; bat like penitent Ephraim, " he was ashamed, yea, evea
confounded " ; and he sought where to give vent to his sorrow onseen, and to
implore undisturbed that mercy which he so greatly needed. And every real peni-
tent is often " sitting alone." Flying from scenes of vanity which he once loved,
and from society which his folly once enUvened, he retires to his closet, and there,
when he has shut his door, he communes with his heart, prays to his offended
Father, and weeps. IIL What bffects Peteb's repentance ArrBBWABDS produced.
1. An increasing love for his Lord. 2. Greater zeal and boldness in the service of
Christ. (C Bradley, M.A.) Peter's repentance: — I. The look of Jestjs. We
cannot picture to ourselves the countenance he exhibited, or the point and
pungency of the sentiment it conveyed; but I observe it was doubtless the
look of offended dignity; it was the look of insulted friendship; it was the
look of betrayed confidence ; it was the look of keen and humiliating
reproof, and such reproof the whole of Peter's conduct justly merited.
I observe, further, that the look of Jesus was a look which conveyed conviction.
And, once more, it was a look of compassion. What a conflict of feeling must have
been produced by the emotions displayed on this deeply interesting occasion.
Humbled by reproof, pursued by conviction, melted by love, what tongue can
describe his grief, or what artist give a hue sufficiently deep to the manifestation
of his contrition I These are the feeUngs — a knowledge of which must be acquired
in the most impressive and affecting school in the world. These are feelings — a
knowledge of which must be acquired on Mount Calvary. The man who has been
brought to look on Him whom he has pierced has an idea more clear, a conception
more strong of the feelings of Peter than the art of eloquence, or the line of the
pencil can convey. II. The recollections which the look o» Jesus revived.
1. The recollection of previous obligation. 2. The recollection of oft-repeated and
solemn protestations of fidelity and affection. 3. The recollection of the scene at
the Last Supper. III. The effects produced. 1. The retirement he sought.
True repentance flies to solitude, and shrinks even from sympathy. 2. The depth
of his sorrow. Concluding lessons : 1. Consolation to those who, like Peter, weep
bitterly in secret. Special news of Christ's resurrection sent to Peter : '• Seek him
in his solitude, and tell him that the Lord waits with open arms to receive him."
2. But remember that the great moral of the whole is caution. Learn, therefore,
by way of application in the first place, the necessity of guarding vigilantly
against the approaches of temptation. Learn, secondly, from this subject,
the necessity of prudence in making a profession, bat of integrity in acting
ap to it when it is made. Learn, then, in the last place, the necessity of
decision of character in matters of religion. (J. Thorp.) The Saviour's
look upon Peter: — Doubtless it was a look of blended significance. There must
have been in the Saviour's ooantenance an expression of mingled emotions. At a
single glance there may have been conveyed to Peter what would have required
many words to express. I. It doubtless spoke to him reproof. An impressive
reminder of the great wrong he had done. II. It was, too, a grieved look. Such
a look as a kind mother turns upon a wayward son who has wronged her. III. It
was, at the same time, a pitying look. The Saviour felt for Peter in his wretched
condition. Forgetting His own great impending sorrows, He had it in His heart to
sympathize with poor, unhappy Peter. He knew that, notwithstanding all he had
done, he was a genuine disciple, and that the time of reflection would soon come,
when he would be overwhelmed with grief. IV. And, still further, it was a for-
oiviNO look. The Lord knew how deep would be Peter's self-reproach and anguish
of soul when he came to himself, and that he would be tempted to despair of for-
giveness. So by this look he would inspire him with hope. (Christian at Work.)
Knowledge of self through Christ : — He remembered. He realized under the eye of
Jesas what he had been doing. A glance of God into his soul revealed his loss of
himself. Beholding his Lord, as he stood in the calm triumph of His Divine man-
hood looking into his timid soul, he could not help knowing himself in his weakness
ftnd shame. Not a word was spoken. God does not need to speak to judge us. He
will only need to look upon us. One look of divinity is enough to convince of sin.
Peter the denier, under the eye of the Son of God, became at once Peter the peni-
tent. And we know how afterwards Peter the penitent became Peter the man —
firm as the rook— the true Peter, hero of faith, and made worthy at last of meeting
and retaming with joy the look of the risen and ascended Lord among the sons of
Ood on higlC These effects of Jesas' flashings of God upon Peter show very
■imply and plainly Jesus' method of eonvincing men of sin, and of lifting them ap^
852 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOB. Iohap. xxn,
through repentance to real and everlasting manliness. No man ever felt Jesas*
eye upon him, and went away without a look into his own heart which he had
never had so clearly bef oi e. Some men went away from Christ to the judgment.
The thoughts of many hearts, as Simeon foresaw, were revealed by him. Jesus*
gospel, therefore, being thus intensely personal, real, and revealing, is the most
honest thing in thi» whole world. It is no form, no fiction of life, no exaggeration
of feeling, no mere speech about God and tbe world to come; it is the one essen-
tially and perfectly honest thing in this world of words and forms and fictions of
life. Now let me specify two or three particulars which are brought out in Jesus'
revelation of men to themselves. He made men, whom Hia divinity searched,
understand that they were personally responsible for their own real characters.
He did not allow His disciples to condemn men for their misery, or their misfor-
tunes, or the consequences of their circumstances, or any of those influences which
meet from beyond their own wills in men's lives. Bat He made every soul of man
realize tbat within life's circumstances there is a living centre of personal responfii-
bility. Jesus made men understand, also, that in their sinning they have to do
with personal beings. We do not sin against abstractions, or against a system of
commandments only ; we are persons in a society of persons of which God is the
centre and the source. AU sin is against the realities of a most personal universe.
Sin strikes against beings. Peter sinned against the Lord who had chosen him,
and who was about to die for him. The sinfulness of sin is not that it is simply a
transgression of a law ; but it beats against love. All sin is against love, against all
love ; for it is sin against the living, personal being of God. Again, as Jesus Christ
showed men themselves in their sins, he showed them also that those sins of theirs
are something which God cannot endure for ever. They must not be. They shall
not be. God cannot always endure them, and be the God He is. Jesus said He
did not come to judge the world ; and yet again He said, " Now is the judgment of
this world." God on high cannot suffer us to go on in this way for ever. He must
redeem us and make us like Himself, or He must do something else worthy of
Himself with us. This is morally certain. And one thing more is clear as a star
in the mystery of Godliness. There is one thing more which we need to know which
Jesus makes as bright as day in His gospel of God to man. When Peter was at
Jesus' knees saying in the first honest instinct of a man who saw himself, *' I am a
sinful man," Jesus stood over him radiant like a God, and said, " Fear not." Such
is God's lovely attitude towards every penitent at the feet of His Almightiness I
Pear not ! Sin is forgiven and all its darkness made bright in the love which
reveals it. The cloud of our sky becomes a glory at the touch of the sun. If we
will not come to the light to be made known and to be forgiven, then we remain in
the darkness. Penitence is holding ourt^elves up in God's pure and infinite light,
and letting Him shine our darkness away. Fear not ; sin is vouchsafed forgive-
ness in the same love which it shows to sin, and condemns it. {Newman Smyths
D.D.) Peter went out, and wept bitterly. — Peter'$ repentance: — I. Obsebvb
HOW NEAR THB SIN OF Peteb COMES TO THAT OF JuDAS. 1. Peter, like Judas, sur-
renders his Lord to His foes. 2. The sin of Peter, hke that of Judas, was the act
of an intimate and confidential friend. 3. This denial by Peter occurred immedi*
ately after the Supper, and after witnessing the agony of Christ in the garden. 4.
Peter's denial was in the face of his own protestations to the contrary, and of
Christ's recent and explicit warning. 5. Peter's denial was aggravated by repeti-
tion, and at each repetition he contracted deeper guilt. 6. This sin of Peter waa
committed in the very presence and hearing of the Lord. II. Yet, wrrn all thebk
AOORAVATIONS, THE SIN OF PeTEB MUST BE DISCKIKINATED FBOU THAT OF JUDAS. 1.
For instance, Peter's sin was sudden, under strong temptation ; while the sin of
Judas was deliberate and long-premeditated. 2. Then, too, the motives by which
the two were prompted — Peter, by a natural fear and the instinctive love of life ;
Judas, by the most sordid of all the passions that move the human heart — the base
love of gold. 3. In Peter's case there was no heart-denial of his Lord ; it was only
of the lips. 4. In Peter there was only the suppression of his discipleship. III.
CONSIDEB THE C0NTKA8T BETWEEN THE TWO MEN AFTER THEY ARE BROUGHT TO A
BBCOONiTiON OF THEIR oxnLT. 1. Judas is judicially abandoned ; Peter, only tem-
porarily deserted. 2. In the case of Judas there was only remorse ; in that of Peter,
sincere repentance. 3. In Judas there was a total and final rejection of Christ ; in
Peter, a loving return to Him. 4. Judas sealed his guilt by his suicide ; Peter
eealed his repentance by a life of consecration to his Master's service. Concluding
ireflections 1. You have the plainest evidence, in all the actions of Jodas and of
OBAP. xxiii.] ST. LUKE, iSi
Peter, that they were free and responsible, acting under the power of motives. 2.
We see in Peter's fall the wonderful discipline by which he was graciously prepared
for his work, revealing to us that paradox of the gospel, how grace, in its power,
brings evil out of good, and transmutes the poor, fallen, erring sinner into the
accepted messenger of Ood. 8. These two, Judas and Peter, are the types, respec-
tively, of the only two classes of sinners. The difference between sinner and saint
is found in the behaviour of the two in respect to their sins — the one persisting in
it, the other weeping bitterly. {B. M. Palmer ^ D.D.)
CHAPTER XXin.
VxBi. 1-7. — Then said Pilate. — The conduct of Christ contrasted with the conduct
of other public characters : — I. Amongst the philosophers of the heathen world
not one can be named, who did not admit some favourite vice into his system
of good morals ; and who was not more than suspected of some criminal indulgence
in his own practice ; not one, whose public instructions were without error, and
whose private conduct was without reproach. In the character of Jesus Christ no
such imperfection can be traced. In His addresses to His followers. He taught
virtue unpolluted by impurity : and in His practice He exemplified what He
taught. IL In the most distinguished of our contemporaries, we always find
some weakness to pity or lament, or only some single and predominant excellence
to admire. In each individual the learning or the activity, the counsel or the
courage, only can be praised. We look in vain for consistency or perfection.
The conduct of Christ betrays no such inequality. In Him no virtue is shaded
by its correspondent infirmity. No pre-eminent quality obscures the rest.
Every portion of His character is in harmony with every other. Every point
in the picture shines with great and appropriate lustre. III. In the heroes,
which our fables delight to pourtray, we are continually astonished by such
exploits as nothing in real life can parallel ; by the achievements of sagacity
that cannot be deceived, and of courage that caimot be resisted. We are either
perplexed by the union of qualities and endowments incompatible with each
other, or overpowered by the glare of such excellencies and powers, as nature
with all her bounty never bestowed npon man. Jesus Christ has surpassed
the heroes of romance. In contemplating His character we are not less surprised
by the variety of His merits, than delighted by their consistency. They always
preserve their proportion to each other. No duty falls below the occasion that
demands it. No virtue is carried to excess. IV. In the most exalted of our
fellow-creatures, and even in the practice of their most distinguished virtues,
we can always discover some concern for their personal advantage ; some secret
hope of fame, of profit, or of power ; some prospect of an addition to their present
enjoyments. In the conduct of Christ none of the weakness of self-love can be
discovered. " He went about doing good," which He did not appear to share, and
from which He did not seem to expect either immediate or future advantage.
His benevolence, and His alone, was without self-interest, without variation and
without alloy. Y. It is a very general and a very just complaint, that every
man occasionally neglects the duties of his place and station. The character
of Christ is exposed to no such imputation. The great purpose of His mission
indeed, appears to have taken entire possession of his thoughts. YI. The
pretended prophet of Arabia made religion the sanction of his licentiousness, and
the cloak of his ambition. YII. An impostor, of whatever description, though
he has but one character to support, seldom supports it with such uniformity
as to procure ultimate success to his imposition. Jesus Christ had a great variety
of characters to sustain ; and He sustained them all vrithout failure and without
reproach. YOI. Men in general are apt to deviate into extremes. The lover
of pleasure often pursues it till he becomes its victim or its slave. The lover
of Ood sometimes grow into an enthusiast, and imposes upon himself self-denial
without virtue, and mortification without use or value. From such weakness
and such censure the character of Christ most be completely exempted. He did
Bot disdain the social interooorse of life, or reject its innocent enjoyments.
654 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xhh.
IX. "While we are displaying the various merits which adorned the personal
character of Christ, one excellence more must not be passed in silence; the
rare union of active and passive fortitude ; the union of courage with patience ;
of courage without rashness, and patience without insensibility. X. Such, then,
is the unrivalled excellence of the personal character of Jesus Christ. Such
is the proof which it affords that He was " a teacher sent from God " ; and such
is " the example which He has left us, that we should follow His steps." {W.
Barrow.) Pontius Pilate: — I. Pilatk was weak — moballt weak. He sinned
in spite of his better self. He was thoroughly convinced of the inuocence of
his prisoner. His conscience forbad him to inflict punishment. He made
strenuous efforts to save Him. And yet, after all. He gave Him up to death,
and furnished the soldiers needed for carrying out the sentence. How many
in our day resemble him ! Are not some of you as weak as he was ? Have
you not had convictions of duty as strong as his, and maintained them for a
while as stoutly as he did, and yet failed at last to carry them out ? Bemember
that convictions of sin and duty do not keep men from sin ; nor do they excuse
sin. Beware of substituting religious knowledge or sentiment for religious prin-
ciple. II. Pilate was worldly. This explains his weakness. EQs feelings were
overpowered by a selfish regard to his own interest. HI. Pilate was ibreligiocs
Here was the secret of that fatal power which the world exerted upon him. Ha
was worldly because his life was not guided and governed by true religion.
'^ This is the victory that overcometh the world — even your faith." {R. P.
Pratten, B.A.) Pontius Pilate : — Let us consider, then, the strange behaviour
of Pontius Pilate after our Lord's formal acquittal. I. Hs declares the Saviocb
TO BE innocent, BUT HE DOES NOT SET HiM FREE. II. Hb DOES NOT SET HiM
FREE, BUT ENDEAVOURS TO BE FREE FROM HiM — tO get rid Of Him. lU. ELb
ENDEAVOURS TO GET FREE FROM HiM, BUT RECEIVES HiM AGAIN AND AGAIN. I. " I
find no fault in this Man " — Pilate has minutely and thoroughly investigated the
case of Him who was so eagerly accused by the people, and the result of this
examination was the Lord's acquittal. Well done, Pilate! you have taken the
right way ; only one step more, and the case will be honourably concluded I
As a just judge you are bound to follow up your verdict by release. The little
bit of nobleness which Pilate showed on his first appearance was fast declining,
as generally happens when it is not founded on the fear of God. When a man
has gone as far as to question what truth is, he will soon follow up his questioning
with. What is justice ? what is faith ? what is virtue ? The inevitable result
of a perverse state of heart is that it must daily beget new perversities. Because
Pilate was not moved by love of truth, it was impossible for him to be moved
for any length of time by a sense of justice. He declares the Saviour to be free
from guilt, but he does not set Him free. Even since the times have become
Christian, and since men have become members of the Church of Jesus Christ,
it is an universal fact that Pilate's conduct has been repeated. Men have declared
the Saviour free, but have not set Him free. Pilate was a Boman, and a Boman
maxim it has ever been in Christianity to pay every possible outward respect
to the Saviour, but not to set Him free. The Bomish Church especially bound
what ought especially to be free — the Word of Jesus Christ — the Bible — the gospel.
They declare the Word of the Saviour to be free, but do not set it free. In the
Middle Ages, under plea of its preciousness, they bound it with iron chains.
At present they bind it by the approval of bishops, by episcopal approbation.
Even in these days this Church has dared to brand Bible Societies as plague sores.
Pontius Pilate was a Boman to whom truth was nothing, justice little, his own
interest everything ; therefore he did not set the Saviour free, though he declared
Pim to be entitled to freedom. And a Boman maxim it has been to this very
day to declare the Saviour free, but not to free Him. It is to the glorious
Beformation that the honour belongs of having broken the chains by which
Bome bound the Saviour. In the Church of the Beformation, our dear evangelical
Church, Jesus is not only declared to be free, but is free. Freely He governs
our Church ; freely He commonicates with every believing soul. May we, there*
fore, say that Pilatism exists no longer in evangelical Christianity? Ah I no,
dearly beloved, we must sorrowfully confess that Satan did not fail to find
an entrance again through a back door. For, among the numerous Christians
who glory in Protestant freedom, many do not allow the Saviour to speak except
at church on Sunday. He is not allowed to raise His voice daring the week, nor
in their own homes. What is this but declaring the Saviour to be free, and keeping
OTAF. rxm.l ST. LUKE. 665
ffivn boimd ? They bind Him to altar and pulpit ; they hear Him every week or
fortnight, but further advance is denied their Saviour. He is not permitted to
leave the church nor go with them to their home. Mere church attendanc*
is Pilatism ; the Saviour is declared to be free, but He is not set free. " Behold,
I stand at the door and knock ; if any man hear My voice, and open the door,
I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me." But, my friends,
for us who have given up our heart to the Saviour, to occupy a place in His
throne-room, would it not be a subtle Pilatism if we lock the Saviour within
the heart, and not set Him free for the whole life ? Not only in the heart is the
Saviour to have free range, but in the home, in your nursery and drawing-rooms,
in your workshop, in your society, in your daily life and conversation. He is
to be free, and the free ruler of your life. Oh, my friends, strive against Pilatism 1
Do not lock your Saviour in your church, nor in your heart, but allow Him to
dispose of you how He will and where He will. The more He is allowed to shape
a man's life, the more freedom will that man enjoy. Therefore, once again,
away with Pilatism ! Do not only declare the Saviour to be free, but set Him
free indeed! II. Pilate does not set the Savioub fbbb, but bndeavodes to
GET FREE FBOM HiM. He docs not give Jesus His liberty, for fear of the people.
He endeavours to get free from Jesus because he fears Jesus. The quiet dignity
of the King of Truth grows more and more painful to him. The whole matter,
which at first he thought a great ado about nothing, is taking such a turn thai
he feels quite uneasy. " Is He a Galilsean ? " he asks. The Saviour was no
Galilsean. It is from Bethlehem of Judaea that the Messiah of Israel has come !
but the people say He is a Galilsean. This is sufficient for Pilate. He had
oftentimes trenched upon Galilee, and had thereby become the bitter enemy
of Herod, the tetrarch of Galilee. But now it is most opportune to him, that
Galilee is a province beyonds his jurisdiction. Let Herod burn his fingers in this
affair. At least, he, Pilate, will be rid of a case which is getting more and more
troublesome. Do you know those people that practise in our day the most
contemptible kind of Pilatism ? They cannot explain the powerful impression
which the exalted personage of the God-man makes upon man. The pale beauty
of His cross appears an unnatural rebuke to the frivolous ideal of life which they
have entertained. His stretched-ont pierced hands are quivering hints and
points of interrogation, and signs of pain and sorrow. His humiliating crucifixion
bears so loud an evidence against their pride of ancestry, pride of culture, and pride
of riches, that they endeavour to get free from Him at any cost." "He is a
Galilsean " : thus runs the old Jewish lie, which history confuted long ago. A
Galilsean Babbi could never — no, never — become so potent, that eighteen centuries
would circle around him like planets round the sun. But those men who
endeavour to get free from the God-man, will always grasp at this straw of
a miserable fiction. He is a Galilsean! He is a Galilsean, and they think
they have discovered the magic spell by which they can with some show
of reason get rid of their belief in the God-man, who has given His Ufe
a ransom for a sinful world. " He is a Galilsean," they say, and with that
they send the Saviour away. They send Him to sceptical philosophers,
urging, " Natural philosophy has explained this, and teaches us that miracles
are impossible. Philosophy is a competent judge of the person of Jesus Christ,
and of His miracles ; and philosophers, not we, have to decide. And we submit
to their judgment. " It makes them somewhat uneasy to know that there are
likewise believing philosophers; that a Copernicus begged from the Crucified
no other mercy than was received by yonder malefactor ; that a Kepler, a Newton
were true followers of Jesus, and believed in His miracles, and had faith in His
words. On this point, therefore, they maintain a silence as deep as that of
the tomb. Or they send the Saviour to sceptical historians, saying, " It is by
history that the authenticity of the Bible is to be tested, and this science has
broken a staff over the Scriptures." It is nothing to their purpose that believing
historians place a high value on the Bible, that one of them has pronounced
Jesus Christ to be the very key of history. This testimony, however, they care-
fully overlook. Or they send the Lord Jesus to sceptical theologians,
saying, "There are so many theologians who deny the divinity of Jesus,
and tiieologians ought certamly to bis possessed of the true knowledge."
They OTerlook the believing cuTines who exist too, and who ought to
know at Knj rate u well •■ they. In short, fidelity and justioe eon-
eeming the Lonl Jesas are quite oat of the questioo with those people. They
656 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, |[chap. xxm,
will get free from the Lord Jesns at any hazard ; therefore they seek for Heroda
wherever they may be found. III. Impotent STBUooLiNal Foolish prudence t
After all, they wiU not get free from the Savioar. Having entered a
man's life, Jesus comes again and again, this way or that way, whatever may
have been the turnings and windings of that life. Pilate endeavours to get free
from the Saviour, but gets Him again and again. Pilate gets Jesus again from
Herod, and receives Herod's friendship besides. Pilate, on his part, to be sura
would fain have renounced his friendship for Herod, if by bo doing he had only
got rid of the Lord Jesus. But his new friend had sent back the Saviour, and
thus Pilate was obliged, much against his will, to concern himself further with
the Saviour, and bring to an end a case which to himself was becoming more
and more painfuL And in the same condition in which Pilate was will all those
who think and act like him ever be. Having once met the Saviour, they never
get entirely free from Him, however they may struggle and whatever cunning
devices they may make to accomplish this end. In the end they will avail
nothing. Jesus comes again. His form assumes a more and more sorrowful
aspect. His face becomes more grave and clouded. Jesus comes again. Each
sound of the church bell reminds them, each Sunday admonishes them of Him.
Jesus comes again. They do not get free from Him. They anxiously debar
their home, their family, from His influences. Nevertheless, since the Spirit
bloweth where it listeth, they cannot prevent their wives, nor daughters,
nor sons from being converted ; and every converted one is a living reproach
to the unconverted. They cover, as it were, their heart with a coat of mail ;
they palisade their conscience ; they fall into the habit of smiling at holy things ;
they affect the utmost indifference towards the God-man. Thus they Uve, thus
they die ; and when they are dying, again Jesus Christ is there ; and in their
dying moments His word sounds : Son of man, how often would I have drawn
thee nnto Me, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and thou
wouldst not I {Emil Qtiandt.) The character of Pilate : — The estimate which
history has pat upon Pilate is fair. We talk of artistic combinations and poetical
justice. But no art and no poetry can come up to that dramatic intensity of
contrast in which history makes such a man as Pilate jndge and executioner of
Jesus Christ. It is as in another generation when such a man as Nero sits as
judge of such a man as St. Paul. We know Pilate by ten years of his jurisdiction.
A cruel Boman viceroy, he had created and had quelled more than one rebellion
by his hard hand. He is one of a type of men such as you find in Napoleon's
history, who have their eye always on the Emperor, and always mean to win his
favonr. For the Pilates of the world this backward look to their chief suppUes
the place of law. Does Tiberius wish it? Then one answers "Yes." Does
Tiberius dislike it ? Then one answers " No." In the long run such a second-
hand conscience fails a man. It failed Pilate. Tiberius recalled him. But
Tiberias died before Pilate could appear at court. And, then, neglected by
everybody, scorned, I think, by those who knew him best, Pilate, who had no
conscience now he had no Tiberius, killed himself. Was there, in tiiat loathsome
despair of the life of a favourite whose game is played through, was there always
the memory of one face, of one prisoner, of one execution? Did he remember that
day when he tried to wash off guilt with water ? Did he remember how the sky
blackened on ^at day, and men said nature itself testified against the wrong
which that day saw? {E. E. Hall, D.D.)
Vers. 8-12. When Herod saw Jesns, he was exceeding: glad. — Divine reserve ;
or, Chrittianity in relation to our mental moods: — I. That all subjects beveal
THEMSELVES ACOOBDINO TO THB MENTAL MOOD IN WHICH THEY ABB EXAMINED. That
which is looked for, is found or thought to be found. The same person or principle
examined through the respective media of sympathy and antipathy, will reveal
aspects the most different. It is of vital importance to remember this fact in all
our investigations of creeds, or balancings of contradictory evidence, so that we
may escape both the traductions of prejudice and the blindings of partiality. The
non-recognition of this truth has induced the grossest misrepresentations of social
life, of individual belief, and of denominational doctrine. II. That the Divine
Beino dibcbiminateb oub mental moods. Apparently, Herod was in a pleasing
state of mind. Superficial observers wonld have been delighted with his animated
and cordial bearing. What could be more gratifying to Christ than that Herod
was " exceeding gUd " to see Him f There was no royal hauteor, no cold reboll^
«BA». xnii.] ST. LUKE. 657
CO vengeful triumph. Why, then, that awful silence ? Could Herod have dona
more to conciliate the favour of his renowned prisoner ? Was it not an act of
incomparable condescension for Herod to wear a smile in the presence of a reputed
blasphemer and seditionist 7 For Christ's significant reserve there must be soma
peculiar but satisfactory reason. It was not fear of the judge, for He was the
judge's Creator and Sovereign ; it was not contempt, for He entertains a just regard
-for all the creatures of Hia hand ; it was not constitutional sullenness, for none
could be more open and engaging than He ; it was not consciousness of guilt, for
His most rancorous foes failed in their attempts at crimination. Why, then, did
Christ thus treat a man who was " exceediug glad " to " see Him " ? The only
satisfactory answer which we can suggest is that Herod's gladness did not arise
from a proper cause ; or, in other words, was no true index to his mental mood.
Christ looked deeper than the smile which lighted Herod's countenance, or the
mere blandishment of his manner ; He discriminated the mood of mind, and acted
accordingly. III. That certain mental moods deprive men of the bichest
BLESsiNOB op CHRISTIANITY. Why that solcmu silence on the part of Christ ?
Because of Herod's mental mood. The judge wished his curiosity gratified, he
had heard of the great wonder-worker, and longed to behold His feats of skill, or
His displays of power. Christ knew the treatment proper for the oblique-minded
judge, and acted accordingly: He would not work miracles to gratify a king; He
"would smile on a child, or dry the tear of misery, but He would not court the
applause or solicit the patronage of royalty. To whom, then, will the Lord Jesus
deign to reveal Himself in tender speech or loving vision ? Is there any intellect on
whose conflicts with scepticism He wiU bestow His attention ? Is there any heart
on whose strugglings with sin He will lift up the light of His countenance ? Since
He was silent before Herod, will He be communicative to any of His creatures ?
He shall answer for Himself, " To this man will I look." Suppose the Divine
speaker had paused here, what inquisitiveness and suspense would have been
occasioned ! *• To this man " ; to which man, blessed Lord, wilt Thou look ? to the
man who has slain kings, and wandered to the throne of power through the blood
of the warrior and the tears of the widow ? to the man who has enrolled his name
among the proudest of conquerors 7 to the man who boasts attachment to the
cold exactitudes of a heartless theology? to the man arrayed in purple, and
■enshrined in the splendour of a palace ? is this the man to whom Thou wilt look ?
Nay I 'Tis a grander spectacle which attracts the Divine eye — to the man " that is
poor, and of a contrite spirit, and that trembleth at My vrord" (Isa.^ Ixvi. 2).
Here, then, we have two conditions of Divine communion, viz., contrition and
reverence : apart from these there can be no spiritual fellowship. In Herod these
<x)nditions were not found ; hence Christ was dumb 1 So with us : if we would truly
worship God we must fulfil the conditions herein demanded. To be more distinct
on this part of the subject, I may enumerate a few classes of hearers, whose mental
moods deprive them of spiritual enjoyment : 1. Men of violent personal antipa-
thies. Such persons confound the minister with his message ; so that if any whim
has been assaulted, or any favourite dogma contravened, they forthwith resort to
misinterpretation, they turn every appeal into a personality, and that which was
intended as a blessing they pervert into a curse ! God will not commune with
them : they fulfil not the conditions of fellowship — they are neither contrite nor
reverent — and Christ answers them nothing 1 2. Men of large speculative curiosity.
Herod belonged to this class. They wish to pry into the secrets of the Infinite :
not content with the ample disclosures which the Divine Being has graciously
granted, they would penetrate into the deepest recesses of His nature, and scale th«
loftiest altitudes of His universe. They conceive a philosophio dislike for the
common-place truths of Christianity; and regard with patronising pity the minister
who hngers on the melancholy hill of Calvary. Such men would understand all
mystery : they would break the silence of the stars, or detain the whirlwind ia
converse : they would summon angels from their high abode and extort the secrets
of heaven, they would even dare to cross-examine the Deity Himself on the pro-
priety of His moral government I God will answer them nothing. 3. Men who
accept rationalism as their highest guide. They reject all that reason cannot
comprehend. Their own intellect mast see through every subject, otherwise they
consider it as worthy only of repudiation. They read the New Testament as they
woold read a work on mathematics, or a treatise on physical science, expecting
demonstration of every point. Such men leave the Bible with dissatisfaotion.
Christ treats them with silence : their ^ppant questions eUoit no response : their
658 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTRATQR. [chap. xtm.
feeble reason plunges in hopeless confusion — Infinitude refuses to be grasped in s
human span, and Eternity disdains to crowd into one little intellect its stupendous
and magnificent treasures. 4. Men who delight in moral darkness. Such men
have no objection to theological discussion ; they may even delight in an exhibition
of their controversial powers, and, at the same time, hate the moral nature and
spiritual requirements of the gospel So long as attention is confined to an
analysis of abstract doctrines they listen with interest, but the moment the gospel
tears away the veil from their moral condition — reveals their depravity — upbraids
their ingratitude — smites their pride — and shakes their soul with the assurance of
judgment and eternity, they sink back into sullenness, they take refuge in infi-
delity, or they curse and blaspheme 1 Your Herods care not for moral betterance ;
they wish their fancies gratified — they desire their questions answered, but they
persist in following the devices of their imagination, and imprisoning themselves
in the bond-house of bestial passion. The text suggests — IV. That mek so
DEPBivBD RESOKT TO OPPOSITION. " And Hcrod with his men of war set Him at
naught, and mocked Him, and arrayed Him in a gorgeous robe, and sent Him
again to Pilate." This is a striking illustration of the manner in which the truth
has been treated in all ages. Men have approached the Bible with foregone con*
elusions, and because those conclusions have not been verified they have revolted,,
and assumed an antagonistic attitude. Ample illustration of the proposition might
be adduced from the history of infidelity, bigotry, and persecution : but instead of
lingering on this department of the subject we hasten to indicate the practical-
bearing of the thesis on the matter more immediately in hand. As an assembly of
men responsible in some degree for the dissemination of Christian truth, it is im-
portant to understand how we can best fulfil our mission. In prosecuting this
inquiry let me remind you of three things: 1. That the Bible is God's appointed
representative. What Christ was to Herod, the Scriptures are to us, viz., th»
embodiment of Divine truth and love. The very fact of our having the Bible,
involves a tremendous responsibility. 2. That the Bible must be approached in a
sympathetic spirit. 3. That we are responsible for our manner of reproducing the
Bible. (J. Parker, D.B.) Imitating the silence of Christ t — There lived in a
village near Burnley a girl who was persecuted in her own home because she was a
Christian. She struggled on bravely, seeking strength from God, and rejoicing
that she was a partaker of Christ's sufferings. The struggle was too much for her,
but He willed it so ; and at length her Bufferings were ended. When they came ta
take off the clothes from her poor dead body, they found a piece of paper sewn
inside her dress, and on it was written, *' He opened not His mouth." {W, Boxen-
dale.) Remarkable reticence : — Moltke, the great strategist, is a man of lowly
habits and few words. He has been described as a man •' who can hold his tongue
in seven languages ! " {H. 0. Mackey.) Herod Antipas : religious curiosity: —
Most of us will admit that this is an age of much curiosity about religion. The
phrase would seem to include three things. First, curiosity about religion as an
interesting phase of human thought. Then, curiosity about religion as exhibited in
the picturesque and commanding personages who have founded new faiths. But
yet again there may be curiosity about religion as a possible manifestation of th&
extra-natural or supernatural. Eevivalism and spiritualism make the flesh creep
not altogether unpleasingly. August and ancient ceremonials haunt the imagina-
tion with their weird magnificence. The verses which I have read bring before us
the very type of irreligious or non-religious curiosity about religion, and of the
punishment which awaits it. I. In the passage itself let us note, in the first place,
THE DEALINGS OF Hebod Antipas WITH Jesus. 1. Herod did not take any active
part in the greatest tragedy of time. 2. It will be necessary for our purpose to con-
sider, secondly, Herod's position in the religious world of his day. That he was a
Sadduoee would seem to be certain from profane history, and from a comparison of
St. Matthew with St. Mark. 3. The character of Herod Antipas may be thoaght
too black to contain even a warning for any of us. He was but a promising pupil
in the school of which Tiberius was a master ; a meaner trickster, a punier liar, a
feebler murderer. He was " the fox," as our Lord called him, not the wolf. Yet
in one respect he was not so unlike some of us. A mist of superstition hung over
the unclean pool of lust and hatred which he had made his soul. He was alter-
nately repelled and attracted by Christ. That he was not incapable of religiou»
curiosity the text sufficiently witnesses. Some in our day might exelaim that it
yt&» perhaps unfortunate that an opportunity was lost of gratifying the curiosity of
B person so interesting — as if Christ was Incarnate to amuse dilettanti. Bat He
•HAP. xxm.] ST. LUKE. S59
who knows all men and what is in man knew better. The blood-stained hands arc
held out " half caressingly." The voice which commanded the head of Johm
Jiaptist to be given to the daughter of Herodias pours forth its flood of superficial
questions. He will not waste one miracle or one word. As they of old loved to
teach, the silent Jesus, working no sign, is a prophecy and a sign to us. " He
answered him nothing." II. The whole incident thus becomes full of lessons to
as. A thoughtful, meditative reader stops in awe. If we feel the awfulness of
that silence, we shall, I think, recognize the truth of that which I am about to say.
There is, no doubt, a sort of curiosity about religion which is the necessary result
of quickened intellectual, nay, of quickened spiritual life. But the smiting of the
people of Beth-shemesh is not recorded for nothing. Free inquiry is one thing,
free-and-easy inquiry is another. If we play with God, it is at our own risk. The
question is — what do you believe ? We stand fronting eternity, not with the many
propositions which we affect to believe or think we beUeve, but with the few which
we do believe. Can we make an act of faith in God? We see Him standing mute
before the curiosity of Herod Antipas, and we say, " Save us, oh save us, from that
silence I" {Bishop Wm. Alexander.) Our Lord before Herod: — I. Heroe>
BEFORE Jesus. 1. See idle curiosity at its best. 2. Idle curiosity disappointed.
(1) Our Lord came not into this world to be a performer. (2) Herod had already
silenced the Voice ; no wonder he could not now hear the Word. (3) Herod might
have heard Christ hundreds of times before if he had chosen to do so. (4) Christ
had good reason for refusing to speak to Herod this time, because He would not
have it supposed that He yielded to the pomp and dignity of men. 3. Idle
curiosity curdles into derision. II. Jesus in the presence of Herod. Although,
no blows are recorded, I greatly question whether our Divine Master suffered any-
where more than He did in the palace of Herod. 1. Fully in earnest for th&
salvation of souls, and in the midst of His grievous passion, He is looked upon a»
a mountebank and a mere performer, who is expected to work a miracle for the
amusement of an impious court. 2. Then to think of our Lord's being questioned
by such a fop as Herod ! 3. Then the ribaldry of the whole thing 1 4. It was no
small pain to our Lord to be silent. 5. Think of the contempt that was poured
upon Him. (C\ H. Spurgeon.) The silence of Jesus : — I. Prejudice, whatever
BE ITS SOURCE, GETS NOTHING OUT OF THE ScHiPTUBEs. If you bring a full pitcher to
a spring, you can get nothing from that spring. U. Habitual indulgence in sin
WILL PREVENT US FROM GETTING ANT ANSWER TO OUB INQUIRIES FROM SCRIPTURE.
When you want an answer from the telephone, you not only put your ear to the
instrument, but you also say to those about you, " Hush ! I want to hear." If you
would hear Christ you must say " Hush " to the murmuring of sin. III. Thb
IKFLUKNCB OF SCEFTICISU MAKES THB SCRIPTUBEB 8ILBMT. (W. M, TaylOT, D.D.)
Yer. 18. Release onto us Barabbaa. — Barabbas or Ckrut f — We speak of the
choice in the Lord's passion, which is — L A siom or thb Lobd's obacb ani>
VATIENCE. II. A sign Or THE PEOPLB'S DEEP SBAUB AND QUILT. 1. It WaS Six
o'clock in the morning. Conscience-smitten, as never before, Pilate perceives
the mob — the Lord in their midst, with a White garment, and the crown of
thorns on His head — returning from Herod, and approaching his palace. " Suf-
fered under Pontius Pilate " — thus it runs in our imperishable creed, surely not to
erect a monument to a weak man, but to warn us every Sunday. Christ suffered
under indecision and doubt, under fear of man and flattery of man. We
speak, however, of the people's choice. It was the custom to release unto
them a prisoner at the feast. Pilate tries to avail himself of that custom.
They shall decide with perfect clearness and consciousness. The decision
shall be made as easy as possible for them. They shall examine and
compare. "Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you?" — thus
asks Pilate. We have to make the same decision. Here, Christ, with the word of
truth and life, which answers the deepest cravings of our heart; a light in oar path
which has never deceived any one. Thert, the wisdom of the world, with ita
devious ways and vain speech ; with its final bankruptcy of all knowledge, asking.
What is truth ? Here, a love that seeks our salvation, that remains always true,
even when human love is wavering ; a love that never suffers the redeemed to be
torn from its hand. There, selfishness, falsehood, and cunning ; and finally, the
comfortless advice. See thou to that ! Here, forgiveness and peace ; there, in spito
of OQtward prosperity and splendour, a sting in the conscience that cannot be
removed. Here, even in times of tribulation, the conviction : " The Lord is with
560 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xxm.
me; His rod and His staff, they comfort me." There, in times cf want and
distress, murmuring obstinacy and despair. Here, hope that lasts beyond death,
and that anchors itself in the mercy and promises of God, therefore, even in dying,
able to triumph : *' 0 death, where is thy sting? 0 grave, where is thy victory? "
There, illusion upon illusion, for we never know what may happen, until death at
last dispels every illusion 1 Who could still be doubtful about the choice 7 It is
true many for a time allow others to decide for them. They move along as they
are directed ; they believe because others have told them so. Many avoid the
decision even when commanded by the Word of God. But this is sure : There will
come serious hours for each one, according to God's design and will, when he mast
decide of his own free will, when the refusal to decide will be practically a decision.
There is only the question : Are we capable of choosing ? Are we really free ?
Does the decision he in our hand ? Indeed, there arise unbidden so many voices
in the heart against it; so many evil influences act upon us from childhood. The
heart is by nature deceitful above all things — now most exultant, now afflicted
onto death. Luther, as you know, wrote a little book on the bondage of the will,
or " that free will is nothing." He compared it to a staff without life, a hard, cold
stone. In this Luther is right, and is on the side of Paul, who says, " So then it is
not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy "
{Bom. ix. 16). It is true that deep in our hearts there is a tendency to resist the
truth, a pronenes8 to sin and sensuality, a spirit that says " No " to the word and
will of God. But, on the other hand, God embraces us with His unseen arms, and
in spirit speaks to as. Conscience can be silenced, bat not killed ; the hunger for
the life and peace of God will be felt again and again. As the flower is attracted
toward the sun, the bird of passage to the south, the iron to the magnet, so the
human heart is drawn to God and His Word. Both are destined for each other.
We can and ought to choose ; that is our privilege and responsibility: our salvation
is left in oar own hands. II. A bion of thb feoplb's deep shame akd guilt.
Israel also had a choice. But in choosing it incurred the deepest shame and guilt.
" And they cried out all at once, saying, Away with this Man, and release unto us
Barabbas 1 " There is no wavering nor delay, no answer to the question, " What
evil hath He done?" There is no inward struggle, and no examination, bat the
most frivolous levity, which is swift to condemn, even in the holiest and most
important cause. Indeed, Pilate warns them several times, and God's voice warns
them through him, to think and to deliberate once more. But their levity turns
into stubbornness and hardening of the heart. How many still decide for unbelief
without hesitation, without having carefully examined 1 They merely repeat what
others maintain; they merely follow their own natural inclination. They are
opponents of faith, not because they reflect too much, but because they reflect too
little. It is a simple condition of equity that one should examine before rejecting,
and that one should compare what Jesus gives with what the world offers. Levity,
however, does not examine, it postpones. It finds pleasure in the moment, and
avoids all that is disagreeable. When hours of distress and helplessness again
come apon us, our only resources are falsehood and deceit — human help and
human counsel, which soon shall be changed into shame. Alas I how many there
are whose thoughtlessness turns into stubbornness, and from that into entire Bar-
ren der to the power of darkness. (W. Hdhnelt.) Barabbas orJenu: — ^All time
is one history of this one manifold choice. Every evil deed since Adam's fall has
been belief iu Satan and disbeUef in God, a choice of Satan, his service, his wages,
his kingdom, his sins, and his everlasting doom, instead of the glad obedience, the
beauty of holiness, the sweet harmony, the everlasting glory of the ever-blessed
God. Even heathens, from the relios of paradise, knew of this choice. They pic-
tured to themselves man, at the outset of life, standing where two ways parted,
pleasure alluring him to " a way full of all ease and sweetness " ; virtue, with a holy
majesty, calling him to present toil, and an inheritance with God. And they
unknowing I They knew that they made an evil choice, they owned of themselves
sorrowfully, " I know and approve what is best, I follow what is worst." " I knew
what I ought to be ; onhappily, I could not do it." They knew what they chose,
bot not whom they chose, or whom they denied. More fearful is the contest in
Israel, because they knew more. "They chose," Scripture says, ** new gods."
" If it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord," says Joshua, when his own warfare
was accomplished, " ohoose yon this day whom you will serve ; but as for me and
my house, we will serve the Lord." " How long halt ye between two opinions ? "
aa^ Elijah ; " if the Lord he Ood, follow Him ; bat if Baal, then follow him."
CHAP, mn.] 8T. LUKE. 661
Darker still and more evil was the choice, when Holiness Itself, " God, was
manifest in the flesh." " This is the condemnation, that light was come into the
world, and men loved darlmess rather than light, because their deeds were evil."
But His Godhead was still veiled in the flesh. His glory was not yet revealed,
" the Spirit was not yet given." More deadly the choice became, when the weak-
ness of His human nature was taken up in the glory of His Divine, and He was
■'declared to be the Son of God with power, according to the Spirit of Holiness, by
the resurrection from the dead." Hence the evil of some subtle sin, which the soul
perhaps knows not to be sin, only it knows that, were its parents by, it would not
do it. It has made an evil choice ; and that choice cleaves to it, perhaps, through
years of helpless strife and misery. The first evil choice is the parent of all which
follows. It has chosen Satan instead of God ; and now, before it cdn again choose
arign», ft must undo that first choice, and will tliat all had been unohosen which
it ever chose out of God. Bat there is no safety against making the very worst
choice, except in the fixed, conscious purpose in all things to make the best.
The last acts are mostly not in a person's own power. They " who compass them-
selves about with sparks " cannot themselves quench the burning. They who
make the first bad choice are often hurried on, whether they will or no. Each
choice, so far, involves the whole character. The one choice is manifoldly repeated.
The roads part asunder slightly; yet, unmarked, the distance between them is ever
widening, until they end in heaven or in hell. Each act of choice is a step toward
either. It is a bitter memory to think that we have so often chosen out of God.
But we can never amend our choice, unless, in bitterness of soul, we own that it
has been amiss. We can never come to true penitence unless we learn the intense
evil of the manifold wrongness of our choice. Hard is it to own this, that all has
to be undone and begun anew, that the whole choice is to be reformed ; and there-
fore it is hard truly to turn to God and be saved. {E. B. Pusey, D.D.) Renouncinrf
Christ : — Albert, Bishop of Mayence, had a physician attached to his person, who,
being a Protestant, did not enjoy the prelate's favour. The man seeing this, and
being an avaricious, ambitious world-seeker, denied his God, and turned back to
Popery, saying to his associates, " I'll put Jesus Christ by for a while till I've made
my fortune, and then bring Him out again." This horrible blasphemy met with
its just reward ; for next day the miserable hypocrite was found dead in his bed,
his tongue hanging from his mouth, his face as black as a coal, and his neck
twisted half round. I was myself an ocular witness of this merited chastisement
of impiety. (M. Luther.)
Ver. 25. He delivered Jesus to their wllL — The illegal trial and condemnation of
our Lord : — I. The tbial of Christ for His life was manaqed host MAiiiciousitT
ASD iLLEOALiiT AGAINST Hiu, BT Hi8 uNBioHTEOUB JUDGES. 1. Was Christ thus used
when He stood before the great Council, the Scribes and Elders of Israel ? Then
Burely great men are not always wise, neither do the aged understand judgment..
(Job xxxii. 9.) 2. Hence also we learn, that though we are not obUged to answer
every captious, idle, or ensnaring question, yet we are bound faithfully to own and
confess the truth, when we are solemnly called thereunto. 3. Once more, hence it
follows, that to bear the revilings, contradictions, and abuses of men, with a meek,
composed, and even spirit, is excellent and Christ-like. II. Although nothino
COULD BE PROVED AGAINST OUB LOBD JeSUS ChBIST WORTHY OF DEATH OB OF BONDS J
TBT WAS He condemned to be nailed to THE CROSS, AND THERE TO HANG TILL He
DIED. 1. A most onjust and unrighteous sentence: the greatest perversion of
judgment and equity that was ever known to the civilized world, since seats of
judicature were first set up. Pilate should rather have come down from his seat of
judgment, and adored Him, than sat there to judge Him. Oh 1 it was the highest
piece of injustice that ever our ears heard of. 2. As it was an unrighteous, so it
was a cruel sentence, delivering up Christ to their wills. This was that misery
which David so earnestly deprecated — " 0 deliver me not over to the will of mine
enemies" (Psalm ixvii. 12). But Pilate delivers Christ over to the will of Hi&
enemies ; men full of enmity, rage, and malice. 3. It was also a rash and hasty
sentence. Trial of many a mean man hath taken np ten times more debates and
time than was spent about Christ. They that look but slightly into the cause,
easily pronounce and give sentence. 4. As it was a rash and hasty, so it was an,
extorted, forced sentence. They squeeze it out of Pilate by mere clamour, impor-
tunity, and suggestions of danger. In courts of judicature, such arguments should
signify but little ; not importunity, but proof, shonld carry it. Bat timorooa Pilate
▼01.. m. 86
S62 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. Tsm,
bends like a willow at this breath of the people ; he had neither such a sense of
Jastice, nor spirit of courage, as to withstand it. 5. As it waa an extorted, so it
was a hypocritical sentence, masking horrid murder under a pretencb and formality
of law. 6. As it was a hypocritical, so it was an unrevoked sentence. It admitted
not of a reprieve, no, not for a day ; nor doth Christ appeal to any other judicature,
<or once desire the least delay ; but away He is hurried in haste to the execution.
Blush, 0 ye heavens ! and tremble, 0 earth ! at such a sentence as this. In what
ananner did Christ receive this cruel and unrighteous sentence ? He received it like
Himself, with admirable meekness and patience. He doth as it were wrap Himself
^p in His own innocency, and obedience to His Father's will, and stands at the bar
with invincible patience and meek submission. 1. Do you see what was here
done against Christ, under pretence of law 1 What cause have we to pray
for good laws, and righteous executioners of them ? 2. Was Christ condemned in a
court of judicature? How evident then is it, that there is a judgment to come after
this life ? When you see Jesus condemned, and Barabbas released, conclude that
A time will come when innocency shall be vindicated, and wickedness shamed. 3.
Here you see how conscience may be overborne and run down by a fleshly interest.
4. Did Christ stand arraigned and condemned at Pilate's bar ? Then the believer
«hall never be arraigned and condemned at God's bar. Christ stood at this time
•before a higher Judge than Pilate ; He stood at God's bar as well as his. Pilate did
but that which God's own hand and counsel had before determined to be done. {J.
Flavel.) The act of a moment and its results: — I. It was only the act of 4
MOMENT THIS DELIVERING OP JeSUS TO THE JeWS, BUT IT SEALED THE DOOM OF PlLATK.
Of many important acts it may be said that they are done both suddenly and slowly.
In one way or another the decision must be made in a moment : and yet these
momentary acts are not so isolated from all the life as they seem. Our life is truly
one; all parts and all events of it are closely joined together. Each event is at once
a cause and an effect — a link which grows out of a former link, and out of which in
turn a new link is formed. Thus it happens that we could account for any strange-
seeming word a man speaks, or act he does, if we could only go back far enough
Into his history, and see deeply enough into his character. His life has been slowly
3uoving round towards the point it now has reached. Into the house which had
been slowly preparing to receive him, the guest has suddenly stepped. There has
been a removal of obstacles which would have hindered, or a heaping up of obstacles
whioh make it impossible to proceed. In a word, character and habit decide a
man's action at any moment of test and trial ; and character and habit are not
ithings of a moment. It is not always imfair, therefore, to judge a man by the act
of a moment, or by his attitude under sore and sudden temptation. These things
iveveal the secrets of his character and life, perhaps to himself, certainly to other
<3uen ; well if only he is willing to learn at the first lesson where his weakness is,
:and BO make np the breach before the next assault. Peter was walking carelessly
for hours, or days, before that terrible stumbling and fall in whioh his very heatt
was broken, and all his fancied righteousness and courage fell in a moment into
ruins about him. In one of the western towns of the United States, a young man
stood one day in the midst of a group of gay companions. A public house was open
<on the one side of the street, and the building of the Y.M.C.A. on the other. He
■was being pressed to go into the tavern, but suddenly he turned from all his com<
|>anionB, and amid their jests and laughter, entered the Y.M.C.A. rooms. From
«that moment his path in life was plain ; he had committed himself on the right
side. But was there no preparation for the sudden act ? I am sure there was. It
we knew all the story, we would And there was a godly home behind him. Many a
■warning conscience had given him. In a moment Pilate yielded to the request of
'the chief priest, and did this fatal act ; but a whole life of selfishness and self-
indulgence and cruelty had prepared him for that moment, and made it certain that
when the time of trial came, he would do the wrong thing. Toung men may be sure
of it that there will come a time when they will be suddenly put to the test. U.
Pilate tried to bid himself of the besponsibilitt of this act, but he could not
so n. There are some things of whioh we can easily divest ourselves. We can
teaa tiiem off and throw them away in a few moments. I can change my dress and
(make myself, in outward appearance, another man. There are some things that
'4jleave to as always and everywhere. I cannot destroy my personality ; through all
changes 1 remain myself, conscious of my own personal identity. One of the
loommonest excuses men make in such circumstances is, I did it under pressure.
A>me men are sensitive to th* pressure of daty, of honour, of obligation, of trutb.
CHAP, xnn.] ST. LUKE. 56»
©f love, of pity. This pressure is irresistible. When these influences are behind
ihem, they must go on, no matter what lies in front. It was in this way that
Christ was pressed to the cross, and many of Christ's servants to the scaffold and
the fire. "I cannot do otherwise, God help me,"' were Luther's words when this
pressure was strong upon hira. There are many, however, who scarcely feel such
pressure at all, but who are keenly alive to every touch of popular applause, of the
blame of men, of the sharp edge of ridicule, of the fear of loss and pain. By the
force of popular opinion, they could be pressed anywhere, into anything. It is
putting the same thing in other words to say, that men try to get rid of their
respousibility for wrong-doing by throwing the blame upon others, and npon God.
" It is the way I was brought up." " You see I was led into it." •' A man in my
position must do such things." " Every one does it, and you may as well be out
of the world as out of the fashion." " It is a weakness incidental to my constitution."
" Circumstances shut me in, so that I could do nothing else " ; as if a man should
not rather die than do the wrong ! Pilate washed his hands. He tried, in the
most public and solemn way, to cast off his responsibility ; but though he had a
better excuse than thousands have who sin against conscience and a sense of duty,
we see, as we look back upon his case, that it was impossible for him to put the
blame on any one else. When he delivered Jesus to the Jews, it was his own
deliberate act, done against his conscience, not to speak of any supernatural
wammg ; and he must take the consequences. And Pilate's future history was very
ead and hopeless. Eesponsibility is a thing I cannot get rid of. The gospel of
Christ does not remove it. " Every man shall bear his own burden." " Every one
of us shall give account of himself unto God." If I have done wrong, let me bravely
confess it, and seek the grace of God to avoid the temptation again. Thus out ot
weakness I shall rise to strength, and my very errors and mistakes may be stairs
leading me up to God. III. Pilate's odilt was great, but not so obeai as that
OF THE Jews, who chose Bababbas and bejected Jesus. That there are degrees of
guilt is clearly taught by our Lord Jesus. Some shall be beaten with many stripes,
and some with few. Christ does not exculpate Pilate, but He tells him, " He that
delivered Me unto thee hath tbe greater sin." Such choices — not sudden decisions
like Pilate's on partial knowledge and under pressure, but calm, quiet, almost
unconscious acts of choice — we are making day by day. (W. Park, M.A.) Jems
delivered to tJieir will: — I. What was this well? What was the moving spring of
their fierce resolution that Jesus of Nazareth should die ? 1. It was their will that
this stern censor of their manners and morals should die. 2. They willed that tha
witness to the truth should die. The Lord belonged to another world, which they
did not care to enter ; a world which troubled their selfish, sensual lives. It
distracted them with visions, it oppressed them with dread. 3. They willed that
this teacher of the people, this friend of publicans and sinners, should die. They
were a ruling olass, almost a caste. And such rulers hate none so bitterly as those
who speak loving, quickening, emancipating words to the poor. As society was then
constituted in Judsea, that meant that He or the rulers must fall. 4. There was
something deeper and more malignant than this. It was their will that their
Saviour should die. One cannot shake off the impression, reading the gospel
narrative, that the rulers knew Him. This was the will of the Jews. But — ^11.
What, meanwhile, was the will of QodJ St. Peter explains it (Acts ii. 23). To
understand this, we must consider — 1. That it was not possible that the God-man
should be holden of death. The flesh, the outer man, they killed. But what is the
outer man, and what is death ? They willed that He should die, but what He was,
what they hated, could not die. God delivered it into their hands that they might
see that they were powerless, that what they hated and had arrayed themselves
against was eternal. His death made His life immortal, His witness to the truth
eternal. 2. Through death the power of Christ, His witness to the truth. His
witness against sin. His redemptive work for mankind, became living, nay, all-
pervading and almighty realities in the world. Hidden for a moment by His death,
the power reappeared, and reappeared to reign. Jesus delivered to their will was
slain ; but the world was soon filled with men who were charged with the spirit of
Jesus, and who made His death the gospel of salvation to mankind. (/. B.
Brown, B.A.)
Ver. 26. Simon, a Syreolan. — The Crou-bearer: — There is a series of rerj
beautiful pictures in the cathedral at Antwerp, which represent Christ bearing Hu
cross from the Prsetorium to Calvary. These pictures embody the popular idea of
564 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, miv
Christ's weakness and exhaustion. In one He stands calm and erect, in another
He is bending under the weight of the cross, and in another He has fallen beneath
the load that was laid upon Him. It is at this stage of the proceedings that
Simon, who is passing by, is arrested, and compelled to bear the cross after Christ.
L This was a compulsobt oboss. Simon had no choice but to bear it. And so it is still.
No life without a cross. 1. Suffering is a cross we are compelled to bear. To some life
is a perpetual cross-bearing. It may be a physical cross, or a mental cross, or a
spiritual cross, but day by day they must bear it. 2. Death is a cross we are com-
pelled to bear. 3. Every attempt to follow Christ and to bear His cross will be a
determined struggle. II. This was an unexpected cross. The trials we antici-
pate in life seldom overtake us, but those we least expect are laid upon us. The
cross ia often laid upon us at an unexpected time, and in an unexpected place ; but
there is no escape, it must be borne. 1. Sometimes the cross we bear is self-
appointed. It is so with much of the physical pain and social distress we sefr
around us. These afflictions come upon us unexpectedly, but they are often the
fruit of our own folly and sin. 2. Sometimes the cross we bear is divinely appointed.
If Simon's cross was unexpected, Christ's was foreseen. The cross was not a
surprise to Christ. If Simon's cross was compulsory, Christ's was voluntary.
ni. This was an honourable cross. "To bear His cross." Had not Simon
rendered this brief service to Christ, his name might never have been
known ; but now it shall be held in everlasting remembrance. The cross ennobles
man both for time and eternity ; it is an honourable cross. 1. This was a cross
borne for Christ. We often hear of Christ bearing the cross for sinners, but here
is a sinner bearing the cross for Christ. The value of the cross depends upon
the spirit in which we take it up. 2. There is something very beautiful in the
thought that the cross borne for Christ is borne with Christ. Whether it be Hi»
cross or ours, we share His companionship. (J. T. Woodhoiise.) Bearing
Christ's cross : — The memorable thing is, that it is Christ's cross which must be
borne. Yea are not to think that every cross is the cross which the Saviour
requires you to take up. Many a cross is of our own manufacture ; our troubles
are often but the consequences of our own sins ; and we may not dignify these by
supposing them the cross which is to distinguish the Christian. Crosses they may
be ; but they are not the cross which was laid upon Simon, and which had first
been borne by Christ. The cross of Christ is endurance for the glory of God and
the futherance of the gospel. " This is thankworthy," says St. Peter, "if a man
for conscience towards God endure grief, suffering wrongfully." But our oocafort
is, that the cross which we must carry has been already carried by Christ ; and
therefore, like the grave which He entered, been stripped of its hatefulneas. It
might almost be said to have changed its very nature, through being laid on the
Son of God ; it left behind it its terribleness and oppressiveness. And now it is
transferred to the disciple ; it is indeed a cto^s, but a cross which it is a privilege
to bear — a cross which God never fails to give strength to bear ; a cross which, as
leading to a crown, may justly be prized, so that we would not have it off our
shoulders until the diadem is on our brow. "If ye be reproached for the name of
Christ " — and this is a cross — " happy are ye, for the Spirit of glory and of God
resteth upon you." Together with this memorial, he would show, by a powerful
instance, that in religion a temporizing policy is sure to defeat itself ; so that, to
fiy from the cross ia commonly to meet it dilated in size, and heavier in materiaL
Ajid he had one more truth to represent at the same time — the beautifully com-
forting truth, that He has borne what His followers have to bear, and thereby so
lightened it, that as with death, which He made sleep to the believer, the burden
but quickens the step towards an exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; and that
He might effectually convey all this through one great significative action, was it
ordered, we may believe, in the providence of God, that as they led away Jesus
carrying the cross, like Isaac with the wood for the burnt-offering, the soldiers laid
hold on one Simon of Cyrene, and compelled him to bear the cross. {H. Melvill,
B.D.)
Vers. 27-31. Daughters of Jerusalem. — The daughters of Jerutalem : — I. Wht
DID the dauohtebs of Jebusaleh wbep? 1. He was innocent. All they had
heard about Him was favourable. 2. He was benevolent. His gifts were un-
common and priceless. Wherever He went. He left behind Him the footprint of
mercy. 8. He was the hope of the people. The glory had departed ; the land'
was under a corse, and the people groaned under the Boman yoke. But Jesns,
OBAP. xzm.] ST. LUKE. 66S
although opposed to every public demonstration in His favour, had, by His teach-
ing and example, aroused the pablio aspiration. II. Why did Jesus befuse theib
BTMPATHT? — "Weep not for Me." 1. Weep not, My death is a necessity. It ia
not an accident, or the effect of unrestrained animosity, but the fulfilment of an
old covenant, older than the earth or the heaven. Justice demands it before the
prisoners of hope can come forth. 2. Weep not, I can bear it all. Hard as it may
Heem to bear the reproach as an evil-doer, and to suffer the enmity of those whom
I have not offended, yet, my heart's desire is to suffer in the sinner's room. 3.
Weep not, tears will avail nothing now. The plea of the tear is the most effective.
Had the appeal of the tear been made before Pilate, humanly speaking, the
evidence might have been taken, and the prisoner acquitted, but then it was too
late. Weeping did not make the cross lighter, or the pains of death any the less.
4. Weep not, the course I am to take will ultimately wipe away all tears. The
sorrow of to-day will be exchanged for peace and joy hereafter. The death on the
cross will remove sorrow from the heart of the penitent, and tears will cease to
flow. ni. Which, then, is thb bight channel of teabs? "Weep for your-
selves and for your children." Sin is the cause of sorrow. (The Weekly Pulpit.)
Weep not for Me, <&c. : — I. Let us consider them as addressed to that part of the
multitude who had believed in His Divine mission, and submitted to His
authority. Their sorrow for our Lord did not spring from the proper source. His
truest disciples partook of the common misapprehensions of their countrymen
about the nature of Messiah's kingdom. Yet sorrow was their proper mood of
feeling. And why, my friends, should they have wept for themselves and their
children, in looking upon the sufferings of their Lord? 1. We reply, because
their sins occasioned Christ's sufferings. It were well for us oftener to weep thus
for ourselves. 2. They should have wept for themselves and their children,
because they should no more hear Christ's instructions. II. Anotheb class,
besides tbue believers, uinqled in the cbowd, which attended Chbist towards
Calvabt. Let us consider the application of our text to them. It was the natural
feelings, which prompt us to take part in any circumstances with the distressed,
and which are pained, when innocence, or, at least, benevolence is oppressed, that
caused their tears to pour down. Bight and worthy were these emotions, so far as
they went ; but they had deeper cause for sorrow than anything they thought of
when they wept. They should have wept for themselves and for their children.
1. Because away from them were about to be taken the word of salvation, the
admonitions and warnings of the Lord. 2. They should have wept for themselves
and for their children, because this act by which Christ was taken away would speedily
bring judgment upon their nation. To this our Lord had most express reference,
as He showed by the language which follows the text. [S. Martin.) Wherefore
should I weep ? — These words are especially noteworthy, because they constitute the
last connected discourse of the Saviour before He died. All that He said after-
wards was fragmentary and mainly of the nature of prayer. A sentence to John,
and to His mother, and to the dying thief : just a word or two looking downward,
but for the most part He uttered broken sentences, which flew upwards on the
wings of strong desire. I. He said to the weeping women, " Weep not. " There
are some cold, calculating expositors who make it out that our Lord reproved these
women for weeping, and that there was something wrong in their sorrow — I think they
call it •' the sentimental sympathy " of these kind souls. Blame these women I
No, bless them again and again. It was the one redeeming trait in the dread
march along the Via Dolorosa ; let it not be dreamed that Jesus could have
censured those who wept for Him. These gentle women appear in a happy con-
trast to the chief priests, with their savage mahce, and to the thoughtless multitude
with their fierce cry of " Crucify Him, crucify Him 1 " They seem to me to have
shown a noble courage in daring to express their sympathy with one whom every-
body else hunted to death. 1. There can be nothing ill about the weeping of these
women, and therefore let us proceed to say, first, that their sorrow was legitimate
and well founded. It is little marvel that they should weep and bewail when they
uw the innocent one about to die. 2. I think, too, that this weeping on the part
of the women was a very hopeful emotion. It showed some tenderness of heart,
and tenderness of heart, though it be bat natural, may often serve as
a groundwork npon which better and holier and more spiritual feelings
maj be placed. 8. Having said this much, we now add that on our Lord's
part Keh sorrow was fitly repressed ; becaase after all, though naturally
good, it u not more than natoral, and falls short of spiritual excel*
666 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xxm.
lence. It is no proof that yon are truly saved, becanse you are moved to great
emotions whenever you hear the details of the crucifixion, for the Bulgarian
atrocities excited you equally as much. I think it good that you should be moved,
as I have said before, but it is only naturally and not spiritually good. This
feeling, too, may stand in the way of something a great deal bett«. Jesus would
not have these women weep for one thing, because they were to weep for another
thing which far more seriously demanded their weeping. Te need not weep
because Christ died one-tenth so much as because your sins rendered it necessary
that He should die. To weep over a dying Saviour is to lament the remedy ; it
were wiser to bewail the disease. II. Now we pass on from " Weep not " to
" WEEP." Though Jesus stops one channel for tears, He opens another and a
wider one. Let us look to it. 1. First, when He said, " Weep for yourselves " He
meant that they were to lament and bewail the sin which had brought Him where
He was, seeing He had come to suffer for it; and He would have them weep
because that sin would bring them and their children into yet deeper woe. 2. I
beg you now to look again into the reason why our Lord bade them weep. It was,
first, for their sin, but it was next for the impending punishment of their sins.
(C. H. Spurgeon.) " Weep for yourselves " ; — One who knew Whitefield well, and
attended his preaching more frequently, perhaps, than any other person, said he
hardly ever knew him go through a sermon without weeping : his voice was often
interrupted by his tears, which sometimes were so excessive as to stop him from
proceeding for a few moments. " You blame me for weeping," he would say ;
" but how can I help it when you will not weep for yourselves, though your im-
mortal souls are on the verge of destruction, and for aught you know, you are
hearing your last sermon, and may never more have an opportunity to have Christ
offered to you ? " {J. R. Andrews.) The grace of tears : — When Christ was
bearing His cross. He saw some women with their children in their arms,
and He said to them, " Weep not for Me, weep for yourselves." Am I wrong
in saying He is looking down at this congregation now and saying, " Weep for
yourselves " ? Yes, we will and must compassionate ourselves. The further from
the heart religion is for some of you the better ; and I don't wonder at it. I can
apologize for you, for I know something of the disenchantment, humiliation, and
bewildering experience which comes to a man when he is sent to pity himself. Let
our prayer, believing brothers and sisters, be the prayer of St. Agustine: " Lord Jesus,
give me the grace of tears. " Those are the tears God will one day wipe away from our
eyes — £1,000 for one of them ! (W. Whyte.) What shall be done In the dry ? —
The green tree and the dry : — A word in explanation. The green tree is Christ ;
the dry tree in the first judgment is the Jewish nation ; and the dry tree in the
last judgment is the unconverted world. By a " green tree " Christ does not mean
a young and tender tree, but rather one full grown and flourishing. By " the dry,"
He means a tree withered, worthless, and dead. With respect to the first judgment
He may mean this : " If the Eomans so treat the innocent Jesus, how will they
treat the guilty Jerusalem ? " or He may mean, " If the Jews so punish Me, how
will God punish them ?" With respect to the second judgment. He surely means
— " If God so bruise the innocent for the transgressions of others, how will He
punish the guilty for their own iniquities ? " I will now, with God's help, try to
open up to you this solemn text. We have here two trees : one green — the other
dry. I will show you, first, the glory and destruction of the green tree ; and then,
the shame and end of the dry. I. The olobt and destbuction of the oreen
TREE. In meditating upon the glory of the green tree, we had better keep the
substance of it and the shadow of it apart from each other. To do so, we will look
first at the natural tree, and next at the Saviour, who is represented by it. In the
midst of yonder wilderness, overrun with all manner of weeds and poisonous plants,
there lies an humble patch of dry, bare ground. From the midst of the dry, barren
ground, where nothing ever grew before, there rises up a young tree, tall and fair
to look upon. Higher and higher it grows, until its shadow falls upon the tops of
the loftiest trees around it ; higher and higher, until all the trees in the wilderness
are but weeds when compared with it. Now turn to the reality. Christ is that
tree of God. In his birth, He grew out of ground that was barren. As a man. He
grew in stature, and wisdom, and favour, and glory, until there was none such
upon the face of the earth ; until He stood alone as the great tree of life in the
midst of the perishing ; until He bid fair to stretch forth His branches to the
attermost ends of the world. Look back to the green tree. How beautiful it is t
It ha« no crooked boughs, or twisted branches. There are no worm-eaten or
dmr. xxin.] ST. LURE. 567
withered leaves : every leaf is as fresh as when first nnfolded from the bud. There
are do weather-beaten, time-stained flowers : every flower is perfect. There are no
bitter or rotten fruits : all its fruits are ripe and uninjured. From the lowest root
to the highest leaf, it is without a fault. Behold in this some faint picture of
Jesus. His birth was as pure as the creation of an angel. His childhood was as
spotless as sunshine. His thoughts were as clear as the river of God. His heart
was a well of love. His soul was a great deep of light. His life was unstained by
the shadow of evil. He was the admiration of angels. He was the joy of God I
Look back again to tbe green tree. Mark its promise. Leave that tree untouched,
and what will it become ? Will it not reach up to heaven, and spread till it over-
shadows the world ? Who will it leave without a shelter ? What diseases will it
not cure ? What hunger wiU it not satisfy ? Will it not grow into a universal
blessing ? Behold in this the shadow of Jesus 1 Had He dwelt upon earth until
now, what would He not have done for mankind 1 If in three years He healed
such crowds of diseased persons, what multitudes would He have cured in eighteen
centuries 1 Oh, when we think of it, the glory of that green tree of God I
Wonderful, wonderful Jesus I how can we now turn from the brightness of Thy
glory, to the gloom of Thy sorrow ? Oh ! who shall tell the tale of destruction ?
The axe and the flame from beneath, and the glittering arrows from above,
stripped and rent, and levelled all Thy glory. Thou wast slain and buried off the
face of the earth I II. And now I pause ; and turn from Christ's cross to Chbist's
<jOE8TioN — " What shall be done in the dry ? " We have looked for a few moments
at the glory and destruction of the green tree. We turn to the shame and end of
the dry. Look then, 0 unconverted man or woman, at that dry tree. It is spring-
time : thousands of plants around are putting forth green leaves ; bat not a leaf
appears upon it. It is summer : the gardens are white, and many-coloured with
flowers ; but it stands as bare as it stood in spring. It is autumn : the orchards
are golden and red with fruit ; but it remains black and dead. Sinner ! thou art
that dry tree. Thousands around you are fruitful trees in the garden of God ;
they bring forth ripe faith, and tender love, and sweet hope, and mellow peace,
and the fruits of joy and humility. God gathers their fruit in its season, and
rewards Ihem an hundredfold. But you are barren, without faith, without love,
without hope, without peace, without joy, without humility ; you stand unmindful
alike of God's commands, of God's warnings, and of God's forbearance — a withered
cumberer of the ground. But the evil is still worse. You are taking up the room
which others might occupy with advantage to the world, were you but removed.
Look again, 0 unconverted man or woman, at that dry tree. The showers that
soften the folded buds, and spread open the tender leaves of living trees in spring-
time, rain down upon it in abundance ; but, alas ; it only rots the more. The
Bonshine that ripens many a flower into fruit, and sweetens many a fruit into
maturity, beams down upon it from day to day ; but, alas 1 it oidy decays the
faster. Sinner 1 thou art that dry tree. The gospel, which has softened many
hard hearts, has made yours more callous. God's mercies help to make you worse.
Like the cross, the chief of all His gifts to you, they are " the savour of death unto
death." Before I conclude, I would give you all a word of warning, and a word of
encouragement. Remember, O unconverted man or woman, that this fearful
question, *• What shall be done in the dry ? " remains still unanswered. As certain
as I see the sufFerings of Jesus, I see the sufferings of the lost. I can doubt no
more. Penitent, a word to thee. In my bitter text there is some sweetness for
thee. Penitent, if they have done these things in the green tree, why should you
die ? If Jesus died, why should not you live ? What if He died for you 1 (H. G.
Guinness.) The miseries of lost souls exceed those of Christ : — I suppose He meant,
" If I, who am no rebel against Caesar, suffer so, how will those suffer whom the
Romans take in actual rebellion at the siege of Jerusalem ? " And He meant next
to say, " If I who am perfectly innocent, must nevertheless be put to such a death
as this, what will become of the guilty? " If when fires are raging in the forest,
the green trees full of sap and moisture crackle like stubble in tbe flame, how will
the old dry trees bum, which are already rotten to the core and turned to touch-
wood, and so prepared as fuel for the furnace. If Jesus suffers who hath no sin,
but is fuU of the life of innocence, and the sap of holiness, how will they suffer who
have long been dead in sin, and are rotten with iniquity f As Peter puts it in
another place, " For the time is come that judgment must begin at the house of
God : and if it first begin at us, what shall the end be of them that obey not the
gospel of God ? And U. the righteous scarcely be saved, whera shall the ungodlji
568 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chaf. xxin,
and the einner appear?" Note well that the snfferingB of our Lord, though in
eome respects far beyond all conceivable woes, have yet some points about them
in which they differ with advantage from the miseries of lost souls. For, first, our
Lord knew that He was innocent, and therefore His righteousness upheld Him.
"Whatever He suffered He knew that He deserved none of it : He had no stings of
conscience, nor agonies of remorse. Now, the sting of future punishment will lie
in the indisputable conviction that it is well deserved. The finally impenitent will
be tormented by their own passions, which will rage within them like an inward
hell ; but our Lord had none of this. There was no evil in Him, no lusting after
evil, no sell-seeking, no rebellion of heart, no anger, or discontent. Pride, ambi-
tion, greed, malice, revenge, these are the fnel of hell's fire. Men's selves, not
devils, are their tormentors ; their inward lusts are worms that never die, and fires
that never can be quenched: there could be none of this in our Divine Lord.
Again, lost souls hate God and love sin, but Christ ever loved God and hated sin.
Now, to love evil is misery ; when undisguised and rightly understood sin is hell.
Our Lord Jesus knew that every pang He suffered was for the good of others : He
endured cheerfully, because He saw that He was redeeming a multitude that no
man can number from going down to the pit : but there is no redeeming power
about the sufferings of the lost, they are not helping any one, nor achieving a
benevolent design. The great God has good designs in their punishment, but they
are strangers to any such a purpose. Our Lord had a reward before Him, because
of which He endured the cross, despising the shame ; but the finally condemned
have no prospect of reward nor hope of rising from their doom. How can they
expect either? He was full of hope, they are fuU of despair. *' It is finished" wae
for Him, but there is no " It is finished " for them. Their sufferings, moreover,
are self-caused, their sin was their own. He endured agonies because others had
transgressed, and He willed to save them. They torment themselves with sin, to
■which they cleave, but it pleased the Father to bruise the Son, and the necessity
for His bruising lay not in Himself, but in others. (C H. Spurgeon.)
Ver. 33. There they crucified Him. — Tht erueifixion :—l. The place whebb ocb
LoBD 8UFFEEED. Calvary, or Golgotha : a small eminence, half a mile from Jeru-
salem; the conmion place of execution, where the vilest offenders were put to death.
1. The place where Jesus suffered marks the malignant design of His enemies. 2.
The place as mentioned by the evangelist marks His strong affection. 3. We may
also add that this directs us to the place where we must look for mercy. IL The
NATUEB OP Christ's butteeings — "they cettcieied Him." 1. The death of the
cross, though selected by Jewish malignity, would be the fulfilment of prophecy. 2.
In our Lord's suffering the death of the cross there was something analogous to
what we as sinners had deserved ; and probably it was with a view to represent this
that the Jews were suffered to crucify Him. 1. A lingering death. 2. A most
painful death. 3. A death attended with reproach and infamy. 4. The death of
the cross was an accursed death, both in the esteem of God and man (Gal. ili. 13).
III. The company in which He bufpebed : they cbucified with Him •• two
XALEFACTOBS, ONE ON THB BIOHT HAND, AND THE OTHEB ON THE LEFT." 1. On the
part of His enemies this was designed to render His death still more ignominious
and shameful, and was no doubt contrived between Pilate and the chief priests. 2.
But on the part of God we may see something of the wisdom of this appointment.
Prophecy was hereby fulfilled, which said that He should be numbered with trans-
gressors (Isa. liii. 11; Mark xv. 27, 28). (Theological Sketch-book.) The eros$ a
revelation of human sinfulness : — There is a picture I have seen somewhere, painted
by a celebrated artist, in which one aspect of the crucifixion is very significantly
represented, or rather suggested. It is intended to bring before the mind the after
scenes and the after hours of that memorable day, when the crowd had gone back
again to pursue its wonted business in Jerusalem, when the thick gloom bad been
dispelled, and the clear light shone once more on that fatal spot called Calvary.
The body of the Master had been conveyed to the sepulchre, the cross itself lies
extended on the ground, and a band of little children, bright with the glow of child-
hood's innocence, led thither by curiosity or accident, are represented as bending
over the signs left around of the bloody deed which has that day been accomplished.
One of the children holds in his hand a nail, but a short time ago piercing the hand
or the foot of the patient Sufferer, and stands, spell-bonnd with horror, gazing at it.
And upon every face the painter has plainly depicted the verdict which innocenc«
inast ever give with regard to that dreadful tragedy. It is so we would desire to
OHAP. xxuLl ST. LUKE. 669
•onsider the subject and the scene. The heart, conceiving aright the amazing
impiety culminating at the cross, may well take this attitude of wonder, surprise,
horror. The cross comes to be God's great indictment against man. I. The first
word of the text may be looked upon as furnishing us with the first count of
this indictment against man. It supplies localitt, fixes the scene of thb
DREADFUL TRAGEDY AS HERE UPON EARTH. " There they orucified Him." The place
where the commonest criminals were led out to die a Ungering death. Earth has
her mysteries, and this is one of them. The mystery of iniquity culminates here.
It has lifted up its impious hands against God. II. The second word of the text
furnishes us with a further point in the indictment, as indicating hcman agency.
" There they crucified Him." The actors in this eventful drama were men, those
among whom Christ had wrought His miracles and exercised His pure and bene-
ficent ministry. And it was a typical act — such an act as man perpetrates every
day. Envy, hatred, indifference, nailed Christ to the tree ; and while these exist
in the heart, what spirit shall stand excused ? III. The third word of the text may
be looked upon as enforcing the indictment, since it implies a definite and dk-
liiBEEATK ACT. " There they crucified Him." What hardness and callousness of
heart was exhibited here 1 It was necessary that sin should show its exceeding sin-
lulness, once and for all, truly detestable that it might be detested, heinous and black
as perdition, that even our sinful spirits might shrink back in awe and trembUng.
For this is what all sin is tending to : contempt and callousness at the sight of
suffering worth, scorn of innocence, hatred of a purity which condemns our darker
deeds, rejection of God Himself if His claims interfere with our selfish schemes.
IV. The final and hopeful word of the text sheds a light upon this indictment, as
indicating a Divine Redeemer working amid all. " There they crucified Him."
Strangely enough, it is the Victim Himself who invests all else with worth, and
makes the contemplation of such a deed alone profitable to us. When Socrated
entered into prison, they said of it that it was a prison no longer ; the dishonour
and the infamy had passed away in the presence of such resplendent worth. So,
but more memorably, it is at the cross. The place is nothing ; the actors sink into
insignificance ; and of the act itself we care nothing, save as it stands associated
with Him. There is a law of compensation in all things. Bend the bough of the
giant oak for a moment, and it springs back with a momentum proportionate to its
strength. And so it is with this Divine One who has bent before the strong blast of
the adversary, for of Him it is written, •' I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto
Me." {Walter Baxendale.) Christ lifted up: — I. Remember that Jesus had
BAD THB CHANCE OF BEING LIFTED UP AS A MONARCH ALREADY, AND HAD DECLINED IT.
1. Men offered it to Him (John vi. 15 ; xii. 13). 2. The devil offered to make Him
a king also (Matt. iv. 9). 3. Jesus has been offered the true dominion of the whole
world in this showy sort of way, over and over again in human history since. ^ II.
Understand that Jesus was to be ufted up as a sacrifice fob sm ; hence, lifted
on a cross, not on a throne. 1. Consider the spectacle which is proposed for our
imagination. Let us seem to see the Saviour already nailed in crucifixion. Christ
was lifted up as an object of scorn and contumely (see Luke x. 35, 36). Christ was
lifted up as an object of pity and love. At the foot of the cross a faithful few still
lingered : men and women who believed in Him, and clung to Him even in
these fallen fortunes to the very last. 2. Consider, once more, the force exerted by
this spectacle. In the announcement of our Lord already quoted, He says that it
He be lifted up He will draw all men unto Him ; but in our version the single word
nun is printed in italics. Some have wasted time in asserting that Jesus meant
what they name as " the elect " ; some have said that He meant all Jews ; and
others have declared that He intended to include all things whatsoever, as well
as men, unto His uses and His sovereignty. He would gather all money ; He would
collect all commerce ; He would subjugate aU power ; He would attract all art ; He
would receive the trophies of all science ; He would bring in to Himself the gains
of all enterprise. In a word, the kingdoms of a united world should become the
kingdoms of our Lord and His Christ. UI. Recollect that the final oloby or
JssuB Christ will be to be lifted up as the Son of God and the Prince or
Life. 1. God raised Him up from the grave, having loosed the pains of death.
This was the great argument of Simon Peter on the day of Pentecost. The raising
of Jesus from the grave was the pledge of His exaltation to the throne of heaven
}Bee Acts ii. 30-32). 2. The Lord has lifted Christ up to a place at EUs right hand
see Phil. iL 9-11). Satan's kingdom is to be subdued (see Bev. xiL 10). All the
realms of this world are to give their tribute V> that of Christ (see Bev. xi. 16).
670 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha?. xnit.
The kings of the earth are to bring their honour in to beautily His capital city.
The Church is to be the Lamb's wife. The King's daughter is all glorious within.
3. Believers must lift Him up as the one Saviour of lost souls. It is just Christ crucified
■who is the only Saviour, (C. S. Robinson, D.D.) The crucifixion of Christ : — I. Wb
PKOrOSE TO NOTICE THE CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER WHICH THE CRUCIFIXION OF OUB LORD
Jesus was PERFORMED. 1. It wiU be observed that the place at which He suffered
deserves our notice : " The place which is called Calvary." This place appointed for
the death of Jesus, to use the language of Bishop Taylor, " was a place eminent for
the publication of shame, a hill of death and of dead bones, polluted and impure."
Nor must we account it to be a trifling, insignificant circumstance in the
Redeemer's humiliation that this was the spot upon which we find He passed His last
moments, and that He was to bow the head, and to give up the ghost. 2. You will
observe that the mode of death which the Lord Jesus Christ endured at this place
also deserves our notice : ' ' When they were come to the place which is called
Calvary, there they crucified Him." (1) A most painful death. (2) An exceedingly
ignominious death. 3. It must also be observed that the society in which our
Redeemer at this place suffered deserves notice. 4. The conduct of the spectators
who witnessed the sufferings of our Saviour also demands our notice. II. The
CONNECTION WHICH THE CRUCIFIXION OF THE LoRD JeSUS HAS WITH THB COUNSELS
OF Divine mercy and the welfare of the human race. Here there are three
important facts to be noticed. 1. The crucifixion of the Lord Jesus was the special
result of the Divine foreknowledge and determination. 2. And more particularly.
The crucifixion of our Lord Jesus, was a perfect and efficacious atonement for
human sin. 3. The crucifixion of our Lord Jesus being clearly the result of the
Divine foreknowledge and determination, and being a proper and efficacious atone-
ment for human sin, " it was at the foundation of the mighty mediatorial empire."
in. The practical views in which the crucifixion of oub Lobd Jesus should
BE contemplated. 1. We shall contemplate it as affording the most affecting
exhibition of the exceeding sinfulness of sin. 2. We must contemplate our Lord's
crucifixion as being an astonishing display of the riches of Divine love. 3. We
must contemplate the crucifixion of our Lord Jesus, as furnishing the grand theme
for ministerial proclamation. (J. Parsons.) Emphasis : — Scripture depends
more upon the power of facts than of figures and illustrations. In human litera-
ture big words are used to overlay small ideas ; verbiage is laid on as paint ; the
theme is smothered under the gaudy clothing ; and sense is rendered tributary to
soond. Not BO here. When the sacred writers have anything to describe, they
depend upon the force of the thing itself, and not upon the manner of its telling.
All they seem to strive at is plainness ; simply to chronicle the event, and let it
speak for itself. I. There they crucified Him. Where 7 What land contracted
the disgrace of such an act as crucifying the Lord of glory ? Surely some land
where He had not become known ; some foreign country where His holy words had
never fallen on the people's ears ; some distant principality where the mnsio of His
voice had never touched the echoes into sympathy. It must have been in some
uncultured territory where no temples were erected ; where civilization left no foot-
print, and where no god was known. Was it in some savage wild where barbarism
revelled ? and where untrained passion clamoured for a holocaust, and for drink-
offerings of blood ? No ; it was not in such a land that they crucified Him. It was
in the land where He was best known — the land He had hallowed by His advent,
and blessed with His ministry ; the land of His labours, where His mightiest
miracles had been done, and His tenderest teachings had been uttered. Not in a
godless realm without a temple or a shrine ; but where they bowed the knee, and
built the altar, and burned the sacrifice. A realm where they cried, " Lord, Lord" ;
■where, with broad phylactery, the Pharisee rehearsed the law ; and where the temple
lifted its golden vanes beneath the sky, as the tribes went np with offerings to Uie
Lord. It was in no barbarous seclusion, but in a region where the borrowed arts of
tutored Borne flourished, and where the legacies of Solomon were respected and
enshrined. It was in Galilee, on whose soil He made His first alighting, and whose
fields and lanes, gardens and mountain groves, He had hallowed with His public
ministries and His private communions. In Jewry, whose coasts were consecrated
by His labours, there they crucified Him 1 II. There they crucified Him. Who
are •' they " ? Who did this deed? What wicked hands were red with this precioos
blood t Were they those of some hireling assassins from afar, who were running
riot in Jerusalem for a time? Hi,d violence got the upper hand of law and order,
and was Jesus the victim of a turbulent incursion of foreign maraoders ? Or had
CBAP. xxui.] 8T. LUKE. 671
the Roman tyrant despatobed some myrmidon to put to death a teacher of doctrines
■which wrapped up liberty in their articles, lest men should grow too free in mind to
brook subserviency as citizens T No ; neither hypothesis is right. The execution
bore the imprimatur of the government. It was a State transaction. Preceded by
a trial, and surrounded with all the pomps and formulas of law. It was the act of
the piople. What people? The Jews. The very men whom He had chosen as
His own peculiar and anointed ones. III. There they ceucifibd Him. Look at
the deed. Crucified Him I In a place which should have for ever resounded with
the praises of His name ; and by a people who should have enshrined Him in
their hearts, and handed down His worship to their children's children. He was
crucified. They did not decorate the land with sculptured memorials of His
fame; they did not build altars to His praise; they did not wait upon Him,
adore Him, love Him. No; they crucified Him. IV. Once more we shift the
emphasis from the deed to the victim. There they crucified Him. 0 look at
Him— Him who is thus pierced; look at Him, and mourn 1 Whom did they
crucify ? It was customary to wreak this punishment upon their greatest crimi-
nals. But here is Barabbas walking free; the notable robber, suspected of crimes
untold, loose on the pavements of Jerusalem. Yet, "He," this Jesus, is handed
over to be crucified. What 1 then is He a greater robber than Barabbas, that He is
to be crucified ? Is this why He may not be released ? He has stolen away that
which Barabbas could not touch. He has taken from the law its curse. He has
torn from death its sting. He has despoiled the grave of its terror and its victory.
Is not this a notable robber ? But, 0 unnatural retribution which clamours for the
cross, for such an One as this 1 Yet so it is. They crucified " Him " — Him, " the
Lord of life and glory." The meek, the kind, the gentle, Man of Nazareth ; they
crucified Him — who goes about teaching good, spreading good, doing good ; lifting
the fallen, helping tibe needy, lighting the dark ; they crucify Him. And, alas I
brethren, Calvary is not merely at Jerusalem ; the place of a skull is not only at
Golgotha. Look over the arena you have crossed during the last week of your life,
and yoQ will traverse a Calvary there. You may see the place where the cross has
been reared afresh there. You may trace the details of the drama there. Oh 1
think not, ye daily trifiers with the grace of the loving God, that there is no place
near you where Jeflus is not crucified. Every spot you stain by sin ; everywhere
where you have trampled on the fair commands of God ; everywhere where the
Spirit has been quenched, and the restraint neglected — is a Calvary ; and thkke, in
that unwilling and listless heart of yours — there you " crucify afresh the Lord of
glory, and put Him to an open shame." {A. Mursell.) The death of Jesus, and
Its effects : — In meditating upon these words, I would direct your attention, first, to
the MANKEB of Jesus' death, and then to its effects. 1. Jesus dies with a sense of
inward freedom. The Bible speaks of the bondage of death. What a sad impres-
sion does a death-bed give of the bondage of man, how painfully does it bring home
to us the fact that man is not free, that he is in servitude to death ! Hence men
have given Death a sceptre and a sword, have put a scythe into his hand and a
crown upon his head. But in the death of our Lord we see nothing of all this.
Very different is His death from ours. When death comes upon us, it generally
takes us by surprise, and herein too does it prove its might, in that it makes men
its captives and its prey, before ever they are aware of its approach. In most cases,
Death administers a sleeping-draught before he deals the final blow ; and it is in a
state of sleep and of dreaminess that by far the greater proportion of the dying go
their way into that long slumber. But when death came to Jesus, it found Him
waking. How regal is the impression it conveys 1 And let me here remind you, to
what an apparent chance it is we owe it, that we see Jesus die in such a kingly way.
2. Christ dies with the clearest consciousness. Would that the experience of each
of you in that hour may be, that when all earthly lights have faded from your
view, God, as a great sun, will fill the eye of your soul I What a genial warmth
would then be shed upon the cold last hour ! how would the thought of God bridge
the gulf which separates time from eternity 1 Even Christ had thoughts of His
own in the closing hours of His life ; He thought on 'Bis people ; He thought on all
the past of His earthly history. But when the last moment came, the thought with
which He bowed His head was the thought of Qoi. He died with a clear conscious-
ness of what lay before Him. 3. He dies with the fullest assurance. This is
testified by His dying cry. He knows that it is into the hands of the Father that
He is giving up His Spirit. We are not, God be praised! without instances of
blessed deaUx-beds among ourselves. IL Saoh a death cannot be nrithoat effeot
578 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATCH. [chap. xxm.
upon those who witness it. It will quicken the pioas and susceptible ; it will swa
the hard-hearted and ungodly. When the centurion of the Boman guard saw what
had happened, he glorified God, saying, "Truly this was a righteous man," or
" Truly this was the Son of God." To die with perfect consciousness, like Jeaus,
is, indeed, a privilege which is not granted to every child of God ; and it is this
that makes death so sad, if not to him who suffers, at least to the relatives and
friends who stand by. To witness a Christian die f uUy conscious and self -possessed,
is such a sublime and elevating scene ! And the full assurance on a bed of death
with which Christ commended His spirit to His Father, He grants in mercy to His
children too. (A. Tholuck.) The Passion of our Lord : — I. We should notice
that these sufferings of our blessed Lord were most beal; that He did indeed suffer
all this, most truly; that in that body which " was prepared "for Him, He did
bear every possible sting of physical agony; that He was held up in this fierce strife
with pain, until He had explored all its secrets. His mind and human spirit were
really the seat of every storm of deepest sorrow which the heart of man could
know. II. Next to it we should ever hear in mind, beneath the Cross, that all these
sufferings were — fob ds. We must " look on Him whom we have pierced." III.
That these sufferings were needful. It becomes us to speak with the deepest
reverence when we say that anything is rendered needful by the character of God,
Bather is it the truest reverence to see that thus it must have been, if man were to
be redeemed at all ; that there was, in the very perfection of God's character — the
one fixed centre of all being — a necessity for this infinite suffering ; that the nature
which had sinned must pay the price of sinning, must bear the wrath it had
deserved ; that without it there could not be, in the world of God's holy and
righteous love, forgiveness and restoration for the fallen and the separated ; that
" Christ must needs have suffered." {Bishop Samuel Wilberforce.) The cruci-
fixion:— I. The CBUCIFIXION of ChBIST, as ILLUSTBAXINa TEK FEABFUIi POSSIBILITIBS
OF the hatbed of man. 1. This is seen in the central act of this awful tragedy.
(1) The most painful of all forms of punishment. (2) The most degrading. Not
a Jewish, but heathen, punishment, and that on the worst of criminals. 2. This is
shown in the scene. (1) The place (Heb. ziii. 11-13). (2) The companionship.
(3) The insulting taunts. II. The cbccifixion of Chbist, ab illustbatino His
ALL-powEBFCL LOVE. 1. As Seen in the infinite contrast between Christ and His
taunting murderers. (1) The nature of the contrast. (2) The elevation and
matchlessness of the spirit of this conquest of love. 2. As seen in Christ's readi-
ness and ability to save. (1) The contrast in the spirit of the two thieves. (2)
The contrast in the eternal destiny of the thieves. (3) The condition on which
their respective destiny hung. III. The ceucifixion of Chbist, as illostbated is
ITS BEABIKO ON TEE MATEBIAL DESTINY OF THIS GLOBE, AND ON THE PBESENT SALVATION
OF UEM. 1. The illustration which the darkness furnishes in respect to the changes
which this earth is to undergo. (1) The greatness of the change (2 Pet. iiu 8-12).
(2) The purpose of the change (2 Pet. iii. 13 ; Bom. viii. 19-22). 2. The illustration
which the rending of the temple's veil furnishes in respect to present salvation
(Heb. z. 19, 20). Lessons : 1. The ignorance of sinners of the possibilities of the
evil nature within them. 2. The ignorance of sinners of the real enormity of their
sins. 3. The ignorance of sinners of what God is doing for them, even when they
are hating Him. (D. C. Hughes, M.A.) A look at the three crosses : — Jnst look
at the one on the right. Its victim dies scoffing. More tremendons than his
physical anguish is his scorn and hatred of Him on the middle cross. If the
scoffer could get one hand loose, and He were within reach, he would smite the
middle sufferer in the face. He hates Him with a perfect hatred. I think he
wishes he were down on the ground, that he might spear Him. He envies the
mecnanics who, vrith their nails, have nailed Him fast. It was in some such hate
that Voltaire, in his death hour, because he thought he saw Christ in his bedroom,
got up on his elbow, and cried out : " Crush that wretch ! " What had the middle
cross done to arouse up this right-hand cross ? Nothing. Oh, the enmity of the
natural heart against Christ 1 The world likes a sentimental Christ or a philanthropio
Christ ; but a Christ who comes to snatch men from their sins, away with Him t
Men say : " Back with Him from the heart. I will not let Eiim take my sins.
If He will die, let Him die for Himself, not for me." There has always been a war
between this right hand cross and the middle cross, and wherever there is an un-
believing heart, there the fight goes on. Here from the right-hand orosa I go to
the left. Paaa clear to the other aide. That victim also twists himself upon the
naila to look at the centre cross — yet net to aooff. It is to worship. He, too, would
flHAJ?. xxni.] ST. LUKE. 67*
like to gftt his hand loose, not to smite, but to delirer the sufferer of the middle
«roBS. He cries to the railer cursing on the other side : " Silence ! between us is
innocence in agony. We Buffer for our crimes. Silence 1 " Gather around this
left-hand cross. O ! je people, be not afraid. Bitter herbs are sometimes a tonic
for the body, and the bitter aloes that grow on this tree shall give strength and life
to thy soul. This left-hand cross is a repenting cross. Likewise must we repent.
Yon say: "I have stolen nothing." I reply: We have all been guilty of the
mightiest felony of the universe, for we have robbed God — robbed Him of our time,
robbed Him of our talents, robbed Him of our services. This left-hand cross was a
believing cross. There was no guess-work in that prayer ; no *• if " in that suppli-
cation. The left-hand cross flung itself at the foot of the middle cross, expecting
mercy. Faith is only just opening the hand to take what Christ offers us. Tap
not at the door of God's mercy with the tip of your fingers, but as a warrior, with
gauntleted flsts, beats at the castle gate, so, with all the aroused energies of our
souls, let us pound at the gate of heaven. That gate is locked. You go to it with
a bunch of keys. You try philosophy : that will not open it. You try good works :
that will not open it. A large door generally has a ponderous key. I take the
Oross and place the foot of it in the socket of the lock, and by the two arms of the
Cross I turn the lock and the door opens. Now come to the middle cross. We
stood at the one and found it yielded poison. We stood at the other and found it
yielded bitter aloes. Come now to the middle cross, and shake down apples of
love. You never saw so tender a scene as this. You may have seen father, or
mother, or companion, or child die, but never so affecting a scene as this. It was
a suffering cross. It was a vicarious cross — the right-hand cross suffered for itself ;
the left-hand cross for itself ; but the middle cross for you. My hand is free now,
because Christ's was crushed. My brow is painless now, because Christ's was torn.
My soul escapes, because Christ's was bound. When the Swiss were, many years
ago, contending against their enemies they saw these enemies standing in solid
phalanx, and knew not how to break their ranks ; but one of their heroes rushed
out in front of his regiment and shouted — " Make way for liberty ! " The weapons
of the enemy were plunged into his heart, but while they were slaying him of course
their ranks were broken, and through that gap in the ranks the Swiss marched to
victory. Christ saw all the powers of darkness assailing men. He cried out :
"Make way for the redemption of the world." All the weapons of infernal wrath
struck Him, but as they struck Him our race marched out free. To this middle
oross, my dying hearers, look, that your souls may live. (Dr. Talmage.) The Cross : —
I. The CBUciFnuoN. The horrible fact. (1) This form of punishment was most
painful, lingering, ignominious. (2) In the case of our Lord, in every sense, unjust,
unpardonable, and an exhibition of frenzied selfishness and cruelty. 2. The
prophetic place — "Calvary." (1) Outside the city (Heb. xiii. 11, 12 ; Lev. xvi. 27).
8. The wonderful prayer. (1) The lovingness of its plea. (2) The strength of its
argument. (3) A model for all Christians. (4) A proof of Christ's interest in all
sinners. 4. The meanness of human nature ^vers. 35-37, 39). 5. The significant
superscription. (1) Significant in the title given to Jesus. (2) Significant in the
languages in which it was written. II. Lkssoks. 1. The crucifixion of Christ
reveals the fearful prerogative of free agency. 2. The unfathomable depths of
human depravity. 8. What horrible crimes may be perpetrated in name of holiest
principles. 4. How God's most gracious purposes may be wrought out by man's
most heinous malevolence. (D. C. Hughes, M.A.) Who crucified Jetui t — He
that says he did not crucify Christ is His greatest crucifier ; he that will confess
that they were his blasphemies which spat upon His face, his briberies that nailed
His hands to the cross, his gluttony and drunkenness that gave Him gall to drink,
his wrath and malice that pierced Him in the side, his disobedience against magis-
trates that bruised Him in the head, his wanton apparel that stripped Him of His
robe, he that will not only die with Christ in his arms, as old Simeon did, but
acknowledge that Christ died by his arms, he shall find peace at the last, and
righteousness with the God of his salvation. What became of our Saviour's reed,
and of His robe, we find in holy Scripture— they were taken from Him by the
soldiers; but it is not written whether any man took up the crown of thorns, as if
that were our share, or any man's else who is goaded with true compunction.
And to say truth, all the sins which we do commit, let us make the best of them,
are but thorns and briers ; but if we eonfess them in humihty, and ask pardon in
tears and contrition, then they are corona tpinea, a crown of thorns. {Bi$lum
Haeket.)
674 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xnn,
Ver. 34. Father, forgive them, for they know not.— Tfu unknown depths of
fin : — I. How do sinneks come at thbib notion that sin is so trifling an atfaib T
1. They have a very limited view of their own feelings and purposes while in a
course of sin ; and infer that they cannot be very guilty, because they have never
been conscious of a very evil intention. 2. Many derive their limited views of their
sins from their meagre conceptions of the Divine law. 3. Others erect a bar to con-
viction of personal guilt out of materials taken from infirmities incident to human
nature. 4. Others diminish their conceptions of their guilt, by comparing them-
selves with greater sinners. 5. Sin appears very different according to the different
light and circumstances in which it is seen. 6. Again, delay of punishment goes to
confirm men in the opinion that sin is a trifle. II. That their views of sin are
EZCEEDINOLT lilMITED, OB THAT SIN IS QUITE ANOTHER THIMO IN FACT, FROM WHAT IT IS
IN THE sinner's ESTIMATION, 1. It is Very different in its effects from what they
esteem it. 2. Sin is very different if we consider the state of heart which gives
birth to iti 3. The costly expiation for sin shows it to be no trifle. 4. The
retributions of eternity will make sin to appear quite another thing from what it
is here esteemed. (P. Cooke.) Prayer for a murderer : — Joseph Bobbins wa»
a bridge watchman on a railway. He was murdered by a neighbour who wanted to
get his money. The murderer was caught directly after. During the trial he mado
this confession in open court : — " I knew that Bobbins had just received his
month's wages, and I resolved to have his money. I got a shot-gun and went to
the bridge. As I came near to the watch-house, on looking through the window,
I saw Bobbins sitting inside. His head and shoulders only could be seen. I raised
the gun, took aim and fired. I waited a few minutes to see if the report of the gun
had alarmed any one, but all was still. Then I went up to the watch-house door,
and found Bobbins on his knees praying. Very plainly I heard him say : * Oh,
God, have mercy on the man who did this, and spare him for Jesus' sake.' I was
horrified ; I did not dare to enter the house. I couldn't touch that man's money.
Instead of this, I turned and ran away, I knew not whither. His words have
haunted me ever since." Christ's pardoning mercy : — " God is great in Sinai. The
thunders precede Him, the lightnings attend Him, the earth trembles, the moun*
tains fall in fragments. But there is a greater God than this. On Calvary, nailed
to a cross, wounded, thirsting, dying. He cries, * Father, forgive them, they know
not what they do ! ' Great is the religion of power, but greater is the religion of
love. Great is the religion of implacable justice, but greater is the religion of
pardoning mercy." {Senor Castclar.) The first word of the dying Jesus : — Let the
first word of the dying Jesus be the subiect of our meditation. It is — I. A word of
peace in the storm of suffering. U. A word of love in the tumult of hatred. III.
A word of excuse amid the depths of wickedness. {A St'dcker.) Christ's inter-
cession on the cross : — I. Observe the petition itself. 1. The magnitude of the
blessing prayed for. 2. The extreme unworthiness of the objects. 3. The heinous
nature of their offence. 4. The efficacy of the petition in securing the blessing
prayed for. II. The plea by which the petition is enforced — " they know not
what they do." 1. It is such as would have not been found by any other advocate.
2. It is a plea which shows that sin has different degrees of guilt, according to the
circumstances nnder which it is committed. 3. It is a plea which teaches us that
for some there was no mercy, though there might be for those on whose behalf it
was offered. There is a sin unto death, which has no forgiveness in this world,
nor in that which is to come (Matt. xii. 32). 4. Though their ignorance afforded \
plea for mercy, they were not to be pardoned without repentance. Application
1. We see there is that in tVk nature of sin which surpasses all our conceptions
2. Still, we learn that notwithstanding the evil nature of sin, there is no reason foi
despair, not even for the chief of sinners. 3. The conduct of our blessed Lord is
set before us in this instance as an example, teaching us what mast be our spirit
towards onr enemies and persecutors. Stephen followed this example, and we must
learn to do the same (Acts vii. 60 ; Matt. t. 44, 45). {Theological Sketch-book.)
Christ's prayer for ignorant sinners : — I. Sin is founded in much ionobancb. 1.
Men are ignorant of its extreme evil in the sight of God. 2. Men are ignorant of
the baneful influence of sin upon themselves. They are not aware how it hardens
the heart, stupifies the conscience, settles into habit, and at length gains complete
ascendency. 3. Men are ignorant of the pernicioas effect of sin on others. Few
sins are confined to the transgressor only : they have a relative influence. 4. Mea
are ignorant of the dreadful consequences of sin in another world. There is a futnrt
state of gracious reward for the righteous, and of awful retribution for the wicked.
CMAP. xii/*.] ST. LUKE. 615
n. loNOBANCE IS MO scTFiciENT EXCUSE FOR SIN. In some instances it mitigates
offence. 1. Ignorance itself is sin. In all cases it is so, where the capacity and
opportunity of knowledge are afforded. 2. The law of God condemns all sin, every
kind and degree of sin. 3. Every act of sin implies a sinful nature : it springs
from a depraved heart. III. Fobgiveness of sin is an act of Divink mebcy, ani>
THE FRCiT OF THE Savioub's INTERCESSION. From the subject learn — 1. To regard
the intercession of Jesus iu the forgiveness of sins. 2. To imitate Jesus in the-
forgiveness of injuries. {T. Kidd.) Father, forgive them I — I. We see the love
or Jesds enddbino. II. We see that love bbvealino itself. Love can use nc»
better instrument than prayer. To this present our Lord Jesus continues to bless
the people of His choice by continually interceding for them (Eom. viii. 34 ; Heb.
vii. 25). III. Wb see fob what that love pbats. Forgiveness is the first, chief,
and basis blessing. Forgiveness from the Father can even go so far as to pardon
the murder of His Son. Forgiveness is the great petition of our Lord's sacrifice.
Love admits that pardon is needed, and it shudders at the thought of what must
come to the guilty if pardon be not given. IV. We see how the loving Jesus
PRATS. Are there any so guilty that Jesus would refuse to intercede for them ?
V. Wk see how His prateb both wabns and woog. It warns, for it suggests that
there is a limit to the possibility of pardon. Men may so sin that there shall
remain no plea of ignorance; nay, no plea whatever. It woos, for it proves that if
there be a plea, Jesus will find it. VL Wb seb how He instructs from the cbosb.
He teaches us to put the best construction on the deeds of our fellow-men, and to
discover mitigating circumstances when they work us grievous ill. He teaches na
to forgive the utmost wrong (Mark xi. 25). He teaches us to pray for others to our
last breath (Acts vii. 59, 60). That glorious appeal to the Divine Fatherhood, once
made by the Lord Jesus, still prevails for us. Let the chief of sinners come unto
God with the music of " Father, forgive them," sounding in their ears. (C. H.
Spurgeon.) The prayer of Christ for His murderers: — You have in these worda
an affecting prayer, enforced by a plea equally affecting. I. Your attention is
invited to the prayer, which, in whatever light regarded, is fitted to awaken profound
emotion and salutary reflection. 1. Observe the persons on whose behalf it was
presented — the men who perpetrated the most flagitious and sanguinary deed that
ever stained with its pollutions the face of the earth — the men who crucified the
Son of God. The moral turpitude of their crime was aggravated by two con-
siderations. In the first place, the victim of their ferocity was guiltless of the
smallest offence. They were guilty of innocent blood 1 In the next place, their
conduct was aggravated by the more than ordinary rancour, the pitiless hatred with,
which they pursued Him to the grave. 2. Not less remarkable is the subject of the-
prayer itsel£ It amounts to nothing less than that the men who nailed Him to the-
cross might live to put off the savage nature which could revel in the blood of
innocence, and, through repentance and faith, be qualified for an eternal alUance
with Himself in the glory of His mediatorial kingdom. Such is the compassion of
Jesus Christ. 3. The time and the circumstances of this prayer render it peculiarly
interesting. That which renders it worthy of particular notice, as illustrative of
the grace of Christ, is, that He offered it up just at the time of His suspension on
the cross, at the moment when His agonies were most severe, when His nerves
were racked with keenest suffering. His languor and exhaustion might be greater
afterwards, but His sensibility to pain was, perhaps, most exquisite at this critical
moment. Yet this is the point of time at which He breathes forth the desires of
His soul for mercy on His destroyers. There are two observations suggested by %
this fact. In the first place, the calmness, the self-possession, the sustainecl
dignity of the mind of the Eedeemer at this appalling crisis, demonstrate the fixed
resolution with which He was bent on the design of His death. In the second place,
I observe, that there was a remarkable fitness in the prayer of Jesus Christ, pre-
sented by Himself at this awful season. He suffered and He died as the Lamb of
the great sacrifice for the expiation of human guilt. And being Himself both the;
victim and the priest, there was a peculiar fitness in His also interceding on behali
of the guilty, at the time when, as the High Priest of our profession. He wa»
offering the blood of atonement. IL This prayer is accompanied by a plea not les»
remarkable and affecting. •' For they know not what they do 1 " 1. How far were
the men who crucified our Lord ignorant of the nature of the transaction in which
theiy were engaged ? That they were implicated in innocent blood they knew ; bni
that their crime was still more deeply coloured from the supernatural dignity o£
their yictim, of this tbey were ignorant. 2. How far, then, was this their ignorance m
S76 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xxra.
plea for their forgiveness ? The plea does not proceed, I conceive, on the con-
cession o) their comparative innocence, but upon the hopeless and inevitable rain
into which these blinded wretches were hastening to plunge. It was the dreadful
ruin to which the blind madness of these men was hurrying them onwards, that
awakened the pity of the Eedeemer, even amidst the agonies of His own broken
heart, and drew from His suppliant voice that prayer, "Forgive them, Father!
they know not what they do I " Oh, how mysterious, how ineffable, the com-
passion of Jesus Christ! The prayer itself contained a teaching proof of the
infinite mercy of the Eedeemer ; but, if possible, the plea by which He enforces
that prayer, multipUes that proof, and places His love to miserable men in a hght
still more affecting and overwhelming. {N. Emmons, D.D.) Chriat's prayer for
His murderers : — The words of the dying are wont to be much observed. When men
depart out of the body, they are usually more serious and divine, and speak with
greater weight. Especially the speeches of the godly dying are to be regarded,
who, having laid aside worldly affairs and earthly thoughts, are wholly exercised in
the contemplation of heavenly things. Now certainly, if any man's dying speeches
are to be observed, Christ's are much more. I. Christ's request^ *• Father, forgive
vthem." "Father" is a word of confidence towards God and of love to His
^enemies ; He mentioneth the sweetest relation. " Father " is a word of blandish-
ment, as children, when they would obtain anything at their parent's hands, cry,
""Father!" Christ speaks as foreseeing the danger and punishment which they
would bring on themselves as the fruit of their madness and folly, and therefore
He prays, " Father, forgive them." This act was provocation enough to move God
io dissolve the bonds of nature, to cleave the earth, that it might swallow them up
quick, or to rain hell out of heaven upon them. Lesser offences have been thus
punished, and one word from Christ's mouth had been enough. But, " Father,
forgive them." We hear nothing but words of mild pity. When He says, " For
give," He means also convert them ; for where there is no conversion there can be
no remission. I shall look upon this prayer under a twofold consideration. I. Let
us look upon it AB A mobal action. He doth not threaten fearful judgments, but
prayed for His enemies; there was no stain of passion and revenge upon His
sufferings (1 Peter ii. 21). One great use of Christ's death was to give us lessons
of meekness and patience and humble suffering. In this act there is an excellent
lesson. Let us look upon the necessary circumstances that serve to set it off —
(1) For whom He prays ; (2) When He prays ; (3) Why He prays ; (4) In what
manner. Information : 1. It informeth us that the love of Christ is greater than
-we can think or understand, much less express. 2. That all sins, even the greatest,
except that against the Holy Ghost, are pardonable. 3. That remission of sins ia
'the free gift of God, and the fruit of His pity and grace. Christ asketh it of His
Tather. 4. That pardon of sins is a special benefit. Christ asked no more than,
" Father, forgive them." It is a special benefit, because it freeth us from the
{greatest evil, wrath to come ^1 Thes. i. 10). And it maketh us capable of the
greatest blessing, eternal life (Titus iii. 7). 5. That love of enemies, and those that
have wronged us, is an high grace, and recommended to us by Christ's own example.
Sure it is needful that we should learn this lesson, to be like God (Luke vi. 36).
^. Beproof of those that are cruel and revengeful. How different are they from
Christ who are all for unkindness and revenge, and solicit vengeance against Gh>d's
eoffering servants with eager aggravations ! Oh, how can these men look upon
<3hrist'8 practice without shame ! How can they look upon these prodigies of love
and grace, and not blush I II. The next consideration of this prayer of Christ is
AS A TASTE AND PLEDOB OP HiS MEDIATION AMD INTEBCESSION. So it is prophCSied:
" He was numbered with the transgressors, and He bare the sins of many, and
tmade intercession for the transgressors" (Isa. liii. 12). 1. It is an instance of
'Christ's love and bowels to sinners ; He loved mankind so well that He prayed for
them that crucified Him. Look on the Lord Jesus as praying and dying for
enemies, and improve it as a ground of confidence. 2. See what is the voice and
merit of His sufferings, "Father, forgive them." This is the speech that Christ
ottered when He was laid on the cross. Abel's blood was clamorous in the ears of
4}oi (Gen. iv. 10). Christ's blood hath another voice, it speaketh to God to paoifj
Sis wrath, and to pardon us, if penitent and believing sinners ; it speaketh to
^eonsoienoe to be qniet, God hath fonnd out a ransom. 8. In the mediatory con*
sideration it hinteth the conpling of His intercession with His satisfaction. On th«
oroes, there He dieth end there He prayeth ; He was both priest and saorifioe.
4. Thia ii a pledge of His constant intercesaion in heaven. 6. It shows the natnra
CBAT.xxmO ST. LUKE. 677
of His intercession. 6. The success of Christ's intercession, " Father, forgive
them." Was He heard in this ? Yes ; this prayer converts the centurion, and those
above "three thousand " (Acts ii. 41), and presently after five thousand more (Acts iv.
4). In the compass of a few days above eight thousand of His enemies were con-
verted. Christ is good at interceding ; His prayers are always heard (John xi. 42). II.
I come now to the argument used, " They know not what they do." (T. Manton, D.D.}
A prayer for ignorant $inners : — I. That ignorance is the usual cause or enmity to
Christ. " These things " (saith the Lord) "will they do, becaasethey have not known
the Father, nor Me " (John xvi. 3). 1. What was their ignorance, who crucified
Christ ? Ignorance is two-fold, simple or respective. Simple ignorance is not snp-
posable in these persons, for in many things they were a knowing people. But it
was a respective particular ignorance, "Blindness in part is happened to Israel"
(Bom. xi. 25). They knew many other truths, but did not know Jesus Christ. In
that their eyes were held. Though they had the Scriptures among them, they mis-
understood them, and did not rightly measure Christ by that right rule. (1) They
supposed Christ to arise out of Galilee, whereas He was of Bethlehem, though mncb
conversant in the parts of Galilee. And (2) they thought, because they could
find no prophet had arisen out of Galilee, therefore none should. Another mistake
that blinded them about Christ, was from their conceit that Christ should not die,
but live for ever (John xii. 34). Thus were they blinded about the person of
Christ, by misinterpretations of Scripture-prophecies. 2. Another thing occasioning
their mistake of Christ, was the outward meauness and despicableness of His
condition. 3. Add to this, their implicit faith in the learned rabbles and doctors,
who utterly misled them in this matter, and greatly prejudiced them against
Christ. Let us see, in the next place, how this disposed them to such enmity
against Christ. And this it doth three ways. (1) Ignorance disposes men to enmity
and opposition to Christ, by removing those hindrances that would otherwise keep
them from it. As checks and rebukes of conscience, by which they are restrained
from evil ; but conscience binding and reproving in the authority and virtue of th&
law of God ; where that law is not known, there can be no reproofs, and therefore
we truly say, that ignorance is virtually every sin. (2) Ignorance enslaves and
subjects the soul to the lusts of Satan, he is " the ruler of the darkness of this
world " (Eph. vi, 12). There is no work so base and vile, but an ignorant man
will undertake it. (3) Nay, which is more, if a man be ignorant of Christ, Hi&
truths, or people, he will not only oppose, and persecute, but he will also do it con-
scientiously, i.e., he will look upon it as his duty so to do (John xvi. 3). 1. How
falsely is the gospel charged as the cause of discord and trouble in the world. It
is not light, but darkness, that makes men fierce and cruel. As light increases, so
doth peace (Isa. xi. 6, 9). 2. How dreadful is it to oppose Christ and His truths
knowingly, and with open eyes ? Christ pleads their ignorance as an argument ta
procure their pardon. 3. What an awf ol majesty sits unon the brow of holiness,
that few dare to oppose it that see it I 4. The enemies ^of Christ are objects of
pity. Alas, they are bUnd, and know not what they do. 5. How needful is it before
we engage ourselves against any person or way, to be well satisfied and resolved
that it is a wicked person or practice that we oppose. II. Thai there is foeoivb-
ness with God fob such as ofposx Christ out or ignorance. I have two things
here to do : 1. To open the nature of the forgiveness, and show you what it is.
2. To evince the possibility of it, for such as mistakingly oppose Christ. For —
1. Forgiveness is God's gracious discharge of a beheving penitent sinner from the
guilt of all his sin, for Christ's sake. 2. Now, to evince the possibility of forgivenesa
for such as ignorantly oppose Christ, let these things be weighed. (1) Why should
any poor soul, that is now humbled for its enmity to Christ in the days of ignor-
ance, question the possibility of forgiveness, when this effect doth not exceed the
power of the cause ; nay, when there is more eflficacy in the blood of Christ, the
meritorious cause, than is in this effect of it ? (2) And as this sin exceeds not the-
power of the meritorious cause of forgiveness, so neither is it anywhere excluded
from pardon by any word of God. III. That to foboive enemies, and beo
FORGIVENESS FOB THEM, IS THE TBUB CHARACTER AND FROPEBTZ OF THE CbBISTIAN
SPIRIT. 1. Let ns inquire what this Christian forgiveness is. And that the nature
of it may the better appear, I shall show you both what it is not and what it is.
(1) It consists not in a stoical insensibility of wrongs and injuries. (2) Christian
forgiveness is not a politic concealment of our wrath and revenge becanse it will
be a reproach to discover it, or because we want opportunity to vent it. This i»
carnal policy, not Christian meekness. (3) Nor is it that moral virtue for whiob
▼ou m. 87
S78 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ciur. Tim.
we are beholden to an easier and better nature and the help of moral rales and
documents. (4) Christian forgiveness is not an injurious giving up of our rights
and properties to the lusts of every on« that hath a mind to invade them. But,
then, positively, it is a Christian lenity or gentleness of mind, not retaining, but
freely passing by the injuries done to us, in obedience to the command of God.
This is forgiveness in a Christian sense. 2. And this is excellent, and singularly
becoming the profession of Christ, is evident, inasmuch as this speaks your
religion excellent that can mould your hearts into that heavenly frame to which
they are so averse, yea, contrarily disposed by nature. Inference 1. Hence we
clearly infer that Christian religion, exalted in its power, is the greatest friend to
the peace and tranquillity of states and kingdoms. 2. How dangerous a thing la
it to abuse and wrong meek and forgiving Christians ? 3. Let us imitate our pattern
Christ, and labour for meek forgiving spirits. I shall only propose two inducements
to it — the honour of Christ, and your own peace : two dear things indeed to a Chris-
tian. {J. Flavel.) The first cry from the cross : — I. Let us look at this very won-
derful text as iLLUsTRATrvE OF ouB Lobd's intercession. 1. The first point in which
we may see the character of His intercession is this — it is most gracious. Those
for whom our Lord prayed, according to the text, did not deserve His prayer. 2. A
second quality of His intercession is this — its careful spirit. You notice in the
prayer, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do," our Saviour
did, as it were, look His enemies through and through to find something in them
'sfthat He could urge in their favour ; but He could see nothing until His wisely
affectionate eye lit upon their ignorance : " they know not what they do." 3. We
must next note its earnestness. 4. It is interesting to note, in the fourth place,
that the prayer here offered helps us to judge of His intercession in heaven as to its
continuance, perseverance, and perpetuity. 5. Think yet again, this prayer of oar
Lord on earth is like His prayer in heaven, because of its wisdom. He seeks the
best thing, and that which His clients most need, " Father, forgive them." That
was the great point in hand ; they wanted most of all there and then forgiveness
from God. 6. Once more, this memorable prayer of our crucified Lord was like
to His universal intercession in the matter of its prevalence. 11. The text is
iNSTBCCTivE OF THE Chuech'b wobk. As Christ was, so His Church is to be in this
world. 1. Christ's prayer on the cross was altogether an unselfish one. He does
not remember Himself in it. Such ought to be the Church's Ufe-prayer, the
Church's active interposition on the behalf of sinners. She ought to live never for
I her ministers or for herself, but ever for the lost sons of men. 2. Now the prayer
I of Christ had a great spirituality of aim. You notice that nothing is sought for
these people but that which concerns their souls, " Father, forgive them." 3. Our
Saviour's prayer teaches the Church that while her spirit should be unselfish, and
her aim should be spiritual, the range of her mission is to be unlimited. 4. So,
too, the Church should be earnest as Christ was ; and if she be so, she will be
quick to notice any ground of hope in those she deals with, quick to observe any
plea that she may use with God for their salvation. 5. She must be hopeful too,
and surely no Church ever had a more hopeful sphere than the Church of this present
age. If ignorance be a plea with God, look on the heathen at this day — millions
of them never heard Messiah's name. Forgive them, great God, indeed
they know not what they do. III. A word, in conclusion, to the unconverted.
Eemember your ignorance does not excuse you, or else Christ would not say,
** Forgive them " ; they must be forgiven, even those that know not what they
do, henoe they are individually guilty ; but still that ignorance of yours gives yoa
just a little gleam of hope. •• Bring forth, therefore, fruits meet for repentance."
But there are some here for whom even Christ Himself could not pray this
prayer, in the widest sense at any rate, " Father, forgive them ; for they know not
what they do," for you have known what you did, and every sermon you hear, and
especially every impression that is made upon your understanding and conscience
by the gospel, adds to your responsibility, and takes away from you the excuse of
not knowing what you do. Yoa know that there is sin and God, and that yoa oannot
serve both. You know that there are the pleasures of evil and the pleasures of
heaven, and that you cannot have both. (C. H. Spurgeon.) Christ's forgiveness : —
This prayer included many. It included all who had any share in the mockery,
and crucifixion, and death of Christ. It included the Roman governor, who had
given authority to crucify Him ; the Boman soldiers, whose duty it was to see the
sentence carried out into execution ; the Jewish priests and rulers, who cried out for
judgment ; the multitade, who were stirred ap by their religioos guides and ruleza.
cair. xzm.] ST. LUKE. S79
All these Tarions classes were ignorant of the trae nature of the deed which they
were committing, bat all were not eqnally ignorant. Some knew more than others ;
and according to their greater knowledge was their guilt, according to their ignor-
ance was their personal share in the prayer offered at the cross. Not one of these
knew altogether what he was doing, or how great was the sin in which he was
taking part ; and each of these individuals or groups of individuals has some one
or many to correspond to them in our own day and amongst ourselves in this age.
The cross is for ever the sign of the world's darkest crime : it reveals what is lying
at the root of all sin ; and it opens np the nature of that dread conflict which is
ever going on between the kingdom of darkness and the kingdom of God. Christ's
prayer to His Father is to be regarded in the further light of a declaration of
forgiveness, and an assurance of it. Forgiveness is easier for God to give than
for man to take. Forgiveness cannot be received by every one. If a man says he
forgives me, I can only accept his word if I believe that I need his forgiveness —
in other words, if I am conscious that I have offended him and done something
wrong. If I am in my own mind sure that I have not injured him, I decline to
place myself on the footing of a forgiven man. I put away his forgiveness, I refuse
to take the benefit of it, and I stand towards him as one claiming to have as mnch
right to forgive him as he to forgive me. And if we transfer this comparison from
earth to heaven, and inquire into the forgiveness which comes from God, we shall
find that the only channel through which we can receive it is by accepting forgive-
ness as men who have done wrong, and who know the wrong they have done, and
have confessed it and hated it. There are many who have passed a long way
through the journey of life before they find out what they have been doing. Yoath
has often to pass into age before a man truly says, " Bemember not the sins of my
youth " ; the hour of anger has to pass away before a man hears the voice of con-
science, ♦• Doest thon well to be angry." Perhaps it is only to-day that we see
yesterday's faults, and not until another year may we see the faults of this ; the
scales fall away from our eyes, and we marvel that follies which are now so plain
were not observed by us ; we wonder how it was possible for us to do what we did,
and not see its true character all the while. Conscience does not arouse us, and it ia
often not until the voice of memory cries aloud that the soul of a man is awakened,
and his past life looks to him as if he had been walking in his sleep. Is it not time
for every one to bestir himself, and ask whether he knows what his present life and
actions mean ? Bat there is another turn which we may give to the words. We may
accept them as expressing our own spirit and our own life. And until we have received
them into onr hearts as the law of our own being, we have failed to see their true
beauty and power. As He was in the world, so are we in the world. (A. Watton, D.D.)
Ignorance and forgiveness : — What makes so wide a difference between Judas and
those who carried out what Judas had begun ? The answer is in the text : they
knew not what they did. Doubtless they knew that He was iimocent ; but of His
person, office, authority, they had no conception. Their ignorance did not wipe
out their sin, but it did palliate it. It mitigated the awful blackness of the crime
which they wrought. It brought it within the limits of Divine mercy. L Oub
SINS OF IGNORANCE NEED PABDON. 1. In matters that concern the soul, much of oar
ignorance is simply the fruit of neglecting or despising information. 2. A vast
amount of religious ignorance springs from a willingness to be misled. Let a book
appear that controverts the clearly defined truths of evangelical belief. Let popular
clamour lift its voice in wild hue and cry against creeds and dogmas. Multitudes
of men are at once ready to fall in with such a drift, not because they have carefully
satisfied their minds that the current is bearing them in the right direction, but
because it is in accord with what they wish were true. IL What is it which uen
no NOT KNOW ? There is an ignorance of our own doings which is absolutely mar*
vellous. Visiting a factory not long ago I was shown a machine which produces a
little article of commerce with an inconceivable rapidity. But the ingenious inventor
had contrived an apparatus which registered every one produced. If it were A
hundred in every minute, each one was noted by the contrivance that created it.
But it is a strange fact that man, with all his powers of consciousness, keeps himself
in utter ignorance of much that makes up his action. Our actions flow oat from
as into the great world so unheeded that they are forgotten as soon as done ; as
water through the parted marble lips of a statue which does duty as a fountain.
1. Men know not the origin of what they do. Has it never puzzled, while it
saddened you, to talk with some friend in the last stages of consumption f The
lectio flash is on his cheek. There is an annataral lostre in his eye. His breathing
690 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. zzm.
is short and hurried. A hollow cough continually interrupts his speech. But h*
tells you that he is perfectly well. Of coarse be sees these symptoms. He freely
acknowledges that they are unfavourable. But then he is thankful that his lungs
are wholly unaffected. It is the seat and origin of the disease of which he is
ignorant. Precisely identical is the way in which many treat the whole question^
of sin. 2. Equally is it true that the vast majority of men know not the effects
of what they do. How thoughtlessly we sin I We may not think when we scatter
sparks into a powder magazine, but it is none the less dangerous to do so. (Bishop
Cheney.) Prayer for murderers: — In 1831, when the cholera first broke out in
Hungary, the Sclavic peasants of the north, were fully persuaded that they had
been poisoned by the nobles, to get rid of them. They accordingly rose in revolt,
and committed the most dreadful excesses. A gentleman who, up to that moment,
had been very popular with the poorer classes, was seized by them, dragged from
his house into the streets, and beaten for several hours, to make him confess where
he had concealed the poison. Weary, at last, with inflicting blows, the frenzied
mob carried him to a blacksmith's shop, and applied hot ploughshares to his feet.
Exhausted with this excruciating torture, the innocent sufferer, finding all explana-
tions and entreaties vain, fell back from weakness, apparently about to expire, when
the dying prayer of his Lord and Saviour escaped his lips : " Father, forgive them ;
for they know not what they do ! " The savage fury of the peasantry was calmed
in a moment, as if by a miracle ; and convinced of the innocence of their victim,
and the enormity of their crime, they fled in terror from the place. And cast lots. —
On gambling : — Christ had been condemned to death, and His property was being
disposed of. He had no real estate. He was born in a stranger's barn, and buried
in a borrowed sepulchre. His personal property was of but little value. His coat
was the only thing to come into consideration. His shoes had been worn out in the
long journey for the world's redemption. Who shall have His coat ? Some one
Bays : " Let us toss up in a lottery and decide this matter." •' I have it I " said one
of the inhuman butchers. " I have it 1 " " Upon My vesture did they cast lots."
And there, on that spot, were born all the lotteries the world has seen. On that
spot of cruelty and shame and infamy there was born the Royal Havana lottery,
in which some of you may have had tickets. There was bom the famous New York
lottery, which pretended to have over £144,400 worth of cash prizes. There waa
born the Topeka, Kansas, Laramier Citv, Wyoming Territory lotteries. There was
bom the Louisville lottery, with diamonds and pearls, and watches by the bushel.
There was bom the Georgia lottery, for the east and the west. There was born the
Louisiana lottery, sanctioned by influential names. There was bom the Kentucky
lottery, for the city school of Frankfort. All the lotteries that have swindled the
•world were born there. Without any exception all of them moral outrages, whether
sanctioned by legislative authority, or antagonized by it, and moral outrages though
respectable people have sometimes damaged their property with them, and blistered
their immortal eouls for eternity. Under the curse of the lottery tens of thousands
of people are losing their fortunes and losing their souls. What they call a " wheel
of fortune " is a Juggernaut crushing out the life of their immortal nature. In one
of the insolvent courts of the country it was found that in one village £40,000 had
been expended for lotteries. All the oflBcers of the celebrated United States Bank
which failed were found to have expended the embezzled moneys in lottery tickets.
A man won £10,000 in a lottery. He sold his ticket for £8,600, and yet had not
enough to pay charges against him for tickets. He owed the brokers £9,000. The
editor of a newspaper writes : *' My friend was blessed with £4,000 in a lottery, and
from that time he began to go astray, and yesterday he asked of me ninepence to
pay for a night's lodging." A man won £4,000 in a lottery. Flattered by his
success, he bought another ticket and won still more largely. Another ticket and
still more largely. Then, being fairly started on the road to ruin, here and there
a loss did not seem to agitate him, and he went on and on until the select men of
the village pronounced him a vagabond and picked up his children from the street^
half-starved and almost naked. A hard-working machinist won £400 in a lottery.
He was thrilled with the success, disgusted with Lis hard work, opened a rum
grocery, got debauched in morals, and was found dead at the foot of his rum casks.
Oh, it would take a pen plucked from the wing of the destroying angel, and dipped
in human blood, to describe this lottery business. A suicide was found having in
his pocket a card of address showing he was boarding at a grog-shop. Beside that
he had three lottery tickets and a leaf from Seneca's " Morals " in behalf of the
lighteousness of self-murder. After a lottery in England there were fifty suicide*
. xxm.] ST. LUKE. 581
of those who held tmlncky numbers. There are people who have lottery tickets in
their pockets — tickets which, if they have not wisdom enough to tear up or burn up,
will b« their admission tickets at the door of the lost world. The brazen gate will
swing open and they will show their tickets, and they will go in, and they will go
down. The wheel of their eternal fortune may turn very slowly, but they will find
that the doom of those who reject the teachings of God and imperil their immortal
eouls is their only prize. {Dr. Talmage.) What i$ gambling ? — Gambling is risking
something more or less valuable with the idea of winning more than you hazard.
Playing at cards is not gambling unless a stake be put up, while on the other hand
» man may gamble without cards, without dice, without billiards, without ten-pin
alley. It may not be bagatelle, it may not be billiards, it may not be any of the
ordinary instruments of gambling, it may be a glass of wine. It may be a hundred
shares in a prosperous railroad company. I do not care what the instruments of
the game are, or what the stakes are that are put up — if you propose to get anything
without paying for it in time, or skill, or money, unless you get it by inheritance,
you get it either by theft or by gambling. A traveller said he travelled one thou-
sand miles on Western waters, and at every waking moment, from the starting to
the closing of his journey, he was in the presence of gambling. A man, if he is
disposed to this vice, will find something to accommodate him ; if not in the low
restaurant behind the curtain, on the table covered with greasy cards, or in the
steamboat cabin, where the bloated wretch with rings in his ears winks in an un-
suspecting traveller, or in the elegant parlour, the polished drawing-room, the
mirrored and pictured halls of wealth and beauty. This vice destroys through un-
healthy stimulants. We all at times like excitements. There are a thousand voices
within us that demand excitements. They are healthful, they are inspiriting, they
are God-given. The desire is for excitement ; but look out for any kind of excite-
ment which, after the gratification of the appetite, hurls the man back into
destructive reactions. Then the excitement is wicked. Beware of an agitation which,
like a rough musician, in order to call out the tune, plays so hard he breaks down
the instrument. God never yet made a man strong enough to endure gambling
excitements without damage. It is no surprise that many a man seated at the
game has lost and then begun to sweep off imaginary gold from the table. He sat
down sane. He rose a maniac. The keepers of gambling saloons school themselves
into placidity. They are fat, and round, and roUicking, and obese ; but those who
go to play for the sake of winning are thin, and pale, and exhausted, and nervous,
and sick, and have the hesut-disease, and are liable any moment to drop down dead.
That is the character of nine out of ten of the gamblers. You cannot be healthy
and practise that vice. It is killing to all industry. Do you notice that, just a3
soon as a man gets that vice on him, he stops his work ? Do you not know that
this vice has dulled the saw of the carpenter, and cut the band of the factory-wheel,
and sunk the cargo, and broken the teeth of the farmer's rake, and sent a strange
lightning to the battery of the philosopher. What a dull thing is a plough to a
faimer, when, in one night in the village restaurant, he can make or lose the price
of a whole harvest ! The whole theory of gambling is hostile to industry. Every
other occupation yields something to the community. The street sweeper pays for
what he gets by the cleanliness of the streets ; the cat pays for what it eats by
clearing the house of vermin ; the fly pays for the sweets it extracts from the dregs
of a cop by purifying the air and keeping back pestilence ; but the gambler gives
nothing. I recall that last sentence. He does make a return, but it is in the
destroction of the man whom he fleeces, disgrace to his wife, rain to his children,
death to his soul. (Ibid.)
Vers. 35-37. He saved others, let Him save Himself. — God in sovereignty often
selects as His instruments those wlw have no desire to be subordinate to His will : —
Some passengers on the ship's deck may be walking forward, and some walking aft,
and some standing still ; but all, and aU alike, are borne onward to their destiny
by the breath of heaven in the sails, and according to the will of the pilot who
holds the helm in his hand. This world in space is like a ship on the sea. Of the
teeming multitudes that crowd its surface, some intelligently and willingly walk in
the way of God's commandments, others violently resist, and others cleave
sluggishly to the dust like clods of the earth ; bat our Father is at the helm — he
will make all subservient to His purpose. Every atom will be compelled to take
its place and contribute its own share to the establishment of His kingdom and the
redemption of P'«« people. The sovereignty of God is a preciooB doctrine. Pro-
582 TH3 BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. . [chap, xxm.
vidence ib sweet to them that believe : " Casting all yonr care upon Him ; for H<
careth for you." Apart from the meaning of their words, the scoffing of these
scribes was overruled by God for the accomplishment of His own purpose. By
their conduct they unconsciously fulfilled the prophecy of Scripture regarding the
Messiah. This reviling constituted one of the marks by which those who waited
for redemption in Israel should know the Redeemer when He came. " A root out
of a dry ground : no form nor comeliness — no beauty that He should be desired :
rejected and despised : they shall look on Him whom they have pierced." (W,
Arnot.) Himself He cannot save : — The King's Son has offered Himself as
hostage for certain subjects that were held in captivity by a foreign power. He
has gone into their place, and they have on the faith of this transaction been set
free. Precisely because they have been set free, He cannot now escape. Ho has
saved others by the substitution of Himself in their stead, and therefore Himself
He cannot save. In order to explain fully how Jesus, having saved others, could
not also save Himself, we must refer to the history of redemption. Bear in mind
that we live under a Divine administration that has been well ordered from the
beginning. When an architect begins to lay the foundation of a building, he has
the perfect plan already before his eye. Although it be only a man's covenant, it
is not carried forward by fits and starts according to the changing circumstances of
the times. The design is completed from the first, and its execution is carried for-
ward, it may be from generation to generation, all in accordance with the first
design. Much more certain and evident it is that God, who sees the end from the
beginning, framed His plan at first, and conducts His administration from age to
age according to that plan. The way of salvation for sinful men is not left
uncertain, to be modified by the accidents of the day. The gospel does not take its
character from passing events. It is, indeed, a transaction between the unchangC'
able God and erring man ; but it takes its character from the Source whence il
springs, and not from the objects to which it is directed. It partakes of the immut-
ability of its Author : it has nothing in common with the caprice of men. It has
come from heaven to earth, not to receive, but to give an impression. The sun's
rays when they reach the earth meet with a various reception. At one time they
are intercepted before they touch its surface by an intervening subordinate orb ; at
another time the earth itself keeps out the light from that side of it whereon we
Htand : at one place, even when the rays are permitted to reach us, they stir cor-
ruption into greater energy ; at another time they paint the flowers and ripen the
fruit, stimulating life and gilding the landscape with varied beauty. But whether
they are kept at a distance or received, whether when received they make corrup-
tion more corrupt, or make beauty more beautiful, the sun's rays are ever the
same ; they remain true to their celestial character, and are never changed by the
changing accidents of earth. They retain all the purity of the heaven they come
from, and contract none of the defilement of the earth they come to. (Ibid.) If
Christ had saved Himself, man would have been left unsaved : — A traveller in an
Asiatic desert has spent his last bit of bread and his last drop of water. He has
pursued his journey in hunger and thirst until his limbs have given way, and he
has at length lain down on the ground to die. Already, as he looks on the hard
dry sky, he sees the vultures swooping down, as if unwilling to wait till his breath
go out. But a caravan of travellers with provisions and camels comes up. Hope
revives in his fainting heart. They halt and look ; but as the poor man cannot
walk, they are unwilling to burden themselves, and coldly pass on. Now he is left
to all the horrors of despair. They have saved themselves, but left him to die. A
ship has caught fire at sea. The passengers and crew, shot up in one extremity of
the burning ship, strain their eyes and sweep the horizon round for sight of help.
At length, and just in time, a sail appears and bears down npon them. But the
stranger, fearing fire, does not venture near, but puts about her helm, and soon is
out of sight. The men in the burning ship are left to their fate. How dreadful
their situation, when the selfish ship saved itself from danger, and left them to
sink 1 Ah 1 what heart can conceive the misery of human kind, if the Son of God
had saved Himself from suffering, and left a fallen world to the wrath of God I
{Ibid.) Refusing to save himself: — A soldier on duty ftt the palaoe of the
Emperor at St. Petersburg, which was burnt a few years ago, was stationed, and
had been forgotten, in one suite of apartments that was in flames. A Greek priest
was the last person to rush through the burning rooms, at the imminent risk of his life,
to save a crucifix in a chapel, and, returning, he was hailed by the sentry, who must
in a few instants more have been suffocated. '* What do yon want 7 " cried the
our. zxm.] ST. LUKE. 533
priest. " Save yourself, or you will be lost." " I can't leave," replied the sentry,
" because I am unrelieved ; but I called to you to give me. your blessing before I
die." The priest blessed him, and the soldier died at his post. Happiruu in
saving others : — One of the Eussian emperors, Alexander, when hunting, and riding
in front of his suite, heard a groan which arrested him ; he reined in his horse,
alighted, looked round, and found a man at the point of death. He bent over him,
chafed his temples, and tried to excite him. A surgeon was called, but he said
'• He is dead." " Try what you can do," said the Emperor. " He is dead,"
replied the surgeon. '* Try what you can do." At this second command, the
Burgeon tried some processes ; and after a time a drop of blood appeared from a
vien which had been opened ; respiration was being restored. On seeing this the
Vsmperor, with deep feeling, exclaimed, " This is the happiest day of my life ; I
have saved the life of a fellow-creature." If being thus useful in saving a man from
death imparted such happiness to the Emperor, how much greater will our joy and
satisfaction be if any of our efforts result in saving a soul from death. Let us try
what we can do. There is the greatest encouragement for the largest faith, for
Christ is able to save to the uttermost all who come unto God through Him.
Saving others by sacrifice of self : — The plague was making a desert of the city of
Marseilles ; death was everywhere. The physicians could do nothing. In one of
their counsels it was decided that a corpse must be dissected ; but it would be death
to the operator. A celebrated physician of the number arose, and said, *' I devote
myself for the safety of my country. Before this numerous assembly, I swear in
the name of humanity and religion, that to-morrow, at the break of day, I will
dissect a corpse, and write down as I proceed what I observe." He immediately
left the room, made his will, and spent the night in religious exercises. During the
day a man had died in his house of the plague ; and at daybreak on the following
morning, the physician, whose name was Guyon, entered the room and critically
made the necessary examinations, writing down all his surgical observations. He
then left the room, threw the papers into a vase of vinegar, that they might not
convey the disease to another, and retired to a convenient place, where he died in
twelve hours. Before the battle of Hatcher's Kun, a Christian soldier said to his
comrade, "You are detailed to go to the front, while I am to remain with the baggage.
Let us change places. I'll go front, you remain in camp." " What for ? " said the
comrade. "Because I am prepared to die, I think; but you are not." The
exchange was made. The thought of the self-sacrifice of his friend, and his
readiness for the exposure of life or the realities of death, led the unsaved soldier
to repentance and a like preparation for life. A vessel had driven on the rocks in
a storm, and was hopelessly lost. Another vessel had gone out in the blind desire
to do something, bat a long way oS she stopped and watched. That was all, but it
was not very much. The men, however, dared venture no further ; it would be life
for life, and they were not great enongh for that. Nelson, the ship's lad, said,
•' Cap'n, I'm going to try and save those men." And the captain said, " Nelson, i£
yon do, you'll be dbrowned." And Nelson replied — no nobler reply was ever given —
"Cap'n, I'm not thinking of being drowned, I'm thinkin' of savin' those men." So
he and a shipmate took the boat, and went to the wreck, and saved every man who
was there. Saving others : — A few years ago a vessel was wrecked on the south-
west coast of this country ; and with these words I close. It became known to the
hamlets and villages, the towns and districts, that this vessel was wrecked, that
men were seen clinging to the rigging. The life-boat was latmched, and away the
men went, and were a long while at sea. Darkness set in, but the people on the
coast lighted fires ; they kindled great fames so that the sailors might be aided,
that the hfe-boat might be guided on its return to shore. After awhile they
saw it returning, and a great strong man, of the name of John Holden, who was on
the coast, cried aloud, as with a trumpet, to the Captain of the life-boat, " Hi I hi !
have you saved the men ? " The Captain answered, " Ay, ay, I have saved the men,"
and all hearts were filled with gladness. But when the boat reached the coast it was
found that one man was left clinging to the mast. " Why did not you save him? "
said Holden ; " why did not you save him? " "Because we were exhausted," said
the Captain, " and we thought it better to attempt to get safely to shore for those
we had rescued and for ourselves. We should all have perished if we had remained
another five minntes attempting to save one man." " But yon will go back — ^yoa
will go back to the rescue ? ** "They said no, they had not the strength, the storm
was so fierce. Holden threw himself on the shingle, and lifted up a prayer to Qoi,
louder than the storm that God would pat it into the hearts of some of those people
684 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, ma
to go to the rescue of this one man, just as Jesus Christ came to rescue one lost
•world. When he had ceased praying six men volunteered to accompany him, and
John Holden, with six men, were prepared to go and rescue that one man. If seven
men will go to the rescue of one man, how many men shall we send to save Africa f
These men were preparing to start when the good old mother of John Holden came
rushing down, and threw her arms around his neck, and said, " John, you must not
go. What can I do if you perish ? You know your father was drowned at sea, and
it is just two years since your brother William left ; we have never heard a word of
him since. No doubt he, too, has perished. John, what shall I do if you perish ? "
John said, " Mother, God has put it in my heart to go, and if I perish He wiU take
care of you." And away he went ; and after awhile the life-boat returned, and when
he neared the coast a loud voice was raised, " Hi ! hi 1 John, have you saved the
man? " John answered in a trumpet voice, " Yes, we have saved the man; and
tell my mother it is my brother William we have saved." Now, there ia your
brother man the wide world over ; haste to the rescue even if you perish in the
attempt. {J. S. Balmer.) Self-sacrificing love : — The helmsman who stood at
the wheel in the burning steamer till he brought her to the shore, and then dropped
backed into the flames, conscious that he had saved the passengers ; the soldier
who, to save his fugitive comrades, blew up the bridge over which they had crossed,
though he knew that he himself would be blown up with the bridge ; the Arab,
dying of thirst in the desert, yet giving his last drop of water to his faithfol camel,
may be cited as types of Christ in his self-sacrificing love. Not many years ago
there was a colliery accident in the north of England. The mine was flooded, and
there were still some of the miners imprisoned below. Rescue parties were made
np and sent down. It was a hard piece of work, and they had to work in relays.
One man, however, it was noticed, kept working all the time. Others told him
that he would kill himself, and asked him to stop and rest. But he answered :
" How can I stop ? There are some of my own down there." Is it not in some
such way that Christ came down to seek His own on earth, and to give His life for
them? (Sunday School Times.)
Ver. 38. A superscription also was written over Him. — The superscription
affixed to the cross of Christ : — It was the custom of the Romans, that the equity oi
their proceedings might more clearly appear when they crucified any man, to pub-
lish the cause of his death in a table written in capital letters, and placed ov« the
head of the crucified. And that there might be, at least, a show and face of justice
in Christ's death, He also shall have His title or superscription. The worst and
most unrighteous actions labour to cover and shroud themselves under pretentions
of equity. Sin is so shameful a thing that it cares not to own its name. Christ
shall have a table written for Him also. 1. The character or description of Christ
contained in that writing : " The King of the Jews." 2. The person who drew
His character or title. Pilate, who was His judge, becomes now His herald to pro-
claim His glory. 3. The time when this honour was done Him. When at the
lowest ebb ; amid shame and reproach. I. The katxjbe and qcamtt of Christ's
TITLE OB INSCRIPTION. 1. An extraordinary title. Instead of proclaiming Christ's
crime, it vindicates His innocence. 2. Public. Written in three languages. 8.
Honourable. Thus the cross became a throne of majesty. 4. A vindicating title.
6. A predicting and presaging title. 6. An immutable title. II. What hand thk
DrviNE PROVIDENCE HAD IN THIS BUSINESS. 1. In Overruling the heart and hand of
Pilate in the draught and style of it, and that contrary to his own inclination. 2.
Herein the wisdom of Providence was gloriously displayed, in applying a present,
proper, public remedy to the reproaches and blasphemies which Christ had then
newly received in His name and honour. The superstitious Jews wound Him, and
heathen Pilate prepares a plaster to heal Him : they reproach, he vindicates ; they
throw the dirt, he washes it off. Oh, the profound and inscrutable vrisdom of Pro-
vidence 1 3. Moreover, Providence eminently appeared at this time, in keeping so
timorons a person, a man of so base a spirit, that would not stick at anything^ to
please the people, from receding or giving ground in the least to their importunities.
4. Herein also much of the wisdom of Providence appeared, in casting the
ignominy of the death of Christ upon those very men who ought to bear it. Pilate
was moved by Divine instinct at once to clear Christ and accuse them. 5. The
Providence of God wonderfully discovered itself (as before was noted) in fixing this
title to the cross of Christ, when there was so great a confluence of all Borto of
people to take notice. Inference 1. Hence it follows that the Providenoe of oxu
CHAP, zxm.] 57. LUKE. 58S
Qodi can and often doth overmle the eooniels and actions of the worst of men to
His own glory. He is never at a loss for means to promote and serve His own ends.
2. Hence likewise it follows, that the greatest services performed to Christ acci-
dentally and undesignedly, shall never be accepted nor rewarded of God. Pilate did
Christ an eminent piece of service. He did that for Christ that not one of His own
disciples at that time durst do ; and yet this service was not accepted of God,
because he did it not designedly for His glory, but from the mere overrulings of
Providence. 3. Would not Pilate recede from what he had written on Christ'3
behalf ? How shameful a thing is it for Christians to retract what they have said
or done on Christ's behaU? 4. Did Pilate afflx such an honourable, vindicatiug
title to the cross ? Then the cross of Christ is a dignified cross. How did the
martyrs glory in their su£fering3 for Christ ? Calling their^ chains of iron, chains
of gold; and their manacles, bracelets. I remember it is storied of Ludovicus
Marsacus, a knight of France, that when he, with divers other Christians of an
inferior rank and degree in the world, were condemned to die for religion, and the
jailor had bound them with chains, but did not bind him, being a more honourable
person than the rest, he was offended greatly by that omission, and said, " Why
do you not honour me with a chain for Christ also, and create me a knight of that
illustrious order ? " 5. Did Pilate so stiffly assert and defend the honour of Christ ?
What doubt can then be made of the success of Christ's interest, and the pros-
perity of His cause, when the very enemies thereof are made to serve it f Eather
than Christ shall want honour, Pilate, the man that condemned Him, shall do Him
honour. And as it fared with His person, just so with His interest also. 6. Did
Pilate vindicate Christ in drawing up such a title to be affixed to His cross, then
hence it follows that God will, sooner or later, clear up the innocence and integrity
of His people who commit their cause to Him. {J. Flavel.)
Vers. 39-43. And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on Him. —
The impenitent malefactor : — L This man's treatment of Cheist suggests several
things for our consideration. " He railed on Him." 1. What inhumanity. The
Buffering of Jesus ought surely to have moved his heart to pity. 2. The friendless-
ness of the majestic Sufferer touched him not. 3. His like condition to the Sufferer
by his side touched no chord of sympathy in his breast. IL The malefactor was
AK unbeliever. He had probably never seen Christ before. On this account he
was less guilty than many at Calvary that day ; and less guilty than thousands who
hear the gospel to-day, but still reject Christ. According to light and privileges is
our responsibility. But this robber had ground enough to warrant his belief in
Christ His companion had, yet he joined those who railed upon Jesus. HI.
Christ's treatment of the malefactor. Pitying silence. He will answer no man's
prayer to prove His power. His word, His Church, the Christian, are the miracles
that must testify to His power to save. (6. E. Jones.) The impenitent thief: —
I. HCMAN LIFE ENDINO AN CTTER MORAL WRECK. U. HUMAN LIFE BNSINO ON THE
OALLOws. in. Human life endinq ts sioht of the cross. IV. Human lite endinq
IN DESPAIR. {The Lay Preacher.) The two malefactors : — L Reflections. Hera
we have a true picture of human nature as it appears amidst difEiculties, and
dangers, and sufferings, the appropriate fruits of sin. A care to avoid pain is
universally prevalent, but a care to avoid sin is comparatively of rare occurrence.
Of this conduct one of the malefactors crucified with Christ afforded a lamentable
example. But the other, however bad he had previously been, however much har-
dened or debased, was brought to true repentance. There was an invisible energy
touching his soul and melting it into contrition ; the power of the cross of Christ
was felt, and it proved the Bedeemer to be great in sufferings. Yes, this criminal
became humble, his heart believed, and his faith penetrated the vail of the
incarnation, realizing what was concealed from an eye of sense, even a ground of
hope for his guilty souL II. Application. 1. Let as see the greatness and the
glory of the Saviour's character. What power 1 what grace I what dominion over
the invisible world 1 2. The language of the text supplies a plain proof of the
separate and happy existence of the spirits of just men after death. 6. The suffi-
ciency of the sacrifice for sin made by the death of Christ, is illustrated by the
case we have considered. He contemplated sinners, the chief of sinners, when ha
offered Himself to God. 4. What different effects may result amidst a sameness of
circamstances and opportuuities. Here were two of similar character, both
exceedingly wicked, with death in immediate prospect; one becomes a penitent
seeking bus salvation, the other remains hardened in his sins. 6. The aubjeot, sug-
£86 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha». xrm,
geets the language of encouragement and of eantion. (Essex Remembrancer.)
The two robbers : — To defer the time of conversion, and as a pretext for persevering
in the ways of sin, the worldly-minded flatter themselves with three prinoipsJ
delusions. 1. One delays bis conversion because he imagines that a time of sick-
ness and suffering will present a more favourable opportunity to think of it. He
flatters himself that he will not be carried away by a violent or sudden death ; that
a long and slow malady, during the course of which he will have time to reflect,
and to make an account of his ways, will permit him to prepare himself for the
meeting with his God. But how does he know whether a malady, under the weight
of which the very organism of the constitution sinks, will not oppress his senses,
dull his spirit, take from his mind its energy, and paralyze his faculties ? Who can
be ignorant that, in such a case, nothing is more usual than hesitations, adjourn-
ments, and delays, seeing the man has accustomed himself to the deceitful hope ot
a recovery, sooner or later ? 2. A second reason, as I said, for which the worldly-
minded defer their conversion is, that they suppose that at the hour of death
Providence will work miracles of salvation, other and more efficacious than those
which they have been able to enjoy during their life ; and that the most pressing
invitations of grace, the most irresistible attractions of the Holy Spirit, the most
powerful manifestations of Divine love will be afforded. Where has God promised
such manifestations ? Nowhere. But so be it ; what does this prove 7 When the
heart is hardened by a long course of sin, will it not resist the evidence of truths
the best established, and facts the most palpable, even the most powerful miracles
of salvation ? 3. Lastly, impenitent sinners defer their conversion upon the pre-
test that, at the time when they shall see death to be near, love of the world will
disappear from the heart, carnal passions will be extinguished, and the soul will
open itself to the influence of the truths of the Word of Life. But if the
experience of many centuries is not sufi^cient to attest that such a time has not
upon the soul that regenerating power which is supposed ; that, instead of detaching
\iimself from the things of earth, the unregenerated man will strive to attach him-
self more, and to cling more strongly, to measures which may prolong his existence
in this world ; that so far from becoming more susceptible to the beauty of truth
and love, a long course of resistance renders the heart incapable of feeling their
attractions, surely the example of the dying robber will be sufficient to dispel for
ever those fatal delusions. Not only is this robber not touched by the truth, bat
he repels it ; not only does he continue to sleep in the seciurity of sin, but he is
incensed against the Word ; and whilst shame and remorse should have closed hia
lips, he unites with the multitude to insult the Saviour of the world : and to all
his other sins he adds an impudent irony against the Son of God ; he crowns all
his crimes by blasphemy. After that, will you still count, 0 all you who defer your
conversion, on the changes that accompany death, as if they could miraculously
break the chain of your sins, or promote your eternal salvation t Three things
have struck ns in the history of the unconverted robber : first, that death was not
startling; second, that extraordinary succour of grace was not received; third,
that he aggravated his condemnation and hardened himself in circumstances,
which it seems should have ameliorated his state. The conversion of his com-
panion in iniquity presents to ns reflections of quite another nature. And can yoo
doubt, that if in this moment some one had been able to bring down the converted
thief from the cross, had been able to lavish upon him the succours of art,
and, in the end, cicatrize his wotmds: if one could have contrived to arrest
the fever to which he was a prey, to give him the use of his members ; to
restore him to life ; can yon doubt that, such being his feelings, the remainder
of his earthly existence would have been other than a noble demonstration of
the power of the faith and love which lived in his soul? (Dr. Orandpierre.)
The erueified maUfaetors : — I. Let us consider wherein these two sulefaotobs webb
ALIKE. 1. They were alike in respect to depravity of heart. 2. They were alike in
respect to their knowledge of Christ. 3. They were alike in practice — both male-
factors. 4. They were alike in condemnation. II. When they beoam to ditfeb.
Apparently it was when the darkness began. And we can easily believe that such
an unexpected and solemn miracle, on such an awful occasion, did make a deep
impression npon the minds of all the spectators of the crucifixion of the Lord of
filory, and more upon some than others. III. Wherein tbet eventuau.y and
riNALLT differed. Here it may be observed — 1. That one realized the wrath of
God abiding npon him, whilst the other did not. This poor, perishing criminal
was thoronghly awakened from his long and habita»I stopidity, and clearly saw his
flHAF. mn.] ST. LUKE. M7
langerous condition ; which ii nsually the first step to conversion. He might,
however, have seen and felt Bnch danger, and with his eyes open gone to destruc-
tion. But— 2. His awakening was followed with conviction. He not only realized
that he was exposed to everlasting misery, but was convinced, in his conscience,
that he deserved it. 3. He renounced his enmity to God, and became cordially
reconciled to His vindictive justice. 4. Having exercised true love, repentance, and
submission towards God, he exercised a saving faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.
Thus the two malefactors began to differ while hanging on the cross ; and they
continue to differ as long as they lived, and will continue to differ as long
as they exist. What has been said in this discourse may serve to throw
light upon some important subjects which have been supposed to be dark and
difficult to understand. 1. It appears from the conduct of the penitent male-
factor, that the doctrine of unconditional submission is founded in fact. He
really felt and expressed a cordial and unreserved submission to God, when be
expected in a few moments to sink down into the pit of endless deBtruction. 2. It
appears from the views and exercises of the penitent malefactor, that the doctrine
of repentance before faith is founded in fact. 3. It appears from the views and
feelings of the penitent malefactor, that the doctrine of instantaneous regeneration
is founded in fact. 4. It appears from the conduct of God towards the two male-
factors, that He acts as a Sovereign in renewing the hearts of men. 5. The con-
duct of the impenitent malefactor shows that no external means or motives are
sufficient to awaken, convince, or convert any stupid sinner. 6. It appears from
the fate of the impenitent malefactor, that impenitent sinners have no ground to
rely upon the mere mercy of Christ in a dying hour. It is, therefore, presumption
in any sinners to live in the hope of a death-bed repentances. 7. It appears from
the conduct and the condition of the penitent malefactor, that sinners may be
saved at the eleventh or last hour of life, if they reaUy repent and believe in Christ.
(N. Emmom, D.D. ) Lessons from tJie three crosses on Calvary : — I. The wages
OF SIN IS DEATH. 1. Death to the sinner — the death of the body, and afterwards the
death of the soul in hell. 2. Death to the Saviour, who knew no sin, but bears our
iniquities on the cross. 3. Death to the saint ; for though on him the second and
more awful death, the death of the soul, hath no power, yet he cannot escape the
death of the body ; for all saints since Abel have had to pass through the river
Jordan, save two, Enoch and Elijah. God must be just ; and nothing short of
death is sin's just recompense. Oh that you would turn to Him whose •• gift is
eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord ! " II. Another lesson we learn from
this solemn scene is, that the unconvebted grow wobse and wobse. Perhaps the
lost thief was brought up by pious parents ; most likely he was taught to kneel
before God by bis mother, and was led up to the temple, and heard the sweet music
echo among its marble arches, when the worshippers sang God's praises. Often
had he wondered, and perhaps wept, when hearing the history of Joseph, and
Samuel, and Daniel. But, alas ! he was led away by little and little, adding sin to
sin, until sinning became a habit, and habit became confirmed and strengthened, till
he walked openly with the ungodly, stood in the way of sinners, and at last sat
down in the seat of the scomer; and though rebuked, remained hardened, and
went down a doomed man to hell. You cannot indulge one sin without opening the
door for others. The man who begins by walking in the downhill path of sin, goes
on to running, until he falls headlong into hell. HI. Thebb abe noxe too bad to
BB roBGivEN. Art thou a thief 7 As the thief on the cross was saved, so mayest
thon ; take heart, and cry to Jesus. Art thou a blasphemer 7 The blasphemer,
Bunyan, was saved, and so mayest thon ; take heart, and cry to Jesus. Art thou
a harlot ? The harlot, Mary, was saved, and so mayest thou ; take heart, and cry
to Jesns. Art thou a murderer ? There may be some such here ; for God knows
there are not only murders that never saw the light, but " he that hateth his
brother is a murderer." But oh I the murderer David was saved, and so mayest
thou ; take heart, and cry to Jesus. Saul of Tarsus, whose hands were dyed with
the blood of Stephen, was washed with the blood of Jesus. I saw, not long since,
lying on the bed of sickness and death, a poor outcast woman, whose spirit has
since departed. She spoke to this effect to a dear friend of mine : — ** I have been,
not five, not ten, not fifteen, bnt twenty years living in open and loathsome nn ;
but I have found that Christ will oast out none — no, not the most hell-deserring
sinner who cries to Him. And now I am dying ; but I am happy, for " the blood
of Jesns Christ, His Son, oleanseth me from all sin.* And when I am gone let
these words be written on my tombstone — " ' So foolish was L and ignoiaat, I wa«
588 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. Trtn.
as a beast before Thee. Nevertheless I am continually with Thee : Thou hast holden
me by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me with Thy counsel and afterward receive
me to glory.' " Oh, whoever you are, Christ can save you ! IV. Learn, too, from
Calvary, that when a sinner is savbd, it is by faith in Jesus. How can I prove to
you the faith of the penitent thief ? By his wonderful prayer. {H. O. Guinness, B.A.)
Dost not thou fear God 7 — Tfie restraining principle ; — And what is this fear ? This
fear is a solemn dread of the creature in presence of the Creator. Well, then, with
real thought on the Passion, why must we feel, as a prominent principle, a fear ot
God? 1. The Cross, my brothers, witnessed to two things — God's awful and
necessary judgments on human sin. It must be so. God could not be God if it
were otherwise. The atonement is nothing else but the fearful statement of
Divine holiness in relation to sin. Our first clear intimations of Ood, it has been
truly argued, are not conclusions from reasoning on final causes, or evidences from
the harmonies of a material world. No ; they are the voice of conscience, and the
self-evident consistency of the moral law. It is always possible to conceive, so it
has been wisely said, all sorts of changes in the structure of the material world,
and we find no difficulty to the intellect, whatever may be said about the imagina-
tion in the revelation of its final transformation by fire — that unimagined and yet
inevitable catastrophe. Bat one thing is impossible — we cannot conceive right
being otherwise than right, and wrong than wrong; we cannot imagine created
dissonances in the harmony of the moral law, and what is that but saying that
there are eternal necessities in the being of our Creator ? And if so, being good.
His judgment must be severe, must be awful, on persistent sin. We say so in our
saner moments, but how are we to feel the truth of onr saying ? The answer is —
Calvary. 2. But this fear is also a serious apprehension of the dreadfulness of evil
in itself. The Cross showed the intensity of the love of God, and, by the form of
the revelation, was revealed His knowledge of our fearful danger. The genius
of Michael Angelo made the Sibyls splendid on the ceiling of the Sistine from the
magnificence of proportion quite as much as from the softness of colour. Propor-
tion is the secret of lasting charm. It is holy fear that is the principle of proportion
in the relation of the creature — the fallen creature — to his Creator. To see God
in suffering is, by grace, to have a proportionate affection. By it we are restrained,
by it we are awed and solemnized, by it we act as men should in the felt presence
of their Maker, by it we learn, in fact, our proper place. (Canon Knox Little.)
The fear of God gives harmony to life : — As the glow of a solemn sunrise gives to
the tracts of impenetrable vapour a splendour which illumines and transforms,
changing into awful beauty the cloud-folds of the slate-grey morning on the
mountains, which were otherwise but the draperies of a sulking storm, so the
fear of God gives harmony and colour to the more murky cloudlands of the inner
life. It is, it is indeed, to each of us a distinct and necessary element in that solid
and faithful perseverance to which, and to which alone, is promised the reward of
victory. Amidst the mysteries and miseries of this lower life ; amidst its simple
joys, its unspeakable sorrows ; amidst the delirium of ambition, the intoxication
of pleasure, the heart-corroding of daily care, the numbing frosts of encroaching
worldliness, the blinding mists of severe temptations, we may be — if we will to
realize its meaning — we may be arrested by the spectacle of the Passion; and
among its fruitful and tremendous lessons, it teaches restraint of the tempest
of our lower desires, brings us some sense of the vast issues of eternity, and- says
to us in accents which we may hear above the surge of the surf and the breaking
of the bUlows, " Look to your Eepresentative ; contemplate the dignity, the mystery
of His sorrow ; whether high in rank or among (what the world calls) the dregs of
society, whether with great gifts or with few attainments, walk as a creature in
presence of his Creator ; have a care what you are doing ; live as those who live,
but who have to die, or those who now in time must soon feel the pressure of
eternity. Child, child of such an awful, such a splendid sacrifice, fear God !
.{Ibid.) Nothing amiss. — The dying thief s testimony to our Lord: — "Nothing
' amiss " — ^what does that mean, as used here ? Literally, it means " nothing out
of place " — unsuitable, nnbecoming, improper. Does it mean, then, " He has not
been guilty of crimes like ours — of robbery, violence, insurrection, murder " ?
With nothing of that sort was He ever charged ; and none in the city, good or bad,
could be a stranger to the one charge brought against Him ; for the whole country,
as well as the crowded streets of the metropolis, was fall of it. He was dying
nnder the charge of high treason against heaven — of blasphemy — of not only
laying claim to royid honoaxs, bat making Himself equal with God. I take i^
■CHAP. rsm.J ST. LUKE. 689
•therefore, that in saying, •• This Man has done nothing amiss," his words mast mean,
"He has made no false claim: He said, 'I am the Christ,' but in that He did
nothing amiss ; • I am the King of Israel,' but in that He did nothing amiss ; He
called Himself the Son of God, the Light of the world, the Rest of the weary, the
Physician of the sick at heart, but in this He did nothing amiss." Not that 1 for
A moment suppose that this penitent criminal had knowledge enough to say all
this as I have said it ; but I feel confident that he had gleams of it, and that I have
not gone beyond the spirit of his testimony to the innocence of our Lord. Amidst
the buzzings about this new kind of criminal — innocent, by universal consent, of
ail the ordinary crimes, yet charged with a crime never before laid to the charge of
any — some account of the marvellous works ascribed to Him, and of the words
of heavenly grace He was said to have uttered, might easily reach this man's ear ;
and just as the wind bloweth where it hsteth, so that grace which is the Spirit's
breath upon the soul might send what he heard like arrows into a softened breast —
as not seldom it does even still. (D. Brown, D.D.)
Ver. 42. Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom. — The
penitent robber's faith and prayer : — I. His wonderful faith. " When Thou
comest into Thy kingdom." When Charles I. of England, or Maximilian, the
brilliantly brief Mexican emperor, were about to suffer death, suppose such an
expectation had been expressed to them ! It would have been considered a sickly
taunt. Not so this. II. His remarkable request. "Eemember me." "God is
not imrighteous to forget " Christian labour of love, but here was a miserable
«ulprit who had never done Jesus any good turn. Charles II. and Louis Napoleon
rewarded friends of their exile, but how about this request ? What could he
expect to be remembered for ? 1. As a penitent sinner. 2. As one who has trust
in a perfect Saviour. (Cliarles M. Jones.) The dying thief : — I. This narra-
tive PRESENTS FAITH TO US AS CONSISTING IN A FIRM AND TRUSTING PERSUASION
THAT Jesus is the Christ ; that He has power to help ; and that the
HELP He gives is spiritual help. On one side of Christ was a believer, on
the other an unbeliever. Both in their pain pleaded with their more august
and noble fellow-Sufferer. What said the unbeliever ? "If Thoa be the Christ,
Bave Thyself and us." Contrast with this the appeal which faith presents.
It at once addresses Christ as Lord : " L;u;d, remember me when Thoa comest
into Thy kingdom." The unbeliever refused to regard Jesus as the Christ,
except on the condition of a temporal deliverance. Had Christ commanded the
nails to loose their hold, and the cross to fall ; had He healed the wounds and
assuaged the pain ; he might then in his turn bave acknowledged Him as Lord. But
the believer imposes no condition, he asks no proofs ; but with the iron smarting
in his flesh, and the death-pain thrilling through his frame, he finds a voice to caU
his Saviour by His rightful name. Mark, too, the confidence of the penitent in the
power of God to save. You meet with no dubious •' if " ; the prayer he offers
18 simple in its trustfulness. "Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy
kingdom." He saw the triumphal arches decked with bright garlands from the
tree of life, and angels waiting with the regal diadem, for the King of glory to
oome in and take His crown. And mark, too, the spirituality of his faith. He
knew that Christ had the power to save his body from the pangs of death ; yet it
was for no such boon as this he asked. He hankered not after what he wa^
leaving in the past. He thought of that with shame, and shuddered to recall
it. He wanted to forget it in the brightness of a future kingdom, whence sin is
banished, and shame is barred from entering. He felt for his soul. His faith
looked above and beyond ; above, to God's right hand, and to the throne where
angels worshipped, and the spirits of the just bowed down ; and beyond, further
than mortal gaze can soar, further than dwarfish time can reach, into the eternal
ages. n. This narrative teaches cs something of the difficulties or faith. It
bas often to contend both against experience and example. If ever there was a
time when there seemed to be a strong excuse for disbelief, it was at the time that
this dying malefactor displayed bis faith. Speaking humanly, was it likely that
that should be the Christ ? What had the prophets said concerning Him, oentoriea
before His coming? They had toned trumpet and harp and voice to loudest,
sweetest sound to tell of the dignity of His person, and the glor7 of His reign.
They had depicted in vivid hues the splendour of His conquests, and His royal
majesty. And what have we here ? llie convicted malefactor of man's tribunal,
the poppet of man's small authority, belying, as it seemed. His own high pt«t«n-
590 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxnt
eioDs, by the very weakness which He shows, and swallowing, if we may so say, Hia
asseverations of immortality by His obedience to such a death. What 1 thig the
Christ ! This bleeding, groaning, suffering, expiring clay ; is this the royal King,
the heaven-sent Messiah ? Is there any might to save within that pallid arm ? Is
there any light under that glazing eye to scare the king of terrors from hia
prey? These were the thoughts which made the Jews refuse belief, and pour
derision upon Christ. These were the semblances, in spite of which the dying
thief believed, and called his dying Master, "Lord." The conduct of others, as
well as the condition or predicament of Christ, was against his faith. He knew that
Jesus, while hanging on the cross, had heard the taunts of the rulers, the insults of
the soldiery, and the ribald mockery of the common people. As yet, the sack-
clothed veiling of the sun had not abashed them ; the crimson blushing of the
indignant sky had not rebuked them to forbear ; the shuddering earthquake, and
the gathering pall of night had not chid their railing tongues to silence. Amazing
faith 1 Ihis man believed when all others disbelieved. He worshipped when
all the resl were mocking. He adored when all the universe seemed in arms.
III. But the narrative shows us, too, the victories of faith ; and with a olancb
AT THESE WB CLOSE. The faith of the dying thief secured a favourable response
from Christ ; was afterwards verified by facts ; and is now triumphant in heaven.
What, think you, accounts for the difference between these two thieves ? Why was
the heart of one a thief's heart to the last, hard as the millstone, reviling Christ,
and hissing forth his last breath in insult at the Sufferer, while that of the other
softened into a heart of fiesh, and surged with sympathy for the innocence of the
expiring Lord ? Ij was faith in Christ which made the difference ; the faith which
worketh by love, and is the condition of the new creature in Christ Jesus ; this
accounted for the change wrought upon the penitent, and it justified the sinner.
His guilt was removed ; his iniquities were pardoned. The moment that the
Master said, " This day shalt thou be with Me in paradise," that moment he found
peace with God, and felt the " great calm " deep in his soul. What recked he of
the cross, the pain, the wounds ? Here was a victory for his faith. Let yours gain
equal conquests, and it shall lead you to a like inheritance. We spoke just now of
the apparent unreasonableness of this man's faith. Let us here speak a word of
its justification, and therefrom let reason learn to reserve her verdicts and her
judgments till the time be ripe. Had those sage reasoners, who thought the
Saviour dead because His clay was cold, waited but three short days, and then
looked into His tomb, they would have seen the faith of the dying thief
justified in the vacant vault, the empty shroud, and the unknotted bands. {A.
Mursell.) The dying robber saved : — I. Consider the peeviotjs characteB'
OF THIS MAN. 1. He was not a pagan, but a Jew — a believer in the true-
Ood. 2. A believer in future existence and retribution. 3. He had become
a hardened wretch. II. Notice his trite repentance. This is evidenced —
1. In his viewing sin in its relation to God. 2. In his acknowledgment of
his own guilt. 3. In his reproving the conduct of the other robber, and his
anxiety for his welfare. III. His strong faith. He believed — 1. That Christ
had a kingdom. 2. That He would hear requests. 3. That He would grant
blessings. IV. His praveb. 1. Short; but a single sentence. 2. Humble; he-
only asked to be remembered. 3. Beliant. Bemember all my past bad life ; but
remember, too, that I am dying trusting in Thy grace. 4. Earnest. The petition'
of an awakened sinner on the brink of eternity. 5. It included all he needed.
V. Christ's answer. Conclusions : 1. If Christ heard prayer* when passing
through His awful suffering upon the cross, will He not hear now that He is
exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour t 2. The conversion of this man shows how
quickly Christ can save. 3. Salvation is all of grace, and not of works or merit.
4. Christ can not only justify and give us a title to heaven in a short time ; He oan
also quickly sanctify and make us " meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the
saints in light." 5. One robber was taken and the other left. 6. This is the only
case of death-bed conversion recorded in the Bible. {J. L, Campbell.) Marks of
an accepted faith : — I. True faith is belf-condemnatory ; it is bootbd ahD'
eBOUNDBD IN SINCERE BEPBNTANCB. If I merit uot Condemnation, I need no
pardon; and until I discern distinctly and fully that I am guilty, and righteously^
condemned, I cannot feel my need of pardon; and not feeling my need of it, E
cannot desire it. The thief hanging at the Saviour's side did feel his guilt. IL
Bdt his faith was also VNHKsiTATnta, FULL, ooNFmiNO. He sees his guilt; he
feels his peril ; he thinks that be discerns in Jesus evidence of power to help him ;
OHif . xxm.J BT, LUKE. 191
ftnd at once and earnestly his suit is urged, " Lord, remember me." No conditions
are proposed, no terms offered ; he throws his hopes on the mere mercy of Him he
styles Lord. And truly this is the genuine temper of true faith. HL His faith
WAS rBANK AND OPEN. There is a noble ingenuousness in this appeal of the dying
thief that is worthy of all admiration, and of all imitation too. He spake not to
one courted, admired, and applauded, but to one despised, calumniated, condemned,
and hanging beside Him on a cross. There is here discovered a matchless moral
grandeur in this dying thief. IV. His faith was spibituai.; it looked thbouob
AND OYER ALL UBBB OUTWABO CIBCnMSTANCES. Y. ThB OBJECT PETITIONED FOK
HAS BESFECT EXCLUSIVELY TO THB HIOHEB INTBBESTS OF A LIFE BEYOND THB
OBAVE. (IF. T. Hamilton, D.D.) The penitent malefactor: — I. Notice in th©
dying thief the opebations of oenuinb bepentanob. 1. He begins to rebuke
the reviling malefactor. 2. He confesses his sin, and acknowledges the equity
of his sentence. 3. He vindicates the character of Christ, while he unequi-
vocally condemns himself. 4. His repentance is accompanied by faith in
Christ. 6. And earnest prayer to Him. II. View the conduct of cub Lobd
TOWABDS Hiu. 1. Though Christ would ttike no notice of a reviler, nor give
any answer to the language of reproach, yet He would attend to the plea
of mercy; and to the plea of one of the most unworthy, and the least likely to-
obtain it. He would hear the prayer of a perishing sinner whose heart was con-
trite, even in the hour of death. What condescension, and what love! 2. He
answered him without delay. 3. As the petition had implied much, so did the
answer. 4. The promise is pronounced with a solemn asseveration ; ♦• Verily, I say
nnto thee." This bears the form of an oath, and gives the fullest assurance for the
performance of the promise (Heb. vi. 18). Reflections : 1. We may observe, that
there is a great difference between the conduct of this dying malefactor, and that
of many dying penitents who are supposed to be converted. They often speak con-
fidently of their state, and of their going to heaven ; but this poor man did not»^
I though Chiist said so of him. He prayed that he might be saved ; and after what
Christ said, he might believe that he should ; but he himself said not a word of that.
The strong language that was used was Christ's, and not his. 2. There is a request
on Christ's part as well as on ours : He desires to be remembered by us (1 Cor. xi.
24). He does not need it as we do; but love desires it, and wishes to live in the
mind of its objects. {Theological Sketch-hook.) The dying thief: — 1. The triumph
of faith over great difSculties. 2. How Christ honours the exercise of faith. 3.
How the favour of Christ abates the force of earthly trouble. 4. The way to the
kingdom of glory is by a suffering Saviour. 5. Necessity gives life to prayer. (J.
S. Bright.) The penitent thief: — I. The mabvellous petition pbesented by thb
dying penitent. 1. Marvellous, coming from such a petitioner. 2. Marvellous,,
being offered in such circumstances. 3. Marvellous, in the spirit it revealed. 4.
Marvellous, in its substance and purport. II. The yet mobb mabvellous beply of
Chbist. 1. The manner in which it was given excites our wonder ; no delay or
suspense, no conditions or qualifications. 2. When we look into the answer itself,
we are amazed at its fulness, richness, and appropriateness. (1) The place in which
the delightful meeting was to occur : " Paradise." (2) The society of which the
' dying penitent was assured: "With Me." (3) The immediacy of the happiness
promised : " To-day." Suggestions : 1. A blessed prospect is, in this language of
our Divine Lord, opened up before those who are looking forward to death as the
step into life. 2. A suitabh prayer is, in the language of the penitent, suggested to
our hearts. 3. The narrative affords encouragement to those who have long sinned,
but who now sincerely rrpent and earnestly desire salvation. {J. R. Thomson^
M.A.) The saved malefactor: — I. His chabacteb. A malefactor, a criminal
of the basest sort, proba?>ly selected for crucifixion on this very account, to put
greater shame upon Jesuj. Then, none need despair. II. No one has any bight
to pbesume. While this one is taken, the other is left. All do not repent at the
eleventh hour. IH. No man has a bight to expect salvation without givino
EviOENOB OF FAITH AND BitPENTANCB. In the OBSe of the penitent thief, there was —
1. A conviction of sin. 2. Faith in the Son of God. 3. Prayer. 4. Concern for
others. 6. Testimony t<) Jesus. {Canon Fremantle.) The penitent thief: — I.
The example of the penitent thief is adapted to excite, even in obbat offendebs,
A bsliance on the goodness and compassion of God, if they will betubn to Him
AMD to theib duty. Here was a man who had committed a crime for which by hie
own confession he deserved to die. His faith, and the manner in which he showed
it, were doubtless Teiy commendable ; and yet they seem to have been rather too
89S THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. ran.
highly extolled. The behaviour of Christ under His sufferings, and the wonderful
circumstances attending His crucifixion, might easily induce an unprejudiced man
to think that He could be no ordinary person, much less a malefactor ; and these
things, joined to the knowledge which this man, being of the Jewish nation, might
have had before of Christ and of His ministry, might well induce him to acknow-
ledge Him for the Messias. But then it is likewise to be considered that he ran no
risk, as to his worldly concerns, in so doing ; the world could not use him worse ;
and his miseries had placed him beyond earthly fear and hope, beyond the reach
ol malice and cruelty. To his repentance, then, is to be ascribed the gracious recep-
tion which he found ; his repentance was sincere, and God was pleased to accept
the will for the deed. For, since God is no respecter of persons, w^ero the Bam«!
dispositions are found, the same favour will be extended. The consequence thus
far seems to be just. II. The second use of the text, which ought always to be
joined with the first, is to dissuadb men from habitual vice, and a deiay of rkfoe-
MATION, BT SHOWING THEM HOW LITTLE EEASON BUCH OFFENDERS HAVE TO EXPECT THAT
THET SHALL EVER SO QUALIFY THEMSELVES, AS TO BECOMB FIT TO OBTAIN THE FAVOUB
WHICH WAS EXTENDED TO THIS MAN. 1. To abuse and provoke the lenity and long-
suffering of God in this manner, to be wicked because He is good, is monstrously
base and perverse, and shows a very dangerous depravity. 2. Sin, if it be not
resisted, grows daily upon us, and makes the return to righteousness more and more
difficult and improbable ; and he who cannot find in his heart to amend, even whilst
be is a novice in iniquity, will be less disposed to it when time and custom have
hardened him. 3. Sin is of a most infatuating nature, and corrupts not only the
heart, but the understanding ; and who knows where it may end ? 4. As all other
habits can no other way be removed than by introducing contrary habits, which is
the work of patience, resolution, and repeated attempts ; the same must hold true
concerning sinful habits. So that though a change of mind and a purpose of
amendment may be wrought soon and suddenly, yet a change of behaviour, which
is the only sure proof of amendment, requires time and labour ; and it is hard to
conceive how a late repentance can change bad habits, unless we suppose that the
alteration for the better, which is just beginning in this world, may be carried on
and completed in the next. But concerning this the Scriptures are silent ; and who
would risk his soul upon conjectural hopes ? 5. Since sinners have perhaps often
designed and purposed, and resolved, without performing, they will have too much
reason to suspect the sincerity of their own hearts, and to rely but httle on a change
of purpose which present and pressing danger extorts from them. Add to this, that
a sinner may be removed out of this world suddenly and without any warning, or
that many infirmities of body or mind may deprive him in a great measure of his
understanding, and render him incapable of performing any rational act of any
kind, and consequently the act of repenting. 6. The gospel requires from all men
improvement and perseverance. A late repentance, such as it is, at the close of a
bad life, can seldom exert the first of these duties, and never the second. 7. An
intention to do just enough to save ourselves from perdition, and no more, is putting
ourselves in a very dangerous situation. A cold and faint attempt to enter in mast
be attended with the hazard of being shut out. (J. Jortin, D.D.) A tintur't
repentance : — ^The word repentance does not mean simple regret. It is a change of
mind ; an alteration of thought, feeling, and conduct. When a sinner truly repents
he does more than lament the past, dread the future, and ask for mercy. He hates
his sin, not only for the punishment it brings, but for itself. It is no longer in
harmony with his taste. Holiness is no longer his aversion. However sudden may
have been the dying thief's repentance, it was an entire change of heart and cha-
racter, and would have resulted in an entire change of conduct had his life been
prolonged. In proof of this, consider some of the elements of this repentance. I.
There was reverence for God. He said to his companion ♦• Dost thou not fear
God." The absence of this fear is the main characteristic of the ungodly. " There
is no fear of God before their eyes." II. The dying thief indicated contrition for
his former life of sin. " We indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our
deeds." He was suffering the agonies of crucifixion. But the torture did not pro-
voke him to complain of the severity of the sentence. He felt himself to be a
oriminal. He confessed it before his companion and the crowd. We infer from the
entire narrative that he was a sincere penitent. He did honestly lament his wicked-
ness, n was more than regret for the consequences ; it was remorse for the sin.
This is an element in all true repentance. III. In the repentance of the dying thief
there was atpbeciation of qoodnbss. He said of Jesus, " Bat this man hath done
CHAP, xxin.] ST. LVKE. 693
nothing amiss." False penitence, M-hich laments only the discovery, the shame,
the punishment of sin, and not sin itself, may regret the lack of virtues which bring
rewards, bnt dots not really appreciate and admire goodness for its own sake. It
is otherwise with those who "unfeignedly repent." IV. This repentance included
a CONFESSION OF Ghbist. The dying thief testified to all around his admiration of
Christ's character. By what he had h'eard from others, by what he had himself
witnessed, he felt assured that Jesus was innocent. And he did not hesitate to
declare this. A faithful confession of Christ will always follow sincere repentance.
But how much such confession involves I V. Faith was illustriously manifested in
this repentance. The dying thief said, " Lord, remember me when Thou comest in;
Thy kingdom." He called Jesus '• Lord " — as possessing authority, a right to rule..
He ascribed to Him kingship, for he spoke of His kingdom. This was wonderful^
There was no outward indication of lordship, there were no insignia of royalty,
Jesus was a captive, condemned, insulted, crucified ; yet does the dying thief salute
Him as a king I King ? Where are His royal robes ? They have torn from Hira
even His ordinary dress 1 Bling ? Where is His throne ? That cross of shame on
which He hangs ! Yet poor, vanquished, insulted, murdered, the dying thief haa
faith to recognize Him as a king, and able to confer royal gifts ! VI. The repen-
tance of the dying thief manifested itself in peatbb. Where there is true repentance
there will be true prayer. In every case of conversion it may be said, as was said
of Saul of Tarsus, " Behold he prayeth." Such prayer will be humble, believing,
and obedient. And our prayers will not be merely for benefits we are to receive
passively, but for strength and opportunity to serve God actively. We shall regard
. it as the best of all benefits to be numbered with His subjects, to be employed as
His servants, to be remembered in His kingdom. Can repentance, when it iucludeB
such a spirit of prayer, be a trifling change in one who has neglected prayer, dis-
believed its efficacy, disliked its exercise ? VII. The repentance of the dying thief
already began to bring forth the good wokks of zeal for God and charity towards man.
He honoured Christ before the world, and proclaimed the gospel of the kingdom. He
also felt for the sad state of his companion in crime, and sought with his dying breath
to lead him to repentance. However recent his own convictions he must make them
known. He could not let his companion die impenitent without a word of remon-
strance. He could not withhold the discovery he had made of a Saviour who could do
more for them both than take them down from the cross. (Newman Hall, LL.B.)
The penitent robber : — Hike Luke's description of these two men better than any
other. He does not call them thieves: he calls them malefactors — that is, doers of
evil, without specifying the exact form of crime to which they had committed
themselves, and which had brought upon them the agonies of crucifixion. I
am quite willing that one of them should be called a thief : he was small and mean
of mind, and there was nothing in his speech that did not become a very low and
vulgar order of intellectual and moral conception. But the one who is usually
spoken of as the penitent thief proved himself in this last distress to be one of the
greatest men that ever lived in the world. If you analyze his speech you will find
that in philosophy, in audacity of thought, in vndth and penetration of conception,
no greater speech was ever made by human lips, I am, therefore, prepared to
defend this malefactor on the intellectual side, and to redeem him from the debase-
ment of his association with a man of a nutshell mind and of a foal tongue. This
is one of the stories in the Bible that must be true, by the mere force of its
audacity. It never could have entered the mind of a romancist that such a man,
under such circumstances, could have made such a speech. All the disciples are
mean men, intellectually, compared with this dying malefactor. They never dis-
covered, up to the time of the crucifixion, intellectual vigour enough to conceive a
figure like this. They have painted women weU, they have done justly by a thon-
sand beautiful incidents in the life of their great, sweet Lord, but no man like this
have they ever dreamed into being. He was real — he did say these words. They
stand out from all other words so grandly as to be their own best testimony and
vindication. What did this dying malefactor do to prove his intellectual greatness*
He saw the Lord in the victim. What did all the other minds round about him T
What vulgarity always does and must do — ^reviled, derided, scorned the weak, defied
the impotent, crushed the worm. It was like them, worthy of them ; in so doing
they did not debase Christ ; they wrote themselves little men. It is a great thing
for thee, poor coward, to revile a man both of whose hands are nailed, and whose feet
are pierced with iron, and whose temples are bleeding because of the cruel thorn f
Art thou very witty, mighty in mind, very chivalrous and nobly heroio to speak
VOL. m. 88
THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cha». xnn.
derisive words of any man in such circumstances ? Observe how all other men
looked upon Christ just then. All the disciples had forsaken Him, and fled away.
The women were standing in helpless tears, dejected and speechless. All the people
round about, big and little, were mocking and deriding the great Sufferer. One of
the malefactors was saying, "If Thou be the Christ, save Thyself and us." Little
minds have all little scales of proof. If Jesus had come down from the cross and
taken the two thieves with Him, that would have settled everything in the mind ol
the malefactor, but it would have only settled it for the moment. He would have
taken from that wider liberty to repeat his petty felonies. He must be a thief, that
man, and he would have made his calling and election sure. But in the midst of
all this abandonment on the one hand, derision, contempt, and acorn on the other,
an unexpected and unlikely voice says "Lord" to the dying Nazarene, It was a
great thought, it was an audacious utterance. Viewed in relation to the time and
all the convergent circumstances of the case, to have said " Lord " then was to
have seen the sun amid the darkness of midnight, to have penetrated the gloom of
countless generations and ages, and to have seen all the stars in their keenest glitter
of light far away above the dense and lowering gloom. Dost thou see big things in
Ihe dark, my friend, or art thou terrified by thine own shadow ? What mind hast
thou ? A forecasting and prophetic mind, a seeing mind, a prophetic brain ; or art
thou dazed by lights that seem to have no relation and harmony, and confounded
by voices coming from a thousand different quarters at once ? Hast thou shaping
power of mind, a grand power, all but creative, which orders chaos into Cosmos,
which makes the darkness reveal its jewellery of stars ? Where are thou in thia
great religious thinking ? Learn from a strange teacher that Victim and Lord are
compatible terms. Learn that a man may transiently be at the very depth of his
history, that he may come up from that with a completer strength and a fuller
lustre to the height of his power. " He made Himself of no reputation ; He took
upon Him the form of a servant; He became obedient unto death." Dost thou only
know a king when he is upon a throne ? Dost thoa require a great label in red
letters to be put around a man's neck to know just what he is? Dost thou know no
man can be a great man who lives in a little house ? Sayest thou of thy small
vulgarized mind, *• The man who lives amid all these bricks must be a huge man " ?
Dost thou never see a third-class passenger in a first-class carriage ? What sort of
mind hast thou? O that the Lord God of Elijah and EUsha would open thine
eyes, poor servant, to see within the thronging soldier-host a circle of augels, keen
as lightning, terrible as fire, defensive as almightiness 1 This malefactor, a man
who could have played with thrones and nations, did more than see the Lord in
<the victim, and yet it was something exactly on the same line of thought. He saw
life beyond death. Consider where he is : on the cross, bleeding, his life oozing
out of him in red drops; bis breath will presently be gone. Is he throttled,
killed ? — is he a beast thrust through that will baptize the earth with red water, and
exhale and blend with the infinite azure ? He is not conquered : he dies to live.
**Lord," said he, "remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom." " But
yoa are dying." — "No." "You are to be buried." — "No." "It is your last
nonr."— •" No. I cannot die ; if this Man take me in charge, death will be but a
momentary shadow. I will come up into a larger life. This Man breathes
«temity, and creates kingdoms, and sets up empires, and gives away thrones. I
cannot die if He take charge of me." Whoever made so grand a speech in circam-
«tances so unlikely to have suggested such an outcome ? What is your speech ? A
oad farewell — something little better than a whine — the whimper of a subdued
■nature — the tremulous breath of one whose strength is all gone? Or dost thou
languish into life ? Dost thou hear the angels singing, " Sister spirit, come away "?
What is thy faith doing for thee ? Be not shamed by a malefactor. The dying
<inai(;factor spoke up for Christ. Into what strange circumstances we are often
•drawn — our friends gone or dumb, our enemies deriding and mocking, and our
defence spoken by a strange tongue 1 We are better known than we think for ; all
our help comes from unexpected quarters. The true man is not utterly deserted :
some one will arise from a comer unthought of to speak a kind word for him. The
txualef actor said, " This Man hath done nothing amiss." It was a bold thing to
flay : the court had condemned Him, the High Priest had reyiled Him, the senti-
<ment of the times was against Him, the mob had hustled Him to Golgotha; and the
>inalefactor undertook from that high court to reverse the decree, and to pronounce
the Son of Ood to be unworthy of such a death 1 We have our chances of speaking
lor Christ— how do we use. them 7 He is still upon the cross — who speaks for Him?
OHAP. xxiu.] ST. LUKE. 595
I have heard men speak for Christ whose way of doing it I have envied, and who
were the very last men in the world, I thought, who coudd ever have spoken up for
such a Lord. They have spoken with the pathos of gratitude ; they have spoken
with the directness of a burning and earnest conviction, W*«re they ministers in
the usnal sense of the term ? No, but they were ordained prophets of God. We
can be exemplars where we cannot be advocates : we can live a life where we cannot
make a speech : every man amongst us can do something to proclaim, not the inno-
cence only, but the infinite and incorruptible holiness of Jesus Christ. This male-
factor saw the kingdom beyond the cross. Great man — piercing mind — audacious
thinker. Is there a man here of such spirit and temper ? It is not in man ; it is
a revelation of the Holy Ghost. God opens strange mouths to speak His truth.
Just see, then, how our selfishness differs. The Uttle thief said, " Save me, take
me down from the cross," the big thief said, " Never mind the present : let it be a
kingdom when it comes — an ulterior salvation, an ulterior destiny." Selfishness
indeed, bat on a nobler scale. The small mind wanted an immediate benefit ; the
great mind said, " Let us go through this tmmel into the great kingdom, into the
beautiful landscape. When we shoot out of this darkness — Lord, remember me ! "
Perhaps not selfish either. Did not this dying malefactor say more in that inter-
view with Christ than some of us have ever said in our lives ? He defended Him,
he hailed Him Lord, he ascribed to Him a kingdom, he triumphed over death, he
saw the crown above the cross. Christianity invites and encourages vigour of
intellect. (J. Parker, D.D.) The dying thief: — I. We see here an illustration
of THE CBOss m ITS POWER OF DRAWING MEN TO ITSELF. It is strangc to think that,
perhaps, at that moment the only human being that thoroughly believed in Christ
was that dying robber. The disciples are all gone. The most faithful of them are
recreant, denying, fleeing. Brethren, it is just the history of the gospel wherever
it goes. It is its history now, and in this congregation. The gospel is preached
equally to every man. The same message comes to us all, offering us the same
terms. And what is the consequence ? A parting of the whole mass of us, some
on one side and some on the other. As when you take a magnet, and hold it to
an indiscriminate heap of metal filings, it will gather out all the iron, and leave
behind all the rest ! " I, if I be lifted up," said He, " will draw all men unto
Me," The attractive power will go out over the whole race of His brethren ; bat
from some there will be no response. In some hearts there will be no yielding to
the attraction. Some will remain rooted, obstinate, steadfast in their place ; and
to some the lightest word will be mighty enough to stir all the slumbering pulses of
their sin-ridden hearts, and to bring them, broken and penitent, for mercy to His
feet. To the one He is " a savour of life unto life, and to the other a savour of
death unto death." And now, there is another consideration. If we look at this
man, this penitent thief, and contrast him, his previous history, and his present
feelings, with the people that stood around, and rejected aud scoffed, we get some
light as to the sort of thing that unfits men for perceiving and accepting the gospel
when it is offered to them. Why was it that scribes and Pharisees turned away
from Him ? For three reasons. Because of their pride of wisdom. " We are the
men who know all about Moses and the traditions of the elders ; we judge this new
phenomenon not by the question. How does it come to our consciences, and how
does it appeal to our hearts? but we judge it by the question. How does it fit our
rabbinical learning ? They turned away from the cross, and their hatred darkened
into derision, and their menaces ended in a crucifixion, not merely because of a
pride of wisdom, but because of a caajElacent self-righteousness that knew nothing
of the factxii-sia, that never had learned to believe itself to be full of evil, that had
gofso wrapped up in ceremonies as to have lost the life ; that had degraded the
Divine law of God, vidth all its lightning splendours, and awful power, into a matter
of •* mint and anise and cummin." They turned away for a thn;dxfiason. BeUgion
had become to them a mere set of traditional dogmas, to think accurately or to
reason clearly about which was all that was needful. Still it is not sin in its
outward forms that makes the worst impediment between a man and the cross, but
it is sin plus self-righteousness which makes the insurmountable obstacle to all
faith and repentance. And then we see here, too, the elements of which acceptable
faith consists. Mark what it was that he believed and expressed — I am a sinful
man ; all punishment that comes down upon me is richly deserved : This man is
pure and righteous ; " Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom 1 "
That is all — that is all. That is the thing that saves a man. How much He did
know — whether he knew all the depth of what he was saying, when he said.
B96 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxii
" Lord ! " is a question that we cannot answer ; whether he nnderstood what the-
"kingdom" was that he was expecting, is a question that we cannot solve; but
this is clear — the intellectual part of faith may be dark and doubtful, but the moral
and emotional part of it is manifest and plain. "My Saviour 1 My Saviour t He-
is righteous : He has died — He lives ! I will stay no longer ; I will cast myself
upon Him ! " II. This incident reminds us not only of the attractive power of the-
cross, but of the prophetic power of the cross. We have here the ceoss ab pointing
TO AND FORETELLING THE KINGDOM. Pointing out, and foretelling : that is to say, of
course, and only, if we accept the scriptural statement of what these sufferings
were, the Person that endured them, and the meaning of their being endured. But
the only thing I would dwell upon here, is, that when we think of Christ as dying^
for us, we are never to separate it from that other solemn and future coming of
which this poor robber catches a glimpse. The crown of thorns proclaims a
sovereignty founded on sufferings. The sceptre of feeble reed speaks of power
wielded in gentleness. The cross leads to the crown. He who was hfted up to the
cross, was, by that very act, lifted up to be a Euler and Commander to the peoples.
"Herein is our love made perfect, that we may have boldness before Him in th&
day of judgment." *' Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom."
III. Here is the cboss as bevealino and opening the tbue pabadise. " This day
shalt thou be with Me in paradise." It is of more practical worth to note: the-
penitent's vague prayer is answered, and over-answered. Eemember thee 1 thou
shalt be with Me, close to My side. Eemember thee wh£n I come ! this day shalt
thou be with Me. And what a contrast that is — the conscious blessedness rushing
in close upon the heels of the momentary darkness of death. At the one moment
there hangs the thief writhing in mortal agony ; the wild shouts of the fierce mob
at his feet are growing faint upon his ear: the city spread out at his feet, and all the
familiar sights of earth are growing dim to his filmy eye. The soldier's spear
comes, the legs are broken, and in an instant there hangs a relaxed corpse; and the
spirit, the spirit — is where ? Ah ! how far away ; released from all its sin and its
Bore agony, struggling up at once into such strange divine enlargement, a new star
swimming into the firmament of heaven, a new face before the throne of God,
another sinner redeemed from earth I {A. Maclaren, D.D.) The penitent
malefactor : — I. The chabacteb and circumstances op this man. The Evangelists
St. Matthew and St. Mark describe him as a " thief " ; and in the text St. Luke
denominates him a '• malefactor." It may not, therefore, be improper to trace the
progress of iniquity in such persons ; and to show the causes which contribute to-
form their mischievous and wretched characters. By this means inexperienced
persons may be warned against the beginnings of evil, and the guardians of youth
reminded of the responsibilities under which they lie. Among these causes wo
may specify — 1. The "'""^^f ft nnw^ voi;g;r.i^o and moral education. 2. The vio-
lation of the Sabbath is another, fruitful source of eviL 3. The keeping 9^ bad
company, which is another frightful source of evil. 4. Habiis-ei intemperance.
The circumstances of the man who is described in our text were awful indeed. His
end was actually come. Even to the hohest of men death is an affair of awful
moment. It dissolves our earthly frame ; it severs our connection with every person
and object beneath the sun ; it ends our short day of trial ; and it forces us into w
state which eternity will never reverse. The fear and trepidation which naturally
arise, even in a good mind, at the arrival of death, are terribly heightened by that
consciousness of guilt which the malefactor before us must have felt. II. His con-
duct DPON THIS MOMENTOUS OCCASION. 1. He reproved the rashness and impiety of
his impenitent fellow-sufferer. 2. He acknowledged the justice of the sentence
under which he lay. " We indeed," said he, suffer death " justly." It is an ill sign
when persons who are punished for their faults are loud in their complaints of
undue severity. 3. He bore witness to the innocence of Jesus. " This man," said
he, "hath done nothing amiss. ' 4. He made a direct application to Christ for
mercy. Turning his languid eyes to Jesus, he said, " Lord, remember me when
Thou comest into Thy kingdom." III. The answzb which Chbist gbaciouslt
VOUCHSAFED : " Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be
with Me in paradise." 1. This answer secured to the man the requisite preparation
for future glory. If he was to be in paradise that day, he must on that day be
qualified for its joys and employment. That this great work should be instan*
taneously wrought is not at all surprising when we consider its Author. 2. The
Answer of our Lord marks the true nature of man. 3. Our Lord's answer teaches
□s that those who die in Him immediately enter into rest. No longer period of
ORAV. xxni.] ST. LUKE, 597
time elapsea after the believing soul has left the body before its superior happinesa
begins. (J. Jackson.) Folly of trusting to a death-bed repentance : — Do not trust
a death-bed repentance, my brother. I have stood by many a death -bed, and few
indeed have there been where I could have believed that the man was in a condition
physically (to say nothing of anything else) clearly to see and grasp the message ol
the gospel. I know that God's mercy is boundless. I know that a man, going —
swept down that great Niagara — if, before his little skiff tilts over into the awful
rapids, he can make one great bound with all his strength, and reach the solid
ground — I know he may be saved. It is an awful risk to run, A moment's mis-
calculation, and skiff and voyager alike are whelming in the green chaos below, and
come up mangled into nothing, far away down vender upon the white turbulent
foam. " One was saved upon the cross," as the old divines used to tell us,
" that none might despair ; and only one that none might presume." (Ma^laren.)
A wonderful prayer : — What JLthe two greatest believprp ^^°* °^'"' 1^'^°^ mam at
that moment hanging side bv side ! What if the faith of the far greater Believer,
more sorely tried than it had ever been before, was strengthened in that hour of
deepest need by the unshaken faith of the dying criminal beside Him, as He had before
been strengthened, whether in mind, or body, or both, by an angel in the garden 1
What if the faith expressed in that prayer encouraged the Saviour of the world to
believe in Himself and in His Father, by showing that some one else believed in
Him still ! What if the words, " When Thou comest in Thy kingdom," brought
the kingdom as a living reality for a fmoment before His mind, and put life into
His fainting spirit ! Why, then, if this were so, we can understand why such faith
should be given to such a man. He would have an opportunity of manifesting it
as no one else ever had before or since, and by so manifesting it, of rendering to
the Incarnate Son of God perhaps the greatest help that He ever received from
any human being. (S. Minton, M.A.) Great faith manifested: — Oh 1 what
wondrous, yea, miraculous faith ! How much had it to contend against ! 1. Against
the circumstances of the case. Admit that the converted thief had witnessed Jesus'
miracles, and had heretofore conceived high notions of our Lord's divinity and
power ; now when he saw that very Jesus, his Companion in death, nailed to the
cross by his side, surely (humanly speaking), it was enough to stagger his faith,
and lead him to join in the godless taunts of the godless men around him. 2. His
faith had to contend against the voice of the times. For the whole national spirit
was against Jesus, crying, "Away with Him, crucify Him." 3. Example was
against him. All around him are unbelievers ; and we know well how con-
taminating is the society of unbelievers. And, further, his faith leads him to re-
prove sin in others : " Dost thon not fear God, seeing thou art in the same condem-
nation " — even in the very man who in all probability was his accomplice in crime;
for he adds, " We indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds " (Luke
xxiii. 41). Well, I think his faith canmt be accounted for upon any principle
derived from the nature of the case. What would you think of some politician
now-a-days clinging to some favourite scheme of reform, when the spirit of the
age was against him, the voice of his fellow-countrymen, his friends, and his
neighbours pronounced his cherished scheme Utopian and ridiculous 7 The man
would not be able to withstand all ; and very likely he would abandon his project
for ever as he finds himself thus alone in bis views, or gain for himself the no very
enviable appellation of a man of unsound mind. How, then, I ask, can you account
for his unflinching faith ? Oh 1 he was taught by God's Holy Spirit, and that Spirit
supplies with strength in the hour of need, with comfort in trouble and tribulation.
And He only can make us call Jesus "Lord, even the Lord of our salvation."
{F. McGlynn, M.A.) A wonderful request ;— It was a wonderful request. What
a faith did it exhibit 1 He recognized a King in the dying Man, and saw that the
Cross was the high road to His throne ; he felt and proclaimed his own immortality,
and knew himself no destructible thing, though the ministry of death was breaking
down the fleshly tabernacle ; but once assured that he had yet to enter on untried
and unlinn'tpd destinies, he therefore asked to be remembered when all this sin and
suffering should have passed away, and another and a wider range of being should
spread before him. And " remember me." He only asked to be remembered ; but
it was the memory of a King, and that King Messiah, Lord of the invisible world,
in whose chambers he solicited a place ; and thus he evinced a thorough faith in
the saving power of Jesus. What advantage in the being remembered by Jesus,
nnless Jesus could procure for him that pardon which He had been asking for His
nvcifien 7 What advantage the being remembered by a king, except that as king
696 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohai. xxm.
he must have authority to portion out allotments of happiness ? So that it is no
overwrought or exaggerated statement that the dying thief exhibited all the tokens
which can ever be demanded of a genuine conversion. There was confession of
sin, there was spirituality of mind, there was anxiety for others, there was the
fullest recognition of Christ's power to deliver, and there was a mighty faith which,
nothing daunted by all the circumstances of apparent helplessness and defeat, were
sufficient to confound and overcome distance, sprang beyond the hne of death and
shame, and seemed to gaze on the palace and the crown ; and though he had not
an opportunity of showing by an altered life that his heart was renewed, yet hia
faith in Christ was so stupendous an act, that no one can doubt that, had space
been allowed for development, every action would have proved its reality. {H.
Melvillt B.D.) " Lord, remember me ! " — Legh Bichmond, the author of " The
Dairyman's Daughter," in one of his visits to the Young Cottager, found the little
girl asleep, with her finger lying on a Bible, which lay open before her, pointing at
these words, " Lord, remember me, when Thou comest in Thy kingdom 1" "la
this casual, or designed ? thought I. Either way is remarkable. But, in another
moment, I discovered that her finger was indeed an index to the thoughts of her
heart. She half awoke from her dozing state, but not sufficiently bo to perceive
that any person was present, and said in a kind of whisper, ' Lord, remember me —
remember me — remember — remember a poor chUd; Lord, remember me 1 '" Chrut
as Saviour : — The last hoars of Jesus were spent almost in silence. Teaching is at an
end. His prophetic office is fulfilled. EUs priestly work has begun. The time has
come to endure. But in the few words which He did utter He seemed to be aU
Saviour — never before bo affectingly and impressively Saviour. I. Thebb is a
CRUCIFIED MALEFACTOB. Could Jcsus interest Himself in such an one ? Is he not
beneath His notice? Ah! the Saviour can only know man as man. It la
our nature as men, with all its mysterious, dread, and ineffable possibilities, that
Jesus came to redeem. A dying malefactor contrite, is nearer to Jesus than a living
king impenitent and estranged from God. II. The Lord is vert gracious. He
did not breathe a word about that past guilty life. You and I would probably have
recalled to the malefactor his terrible career, and would have felt it our duty to
impress upon him a due sense of that evil state. A Saviour could not do that.
Well, the Lord knew that no one ever turns to God whose heart is not already
bruised and broken. When poor souls go to the Lord, it is not smiting which they
need, but healing. Jesus blotted oat the dreadful past, and unrolled the vision of
the future. Our Lord seemed to say, " Yes, I will remember thee, but thy *sinB
and thine iniquities will I remember no more.' " III. How anxious oub blessed
Satiour was to assdbb the penitent or the mercy which hb coveted 1 " Verily
I say unto thee." It was only in moods of special intensity and on occasions
peculiarly solemn that oar Lord resorted to the asseveration. '• Verily I say unto
thee. How the all-pitying Saviour shone forth in this emphatic expression I IV.
The great Bedeeueb was absorbed to the last moment in the welfare of
others. V. It was right to prat to the Lord Jesus. (H. Batehelor.) To-day
Shalt thou be with Me in paradise. — The mercy of Christ to the penitent thief: —
I. Let us consider the repentance and conversion of the malefactor mentioned
IN this passage. 1. As to the means of his conversion. He was a Jew, and had
probably some general knowledge of the prophecies concerning the Messiah. And
no doubt what he witnessed of our Lord's extraordinary meekness and patience
under His sufferings, and His prayer for His murderers, greatly confirmed his faith
in Him, as the Bedeemer promised to the fathers. This shows us the importance
of maintaining a becoming temper under all the provocations we are called to meet
with, in the respective situations in which we are placed, that if any obey not the Word,
they may, without the Word, be won by our good conversation in Christ. 2. Observe
the evidence he gave of the reality of the change. 3. The prayer which he presents
to our dying Lord. We see in his prayer the exercise of faith in the Bedeemer,
and of hope in His mercy. His genuine humility is also apparent. All he presumes
to ask is to be remembered by Christ. He says nothing about receiving the brightest
crown He has to bestow, or the largest mansion He has at His disposal. 4. The
gracious answer which our Lord made to his urgent request. And was ever answer
so satisfactory, gracious, and consolatory? U. Some of the lessons the con-
version OF the dying thief is INTENDED TO TEACH US. 1. It shows US the sovereignty
and freeness of the Divine mercy. 2. We have here a striking proof of the un-
speakable efficacy of the atoning blood of Christ. 3. It becomes us to admire the
almighty power of Christ, in subduing the hearts of sinners, and bringing the di»-
OTAP. xsai.] ST, LUKE. 59J
obedient to the wisdom of the just. 4. We shall do well to notice the prevalency
of prayer, in the instance before us. For this convinced, praying sinner no sooner
asks than he receives, no sooner seeks than he finds, and no sooner knocks than
the door of mercy is opened unto him, 5. The subject furnishes us with a epeci-
men of the nature of true conversion, in every age. 6. This rich display of grace
is intended to animate us in our endeavours, under the most discouraging ciroum-
Btances, to bring sinners to repentance. {Essex Remembrancer.) Christ's greatest
trophy : — I. Chkist's powee and willingness to save sinners. I believe the
Lord Jesus never gave so complete a proof of His power and will to save as
He did upon this occasion. In the day when He seemed most weak, He showed
that He was a strong deliverer. In the hour when His body was racked with
pain. He showed that He could feel tenderly for others. At the time when
He Himself was dying, He conferred on a sinner eternal life. II. If some are
SAVED IN THE VERT HOUR OF DEATH, OTHERS ARE NOT. There is Warning BS Well
as comfort in these verses, and that is a very solemn warning too. They tell
me loudly, that though some may repent and be converted on their death-beds, it
does not at all follow that all will. A death-bed is not always a saving time. They
tell me loudly that two men may have the same opportunities of getting good for their
souls, may be placed in the same position, see the same things, and hear the same
things — and yet only one of the two shall take advantage of them, repent, believe,
and be saved. They tell me, above all, that repentance and faith are the gifts of
God, and are not in a man's own power ; and that if any one flatters himself he
can repent at his own time, choose his own season, seek the Lord when he pleases,
and, Uke the penitent thief, be saved at the very last — he may find at length he is
greatly deceived. I want you to beware of letting slip good thoughts and godly
convictions, if you have them. Cherish them and nourish them, lest you lose them
for ever. Make the most of them, lest they take to themselves wings and flee away.
Have you an inclination to begin praying ? Put it in practice at once. Have you an
idea of beginning really to serve Christ ? Set about it at once. III. The Spibxt always.
liEADS SAVED SOULS IN ONE WAT. Every saved soul goes through the same experience,
and the leading principles of the penitent thief's religion were just the same as
those of the oldest saint that ever lived. 1. See, then, for one thing, how strong
was the faith of this man. He called Jesus " Lord." He declared his belief that
He would have " a kingdom." 2. See, for another thing, what a right sense of sin the
thief had. He says to his companion, " We receive the due reward of our deeds."
Would you know if you have the Spirit f Then mark my question — Do you feel
your sins? 3. See, for another thing, what brotherly love the thief showed to hia
companion. He tried to stop his railing and blaspheming, and bring him to a
better mind. " Dost not thou fear God," he says, •' seeing thou art in the same con-
demnation ? " There is no surer mark of grace than this 1 Grace shakes a man
oat of his selfishness, and makes him feel for the souls of others. lY . Believers
IN Christ whxn thet die are with the Lord. It was a true saying of a
dying girl, when her mother tried to comfort her by describing what para-
dise would be. " There," she said to the child, " there you will have no
pains, and no sickness; there you will see your brothers and sisters, who have
gone before yon, and will be always happy." "Ah, mother!" was the reply,
but there is one thing better than all, and that is, Christ will be there." V.
The eternal portion of evert man's soul is close to him. " To-day," says
oar Lord to the penitent thief, "to-day shalt thou be with Me in paradise." He
names no distant period ; He does not talk of his entering into a state of happi-
ness as a thing " far away," He speaks of to-day — " this very day in which thou
art hanging on the cross." How near that seems 1 The very moment that believers
die they are in paradise. Their battle is fought ; their strife is over. They have
passed through that gloomy valley we mast one day tread ; they have gone over
that dark river we must one day cross. They have drank that last bitter cup
which sin has mingled for man ; they have reached that place where sorrow and
sighing are no more. Surely we should not wish them back again ! We are warring
still, but they are at peace. We are labouring, but they are at rest. We are
wearing our spiritual armour, but they have for ever put it off. We are still at
sea, but they are safe in harbour. We have tears, but they have joy. (Bithop
EyU.) Conversion of the dying thief: — I. The prominent features of this
stbikino conversion. 1. The former character of this person. 2. The means
whereby the change was accomplished. Conversion is God's work, bat He nsually
employs certain means in effecting it. (1) The words which the Savionr uttered.
600 THE BIBLICAL ILLIISTBATOR. [chap. txni.
(2) The spirit which the Saviour displayed. 3. The evidences he manifested of the
reality of his conversion. (1) He warned and reproved his fellow-sufferer. (2) He
made an open confession of his guilt, and acknowledged the justice of his sentence.
(3) He vindicates the character of Christ. (4) He prays to Christ, and exercises
unbounded confidence in Him. II. What those lessons are which we should
LEABN FBOM THIS WONDERFUL EVENT. 1. Let US admire the riches of Divine grace.
Oh how great, how unexpected, and especially how rapid was the change. 2. How
striking a proof is here afforded of the Saviour's power. What must that energy
he, which, under such circumstances, could snatch this man as a brand from the
burnings. 3. The danger of delay is another lesson we may deduce from this
narrative. Suppose a person had once leaped unhurt from some projecting rock
into the deep precipice below, would that justify others in running the same risk ?
Madness of the maddest kind would it be. {Expository Outlines.) The great
moral miracle of the Cross : — I. The scene of this moral miracle. II. The
CHAEACTERB PROMINENTLT BROUGHT BEFORE US ON CaLVARY. III. ThE PETITION
PRESENTED BY THE DTiNG SINNER. " Lord, remember me, when Thou comest into
yThy kingdom." 1. It is a prayer that is offered up. The first prayer ever offered
X by him. The prayer of this penitent malefactor was sincere. 2. It was the prayer
of faith ; he believed in the power and willingness of the Saviour to bless Him.
3. It recognizes the supreme authority of the Saviour as a King. 4. In this prayer
we see, too, his faith in the doctrine of the immortality of the soul. 6. This prayer
is distinguished by humility. 6. This prayer is distinguished by fervour. IV. The
ANSWER OF THE DiviNE Savioub. This auswer directs our thoughts to the home of
the righteous after death — paradise. In this answer of the Saviour, another great
doctrine is implied — That the soul of man is immaterial ; that it lives and acts
when the frail body lies in the silent tomb. In this answer of the Saviour we are
taught that the righteous soul, in leaving the body, ascends immediately to God.
In this answer of the Saviour, too, we see His power and willingnes to save — to
save " to the uttermost." (H, P. Bowen.) Christ preaching on the cross : —
You are all aware that God's ordinary engine for the conversion of sinners
is the preaching of His Word. We think that it was so here. Lifted on
the cross, Christ used it not only as an altar, but as a pulpit, from which to
deliver the most touching of sermons. It was not merely that He preached
by the beauty of His patience and His meekness ; there must indeed have been a
•voice in this which ought to have spoken to the most hardened of the multitude,
producing conviction of His innocence, and contrition for the share taken in His
condemnation and crucifixion ; but we may consider the prayer which Christ uttered
for His murderers as most strictly the sermon which the malefactor heard, and
xrhich, carried home to his heart by the Spirit of God? wrought in him the change
BO quickly and strikingly developed. " Father, forgive them, for they know not
what they do." These, we think, were the words which penetrated the conscience
of the thief, and assured him that the being who hung at his side was none other
than the promised Saviour of the world ; for there was contained in that prayer a
distinct claim to the being the Christ — for since the Jews crucified Him for pre-
tending to be the Messiah, Christ's saying that they knew not what they did,
•mounted to an assertion that He actually was the Messiah. If there were pardoo
for those who crucified Christ, there must be also for every offender ; and hence the
thief, if once led to believe that Jesus was the Christ, would be further led to cee
forgiveness possible, and thus apply to his fellow-sufferer for salvation. So that in
that short prayer which we have characterized as the sermon of Christ, there was
all the publication of the gospel, which is ordinarily made effectual, by God's
Spirit, to conversion. There was a distinct announcement that every sin may be
pardoned through the intercession of Christ, and what is this but the sum and
substance of the gospel? And this preaching it was which, without indulging in
fanciful supposition, we may believe to have been instrumental to change of heart
in the malefactor. The Spirit of God took the prayer of Christ, as it often does a
■entenee or a text from the mouth of one of His ministers, and, winging it
with power, sent it into the very soul of the man who had just reviled the Eedeemer.
(IT. Melvill, B.D.) The state of the righteous after death .-—I. The souls o»
SAINTS survive tebib BODIES. 1. Scrfpture plainly represents the soul to be
different and distinct from the body. 2. The death of the body has no tendency to
destroy the life of the soul. 3. Death has no more tendency to obstruct the free,
▼oluntary, rational exercise of the soul, than to destroy it. II. The souls of the
•aintfl after deaUi oo nauxniATELT to pabadisx. 1. They are essentially prepared
mAr. xxm.] ST. LUKE. 601
to go there. 2. The Scriptnre gives no account of any other place than heaven or
hell, to which the souls of men go after death. 3. That the Scripture assures n«
that many saints have actually gone to heaven immediately after they left this
vporld. Improvement : 1. This subject teaches the error of those who hold that
the souls of all men are annihilated at death. 2. This subject teaches the error of
those who maintain that the souls of men sleep during the intermediate state be-
tween death and the resurrection. 3. This subject teaches the enormous error of
those who maintain that many of the souls of saints are at their death sent im-
mediately to purgatory, and there confined for a longer or shorter time, before they
are allowed to go to heaven. 4. This subject teaches us the immense value of the
human soul. It is distinct from, and superior to, the body, in all its rational
powers and faculties, and can e>ist in its full vigoar and activity in a state of
separation from the body. It is in its nature immortal, and no other power than
that which gave it existence can destroy it. 5. If the soul survives the body, and
as soon as it leaves it goes into a state of everlasting happiness or misery, then
this life is the most important period in human existence. 6. If the souls of men
survive their bodies, then the office of the ministry is a very serious and responsible
office. It is the peculiar and appropriate business of ministers to watch for sonls.
{N. Emmons, D.D.) Christ's word to the penitent thief: — I. There is a ruToaK
ETEBNAii STATE, INTO WHICH SOULS PASS AT DEATH. This is a principal fouudation-
Btone to the hopes and happiness of souls. And seeing our hopes must needs be aa
their foundation and ground-work is, I shall briefly establish this truth by these
live arguments. 1. The being of a God evinces it. 2. The Scriptures of truth
plainly reveal it. The consciences of all men have resentments of it. 4. The
incarnation and death of Christ is but a vanity without it. 5. The immortality of
human souls plainly discovers it. II. Au. belietebs abb at theib death imiib-
DIATELT BECEIVED INTO A STATE OT OLOBY AND ETEBNAii HAPPINESS. Inference 1.
Are believers immediately with God after their dissolution ? Then how surprisingly
glorious will heaven be to believers 1 Not that they are in it before they think ot
it or are fitted for it ; no, they have spent many thoughts upon it before, and been
long preparing for it ; but the suddenness and greatness of the change is amazing to our
thoughts. Who can tell what sights, what apprehensions, what thoughts, what frames
believing souls have before the bodies they left are removed from the eyes of their dear
surviving friends ? 2. Are believers immediately with God after their dissolution ?
Where, then, shall unbelievers be, and in what state will they find themselves
immediately after death hath closed their eyes ? Ah ! what will the case of them
be that go the other way I To be plucked out of house and body, from among
friends and comforts, and thrust into endless miseries into the dark vault of hell ;
never to see the light of this world any more ; never to see a comfortable sight ;
never to hear a joyful sound ; never to know the meaning of rest, peace, or delight
any more. O what a change is here 1 3. How little cause have they to fear death,
who shall be with God so soon after their death ! III. God may, thouoh He
BELDOU DOES, PBEPABE UBN rOB OLOBY IMMEDIATELY BEFOBB TBEIB DISBOLDTION BY
DEATH. Many, I know, have hardened themselves in ways of sin, by this example of
mercy. But what God did at this time, for this man, cannot be expected to ba
done ordinarily for ns : and the reasons thereof are — Beason 1. Because God bath
vouchsafed us the ordinary and standing means of grace which this sinner had not;
and theiefore we cannot expect such extraordinary and unusual conversions as he
had. 2. Such a conversion as this may not be ordinarily expected by any man,
because such a time as that will never come again. It is possible, if Christ were to
die again, and thou to be crucified with Him, thou mightest receive thy conversion
in such a miraculous and extraordinary way ; but Christ dies no more ; such a day
as that will never come again. 3. Such a conversion as this may not ordinarily
be expected ; for as such a time will never come again, so there wUl never be the
like reason for such a conversion any more, Christ converted him upon the cross,
to give an instance of His Divine power at that time, when it was almost wholly
clouded. 4. None hath reason to expect the like conversion that enjoys the
ordinary means ; because, though in this convert we have a pattern of what free
grace can do, yet as divines pertinently observe, it is a pattern without a promise ;
God hath not added any promise to it that ever He will do so for any other ; and
where we have not a promise to encourage our hope, our hope can signify bat little
to as. Inference 1. Let those that have found mercy in the evening of their life
admire the extraordinary grace that therein hath appeared to them. O that ever
God should accept the bran, when Satan hath had the fiour of thy days I 2. Let
602 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATCR. [chat ran.
this convince and startle such as, even in their grey hairs, remain in an uncon-
verted state. 3. Let this be a call and caution to all young ones to begin with Go(i
betime, and take heed of delays till the last, so as many thousands have done before
them to their eternal ruin. 1. 0 set to the business of religion now, because this
is the moulding age. 2. Now, because this is the freest part of your time. It is in
the morning of your life, as in the morning of the day. If a man have any business
to be done, let him take the morning for it ; for in the after part of the day a hurry
of business comes on, so that you either forget it or want opportunity for it. 3. Now,
because your life is immediately uncertain. 4. Now, because God will not spare
you because you are but young sinners, little sinners, if you die Christless. 5. Now,
because your life will be the more eminently useful and serviceable to God when
you know Him betime, and begin with Him early. 6. Now, because your life will
be the sweeter to you when the morning of it is dedicated to the Lord. (J. Flavel.)
Scriptural mention of paradise : — This is the only occasion dnring the days of His
flesh on which (so far at least as we know) paradise was made mention of by our
Lord. Once, too, He mentions it in His glory (Rev. ii. 7), and once it is on the lips
of His chief apostle (2 Cor. xii. 4). These are the only times that it occurs in the
New Testament. Hanging on the accursed tree, His thoughts may well have
travelled back to another tree, even the tree of life, standing in the paradise of
God : in that paradise, which by all this sore agony He was at this instant winning
back for the children of men — opening for them the gates of another paradise.
(Archbishop Trench.) The Saviour's grace : — I. There is a reference to plaok.
" Thou shaltbe in paradise." The royal garden of an Oriental palace was called a
paradise. The word suggests the ideas of abundance, security, beauty, and delight.
Paradise has been regained by Christ — a better paradise than our first parents ever
knew ; for the sei^pent shall never creep into it, the tempter's trail shall never
pollute it, Satan shall not approach it nor taint its purity by his poisonous breath.
There flows the river of the water of Ufe, issuing clear as crystal from the throne of
God and of the Lamb. There grows the tree which bears twelve manner of fruits,
and whose leaves are for the healing of the nations. No law forbids those who
enter there to pluck and eat. No sword of the cherubim turns every way to debar
access. There the rose is without a thorn. II. The gracious answer of Christ
referred to compant as well as place. " Thou shalt be with Me." The dying thief
might have had doubts as to the meaning of the word " paradise." "Where is it?
What are its occupations and its joys? Who will be my companions ? But, to
prevent all painful perplexity, our Lord, in addition to the promise of paradise,
added that of Himself — "Thou shalt be with Me." To be with Christ is repre-
sented throughout the New Testament as the climax of the believer's hope. Jesus
said, as the greatest reward He could offer — " Where I am, there shall also My
servant be." He consoled His disciples with the assurance, " I will come again,
and take you unto Myself ; that where I am, there ye may be also." He interceded
on their behalf, saying — •• Father, I will that they whom Thou hast given Me be
with Me where I am." Stephen's hope in death was expressed in the prayer —
" Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." St. Paul said he was in a strait betwixt two,
" having a desire to depart, and be with Christ, which is far better." And Jesus
promised this to the dying thief — " Thou shalt be with Me." The promise of being
with Christ includes perfect pardon, perfect purity, and perfect bliss. The father
of the preacher, now, for some years, in the presence of that Sinner's Friend whom
he so loved to publish, used to tell of a soldier he well knew, who, in reward for
character and long services, received from the commander-in-chief a captain's
commission. But he did not feel comfortable in his rank, for he fancied he was
looked down upon by bis new companions on account of his origin. There can be
nothing more vulgar than to treat with dishonour those who have risen to a higher
station. It needs no brains to possess money acquired by one's ancestors, and rank
attained by birth is not necessarily allied to genius, virtue, or achievements. To
affect to despise those who, by rising from a humble origin, prove that they have
merit as well as rank, is a mark of a mean and little mind. We will hope the
soldier was mistaken, for British officers are gentlemen. But he felt uncomfortable,
and asked to be restored to his former position. The commander-in-chief, guessing
the reason, ordered a grand parade at the garrison, then, calling him by his title,
walked up and down with him in familiar conversation. After this he no longer
imagined that he was regarded with disfavour by his new associates. If we may
compare the poor paltry distinctions of earth with those of heaven, this is what
^esns did to the dying thief. He said — "Thou shalt be with Me." I will welcome
CHAP. xxiii.J ST. LUKE. 603
thee at the threshold ; I will learl thee by the hand into the palace ; I will
introduce thee to its glorious inhabitants, the angels and the spirits of just men
made perfect; thou shalt be with Me. III. Our Lord's reply related to time.
" To-day." 1. This proves the continued conscious existence of the Boul after
death. Surely if the dying thief had been about to fall into ft deep sleep for
hundreds or thousands of years the promise of being that day in paradise with
Jesus would have been inappropriate and delusive. 2. We also learn that the soul
of a believer is at death fitted to ba at onsa with Jesus. There must have been
plenary and immediate absolution for the penitent thief. If on that very day with
Jesus, on that very day fit to be with Him, and therefore purified from all sin. (1)
But is it just that a man who has lived in wickedness should, on repentance, be
taken at once to paradise, as though he had never sinned ? This would indeed be
a difficulty were it not that Jesus died for sinners. A crucified Christ solves the
mystery. Because His perfect obedience and atoning death satisfied the claims of
law, those who trust in Him are delivered from the condemnation of that law. " He
was wounded for our transgressions. He was bruised for our iniquities." (2) But
apart from considerations of justice, is it suitable and fit that a man who has all
his life been a wilful transgressor, should, on repentance, go to dwell with Jesus f
Certainly, if he is no longer what he was. Consider. You have a ship about to
sail with a valuable cargo ; but she cannot leave the harbour till the tide turns.
Presently she swings round with the altered current. Now weigh anchor and set
saill If some one were to say " No, not yet, you are too hasty, the tide has only
jast turned," would you not despise the folly of such an objection? And in this
dying thief the stream of his soul, which had been nmning down to death, had
turned and was now flowing up to life, and why should not he take it at the tide and
with it enter heaven 7 3. We learn that earth is very near to heaven. *' How glorious
the hope — there nmy be but a step between me and paradise ! " (1) Let us then
be patient in affliction. Are we repining because of trials, murmuring at some
difficult duty, some painful sacrifice ? What ? when angels and departed friends
may be weaving our chaplet of victory, tuning our golden harp of praise, and
gathering round the threshold to bid us welcome ! Shall we give way to impatience,
when this very day we may be in paradise ? (2) Let this nearness make us stead-
fast in resisting temptation. Shall we give up the fight when on the point of
winning the victory ? Shall we turn back in the journey when round the rock
just before us we may be within sight of home? (Newman Hall, LL.B.)
The extraordinanf penitence of the thief on the cross no argument for delaying
repentance : — I. There is obound of hope for trembling sinners. And We may
learn from this instance these following lessons. 1. They may go long on, and far
on in the way to hell, whom yet God may bring home to Himself. Here is a man,
a thief, whose course brought him to an ill end, to a violent death, and yet grace
reaches him. 2. Grace sometimes catches them that in appearance, and to the
eyes of the world, are farthest from it. 3. Grace makes a vast difference betwixt
those in whom it finds none. 4. While there is life there is hope. (1) Let
those that seek God early be encouraged from this, that they shall find Him (Prov.
viii. 17). (2) Let not those whose day is almost gone, before they have begun
their work, despair. (3) Let us sow beside all waters, in the morning and in the
evening. II. But there is mo orodnd here for the crafty delatino sinneb to
PUT off bepentance, ESPEciATiTiY TILL A DYING HOUB. To Set this matter in a true
light, consider these following things. 1. It is a most rare example. (1) As one
swallow makes not spring, so neither can this one event make a general rule that
you or I may trust to. (2) Are there not eminent instances to the contrary, wherein
men living in their sin have been struck down in a moment, getting no time to
repent of them, but fiery wrath has put an end to their days ? Consider the case
of Nadab and Abihu (Lev. z. 1, 2), of whom it is thought they had erred through
drink (ver. 9) ; Eorah, Dathan, and Abiram (Num. xvi. 31), <&c. ; Ananias and
Sapphira (Acts v.), who died instantly with a lie in their mouth. But why do I
instance in particular persons ? Did not millions die together in their sins, by the
deluge that swept away the old world, the fire and brimstone that burned up
Sodom, Gomorrha, Admah, and Zeboim? (3) The most that this so rare an
example can amount to is a possibility. It is not to so much as a probability or
likehhood. 2. Though there were two thieves on the cross at that time, yet it was
bat one of them that got grace to repent. (1) Is it not possible that thou mayest
die blaspheming if thou do not repent now in time ? (2) It is at least an equal
Tentore, that thoa mayest die impenitent, as that thou mayest die a penitent. (3)
604 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [0Hi». zxui.
It is inconsistent with common sense, to leave that thing to a venture, which may
be made sure, where a hit or a miss is of the utmost concern. (4) Nay, but the
venture is very unequal ; for it is far more likely that delaying thou mayest die
impenitent, than that thou mayest die penitent. Few took part with the good thiel
amongst all the crowd of spectators; the multitude went the other thief's way,
mocking (ver 35). 3. There is no evidence that this thief had before such meana
of grace as you have. 4. This thief was converted, when by the hand of public justice
he was to die. He was cut oS perhaps in the midst of his days ; at least he died
not by the course of nature, nor by any sickness, but was executed for his evil deeds.
5. The conversion of the thief on the cross was an extraordinary manifestation of
our Lord's power, made for special reasons. And therefore though it shows what
the Lord can do ; it does not show what ordinarily He will do. Consider here, to
evince this, that — (1) It was done in such a juncture of time, as the like never waa,
and the like never will be again ; namely, when the Lord of glory, the Saviour of
the world, was actually hanging upon the cross, paying the ransom for the Iwt
elect world (Rom. vi. 9). (2) It was a wonder wrought in a time allotted in a
pat ticular manner beyond all times, for God's working wonders. 6. The penitent
tiiief on the cross was not only sincere, but he glorified Christ more in his late
repentance, than thou art capable to do by thine, nay more than if thou hadst hved
a penitent all thy days. (T. Boston, D.D.) No encouragement to defer repent-
a nee : — A man must be able to show that when stretched on a death-bed, he shall be
in the same moral position as the thief when nailed to the cross. It is clear that
nothing can be more unwarranted than his arguing from the certainty of the thief
repenting, to the likelihood of himself repenting ; and we are confident that you
cannot possibly, when your death-bed draws nigh, stand morally in the same posi-
tion, and hear the gospel for the first time on your death-bed? Yet this in all
probability was the case with the thief. The man who professedly puts oS repen-
tance, must necessarily smother conviction ; he will therefore carry with him to his
dea(±i-bed a seared and a blunted conscience ; be will have refused Christ fifty, or a
hundred, or a thousand times ; he will have grieved the Spirit, and possibly have
quenched it by his obstinate resolve to defer what he had been made to feel essen-
tial ; whereas, in all probability, the thief had never determined to put off repen-
tance ; he had never resisted the Spirit ; he had never heard the gospel ; he had
never rejected Christ. And will any one dare to think, that with all this difference
between himself and the malefactor, he can be warranted in so identifying the cases
as to consider the last hour of life well-fitted for the work of repentance, or to
bolster himself up with the flattering persuasion, that what happened to the dying
thief will happen also to him — that just as Ufe ebbs away tbere shall flow in upon
cue who has despised a thousand warnings and steeled his heart by long despite to
the Spirit of God, all tbat glorious tide of faith and of assurance which rolled into
the soul of a long-lost prodigal, who had never before been invited home, never
heard the wonderful announcement, that those condemned justly at a human
tribunal, might still find acquittal at a Divine, and who still, in this, his last
extremity, having shown an unprecedented failh by giving utterance to the prayer —
" Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom," was sustained by those
giacious words of the Redeemer — '* Verily I say unto thee. To-day shalt thou ht.
with Me in paradise." We are as clear as upon a Scriptural truth, that the only
man who can think of repenting on a death-bed is the man who never stood by a
death-bed. It is want of acquaintance with the frightful power with which bodily
disease assails the strongest mind — it is this only that will lead men to harbour the
idea that such stupendous things as the things of eternity may be fairly grappled
with in a fever or a consumption. We do not say sickness throws a man beyond
the limits within which repentance is possible ; but we do say that in sickness there
is commonly such a prostration of mind — the mind so sympathizes with the body,
or rather is bo swallowed up in it, that the probability is almost as an infinity to a
nnit, that he who has neglected God in health will be unable to seek Him under the
pressure of disease. And frum all this mental overthrow the dying thief was
exempt. Tell me, then, is it quite right to think, that amid the emaciation of your
last sickness you shall have power and collectedness of soul tor this amazing
prayer — " Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom "? And what
right have you to hope that you shall be soothed by the gracious word«, *' To-d&y
. . . paradise " ? (H. Melvill, B.D.)
Yers. 44, 45. There was a dartmess over all tlie earth. — The three houn* dmrh-
CBiP. xxm.J ST. LUKE. 60*
tu$» : — What a call must that mid-day midnight hare been to the careless sons ol
men 1 They knew not that the Son of God was among them ; nor that He was
working out human redemption. The grandest hoar in all history seemed likely to
pass by unheeded, when, suddenly, night hastened from her chambers and usurped
the day. Every one asked his fellow, " What means this darkness ? " Business
stood still: the plough stayed in mid-furrow, and the axe paused uplifted. It was
the middle of the day, when men are busiest ; but they made a general pause.
Around the great death-bed an appropriate quiet was secured. I doubt not that a
shuddering awe came over the masses of the people, and the thoughtful foresaw
terrible things. Those who had stood about the cross, and had dared to insult the
majesty of Jesus, were paralyzed with fear. I. First, let us view this darkness as
A MiBACLB WHICH AMAZES US. 1. It may Seem a trite observation that this dark-
ness was altogether out of the natural course of things. Since the world began was
it not heard that at high noon there should be darkness over all the land. It was
out of the order of nature altogether. Some deny miracles ; and if they also deny
God, I will not at this time deal with them. He may make certain rules for His
actions, and it may be His wisdom to keep to them ; but surely He must reserve to
Himself the liberty to depart from His own laws, or else He has in a measure laid
aside his personal Godhead, deified law, and set it up above Himself. 2. Further,
this miracle was not only out of the order of nature, but it is one which would have
been pronounced impossible. It is not possible that there should be an eclipse of
the sun at the time of the full moon. The moon at the time when she is in her
full is not in a position in which she could possibly oast her shadow upon the
earth. The Passover was at the time of the full moon, and therefore it was not
possible that the sun should then undergo an eclipse. This darkening of the sun
was not strictly an astronomical eclipse ; the darkness was doubtless produced in
Bome other way : yet to those who were present it did seem to be a total eclipse of
the sun — a thin^r impossible. 3. Concerning this miracle, I have also further to
remark that this darkening of the sun surpassed all ordinary and natural eclipses.
It lasted longer than an ordinary eclipse, and it came in a diSerent manner. Ac-
cording to Luke, the darkness all over the land came first, and the sun was
ilarkened afterwards : the darkness did not begin with the sun, but mastered the
Bun. It was unique and supernaturaL 4. Again, this darkness appears to have
been most natural and fitting. Like the earthquake and the rending of the veil of
the temple, it seems a proper attendant of the Lord's passion. U. Secondly, I
desire you to regard this darkness as a veil which concbals. 1. What I see in that
veil is, first of all, that it was a concealment for those guilty enemies. Did yon
ever think of that T It is as if God Himself said, " I cannot bear it. I will not see
this infamy 1 Descend, 0 veil 1 " Down fell the heavy shades. 2. But further,
that darkness was a sacred concealment for the blessed Person of our Divine Lord.
So to speak, the angels found for their King a pavilion of thick clouds, in the which
His Majesty might be sheltered in its hour of misery. It was too much for wicked
eyes to gaze so rudely on that immaculate Person. 8. This darkness also warns
ns, even us who are most reverent. This darkness tells us all that the Passion is a
great mystery, into which we cannot pry. God veiled the cross in darkness, and in
darkness much of its deeper meaning lies ; not because God would not reveal it,
but because we have not capacity enough to discern it all. 4. Once again, this veil
of darkness also pictures to me the way in which the powers of darkness will always
endeavour to conceal the cross of Christ. We fight with darkness when we try to
preach the cross. UL Now we pass on to speak of this darkness as A symbol which
IKSTBDCTS. The veil falls down and conceals ; but at the same time, as an emblem,
it reveals. 1. The darkness is the symbol of the wrath of God which fell on those
who slew His only begotten Son. God was angry, and His frown removed the light
of day. 2. The symbol also tells us what our Lord Jesus Christ endured. The
darkness outside of Him was the figure of the darkness that was within Him. In
Gethsemane a thick darkness fell upon our Lord's Spirit, His day was the light of
His Father's face : that face was hidden and a terrible night gathered around Him.
8. Again, I think I see in that darkness also what it was that Jesus was battUng
with ; for we must never forget that the cross was a battle-field to Him, wherein He
triumphed gloriously. He was fighting then with darkness ; with the powers of
darkness of which Satan is the head; with the darkness of homan ignorance,
depravity and falsehood. lY. I come to my fourth point, and my closing words
will deal with the sympathy wbioh vbophesies. Do you see the sympathy of
nature irith her Lord — the sympathy of the sun in the heavens with the Sua of
e06 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxn^
EighteousneBS? It was not possible for Him by whom all things were made to b«
in darkness, and for nature to remain in the light. 1. The first sympathetic fact I
see is this : all lights are dim when Christ shines not. 2. Next, see the depen-
dence of all creation upon Christ, as evidenced by its darkness when He withdraws.
It was not meet that He who made all worlds should die, and yet all worlds should
go on just as they had done. If He suffers eclipse, they must suffer eclipse too ; if
the Sun of Bighteousness be made to set in blood, the natural sun must keep toacb
with Him. There is no light for any man except in Christ ; and till you believe in
Him thick darkness shall blind you, and you shall stumble in it and perish.
3. Another practical lesson is this : If we are in the dark at this time, if our spirits
are sunk in gloom, let us not despair, for the Lord Christ Himself was there. (<7.
B.. Spurgeon.) The veiled cross : — I. The suggestions of this dabeness. 1.
It indicated tne going out of the world's Light. 2. It represented the ignorance of
the Gentiles, and the malignity of the Jews. 3. It reminds us of the mystery of
the Atonement. H. The effects op the dabknesb upon those who surrounded thb
CROSS. 1. It increased the solemnity of the event. 2. It veiled His agony from thoso'
who were around. 3. It whispered warning to the impenitent. {A. Rowland, LL.B.y
Ver. 45. The veil of the temple was rent — The rent veil : — This miraculous event
was plainly typical of several important things. 1. This was a type of the violent
rending of Christ's body on the cross. 2. This typified our Lord's own entrance into
lieaven. 3. This miracle intimated that, by the death of Christ, the ceremonies of
the law were, at once, explained and abolished. 4. This miracle intimated that the
distinction between Jew and Gentile was at an end. 5. The rending of the veil
typified evangelical freeness of access to the throne of grace. 6. The miraculous
rending of the veil was typical of Christ's having opened up, by His death, an
entrance into heaven for all His followers. {Jas. Foote, M.A.) The rent veil of
the temple : — I. The veil is removed from humanitv. Surrounded by this
ethereal light, how pale and sickly is the lamp of philosophy — how shallow are the
findings of human reason — how contemptible and unintelligible are the mutterings
of infidelity 1 Both for the reach and the grandeur of its discoveries, Christianity
stands alone. Not only is it a mighty advance on all which went before, but it
includes within itself that which will take infinite ages to evolve. II. Nature is
UNVEiiiED. It is a fact of which we ought never to lose sight, that there is no
discrepancy between the readings of Nature and the higher readings of the Chris-
tian Book. Christianity did not come to ignore nature, but rather to unveil her
more hidden life and beauty. Amid those disturbing forces which we everywhere
find to be at work, we are remindsd that the present condition of our world does
not correspond with its original integrity ; that all nature stands in need of a grand
renovation ; that this change must be brought about by the exertion of Divine
power ; and that the present throes of creation will result in some mightier birth.
All nature will be delivered from the bondage of corruption ; and the glorious
liberty of the children of God will be preceded by making all things new. Such
is the light which Christianity sheds over the constitution, design, and final con-
dition of this material world. III. Truth is unveiled. We say not that this
rending of the veil has left no mystery in the great wide field of revelation. Such
a result would have been no positive advantage. Progress in discovery and in
knowledge seems to be involved in the idea of mental existence and activity. Mind
is endued with exhaustless power, and that power must be directed to pursuits and
employments corresponding with the dignity of its nature, and the elevation of the
ground tu which it is raised. For this element of our nature, provision is made in
that fulness of revelation which is reserved for another state of being. Heaven is
a world of everlasting development. IV. The veil is leftsd from the grave.
For the revelation of this immortality we are indebted to the advent and the ministry
of Christ. He brought life and incorruption to light. V. Thk glorious future
IS unveiled. It was like a morning without a dawn on which the Saviour rose
from the dead. His resurrection was not only the triumph of Life over Death, but
it became the pledge and assurance of a glorious immortality. (R. Furguson,
LL.D.)
Ver. 46. Father, Into Thy hands I commend My spirit — That dying believert are
loth warranted, and encouraged, by Christie example, believingly to commend their
tmils into the hande ofOod : — I. Whaz is ihplibd a a belbtxb's ooMUENniNo ob
co&niixTiMO Hn sooit orao tbx haitd or Goo at dkatb ? 1. That the soul out-
•HAP. xxin.] ST. LUKE. 60T
lires the body. 2. That the soal's true rest is in God. 8. The great value-
believers have lor their souls. He thinks but little of his body comparatively. 4
These words imply the deep sense that dying believers have of the great change
that is coming upon them by death ; when all visible and sensible things are
shrinking away from them and faiUng. They feel the world and the best comforts .
in it failing; every creature and creature-comfort failing : For at death we are said to
fail (Luke xvi. 9). Hereupon the soul clasps the closer about its God, cleaves
more close than ever to Him : "Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit." 5.
It implies the atonement of God, and His full reconciliation to believers, by the
blood of the great Sacrifice ; else they durst never commit their souls into His
hands : " For it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God " (Heb.
xii. 29). 6. It implies both the efficacy and excellency of faith, in supporting and
relieving the soul at a time when nothing else is able to do it. IL What wabbant
OB ENCOXJBAOEMBNT BAVB OBACIOUS SOCLS TO COMMIT THEMSELVES, AT DEATH, INTO
THE HANDS OP GoD ? I answer, much every way ; all things encourage and warrant
its 80 doing : for — 1. This God, to whom the believer commits himself at death, is-
its Creator : the Father of its being : He created and inspired it, and so it hatb
relation of a creature to a Creator ; yea, of a creature now in distress, to a faithful
Creator (1 Fet. iv. 19). 2. As the gracious soul is His creature, so it is His redeemed
creature ; one that He hath bought, and jthat with a great price, even with the
precious blood of Jesus Christ (1 Pet. i. 18). This greatly encourages the departing
soul to commit itself into the hands of God ; so you find (Fsa. xxxi. 5). 3. The
gracious soul may confidently and securely commit itself into the hands of God
when it parts with its body at death ; not only because it is His creature. His
redeemed creature, but because it is His renewed creature also. All natural excel-
lency and beauty goes away at death (Job. iv. ult.), but grace ascends with the soul ;
it is a sanctified, when a separate soul ; and can God shut the door of glory upon
such a soul, that by grace is made meet for the inheritance ? Oh, it cannot be ! 4^
As the gracious soul is a renewed soul, so it is also a sealed soul ; God hath sealed
it in this world for that glory, into which it is now to enter at death. Surely, if
God have sealed, He will not refuse you ; if He have given His earnest. He will not
shut you out ; God's earnest is not given in jest. 5. Moreover, every gracious soul
may confidently cast itself into the arms of its God, when it goes hence, with
" Father, into Thy hands I commit my spirit." Forasmuch as every gracious soul
is a Eoul in covenant with God, and God stands obliged, by His covenant and
promise to such, not to cast them out, when they come unto Him. As soon as evec
thou became His, by regeneration, that promise became thine (Heb. xiii. 5). 6.
But this is not all ; the gracious soul sustains many intimate and dear relations to
that God into whose hands it commends itself at death. It is His spouse, and the
consideration of such a day of espousals may well encourage it to cast itself into
the bosom of Christ, its head and husband. It is a member of His body, flesh and
bones (Eph. t. 30). It is His child, and He its everlasting Father (Isa. ix. 6). It
is His friend. "Henceforth," saith Christ, "I call you not servants, but friends " (John
XV. 15). What confidence may these, and all other the dear relations Christi
owns to the renewed soul, beget, in such an hour as this is I 7. The unchangeable-
ness of God's love to His people gives confidence they shall in no wise be cast out.
They know Christ is the same to them at last as He was at first ; the same in the
pangs of death as He was in the comforts of life. Having loved His own which>
were in the world, He loved them to the end (John xiii. 1), He doth not love as the
world loves, only in prosperity ; but they are as dear to Him when their beauty and
strength are gone, as when they were in the greatest flourishing. If we live, we live
to the Lord ; and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or die, we
are the Lord's (Bom. xiv. 8). Deduction 1. Are dying believers, only, waiTantedand
encouraged thus to commend their souls into the hands of God ? What a sad
strait, then, must all dying unbelievers be in about their souls ? Such souls will
fall into the hands of God, but that's their misery, not their privilege. They are
not put by faith into the hands of mercy, but fall by sin into the hands of justice.
2. Will God graciously accept, and faithfully keep what the saints commit to Him>
at death ? How careful then should they be to keep what God commits to them, to
be kept for Him while they live. 3. If believers may safely commit their souls into-
the hands of God, how confidently may they commit all lesser interests, and lower
coucemments into the same hand. 4. Is this the privilege of believers, that they
can commit their souls to God in a dying hour 7 Then how precious, how useful a
grace ia faith to the people of God, both living and dying t 5. Do the soula of dying
m» THE hTBLlCAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xnn.
believers commend themselves into the hands of God ? Then let not the surviving
relatione of such sorrow as men that have no hope (J. Flavel.) The last words
of Christ : — Jesus Christ did not die for Himself, any more than He lived for Him-
self; and He not only " died, the Just for the unjust, to bring us to God," but th»
manner of His dying was a lesson and a pattern for us. That is the Christian way
of dying — the way for all to die ; and who would wish, or could imagine, any fitter
■or happier way ? Who would not, in this sense, say, " Let me die the death of my
Saviour, and let my last end be like His ! " And how it disarms our helplessness
of its terrors 1 " I am powerless," it seems to say, " and therefore I commend to
Thine omnipotence this frail and sensitive soul, which came at first from Thy
creating hand. I do so reverently, but I do so confidently, for I do so as a child
■who calls Thee, ' My Father.' " I have said it expresses dependence — and so it does ;
but in Christ's case, and even in our own, the confidence expressed is more promi-
nent still. In His case there seems a suggestion of the words, •• No man taketh
My life from Me, but I lay it down of Myself " ; " I, as My own act, commend it.
Father, to Thee." We do not possess that power : our souls are " required " of us.
But, more than that, we are accustomed to think of dying as the most terrible
crisis of oar history ; the hour of supreme peril to our souls ; the appalling event
which decides our fate for ever. It is a great mistake. Our dying does not decide
our future fate : it is our living which does that ; the course we have taken, the
choices we have made when opportunities were in our hands, and we used them, or
threw them away 1 And therefore, I say, the peril of living is greater far than any
peril there can be in dying. I commend My spirit into Thy hands to be delivered.
Consider any human spirit now; consider your own. Before it are great possi-
hilities of good and of evil. It must be so. If we can be God's true children, and
live with, and become like our Father, it is terrible to fail of this ; and it ia mora
dreadful still — it is an indescribable degradation — not even to care about it. Since,
then, we are in this case ; capable of being God's children, but hindered and pre-
vented from being so by our evil, there is supreme need for us each to cry, " Father,
hear me, deliver me 1 Into Thy hands I commend my spirit — my sin-stained
spirit. I am Thine. Save me ! " I commend my spirit into Thy hands, to be
made pure. The deliverance and reformation which the Scriptures say that we
require, they describe by the strong expressions •♦ a new birth," *' a new creation."
They say that is needed in order that we may stand " without blame" before God.
Does not our sad experience say the same ? God prescribes it. God promises to
perform it, and on us. (T. M. Herbert, M.A.) Sovl-resignation into the hands of
God : — ^Yea, and it is a very profitable thing for us to do it, hereby we make a virtue
of necessity ; and where can we lodge our souls in safer hands ? If a man cannot
keep a thing himself, but must betrust and deposit it in other hands, will he not do
it in the safest hands that he can find * Now three things there are that are required
to a safe hand : power, wisdom, and love. If I deposit a thing in a man's hand to
keep, he must be able to keep it for me against violence, else his hand is no safe
hand ; though he be able and have power to keep it for me, yet if he be prodigal
and lavish, and not wise, I shall not count hia hand a safe hand to keep my
depositum : but though he be never so wise, yet if he be not my friend, I shall not
betrust him with any great matter : but if a man be able, wise and friendly, then
his hand is a safe hand to keep my depositum. And again if we do not commend,
commit, and resign ourselves and souls into His hands, we must be responsible for
them ourselves. What benefit shall we get thereby? Much every way. This
resignation of our souls and selves unto God is an inlet to many mercies, graces,
and comforts. As for mercies and blessings; what greater blessing can there be in
in this world than to enjoy one's-self ; under God to enjoy one's-self, and to be free
from all things ? As it is an inlet unto many blessings, so it is an inlet unto many
{graces and duties. What grace or duty will ye instance in ? Will ye instance in
prayer T It opens the sluices of prayer ; and, as one speaks well, though you pray
never so long or loud, yet if you do not resign up your soul and will unto God, your
prayer is but nonsense, and a contradiction in re. As it is an inlet unto many
graces, so it is an inlet also unto many comforts ; yea, indeed, unto all our comforts :
for what comfort can a man have in himself or condition, till he hath truly resigned
«nd giTren up himself and soul and will unto God ? but being done, ye may freely go
about your business. If a man have a suit in law, and have left his cause in the
hand of an able, careful friend and lawyer, he is quiet ; much more may we oa
qoiet, when we have left and lodged our case and way and soul with God. Well,
Irat then how is this work to be done that we may truly resign and give ap ooxMlTeii
OUF. xxin.] ST. LVRE. 609
our souls, and our wills unto God ? It is not to be done slightly and overly, but
seriously and solemnly. It is an ordinary thing with men to say, " The will of tha
Lord be done." As this work is not to be done slightly and overly, so neither is it
to be done forcedly and lastly, but freely and firstly. As it is not to be done lastly
and forcedly, so it is not to be done partially, and by halves, but fully and totally.
♦• I am Thine," saith David to God, " Oh, save me " (Psa. cxix. 94). As this resig-
nation must not be done partially, and by halves, so it must not be done con-
ditionally, but absolutely. As this resignation is not to be done conditionally, so it
is not to be done passively, and in a way of submission only, but actively. It ia
one thing for a man to submit unto God's will, and another thing to resign up
himself and will to the will of God. As this resignation is not to be done passively,
so it is not to be done deceitfully and feignedly, but in all plainness and sincerity.
Well, but when is this work to be done ? It is to be done daily. There are some
special times and seasons which do call for this work. I will name five. When a
man doth convert and turn unto God. When a man is called forth unto any great
work, or service, or employment, especially if it be beyond his own strength and
power. When a man is in any great danger, distress, and affliction, then he is to
resign and give up himself and will unto God. And if you would be able to dothia
work of soul-resignation in the day of your death rightly, then use yourself to do it
everyday. That is easily done which is often done. {W. Bridge, M.A.) The
soul given to God : — Be sure that you do not give away your soul from God to any-
thing else whilst you live. If you have given away your soul unto other thing*
whilst you live, it will be a vain thing for you to say Christ's words whea
you come to die. When men come to their death, ye know they do ordinarily make
their wills ; and in the first place they say, I give my soul unto God ; then if they
have lands, or houses, or money, they give them to their wives, children, relations
and friends, according to their pleasure. But suppose, now, that a man shall give
land or house to such or such a child or friend, which he hath sold or given away
before, shall his will stand in force ? Will not all men say, This he could not give
away, for he had sold that or given that before? So in regard of one's soul;
though upon my death I say, As for my soul, I give that to God ; yet if I have sold
away my soul before, for unjust gain, or have given away my soul before unto filthy
pleasures, how can I resign and give that to God when I die ; will not the Lord say.
Nay, this is none of yours to give, this you had sold or given away before ? Oh»
then, be sure of this, that whilst yon live, you do not sell or give away your soul
from God, for then death-bed resignation will be but as the act and deed of a man
that makes his will when he is not compos mentis. {Ibid.)
Vers. 47-49. Certainly this was a righteous aan. — The Cross, the source of com-
punction : — Many reasons have been given to account for that providence of God
which determined that the Cross should be the kind of death that Chnst should
die ; and that He should not end His life by sword or fire, by which the animal
victims in the Old Testament which were types of Him were slain and offered. It
is usual to explain the choice of this mode of death by showing its correspondence
with various types and prophecies. Christ could not have been the antitype of the
brazen serpent which was lifted up; neither could the prophecy — "they pierced
My hands and My feet " have been fulfilled by Him, unless He died by crucifixion.
This reply, however, only removes the inquiry another step off ; to prove that our
Lord's death is the accomplishment of type and prophecy may be useful as an argu-
ment whereby to identify Him as the Messiah, but it can cast no light upon the
events themselves. The revealing beforehand of that which was to come to pass,
was a merciful provision to aid our faith and lead our minds to Christ, but it did
not determine the things which should happen ; any form of death might have been
equally revealed by prophet and lawgiver. Passing by without mention many
mystical expositions, the extreme torture of this kind of death has been assigned a»
a cause for its selection. Some have considered it the most painful death which a
human being could undergo. Moreover, the Cross added to actual pain another,
and an extremely dehcate kind of torment — shame and humiliation. We can con-
ceive another reason why our Lord died by crucifixion, and one with which in the
line of thought we are pursuing we are especially concerned ; Christ willed to die by
a death which was itself a spectacle. They " came together to that sight." The
brazen serpent was lifted up for the express purpose of being looked upon. Christ
ascribes power to the fact of His elevation upon the Cross — " I, if I be hfted np,
wiU draw all men unto Me." His death became an object of attraction, because ii
VOL. m. 89
«10 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxnt,
was an object of eontemplation ; the eye of sense, and the eye of a devout imagina*
tion could gaze upon His crucified form. The text describes the effects produced
apon those persons who were standing before the Cross, when Christ died. Both
the centurion and the people were deeply moved. They were representatives of
different nations ; and they illustrate the impressions which the Cross would make
upon the mind and heart of man ; there must be convictions in the mind concerning
the person of the Sufferer before the heart can be touched with compunction. la
the centurion we see the working of the Cross upon the human mind : in the people,
apon the human heart. Together these represent the Cross as " the source of
compunction." I. The centubion passed through a mental revolution as hb
WATCHED Jesus. St. Mark says the centurion " stood over against Him " — that is —
was in full view of the Cross ; he was able then to see very distinctly the end. He
was probably closer to Christ than any one else, for he was stationed there for the
purpose of watching Him. The power of this sight may be estimated by considering
the man who was impressed by it — his calling, race, and position. He was an
onhkely person to be affected by such a sight. He was not present from any motive
•of curiosity, like many who were in that crowd. He was there on duty. Further,
the centurion was not likely to be convinced through previous instruction ; he did
not come to the Cross with the religious training of the Jew. Another element in
reckoning the power of the Cross upon the mind of the centurion is his position ;
he was the subject of an unprecedented impression. It was not a current of sensa-
tion with which he fell in, but which he seems to have led and inaugurated. Ha
stands out as the first and prominent exponent of the thought and feeling which
the Cross had stirred. Whilst, however, we are trying to form some estimate of the
power of the Cross from the extreme unlikelihood of the person who was affected by
it ; we must on the other hand take notice of certain events which, accompanying
Christ's death, aroused the mind of the centurion. His faith was an intelligent
faith, and not the product of a passing excitement or heated imagination ; it rested
on evidences. We must look to these, or otherwise we shall be in danger of regard-
ing his faith as a sort of unreasoning impulse ; and besides this, the inquiry will
lead to some very solemn thoughts concerning our Lord's death. The loud cry
which Christ uttered when He died, astonished the centurion. When he " saw that
He so cried out, and gave up the ghost, he said, Truly this man was the Son of
God." Faith is the gift of God, but God gives also sensible helps to create disposi-
tions for receiving His gifts. External grace appeals through the senses, whilst
internal grace acts on the mind and will. The man was by this cry aroused either
from indifference or hostility or contempt, and brought into a condition of receptive-
ness of Divine truth. There was another ground of faith connected with this cry,
which also had its share in convincing the centurion. In the text St. Luke says
when he "saw what was done, he glorified God." St. Matthew is more explicit,
and mentions the earthquake as causing fear. Christ was Uke Samson, He mani-
fested His strength more in His death than in His life. II. But besides thb
EFFECT UPON THE CENTUBION, THE CrOSS MANIFESTED ITS POWBB UPON THB CROWD Of
fERSONS WHO HAD GATHERED TOGETHER TO WITNESS THE CRUCIFIXION. They had crfed,
-" Crucify Him, crucify Him ! " when Pilate had brought Him forth. His raiment
dripping with the precious blood ; but death produced a reaction, which pity could
not excite. When the murderer sees death written upon the face of his victim,^ the
passion which had prompted the deed melts into fear and remorse. The people felt
that they had a share in that passion, had been instrumental in causing it ; and
the result was a new sorrow — new, as an experience, yet long ago predicted. Their
sorrow was the fulfilment of the prophecy — " They shall look on Me whom they
have pierced, and they shall mourn for Him " ; it was an epoch in the history of
moral convictions. Their compunction was a result of grace, and not the mere
cooling of vindictive passion. Those people had assembled out of curiosity and
malice ; they had come hither without any dispositions for receiving grace, but the
Cross overcame them. The Spirit of God used that Cross as the instrument of a
•deep conviction of sin ; and they became the first-fruits, the earnest of that which
should afterwards be the normal effect of the Passion. Mourning for sin would
henceforth be excited by the thought — "Jesus, my love, is crucified." Compunc-
tion was a great grace. At the moment when the sin of man had culminated, for
Ood to unlock £Us treasures and begin to bestow them is an astounding evidence of
His quenohlesB love I That those very persons who had rejected Him should tha3
be visited inwardly with a subduing and softening unction from the Holy One is a
ourval of Divine forbearance. Cokclusion : There are three thoughts, whioh ace
CHAP, xxni.] ST. LUKE. 611
of practical importance in enabling us now to experience the power of the Cross aa
a Bource of compunction. 1. Our sins caused the Passion. We did not drive the
nails into His hands or pierce His side, but — ♦' He hath borne our griefs and carried
our sorrows ... He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our
iniquities . . . the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all." He " bare our
sins in His own body on the tree." As the crowd who smote their breasts returned,
they each one felt " I had a part in that." What the outward share in thai Passioa
was to the actual offender, that our sins are in relation to the Cross as a mystery.
2. Again, the Cross was not endured for mankind as for a multitude indiscriminately,
but for each individually. Every human being might truly say, " He loved me, and
gave Himself for mf." 3. Once more — as the constant recurrence to the thoaght of
Christ's omniscience seems to bring the Cross close to us; so to regard His remem-
brance of all that happened on Calvary, now that He is in glory, is another help to
meditation on the Passion. The memory of Christ, uninfluenced by the passage of
time, can look back on every detail of the Passion. He is not capable of forgetful-
ness, who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever ; each event, each sorrow,
«ach pang is treasured up in His memory with a recollection more vivid than the
creature can possess. Though in His glory. He is the same Jesus who suffered ;
and the marks of suffering abide — the sacred wounds, which are the perpetual
memorials of His Passion. As with the eye of the soul we now behold Him and
hold communion with Him, the remembrance of Calvary will pass from Him to us,
and the spirit of compunction cause the heart to mourn over sin. Such thoughts
may help us to gaze upon the Cross with a true sorrow. Whether it be the con-
version of a whole Ufe we need, or the renewal of some part of it, or victory over
some habit of sin, we must place ourselves with the crowd before the Cross and pray
for the manifestation of its power on our own minds and hearts. If there is the
sense of lack of dispositions, the Cross can create them ; only let us continue to
contemplate it. Fire melts ice ; the sun unfolds the flowers ; the Cross can melt
the hardened heart, and draw out from it new graces. (W. H. Hutchings, M.A.)
Ver. 48. Smote their breasts. — The spectatort of the crucifixion smiting their
breasts : — I. Beholdikq Christ on the Cross. Look on the multitude now — see how
they who before had triumphed in His misery, are struck with deep astonishment.
One says, " Surely this was a righteous man." Another says, " This is the Son of God,"
** And all the people who came together to that sight seeing what had passed, smote
their breasts and returned." They came to the execution with eager haste and
bitter zeal. They retired slow, silent, and pensive, with downcast looks and
labouring thoughts. Their smiting their breasts indicated some painful sensa-
tions within. 1. It expressed their conviction of the innocence and divinity
of this wonderful sufferer. Whatever sentiments they had entertained in the
morning, they had now seen enough to extort from them an acknowledgment that
this was a " righteous man " — this was the " Son of God." This character Jesus
had openly assumed ; and with unwavering constancy He maintained it to the last.
(1) Observe His cahnness. Amidst the rudest and most provoking insults, He dis-
covered no malice or resentment toward His enemies ; but all His language and
behaviour was mild and gentle. When He was reviled. He reviled not again ; but
committed Himself to Him who judgeth righteously. (2) See His benevolence. He
attended to the case of His afflicted mother, and commended her to the care of His
beloved disciple. He wrought a miracle to heal an enemy wounded in the attempt
to seize Him. He extended mercy to a malefactor who was suffering by His side.
/3) Consider His humble piety. He maintained His confidence in God ; called Him
His God and His Father ; and into His hands committed His Spirit. Such dis-
tinguished piety, benevolence, and constancy, under trials like His, showed Him to
be a righteous man — to be more than man. And heaven itself bare solemn testi-
mony in His favour. The darkness which overspread the land was evidently super-
natural. 2. Their smiting their breasts was expressive of their compassion for this
innocent and glorious Sufferer. Their rage, which had been wrought up to the highest
Btrain, now began to subside, and give way to the tender feelings of humanity. 3.
This action expressed a deep remorse of conscience. II. Beholding Christ in thk
Holt Coitmunion. To behold this Divine Saviour in the flesh, and to eee Him
expire on the cross, was the lot only of those who Uved in His day. But the
frequent contemplation of His death is a matter of so much importance, that He
was pleased, just before He suffered, to appoint an ordinance for the purpose of
exhibiting His death to our view, and bringing it to our remembrance. Here He ia -
«I2 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxuu
Bet forth crucified before our eyes. Do we turn away from this ordinance ? We
have httle reason to think we should have attended the crucifixion on any higher
motive than mere curiosity. If a real regard to Him would have invited us to follow
Him to the cross, the same regard will invite us to come and see Him at His table.
1. Have any of you entertained indifferent notions of Christ and His religion ?
Come here, and reflect on those characters of divinity which He exhibited. 2. Hera
meditate on the worth of your souls. 3, Here behold the great evil of sin. 4. Here
meditate on the wonderful mercy of God. 5. Look here and behold an instructive
example of patience and resignation. 6. Look to Christ and learn to despise the
world. 7. Look to Christ, and learn meekness and forgiveness. (J. Lathrap, D.D.)
The great sight : — I. The sight. It is the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. You
have often heard of it ; have you thought of it until you could see it ? Have its dif-
ferent incidents been grouped in your mind so as to form a complete picture ? Try
to realize it. II. The lessons of the sight. 1, The first lesson to which we beg
your attention is the antagonism of sin to God. As if to show to the universe the
true nature and tendency of sin in all its forms, all classes of worldlings were grouped
around the Cross ; each had an opportunity of expressing its feelings ; and how
awfully significant and awfully condemnatory was the part which they acted 1 All
classes — the religious world, and the learned world, and the sceptical world, and
the fashionable world, and the money-loving world, ay, and the ordinary working
world — all combined to show the murderous nature and the God-defiant attitude of
sin. 2. But if this sight teaches the antagonism of sin to God, it also teaches us
God's hatred of sin. We cannot account for the Saviour's sufferings if they have
not some connection with the sin of man. Even a heathen could understand, that
if sn innocent being suffers, it must be because of the sins of others. Kajamak, a
chieittain inhabiting the mountains of Greenland, notorious for the robberies and
murders he had perpetrated, came down to where a missionary in his hut was trans-
lating the Gospel of John. His curiosity being excited by the process, he asked to
have it explained ; and when the missionary told him how the marks he was making
were words, and how a book could speak, he wished to hear what it said. The mis-
sionary read to him the narrative of the Saviour's sufferings, when the chief imme-
diately asked, "What has this Man done? Has He robbed anybody — has He
murdered anybody?" " No," replied the missionary, "He has robbed no one, mur-
dered no one ; He has done nothing wrong." " Then why does He suffer ? why
does He die?" "Listen," said the missionary; "this Man has done no wrong, but
Eajarnak has done wrong ; this Man has not robbed any one, but Kajarnak haa
robbed many; this Man has murdered no one, but Eajarnak has murdered —
Kajarnak has murdered his wife, Kajarnak has murdered his brother, Kajarnak
has murdered his child ; this Man suffered that Kajarnak might not suffer ; died
that Kajarnak might not die." "Tell me that again," said the astonished chief-
tain ; and by the repetition of the story the hard-hearted murderer was brought in
contrition and tears to the foot of the Cross. Even so the Bible tells us, " He was
wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities ; He bore our sins in
His own body on the tree." 3. But if this sight teaches such a fearful lesson in
reference to God's hatred of sin, thank God it also teaches that a way has been
prepared by which men may escape from sin's consequences. He who became oar
Sin-bearer did not lay down the load till He had borne our sins away. He did not
cease to suffer until He could say, " It is finished." HI. The feelings which thb
contemplation of the sight is fitted to awaken. 1. The first feeling which
it naturally excites is that of which the bystanders were the subjects, when,
" beholding the things which were done, they smote their breasts, and returned "
— a feeling of shuddering horror at the magnitude of their offence. 2. But the
sight is also fitted to awaken the apprehension of danger. This feeling, in the case
of His murderers, mingled with the horror with which they regarded their crime.
They did not understand the doctrine of the Messiahship sufficiently to know that
even His death might become the ground of their pardon ; and a fearful foreboding
of punishment, as well as an appalling consciousness of guilt, led them to smite
their breasts when they beheld the things that were done. And, no doubt, the
Cross is fitted to awaken this feeling in every sinner to whom it has not imparted
the hope of salvation. For nowhere is the evil desert of sin so strikingly exhibited.
8. But the sight is also fitted to awaken hopeful feelings. Whether any of the
men who smote their breasts were led to cherish the hope of pardon, the narrative
does not say ; but we doubt not that some of them were among the three thousand
who, CD the day of Pentecost, found that the blood which thry had shed was &
CHAP, xxin.1 ST. LUKE. 61*
sufficient atonement for the sin of shedding it, and that the death which they had
been instrumental in effecting was the occasion of their endless life. Even so doe*
the Cross proclaim pardon to you, and by it all who believe are justified from all
things. The same sight which awakens in you an appalling sense of sin, and a
fearful apprehension of punishment, tells you, that though you have done so
wickedly and deserved to endure such suffering, there is pardon in Christ for yon.
Look at it until the peace which it speaks takes possession of your souls — look
until you understand what Christ has done for you — look until your fears are
dispelled — look until the boundless love which it reveals awakens in you the
beginnings of a new and better life — look with the assurance that you cannot look
in vain, for He, whose promise never fails, has said, " Look unto Me, and be ye
saved, all the ends of the earth." {W. Landels.) Mourning at the sight of the
Crucified: — L First, then, let us analize the general motjkning which this text
describes. " All the people that came together to that sight, beholding the things
which were done, smote their breasts, and returned." They all smote their breasts,
but not all from the same cause. Others amongst that great crowd exhibited
emotion based upon more thoughtful reflection. They saw that they had shared in
the murder of an innocent person. No doubt there were a few in the crowd who
emote upon their breasts because they felt, " We have put to death a prophet of
God." In the motley company who all went home smiting on their breasts, let us
hope that there were some who said, " Certainly this was the Son of God," and
mourned to think He should have suffered for their transgressions, and been put
to grief for their iniquities. Those who came to that point were saved. II. We
shall now aek you to join in the lamentation, each man according to his sincerity
of heart, beholding the Cross, and smiting upon his breast. I shall ask you first
to smite your breasts, as you remember that you see in Him your own sins.
Looking again — changing, as it were, our st&nd-point, but still keeping our eye
upon that same, dear crucified One, let us see there the neglected and despised
Bsmedy for our sin. Still keeping you at the cross foot, every believer here may
well smite upon his breast this morning as he thinks of Who it was that smarted so
upon the Cross. Who was it? It was He who loved us or ever the world was made.
III. Eemember that at Calvabt, dolorous notes are not the only suitable
MUSIC. After all, you and I are not in the same condition as the multitude who
had surrounded Calvary ; for at that time our Lord was still dead, but now He is
risen indeed. Look up and thank God that death hath no more dominion over
Him. He ever liveth to make intercession for us, and He shall shortly come with
angelic bands surrounding Him, to judge the quick and dead. The argument for joy
overshadows the reason for sorrow. Lastly, there is one thing for which we ought
always to remember Christ's death with joy, and that is, that although the
crucifixion of Jesus was intended to be a blow at the honour and glory of our God
— though in the death of Christ the world did, so far as it was able, put God Him-
self to death, and so earn for itself that hideous title, " a deicidal world," yet never
did God have such honour and glory as He obtained through the sufferings of
Jesus. Oh, they thought to scorn Him, but they lifted His name on high I {C. H.
Sjmrgeon.) Lesions at Calvary : — 1. See here accumulated evidence of the truth
of Christianity. Think of the fulfilled prophecies already noticed. 2. See here
the true atonement for sin, and receive it by faith. 3. See here, and admire, the
love of the Father, and of the Son to perishing sinners. This display of the
Father's love far surpasses any other which He has given. 4. See here the certainty
and the dreadful nature of the punishment of the obstinately wicked in the other
world. 6. See here your example. What I chiefly refer to at present is His patient
submission to His sufferings. 6. See here the most powerful motives to repentance,
the mortification of sin, and the prosecution of holiness. In the last place, see
here every encouragement to perishing sinners to come to Christ for safety, and to
believers to rejoice more and more in confidence in His merits. (Jos. Foote, M.A.)
Verg. 50-56. A man named Joseph. — Joseph of Arimathea : — 1. We have
here an illustration of the slow process by which some are brought to the full
aknowledgment of the truth. 2. An illustration of how the very extremity of
a cause brings fresh adherents from unexpected quaiters. 3. An illustration
of how the true character, the real spirit and power of a man, may be mani-
fested in a single act. {M. Hutchison.) Joseph of Arimathea : — L He was ▲
oiBoiPLB or Jebus becbetlt. IL Hi was lu> to boldlt and openly acknow-
XtBoaa CBmisi. A great trial brought oat his ch&rscter mor» dearly. Wbea
614 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxm,
most of those who had followed Jesus during His ministry had forsaken TTirn
and fled, then the weak one was made strong. III. Hb was, all this time,
WAiTiNO FOR THE KINGDOM OF GoD. Quletlj preparing himself for full development
of Christian character. And he was blessed in so doing. In His own good time
God revealed Himself to this timid, yet faithful, disciple. (H. G. Hird, B.A.)
LaifL It In a sepulcbre. — Significance of Christ's burial : — The burial of the Lord is
aaiart of the gospel. Thus St. Paul (1 Cor. xv. 4). 1. His burial was an assurance
fnat His resurrection was a reality : for His Body was taken down by friends in th«
presence of foes who knew that He was dead, and deposited by them, not in a
common tomb, but in a cave, hollowed out of a hillside, with a great stone rolled
to block up the entrance, which was guarded by the soldiers of Pilate. 2. His
burial also was the last humiliation offered to Him; for, though Joseph and
Nicodemus and the women who assisted performed it as a work of piety and love,
yet in it He was not the less associated with us, whose bodies must be committed
to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. He was the In-
corruptible, and yet was buried, and they prepared to embalm Him as if He had
been corruptible. In birth from a womb, and in burial in a tomb, He was one with
His sinful brethren. 3. His burial is in a remarkably mysterious way connected
with our baptism. The font represents the grave of the Lord, in which, as having
died with Him, we are mystically and sacramentally buried, and from which we
rise again, endued with new life from Him, as He rose from His grave endued with
new life (Col. ii. 12; Bom. vi. 1-4). {M. F. Sadler.) Our Lord's burial: — It is
strange that so few have preached on the subject of our Kedeemer's burial.
I. Supposing ourselves to be sitting in the garden with our eyes fixed upon the
great stone which formed the door of the tomb, we first of all admire that He had
A GRAVE at all. We wondci how that stone could hide Him who is the brightness
of His Father's glory ; how the Life of all could lie among the dead ; how He who
holds creation in His strong right hand could even for an hour be entombed.
1. Admiring this, we would calnjly reflect, first, upon the testimony of His grave
that He was really dead. Those tender women could not have been mistaken ;
their eyes were too quick to suffer Him to be buried alive, even if any one had
wished to do so. Jesus was a real Man, and truly tasted the bitter pangs of death.
2. The testimony of the grave to Christ's union with us. Before me rises a picture.
I see the cemetery, or sleeping place, of the saints, where each one rests on his lowly
bed. They lie not alone, but like soldiers sleeping round their captain's pavilion,
where He also spent the night, though He is up before them. The sepulchre of Jesus
is the central grave of God's acre ; it is empty now, but His saints lie buried
all around that cave in the rock, gathered in ranks around their dear Bedeemer's
resting-place. Surely it robs the grave of its ancient terror when we think that Jesus
slept in one of the chambers of the great dormitory of the sons of men. 3. Very
much might be said about the tomb in which Jesus lay. (1) It was a new tomb,
wherein no remains had been previously laid, and thus if He came forth from it
there would be no suspicion that another had arisen, nor could it be imagined that
He rose through touching some old prophet's bones, as he did who was laid in
Elisha's grave. As He was bom of a virgin mother, so was He buried in a virgin
tomb, wherein never man had lain. (2) It was a rocky tomb, and therefore nobodj
could dig into it by night, or tunnel through the earth. (3) It was a borrowed
tomb ; so poor was Jesus that He owed a grave to charity ; but that tomb wm
spontaneously offered, so rich was He in the love of hearts which He had won.
That tomb He returned to Joseph, honoured unspeakably by His temporary sojourn
therein. 4. Now, note that our Lord's tomb was in a garden ; for this is typically
the testimony of His grave to the hope of better things. Just a little beyond the
garden wall you would see a little knoll, of grim name and character, the Tybnm
of Jerusalem, Golgotha, the place of a skull, and there stood the Cross. That
rising ground was given up to horror and barrenness ; but around the actual tomb
of our Saviour there grew herbs and plants and flowers. A spiritual garden still
blooms around His tomb ; the wilderness and the solitary place are glad for Him,
and the desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose. He hath made another paradise
for us, and He Himseif is the sweetest flower therein. 5. Sitting over against the
sepulchre, perhaps the best thought of all is that now it is empty, and so bears
testimony to our resurrection. 6. Yet another thought comes to me, " Can I follow
Christ as fully as these two women did ? That is to say, can I still cling to Him
though to sense and reason His cause should seem dead and laid in a rocky
•epukhre? Can I like Joseph and Magdalene be a disciple of a dead Christ? Could
«HAP. XXIV,] ST. LUKE. 615
I follow Him even at His lowest point ? " II. We rejoice in the honours of
Christ's bprlil. 1. Its first effect was the development of timid minds. Joseph
and Nicodemas both illustrate the dreadful truth that it is hard for them that have
riches to enter into the kingdom of God ; but they also show us that when they do
enter they frequently excel. If they come last they remain to the last. If
cowards when others are heroes, they can also be heroes when even apostles are
cowards. Brave are the hearts which stand up for Jesus in Uis burial. I like to
remember that the burial of the Lord displayed the union of loving hearts. The
tomb became the meeting-place of the old disciples and the new, of those who had
long consorted with the Master, and those who had but newly avowed Him.
Magdalene and Mary had been with the Lord for years, and had administered to
Him of their substance ; but Joseph of Arimathea, as far as his pubUc avowal of
Christ is concerned, was, like Nicodemus, a new disciple ; old and new foUowera
united in the deed of love, and laid their Master in the tomb. A common sorrow
and a common love unite us wondrously. III. I must now pass to a third point.
While sitting over against the sepulchre we observe that His enemies were not
AT REST. They had their own way, but they were not content ; they had taken
the Saviour, and with wicked hands they had crucified and slain Him ; but they
were not satisfied. They were the most uneasy people in the world, though they
had gained their point (see Matt, xxvii. 62-66). Christ is dead, but they are afraid
of Him I He is dead, but they cannot shake off the dread that He will vanquish
them yet. They are full of agitation and alarm. Nor was this all ; they were to
be made witnesses for God — to sign certificates of the death and resurrection of His
Anointed. In order that there might be no doubt about the resurrection at all,
there must be a seal, and they must go and set it ; there must be a guard, and they
must see it mustered. The disciples need not trouble about certifying that Jesus is
in the grave, these Jews will do it, and set their own great seal to the evidence.
These proud ones are sent to do drudges' work in Christ's kitchen, to wait upon a
dead Christ, and to protect the Body which they had slain. IV. And now our last
thought is that while these enemies of Christ were in fear and trembling we notb
THAT HiB FOLLOWERS WERE RESTING. It was the Seventh day, and therefore they
ceased from labour. The Marys waited, and Joseph and Nicodemus refrained from
visiting the tomb ; they obediently observed the Sabbath rest. I am not sure that
they had faith enough to feel very happy, but they evidently did expect something,
and anxiously awaited the third day. They had enough of the comfort of hope to
remain quiet on the seventh day. Now, beloved, sitting over against the sepulchre
while Christ lies in it, my first thought about it is, I will rest, for He rests. What
a wonderful stillness there was about our Lord in that rocky grave. The great
Btone shuts out all noise, and the Body is at peace. Well, if He rests, I may. If
for a while the Lord seems to suspend His energies, His servants may cry unto
Him, but they may not fret. He knows best when to sleep and when to wake. Aa
I see the Christ resting in the grave, my next thought is. He has the power to come
forth again. The rest of the Christian lies in believing in Christ ander all circom-
Btances. Once more, it will be well if we can obtain peace by having fellowship
with our Lord in His burial. Die with Him, and be buried with Hun ; there is
nothing like it. I desire for my soul while she lives in the Lord that, as to tha
world and all its wisdom, I may be as a dead man. {C. H. Sturgeon.)
CHAPTER XXIV.
Tsiui. l-IO. Now npcn the first day of the week, very eatly In t&e morning,
they came nnto the Bepnlcbre. — The first Eaater morning : — The realm of nature a
symbol of the realm of grace. 1. The gloomy night. 2. The much-promising
dawn. 8. The breaking day. {Van Oosterzee.) The first pilgrims to the Holy
Sepulchre: — 1. How mournful they go thither. 2. How joyful they return.
UMd.) Easter brightness: — How on Easter morning it began to be bright — 1.
In the garden. 2. In human hearts. 3. Over the cross. 4. For the world. 6.
In ^e realm of the dead. (Ibid.) Easter mxyming ;- ^The first rays of the glory
«t Christ in the dawn of the Easter morning. 1. The stone rolled away. 2. Tha
616 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xxit.
glittering angels. 3. The hastening women. (Amdt.) The open grave : — The
open grave of the Risen One — 1. An arch of His triumph. 2. A bow of peace
denoting heavenly favour and grace. 3. A door of life for the resurrection of our
spirit and our body. (Eofacker.) Easter among the graves: — 1. The stone of
the curse is rolled away therefrom. 2. There dweU angels therein. 3. The dead
are gone out therefrom. {Rautenberg. ) The Easter festival : — A festival of — 1.
The most glorious joy. 2. The most glorious victory. 3. The most glorious
faith. 4. The most glorious hope. (Schmid.) The Lord's Day: — Stations on
the line of your journey are not your journey's end, but each one brings yon
nearer. A haven is not home ; but it is a place of quiet and rest, where the rough
waves are stayed. A garden is a piece of common land, and yet it has ceased to
be common land ; it is an effort to regain paradise. A bud is not a flower, but it
is the promise of a flower. Such are the Lord's Days ; the world's week tempts
you to sell your soul to the flesh and the world. The Lord's Day calls yoo to
remembrance, and begs you rather to sacrifice earth to heaven and time to eternity,
than heaven to earth and eternity to time. The six days not only chain you as
captives of the earth, hut do their best to keep the prison doors shut, that you nmy
forget the way out. The Lord's Day sets before you an open door. Samson has
carried the gates away. The Lord's Day summons you to the threshold of your
house of bondage to look forth into immortality — your immortality. The true
Lord's Day is the eternal life ; but a type of it is given to you on earth, that you may
be refreshed in the body with the anticipation of the great freedom wherewith the
Lord will make you free. (J. Pulsford.) Why seek ye the living among the dead T
— The living not among the dead: — I. The pact announced by the angel ib, as
WB CAN BEE WHEN WE LOOK BACK ON IT, AMONG THE BEST ATTESTED IN HUMAN HIBTOBT.
For forty days the apostles continually saw Jesus Christ risen, touched Him, spoke
with Him, ate and drank with Him as before His death. They staked everything
upon this fact. It was to them a fact of experience. One or two people may be
hallucinated, but not a multitude. A large number of people will not easily be so
swayed by a single interest or a single passion as to believe simultaneously in a
story that has no foundation in fact. II. The fact of the resurrection is the
ground of the bemonstbancb of the angels with the holy women — " Why seek ye
the Uving among the dead 7 " But is this question applicable only to them during
that pause when they felt the shock of the empty tomb? Let us consider. 1.
First of all, then, it would seem that we may literally seek the living among the
dead if we seek Christ in a Christianity, so termed, which denies the resurrection.
If Christ's body never left the grave, if it has somewhere mingled with the dust of
earth, then, however we may be attracted by His moral teaching, we have no
ground for hoping in Him as our Eedeemer : there is nothing to prove that He was
the Son of God in the way He pointed out, or that He has established any new
relation between earth and heaven. 2. But nearly the same thing may happen in
cases where the resurrection is not denied, but, nevertheless, men fail to see what
habits of thought about our Lord it involves. His life is continued on among us ;
only its conditions are changed. " Lo, I am with you alway," &c. "I am He
that liveth, and was dead ; and, behold, I am alive for evermore." To think of
Him as only one of the great teachers of the world, who have come and dis-
appeared, is to lose sight of the significance of His resurrection from the grave ; it
is to rank Him in thought with men whose eminence has not saved them from the
lot of mortality, and whose dust has long since mouldered in the tomb. It is to
lose sight of the line which parts the superhuman from the human. It is to seek the
living among the dead. 3. Yet more literally do we seek the living among the
dead, if without formally rejecting Christianity we give the best of our thought, of
our heart, of our enthusiasm, to systems of thought, or to modes of feeling,
which Jesus Christ has set aside. 4. We may not be tempted in these ways to
seek the living among the dead teachers or dead elements of old or untrustworthy
ways of thinking. But there is a risk of our doing so, certainly not less serious
and very much more common, to which we are all exposed. As you know, our
Lord's resurrection is a moral as well as an intellectual power. While it convinces
OB of the truth of Christianity it creates in us the Christian life. We are risen
with Christ. The moral resurrection of Christians is a fact of experience.
Besnrrection from the grip of bad habits, from the charnel-house of bad passions;
resurrection from the enervation, corruption, and decay of bad thoughts, bad
words, bad deeds, to a new hfe with Christ, to the life of warm and pure affections,
tbe life of a ready and vigoroQB will, of a firm and buoyant hope, of a clear strong
CBAT. zxnr.] 57. LUKE. 617
faith, of a wide and tender charity. But, as a matter of fact, how do we risen
Christians really act ? We fall back, willingly or wilfully, into the very habits we
have renounced. Our repentance is too often like the Lent of Louis the Four-
teenth ; it is a paroxysm, followed, almost as a matter of course, by the relapse of
Easter. To do the great French monarch justice, he did not expect to find Christ's
presence in sin and worldliness, as do they who complain of the intellectual diffi-
culties of faith and prayer, while their lives are disposed of in such a manner, that
it would be wonderful indeed if faith and prayer could escape suffocation in that
chaos o£ everything save the things which suggest God. {Canon Liddon.)
Christ, a quickening Spirit: — 1. Observe how Christ's resurrection harmonizes
with the history of His birth. Others have all been born in sin, •* after Adam's
own hkeness, in his image," and, being born in sin, they are heirs to corruption.
But when the Word of Life was manifested in our flesh, the Holy Ghost displayed
that creative hand by which, in the beginning, Eve was formed; and the Holy
Child, thus conceived by the power of the Highest, was (as the history shows)
immortal even in His mortal nature, clear from all infection of the forbidden fruit,
BO far as to be sinless and incorruptible. Therefore, though He was liable to death,
" it was impossible He should be holden " of it. Death might overpower, but it
could not keep possession ; " it had no dominion over Him." He was, in the words
of the text, "the Living among the dead." And hence His rising from the dead
may be said to have evinced His Divine origin. Such is the connection between
Christ's birth and resurrection ; and more than this might be ventured concerning
His incorrupt nature were it not better to avoid all risk of trespassing upon that
reverence with which we are bound to regard it. Something might be said concern-
ing His personal appearance, which seems to have borne the marks of one who was
not tainted with birth-sin. Men could scarce keep from worshipping Him. When
the Pharisees sent to sieze Him, all the officers, on His merely acknowledging Him-
self to be Him whom they sought, fell backwards from His presence to the ground.
They were scared as brutes are said to be by the voice of man. Thus, being
created in God's image. He was the second Adam : and much more than Adam in
His secret nature, which beamed through His tabernacle of flesh with awful purity
and brightness even in the days of His humiliation. " The first man was of the
earth, earthy ; the second man is the Lord from heaven." 2. And if such was
His visible Majesty, while He yet was subject to temptation, infirmity, and pain,
mnch more abundant was the manifestation of His Godhead when He was risen
from the dead. Then the Divine essence streamed forth (so to say) on every side,
and environed His Manhood as in a cloud of glory. 3. He ascended into heaven,
that He might plead our cause with the Father (Heb. vii. 25). Yet we must not
suppose that in leaving us He closed the gracious economy of His Incarnation, and
withdrew the ministration of His incorruptible Manhood from His work of loving
mercy towards us. " The Holy One of God " was ordained, not only to die for us.
but also to be "the beginning" of a new "creation" unto holiness in our sinful
race ; to refashion soul and body after His own likeness, that they might be
" raised up together, and sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus." Blessed
for ever be His holy name ! before He went away He remembered our necessity, and
completed His work, bequeathing to us a special mode of approaching Him, a
holy mystery, in which we receive (we know not how) the virtue of that heavenly
body, which is the life of all that believe. This is the blessed Sacrament of the
Eucharist, in which " Christ is evidently set forth crucified among us" ; that we,
feasting upon the sacrifice, may be "partakers of the Divine nature." {J. H.
Newman, D.D.) Easter good news : — I. We take the angel's declaeation first
as the grand truth here — "He is risen !" Who is thus risen? Who was dead,
and has thus sprung from the grave to life ? It is Christ Jesus the Lord, who died
for oar sins, is risen for oar justification. The Saviour is no more a sufferer ; His
sacrificial deed is done. 1. How deeply instructive and interesting is the Gospel
history of this great resurrection miracle I Take this great truth away from the
Church, all faith is then vain, all hope destroyed, and the whole majestic building
of Christianity falls and crumbles into ruins for ever. 2. We delight, then, to go
with these godly women to the tomb of Christ, and while, perhaps, we bring too
some humble offering of pure hearts to Him, to find how little it is needed, while
we hear some glad tidings of His power, and rejoice in His risen glory. II. Ths
AHOKU' UPOSTULATION. This may be considered as twofold. 1. As a gentle
reproof for want of faith. With aU their praiseworthy affection for Christ, even
when dead, these devout women, last at the oross, and first at the sepolohre, showed
618 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxit,
great forgetfulness of the Redeemer's words, and their want of faith, as of the
other disciples, appears thus gently reproved. 2. This is a faithful expostulation
to Christians even now. True religion gives gladness, not deep gloom. (J. G.
Angley, M.A.) The Lord is risen indeed : — I. Certain instructive mbmobdes
which gather around the place where Jesus slept " with the rich in His death."
Though He is not there. He assuredly once was there, for " He was crucified, dead,
and buried." 1. He has left in the grave the spices. We will not start back with
horror from the chambers of the dead, for the Lord Himself has traversed them,
and where He goes no terror abides. 2. The Master also left His grave-clothes
behind Him. What if I say He left them to be the hangings of the royal bed-
chamber, wherein His saints fall asleep ? See how He has curtained our last bed I
3. He left in the tomb the napkin that was about His head. Let mourners use it
to wipe away their tears. 4. He left angels behind Him in the grave. Angels are
both the servitors of living saints and the custodians of their dust. 5. What else
did our Well-beloved leave behind Him ? He left an open passage from the tomb,
for the stone was rolled away ; doorless is that house of death. Our Samson has
pulled up the posts and carried away the gates of the grave with all their bars.
The key is taken from the girdle of death, and is held in the hand of the Prince of
Life. As Peter, when he was visited by the angel, found his chains fall from off
him, while iron gates opened to him of their own accord, so shall the saints find
ready escape at the resurrection morning. One thing else I venture to mention as
left by my Lord in His forsaken tomb. I visited some few months ago several of
the large columbaria which are to be found outside the gates of Rome. You enter
a large square building, sunk in the earth, and descend by many steps, and as yoa
descend, you observe on the four sides of the great chamber innumerable little
pigeon-holes, in which are the ashes of tens of thousands of departed persons.
Usually in front of each compartment prepared for the reception of the ashes
stands a lamp. I have seen hundreds, if not thousands, of these lamps, but they
are all unlit, and indeed do not appear ever to have carried light ; they shed no ray
upon the darkness of death. But now our Lord has gone into the tomb and
illuminated it with His presence, " the lamp of His love is our guide through the
gloom." Jesus has brought life and immortality to light by the gospel; and now
in the dove-cotes, where Christians nestle, there is light ; yea, in every cemetery
there is a light which shall burn through the watches of earth's night till the day
break and the shadows flee away, and the resurrection mom shall dawn. So then
the empty tomb of the Saviour leaves as many sweet reflections, which we will
treasure up for our instruction. IL Our text expressly speaks of vain seaboheb —
" Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen." There
are places where seekers after Jesus should not expect to find Him, however
dihgent may be their search, however sincere their desire. You cannot find a man
where he is not, and there are some spots where Christ never will be discovered.
1. In the grave of ceremonialism. 2. Ajnong the tombs of moral reformation. 3.
In the law. 4. In human nature. 6. In philosophy. III. We will again change
our strain and consider, in the third place, unsuitablb abodes. The angels said
to the women, " He is not here, but is risen." As much as to say — since He is
alive He does not abide here. Ye are risen in Christ, ye ought not to dwell in the
grave. I shall now speak to those who, to all intents and purposes, live in the
sepulchre, though they are risen from the dead. 1. Some of these are excellent
people, but their temperament, and perhaps their mistaken convictions of duty,
lead them to be perpetually gloomy and desponding. 2. Another sort of people
seem to dwell among the tombs : I mean Christians — and I trust real Christians —
who are very, very worldly. 8. Once more on this point, a subject more grievous
still, there are some professors who live in the dead-house of sin. Yet they
say that they are Christ's people. Nay, I will not say they live in it, bat
they do what, perhaps, is worse — they go to sin to find their pleasures. IV.
I want to warn you against cnbeasonablb sebvices. Those good people to
vhom the angels said, " He is not here, but is risen," were bearing a load,
and what were they carrying ? What is Joanna carrying, and her servants,
and Mary, what are they carrying ? Why, white linen, and what else ? Pounds
of spices, the most precious they could buy. What are they going to do ? Ah,
if an angel could laugh, I should think he must have smiled as he found they
•were coming to embalm Christ, " Why, He is not here ; and, what is more. He is
not dead. He does not want any embalming, He is alive." In other ways a great
many fussy people do the same thing. See how they come forward in defence of
CHAP. XXIV.] ST. LUKE. 6M
the gospel. It has been discovered by geology and by arithmetic that Moses was
wrong. Straightway many go out to defend Jesus Christ. They argue for the
gospel, and apologize for it, as if it were now a little out of date, and we must try
to bring it round to suit modern discoveries and the philosophies of the present
period. That seems to me exactly like coming up with your linen and precious
epices to wrap Him in. Take them away. V. The amazing news which these
good women received — "He is not here, but He is risen." This was amazing
news to His enemies. They said, "We have killed Him — we have put Him in
the tomb ; it is all over with Him." A-ha 1 Scribe, Pharisee, priest, what
have you done ? Your work is all undone, for He is risen ! It was amazing
news for Satan. He no doubt dreamed that he had destroyed the Saviour,
but He is risen ! What a thrill went through all the regions of hell 1 What
Bews it was for the grave ! Now was it utterly destroyed, and death had
lost his sting I What news it was for trembling saints. "He is risen indeed."
They plucked up courage, and they said, " The good cause is the right one still,
and it will conquer, for our Christ is still alive at its head. It was good
news for sinners. Ay, it is good news for every sinner here. Christ is alive ;
if you seek Him He will be found of you. He is not a dead Christ to whom I
point you to-day. He is risen ; and He is able to save to the uttermost them
that come unto God by Him. (C. H. Spurgeon.) The resurrection of Christ: —
Let as consider, first, the evidences, and, sacond, the purposes of the second
life of Jesus — the life after the crucifixion. I. As to the evidences of Chbist'b
BESUKRECTION, THERE ARE BOTH EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL LINES OP PROOF WHICH
OrARD THIS GREAT AND SUBLIME DOCTRINE OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH. 1. JeSUS
Christ actually died. A million and a half of awe-stricken witnesses saw Him die.
2. The second fact in the series of proofs is that Christ was buried. Interment
is not often granted to crucified criminals. But Providence overruled the sordidness
of the cautious scribes and priests, in order to multiply the witnesses to the
resurrection. 3. The next fact is that the sepulchre somehow or other was emptied
on the third day. How came the sepulchre to be emptied ? There are only two
theories. The rulers said the body was stolen out of it. The disciples said the
body had risen from it. It is manifest that the enemies would not steal the body of
Christ, and how improbable it is that His disciples should have done it. How could
it have been done by twelve men against sixty, when Jerusalem was filled with an
excited crowd, when the moon shone clearly in a cloudless oriental sky ? No ; it
cannot be believed, and we are driven back therefore to the theory that He actually
rose. 4. The internal evidence is equally convincing. Consider the existence and
the spread of persecution for the testimony as to the resurrection of Christ. II,
Consider the practical purposes which the resurrection is intended to work
OUT IN oxncsELVES. 1. It is a manifestation, a vindication of ancient prophecy and
of the personal character of the Messiah as well. 2. It is a seal of the acceptance
of the sacrifice of Jesns, and by consequence of infinite moment to confirm the hopes
of the world. 3. It is an earnest of our own rising, a pledge of immortality for the
race for which the Second Adam died. 4. Look at the resurrection as an encou-
ragement. There is a great error, brethren, in Christendom just now, and that is
that we believe in a dead Christ. He is not dead. He is living — living to listen to
your prayers, living to forgive your sins. (W. M. Pumhon, D.D.) The living
Chritt : — I. A surprising fact. Jesus among the dead ! 1. The Saviour's perfect
humanity. 2. The Saviour's perfect identity with the cause of man. II. A uork
suBPBisDio FACT. Jesus no longer among the dead 1 1. His mission to the tomb
was accomplished. 2. His vision of immortality was realized. 8. The tme object
of faith was secured. {Th£ Weekly Pulpit.) An Easter sermon: — I. The signi-
ficance or THE RESURRECTION. 1. If Jesus really died and then rose from the dead,
materialism is completely overthrown. 2. Pantheism receives its death-blow with
the establishment of Christ's resurrection. 8. All far-reaching scepticism is
nndermined. IE. The fact of the resurrection. Conclusion : 1. We should live
less in tombs. The grave is not half as large as we think. No life is baried there.
Everything Christ-like is risen. Let life, not death, be oar companion. 2. We
must trust Christ implicitly. The living way has been set before as. He who is
the life of the world has lighted its highway from the cradle, not to, but through
the tomb. (D. O. Clark.) I. The living dead: — The dead are the Lrvnia
Language, which if more accustomed and adapted to express the appearances
than the realities of things, leads ns astray very much when we use the phrase
** the dead " M if it expressed the continoance of the condition into which
820 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. xxrr.
men pass in the act of dissolution. It misleads us no less, when we nse it
as if it expressed in itself the whole truth even as to that act of dissolution,
"The dead" and "the living" are not names of two classes which exclude
each other. Much rather, there are none who are dead. Oh, how solemnly
sometimes that thought comes up before us, that all those past generations which
have stormed across this earth of ours, and then have fallen into still forgetfulness,
live yet. Somewhere at this very instant, they now verily are 1 We say, they were,
they have been. There are no have beens ! Life is hfe for ever. To be is eternal
being. Every man that has died is at this instant in the full possession of all his
faculties, in the intensest exercise of all his capacities, standing somewhere in God's
great universe, ringed with the sense of God's presence, and feeling in every fibre of
his being that life, which comes after death, is not less real, but more real ; not leea
great, but more great ; not less full or intense, but more full and intense, than the
mingled life which, lived here on earth, was a centre of life surrounded with a crust
and circumference of mortality. The dead are the living. They lived whilst they
died ; and after they die, they live on for ever. And so we can look upon that
ending of life, and say, " it is a very small thing ; it only cuts off the fringes of my
life, it does not touch me at all." It only plays round about the husk, and does
not get at the core. It only strips off the circumferential mortality, but the soul
rises up untouched by it, and shakes the bands of death from off its immortal arms,
and flutters the stain of death from off its budding wings, and rises fuller of Ufa
because of death, and mightier in its vitality in the very act of submitting the body
to the law, " Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." Touching but a part
of the being, and touching that but for a moment, death is no state, it is an act. It
is not a condition, it is a transition. Men speak about life as " a narrow neck of
land, betwixt two unbounded seas " : they had better speak about death as that. It
is an isthmus, narrow and almost impalpable, on which, for one brief instant, the
soul poises itself ; whilst behind it there lies the inland lake of past being, and
before it the shoreless ocean of future life, all lighted with the glory of God, and
making music as it breaks even npon these dark, rough rocks. Death is but a
passage. It is not a house, it is only a vestibule. The grave has a door on its
inner side. God has taken our dead to Himself, and we ought not to think (if
we would think as the Bible speaks) of death as being anything else than the
transitory thing which breaks down the brazen walls and lets us into liberty. II.
Since they have died, they live a betteb life than odrs. In what particulars is
their life now higher than it was ? First, they have close fellowship with Christ ;
then, they are separated from this present body of weakness, of dishonour, of
corruption ; then, they are withdrawn from all the trouble, and toil, and care of this
present life ; and then, and not least, surely, they have death behind them, not
having that awful figure standing on their horizon waiting for them to come up
with it I These are some of the elements of life of the sainted dead. What a
wondrous advance on the life of earth they reveal if we think of them 1 They who
have died in Christ live a fuller and a nobler life, by the very dropping away of the
body ; a fuller and a nobler life by the very cessation of care, change, strife and
struggle ; and, above all, a fuller and nobler life, because they " sleep in Jesus,"
and are gathered into His bosom, and wake with Him yonder beneath the altar,
clothed in white robes, and with palms in their hands, "waiting the adoption, to
wit, tbe redemption of the body." For though death be a progress — a progress to
the spiritual existence ; though death be a birth to a higher and nobler state ;
though it be the gate of life, fuller and better than any which we possess ; though
the present state of the departed in Christ is a state of calm blessedness, a state of
perfect communion, a state of rest and satisfaction ; yet it is not the final not?
perfect state, either. III. The betteb life, which the dead in Cubist abe
LIVING Kow, LEADS ON TO A STILL FULLER LITE when they get back their
glorified bodies. The perfection of man is, body, soul, and spirit. That is
man, as God made him. The spirit perfected, the soul perfected, without the
bodily life, is but part of the whole. For the future world, in all its glory, we have
the fixm basis laid that it, too, is to be in a real sense a material world, where men
once more are to possess bodies as they did before, only bodies through which the
spirit shall work conscious of no disproportion, bodies which shall be fit servants
and adequate organs of the immortal souls within, bodies which shall never break
down, bodies which shall never hem in nor refuse to obey the spirits that dwell in
them, but which shall add to their power, and deepen their blessedness, and draw
them closer to the God whom ^ey serve and the Christ after the likeness of whose
CHAP. XXIV.] ST. LUKE. 621
glorious body they are fashioned and conformed. "Body, Boul, and spirit," — the
old combination which was on earth is to be the perfect humanity of heaven. W©
have nothing to say, now and here, about what that bodily condition may be —
about the differences and the identities between it and our present earthly house of
this tabernacle. Only this we know — reverse all the weakness of flesh, and you get
some faint notion of the glorious body. Why, then, seek the living among the
dead? " God giveth Hia beloved sleep"; and in that peaceful sleep, realities, not
dreams, come round their quiet rest, and fill their conscious spirits and their happy
hearts with blessedness and fellowship, {A. Maclaren, D.D. ) A present Christ : —
I. The tendency to think of Christ as past rather than present. 1. In His
■work of redemption. 2. In His converting power. 3. In His Pentecostal influences.
4. In His administration of earthly affairs. II. The harmfoi, effects of this
TENDENCY upou the Church, collectively and individually, when indulged. 1. It
tends to the exaltation of the purely dogmatic over the practical and experimental
confession of Christ. 2. It encourages the substitution of speculative theories of
Christ's atoning work, for the actual power and continuance of that work itself in
its application to human needs. 3. It deprives the Church of its ^reat incentive to
an active co-operation in the saving work of the Redeemer. III. The grounds and
THE conclusions of the higher and absolutely true view of Jesus Christ as personally
present at all times with His people, in the power and richness of His Divine life.
Hia promise, " Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world." Observe
therefore — 1. The necessity and comfort of habitually thinking of Christ as
personally with us in the present varied needs and trials and duties of life. 2. The
cheering prospect that death will only set us free, as it set Him free, from the
restraints and limitations of this mixed world, and usher us into a state of boundless
spiritual activity. 3. The uniqueness and authority of the gospel of Christ as the
revelation of this life of the spirit, and as the power which can effectually save us
from the fear and power of death, (ff. R. Harris.) Christ is risen : — ^I. Christ is
risen, and the last opposing monarchy has fallen. Death reigns no more. Sin
has been vanquished by Christ's Cross, and the empire of the Prince of Darkness
has been for ever destroyed. II. He has risen, and His own Divine words have
been fulfilled. Christ claimed to be supernatural in every sphere of being.
Easter substantiates His claim to mastery over death. If this promise has been
fulfilled, so will all others be. III. He has risen, and the dead have not perished.
Personal immortality for each of us, and reunion with the loved and lost. IV.
Christ is risen, and no lastino Christian Church can rest on a closed tomb. (JT.
M. Statham, B.A.) The resurrection of Christ : — As the resurrection of Christ is
believed chiefly on the authority of His disciples, it is desirable to inquire respecting
the circumstances in which they spoke. I. They did not expect that He would
BI8E from the dead, NOB BELIEVE THAT He HAD BISEN, EVEN WHEN IT WAS TOLD TO
THEM. II. They could gain nothing by asserting it, if it were untrue. As a
consequence of declaring His resurrection, they could foresee only affliction,
reproach, and death. HI. The disciples were as well qualified as any otheb
MEN, TO KNOW WHETHER THE THINGS WHICH THEY AFFir.MED WEBE 80. The SUbjectS
respecting which they testified were cognizable by the senses. Had they been dark,
abstruse principles — had they been some rare phenomena in the material world, bat
removed from inspection by the several senses, there would have been reason for
suspecting their capacity to know, and fully to comprehend lUem. IV. Chbist
APPE.UIED TO THEM MANY TIMES. Not ouce OT twice Only, but 80 oftcn as to leave no
room for donbt. V. There is one more circumstance which gives weight to the
evidence that He had risen. This relates to the manner in which He at vabious
TTMBS APPEARED to His disciples and others, who were associated with Him. The
circumstances in which men's imaginations are wrought into the belief that they
have seen spirits, are very peculiar. Except in cases of disease, they are not
infested with these unfounded notions in open day, and in the society of their
friends. The regions of the dead, the burial places of our acquaintance, and the
scenes of some tragical event, are the favoured retreats of these terrors. But never
in the enjoyment of health, in open day, and amongst tried friends, have men been
known to be afflicted by these creations of their own minds. Now, it was not in
scenes like these that Christ appeared to His disciples. And in most of these
circumstances it is utterly impossible for the imaginations of men to form images
which they might mistake for living beings. Nothing but a living man could
perform the various things which the disciples have attributed to Christ. In con-
dasion: 1. Christ's resurrection most have been a matter of great joy to Hia
622 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [cmr. xxxr.
disciples. Now, instead of looking forward only to days of shame, and years of
disgrace, they began to anticipate glory, and honour, and immortality. 2.
The resurrection of Christ establishes the truth of Christianity. 3. The
resurrection of Christ is a victory over the power of death. 4. If our resurrection
be demonstrably established by the resurrection of Christ, it becomes us to
be cautious how we use these bodies in the present life. (J. Foot, D.D.)
Lessons : — 1. In the fact of Christ's resurrection we have the great proof of His
Divine mission, and a call to submit to Him as our teacher and Lord. 2. Let us
improve this event as a demonstration that Christ's sacrifice was accepted, and an
encouragement to trust in His righteousness for justification. 3. The resurrection
of Christ is connected with the observance of the first day of the week as the Chris-
tian Sabbath. 4. Let us see that this event has its proper purifying effect on our
heart and conduct. We are called to be conformed to the image of Christ in general,
and we are particularly called to be conformed to Him in His death and resurrection^
6. The resurrection of Jesus Christ presents the pattern and pledge of the happy
and glorious resurrection of all His followers. There will be a resurrection " both
of the just and of the unjust." 6. The resurrection of Christ should keep us in
mind that we shall stand before Him as our judge. (Jot. Foote, M.A.) Angels
at remembrancers : — But now it should be more carefully observed that this re-
minding the women of what had been said to them by Christ is probably but an
example of what continually occurs in the ministration of angels. The great object
of our discourse is to illustrate this ministration, to give it something of a tangible
character ; and we gladly seize on the circumstance of the angels recalling to the
minds of the women things which had been heard, because it seems to place under
a practical point of view what is too generally considered mere useless speculation.
And though we do not indeed look for any precise repetition of the scene given in
our text, for angels do not now take visible shapes in order to commime with men»
we know not why we should not ascribe to angeUc ministration facts accurately
similar, if not as palpable, proceeding from supernatural agency. We think that
we sb»Jl be borne out by the experience of every believer in Christ when we aflSrm>
that texts of Scripture are often suddenly and mysteriously brought into the mind,,
texts which have not perhaps recently engaged our attention, but which are most
nicely suited to our circumstances, or which furnish most precisely the material
then needed by our wants. There will enter into the spirit of a Christian, on whom,
has fallen some unexpected temptation, a passage of the Bible which is just as a
weapon wherewith to foil his assailant ; or, if it be an unlooked-for difliculty intO'
which he is plunged, the occurring verses will be those best adapted for counsel and.
guidance ; or, if it be some fearful trouble with which he is visited, then will there
pass through all the chambers of the soul gracious declarations which the inspired
writers will seem to have uttered and registered on purpose for himself. And it.
may be that the Christian will observe nothing peculiar in this ; there may appear
to him nothing but an effort of memory, roused and acted on by the circumstances
in which he is placed ; and he may consider it as natural that suitable passagp*
should throng into his mind, as that he should remember an event at the place
where he knows it to have happened. But let him ask himself whether he is not,
on the other hand, often conscious of the intrusion into his soul of what is base
and defiling ? Whether, if he happen to have heard the jeer and the blasphemy^
the parody on sacred things, or the insult upon moral, they will not be frequently
recurring to his mind ? recurring, too, at moments when there is least to provoke
them, and when it had been most his endeavour to gather round him an atmosphere
of what is sacred and pure. And we never scruple to give it as a matter of conso-
lation to a Christian, harassed by these vile invasions of his soul, that hd may
justly ascribe them to the agency of the devil ; wicked angels inject into the mind
the foal and polluting quotation ; and there is not necessarily any sin in receiving
it, thongh there must be if we give it entertainment in place of casting it instantly
out. But why should we be so ready to go for explanation to the power of memory,
and the force of circumstances, when apposite texts occur to the mind, and then
resolve into Satanic agency the profanation of the spirit with what is blasphemous
and base. It were far more consistent to admit a spiritual influence in tbe one
case as well as in the other ; to suppose that, if evil angels syllable to the soul what
may have been heard or read of revolting and impure, good angels breathe into its
recesses the sacred words, not perhaps recently perused, but which apply mos^
accurately to our existing condition. We do not wish to draw you away, in the
least degree, from the truth that " the etex-nal uncreated Spirit of Gk>d alone, that
CHAP, xxiv.l ST. LVKE. 621
Holy Gbost, is the author of our sanctification, the infuser into ns of the principle
cf Divine life, and He only is able to overrule our wills, to penetrate the deepest
eecrets of our hearts, and to rectify our most inward faculties." But surely it does
not infringe the ofl&ce of the Holy Ghost to suppose, with Bishop Bull, that " good
angels may, and often do, as instruments of the Divine goodness, powerfully operate
upon our fancies and imaginations, and thereby prompt us to pious thoughts,
affections, and actions." They were angels, as you will remember, which came and
tainistered to our Lord after He had been exposed in the wilderness to extraordinary
assaults from the devil. He had the Spirit without measure ; but, nevertheless, as
though to mark to us the agency which this Spirit is often pleased to employ, it
was in and through angels that consolation was imparted ; even as, in the dread
hour of His last conflict with the powers of darkness, •• there appeared an angel
unto Him from heaven, strengthening Him." Not only, therefore, can I regard it aa
credible that angels stir up our torpid memories and bring truths to our recollection,
as they did to the women at the sepulchre of Christ — I can rejoice in it as fraught
with consolation, because showing that a created instrumentality is used by the
Holy Ghost in the renewing our nature. And surely it may well excite gladness
that there is around the Christian the guardianship of heavenly hosts ; that, whilst
his pathway is thronged by malignant spirits, whose only effort is to involve him
in their everlasting shame, it is also thronged by ministers of grace, who long to
have him as their companion in the presence of God ; for there is thus what we
might almost dare to call a visible array of power on our side, and we may take all
that confidence which should result from being actually permitted to look on the
antagonists, and to see that there are more with us than there are against. But it
is hardly possible to read these words of the angels and not to feel how reproachfully
they must have fallen on the ears of the women ! how they must have upbraided
them with want of attention and of faith. For had they but listened heedfully ta
what Christ had said, and had they but given due credence to His words, they
would have come in triumph to welcome the living, in place of mournfully with
spices to embalm the dead. But God dealt more graciously with these women
than their inattention, or want of faith, had deserved ; He caused the words to be
brought to their remembrance, whilst they might yet inspire confidence, though they
could hardly fail also to excite bitter contrition. (H. Melvill, B.D.) Risen : — ^A rising
Saviour demands a rising Ufe. For remember, brethren, there are two laws. One
law, by which all men gravitate, like a stone, to the earth — another law, equally
strong, the law of grace, by which every renewed man is placed under the attractive
influence of an ascending power, by which he must be always drawn higher and
higher. For just as when a man, lying upon the ground, gets up and stands up-
right, his upright posture draws up with it all his limbs, so in the mystical body of
Jesus Christ, the risen Head necessarily draws up all the mystical members. The
process of elevation is one which, beginning at a man's conversion to God, goes on
day by day, hour by hour, in his tastes, in his judgments, in his affections, in his
habits. First it is spiritual, then it is material. Now, in the rising spirit of the
, man, first he sees higher and higher elevations of being, and gradually fits for the
\fellowship of the saints and the presence of God. And presently, on that great
, Easter morning of the resurrection, in his restored body, when it shall wake up,,
and rise satisfied with its Bedeemer's likeness, made pure and ethereal enough to
Boar, and blend and co-operate with the spirit in all its holy and eternal exercises.
But what I wish to impress upon you now is, that this series in the ever-ascending
scale begins now ; that there is, as every believer feels, a daily dying, so there is also^
as our baptism tells us, a daily resurrection. It is always well to take advantage
of particular seasons to do particular proper things. Now to-day the proper thing
is to rise, to get up higher. This Easter day ought not to pass without every one
of us beginning with some new affection, some new work. {J, Vaughan, M.A.)
Vers. 13-35. Two of them went that same day to a village called Emmaus. —
The jmirney to Emrruius : — I. Wb see in this appearanck, as in the others, bomb-
THING VBRY CHABACTEBISTIC 0» OCR LoRD*S HABITS AND WAYS DURING HiS LIFETIUB.
His disciples and followers were always craving for publicity and display. He wa»
always retiring from too much of that, carrying on His work as quietly as possible.
And so here. Jesus rises alone — at the break of day. No mortal sees Him put oa
immortality. Bright angels stand as sentinels while He arrays Himself. It vt
enough that His ^soiples see ihe empty tomb, the grave-clothes, and '* the plao»
where the Lord lay." II. Wb mat sbb how basilt still, nt that eisbm ufb, Ha
624 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xrrr,
BNTEK8 INTO COMMUNICATION WITH MEN ; HOW LITTLE DIFFICULTY He HAS IN JOININa
ANY COMPANY, OB ANY TWO OB THESE WITH WHOM He WISHES TO BE ! III. ThIS
APPEARANCE OF ChRIST IS LIKE A MESSAGE OF FRATERNITY AND DiVINE REGARD, ESPE-
CIALLY TO PLAIN, SIMPLE, ORDINARY MEN — to what We may call common men, who
wear no distinction and possess no advantage whatever over their fellows. For
who were these two men ? No one knows anything about them. In all probability
there was not much to know, except that they were disciples, that they loved Him.
rV. We have an instance herb of the attractive power of sorrow to Him. They
walked, and talked, and were sad. And then He drew near and went with them.
V. This, however, we must observe, that it is not to every kind of trouble and
BADNESS THAT Hb GRANTS IMMEDIATE ASSUAGEMENT. Here you SCO He draws near at
once to two sad men. But what are they saying? They are talking of Him.
Why are they sorrowing ? They are sorrowing about Him. So our sorrow, if it is
to be sanctified and turned into joy, must have Christ in it. VI. There is a borrow
AND A DARKNESS EXPRESSLY SENT BY ChRIST, OB, AT ANY RATE, HELD BY HiM AROUND
His PEOPLE. A sorrow kept, as it were, beyond the time when it might naturally be
ended, kept for the accomplishment of some purposes of grace which could not ba
so well attained, perhaps not attained at all, if the darkness were melted away.
To take the language of the passage, " Our eyes are holden that we should not
know Him," even when He is with us. So, oftentimes, our eyes are holden that
we should not know Him. Strange things happen to us, and we think not that
His hand is upon them all. All the instruction we get in the darkness is from
Him ; but we do not know that it is from Him directly, and immediately, until the
darkness is over. VII. It is a blessed moment in life when we know Him, comb
when, and how, and where it may — when wb abb sure that He is near 1 In those
moments we are glad of the present, and we look to the future without a fear.
VIIL They abb brief, they are tbansient as the glow of the morning — not
SETTLED AS THE RADIANCE OF THB DAY. " They knew Him and" — what next? A
long happy conversation, until the evening wore into the night, and the stars came
out on high ? A journey into Jerusalem again the next morning, with still mora
delightful discourse, to meet His surprised and rejoicing disciples there? Not so.
" And their eyes were opened, and they knew Him, and He vanished out of their
eight 1 " Such is the end of all high communion times, of all vision-hours in this
life. They are but brief. They can but be brief ; there is more work to do, and
more sorrow to drink, and more time to travel through ; and Jesus in His glory
retires, that these things may be done, and that He may come again when need
shall be 1 He comes down to lift ns up, to intensify our longings for heaven, to entice
us home. And of course He does not stay. He is always coming, and always
" vanishing " out of our sight, that we may the more long for and labour after the
place, the glory, the life in which He would have us for ever be. (A, Raleigh, D.D.)
The walk to Emmaus : — I. The way. 1. To these two disciples that was the way of
sadness and gloom. 2. The sadness of those two disciples sprang from doubt or
unbelief. 3. Though that was the way of sadness and doubt to those two disciples,
yet they communed and reasoned together on the best themes. II. The method o»
Christ's communications by thb way. " He talked with us," " and opened to oa
the -Scriptures." The manner was simple, clear, and cogent. Two or three thing*
about Christ's method of communing with these disciples are worth a little atten-
tion. 1. It was sympathetic. He strikes a chord in their troubled hearts that
vibrates at the touch of His matchless sympathy. 2. It was instructive. Seek
instruction rather than rapture. 3. This talk by the way was animating. Not
only did it relieve their gloom and sadness, it cheered, revived, and filled them with
ardent joy, " for they said one to another, Did not our heart burn within us while
He talked with us by the way?" IH. Thb best and the bevelation which
AWAITED the DISCIPLES AT THB BOT) OF THB WAY. 1. A triumphant joy. 2. An
intelligent faith in Him as the Bedeemer of Israel. 3. The disclosure of Christ
to those two disciples filled their hearts with confident hope. {J. T. Higgins.)
* The disclosure at Emmaus: — I. We note, in the beginning, thb naturalness
ow A POSTURE OF HIND AKIN TO DOUBT AND CONFUSION. Heavy provideuces bear
OB down under them. Sudden, almost inexplicable, depressions settle upon our
souls. The devil watches always for these opportunities, and plies us with adroit
attack. II. Next, we see here thb positive value of fratebnal conference and
bxchamgb of views. The larger part of our seasons of hypochondria are to be
dispersed by a frank conversation with sympathetic friends in relation to the
matters of supreme interest to as both. III. Thb actual nearness of Christ
CHAP. rxiT ] ST. LUKE, 621
AiiWATB, TO THOSE WHO NEED HiM. Would it alarm US, if we suddenly discovered
we had been talking with Him in person, instead of some boon companion we had
met in our freedom? IV. Then we have a fine lesson concerning the Ditins
EEMEDT FOB ALL DOUBTS AS TO ouB Saviour AND oTJB SALVATION, Thcse bewildered
disciples are led directly to the Divine Word (see verses 25-27). V. In the next place,
we may note here the pebsonal inteeest Jesus has in eveey teue believeb who la
IN need op His help. A whole afternoon did our Lord give of those forty days He
had left to these disciples who were not known enough even to be described. Lot in
life has nothing to do with the estimate which the Saviour forms of His followers.
He came with those modest brethren to their destination. VI. We have now a lesson
from the story which might give a help to any Christian at the communion table ;
THE BEAIi JOT IN EVEBY 8PIBITUAL FEAST IS TO HAVE THE LoRD JeSUS ChKIST DIS-
CLOSED TO US. " Jesus has kept coming again ever since He went away." VII. A
single lesson more remains : we see that the first delighted impulse of a soul,
BBJOICING at having FOUND JeSUS, 18 TO GO AND TELL OTHERS OF HiS PRESENCE
AT the FEA8T(see verses 32-35). These happy disciples could not wait even till morn-
ing. The Lord had vanished, but His argument remained ; " while they were musing
the fire burned." Now they began to remember peculiar experiences along the way.
Oftentimes a new disclosure of Christ's presence turns the believer back upon hours in
which he now sees the Holy Spirit was dealing with him ; why did he not recognize
it sooner ? Memories of communions are always precious, if the joy has remained.
Life gathers a fresh impulse from the disclosure. We are sure that walk out to
Emmaus with Jesus in companionship was wonderfully sweet ; but the walk in
back again over the same path was not without comfort. Every stone and bush
would make them think of Him. (C. S. Robinson, D.D.) Easter Monday : —
L Notice the chabactebs brought to view. Two men. Devout Jews. Disci-
ples of Jesus. They were in great perplexity and trouble of heart. Their faith
had received a blow under which it greatly staggered. They reasoned the case with
each other ; but reason was too weak an instrument to give them relief. Mere
earthly reason, when it comes to matters of faith and salvation, can do very little
for us. They were moving through one of the most interesting and beautiful dis-
tricts. Their way from Jerusalem to Emmaus lay by the tombs of the ancient
Judges, by the old dwelling-place of Samuel, and through mountainous scenery as
attractive as any in the Holy Land. But no charms of nature, however inter-
mingled with sacred story, could soothe the trouble that was upon their souls.
Those scenes of blood and murder which had been enacted at Jerusalem, and the
sore disappointment which those scenes had entailed upon their most precious
hopes, followed them, and clung to them, in spite of all the pleasant things around
them. Nature, in all its loveliness, cannot supply the place of Christ, or give
comfort to the soul that has lost Him. Yet the Saviour was with them, all unknown
to themselves. In the form of a common traveller, journeying the same way, and
after the same manner with themselves, He overtook them, and made one in their
little company. There are many ways in which He comes to His people. He comes
to them sometimes in the form of a plain gardener, or a servant. He comes some-
times in the form of a fellow-traveller. He comes sometimes in the form of a poor
beggar. But, in some shape or other. He is never far from those who are in
spiritual earnest, and devoutly struggling for the light. In our earthly way of
looking at things, we do not always recognize the presence of our Saviour, and our
eyes are holden that we do not know Him. It is the fault of our feeble faith, that
we only think of Christ as far away — as hidden in the grave — or in some remote
w«Tld to which the grave is the mysterious doorway. Hence so much of our trouble
and doubtfulness. But it is an erroneous way of thinking of Him. He is not n
the grave. He is not far off in some realm which separates Him for ever from all
eonnection with this present world. He is risen. He is not far from every one of
as. Wherever two or three are gathered together in His name, there He is. He is
in the city, and He is in the country. He is in the garden among the flowers, and
He is in the dusty highway. He is in our assemblies for devotion, and He journeys
with us in oar travels. He is with as, and speaking to us, even when we do not at
sU saspect that it is He. II. Notice how the bisen Jesus deals with these
pbbplexed and sobbowino ones. 1. He " drew near, and went with them." It is
the will of our gracious Saviour to be near as, and to have us near EUm. " We
have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feelings of our infirmi-
ties " (Heb. iv. 15). When grief and trouble are upon His disciples, He takes it
io heart, and is drawn towards them in loving sympathy. But, in addition to their
VOL. m. 40
S26 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [oair. xnv,
mental troubles, these pilgiims were earnestly engaged with each other, trying to
solve and master them. Earnestness of spirit is never unnoticed in heaven.
2. He questioned them as to their troubles and sadness. " He said unto them.
What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another as ye walk ?
and why are ye sad ? It was a call to review the character of their trouble, as the
basis for the formation of a better judgment. They had not looked at matters
xightly. They had not gone deep enough into the facts for the proper conclusions.
The cure for their disturbance was in the very things that disturbed them, if they
would only learn to see them in their true aspects and relations. Did Christian
people but view their anxieties aright, they would find in them cause for joy rather
than discomfiture. Desponding soul, Jesus asks thee. Why art thou sad ? Canst
thou give Him a reason for thy disheartenment at what has happened ? Review
thy ground, and come to a better mind. 3. Having drawn out their story. Ha
directed them to the Bible. After all, there is nothing that can so settle, satisfy,
and comfort our troubled hearts and anxious doubts, as the records of the holy
prophets. There the portrait of the Christ is fully drawn, and all that concemeth
Him is amply disclosed. From them these disciples might have fortified themselves
against all such sorrowful perplexities over their Master's death. The very first
promise that was made of Him, told of a suffering as well as a triumphing Saviour.
He was to be bruised, as well as to bruise. All the appointments of the law pointed
to death and bloodshedding as the only possible way of remission of sins or re-
covery from condemnation. Precious indeed are these blessed Scriptures. Herein
is light which giveth understanding to the simple, and which maketh wise unto
salvation. Herein is balm for the troubled heart more than Gilead can furnish.
Are we shaken in faith, and disturbed in our hopes ? Jesus directs as to the Bible.
4. And having set them right in their reading of the Sciiptures, the Saviour yielded
to their entreaties, entered with them into their home, and made Himself known to
them in the breaking of bread. Those who love the truth will be kindly disposed
toward those who teach it ; and those who admit Christ into their hearts will be
anxious also to have Him abide in their homes. And those who in grateful con-
sideration of His kindness receive Him into their houses, though they should not
yet know with whom they are dealing, will soon have Him disclosed to them in all
the certainties of an unmistakable faith. {J, A. Seiei, D.D.) The walk to
Emmaus : — I. Thb sobbows and doubts of the two disciples. IL The sobbows
AMD DOUBTS OV THB DISCIPLES ABE MET BT A DiVIMB EXPLANATION. 1. He first
rebukes their spiritual ignorance and unwillingness to believe. 2. They were, with-
out being aware of it, mourning over the very things which formed Christ's peculiar
glory and their own redemption. 3. To show this. He began at Moses, and
«zplained in regular succession what the prophets had foretold concerning Himself.
111. Thb sobbows and doubts of thb disciples wbbe lost in the supreme jot
<OF THB BiSEN Jesus FULLY BBVEALED. Lessous : 1. This narrative is an irrefragable
f>roof of the reality of our Lord's resurrection. He was not an apparition nor A
subjective vision. 2. God is ever near us, if we only had the spiritual vision to
'discern His presence. 3. To talk of Jesus and the things of the kingdom, is wise.
At such seasons He draws near, and by His Spirit communes with us until our
hearts burn with new hopes, and our eyes are filled with a revelation of His pre-
sence. 4. The Old Testament prophecies, inclusive of everything relating to Christ's
Church, are, according to His own showing, an integral part of the Scriptures.
•6. Failure to believe the Scriptures was the cause of the disciples' blindness and
•Borrows. 6. How precious is a Christian's company. {T. S. Doolittle, D.D.)
The walk to Emmaus : — I. Two bepeesentative disciples. 1. They were on a
journey. So are we all. 2. They were in earnest conversation. (1) To converse
as natural. (2) Our conversation should be wise, spiritual, helpful. 3. They were
€ull of iadness. (1) Their sadness was natural, (a) Bright hopes were blasted.
\h) An awful tragedy had been enacted. (2) But tneir sadness was sinful, (a) Be-
«auBe it arose from their unbelief in the testimony of the prophets. (6) Because
it arose from their unbelief in the testimony of Christ Himself, (c) Yet how com-
mon is such unbelief among Christians? H. Christ in His bepeesentative
<ohabacteb. 1. As ever near His sorrowing disciples. 2. As ever entering into
4heir experience. 3. As rebuking their unbelief. 4. As the opener up of the
^Scriptures. (1) Christ ever honours the Scriptures. (2) Christ ever testifies to the
genuineness and inspiration of the Scriptures. (3) Christ ever teaches that H«
Himself is the central subject of the Scriptures. 5. As unexpectedly revealing
fiimself. (1) While their hearts were full of doubts, " their eyes were holden that
OHAP. rent.] ST. LUKE. 637
they should not know Him.* (2) The expounding of the Scripture restored them
to a believing condition. (3) Their quickened faith resulted in hearts that burned.
<4) Hearts that bum alone can see Jesus to know Him. (D. C. Hughes, M.A.)
The walk to Emmaus : — I. This walk to Emmaus suqqests thb strange MiNOLiKa
or uNBBUEr AND FAITH IN THE SAME BBBAST. 1. The faot of their unbelief.
2, The unreasonableness of their unbelief, 3. The reality of their faith. IL This
WALK to Emmaus suggests the Loan's interest in His perplexed but inquibino
DISCIPLES. III. This walk to Emmaus suggests the chabaoteb of the true
inquirer, though perplexed. 1. He is ever interested in those who nnfold the
Scriptures. 2. He is ever open to conviction. 3. His heart ia ever stirred by the
truth. 4. When he learns the truth, he is ever anxious to proclaim it to others.
Lessons : 1. We learn that unbelief arises from the heart, and is an evidence of
unwisdom. 2. That unbelief not only brings trouble to the heart, but blindness to
the mind. 8. That perplexities are not solved by reasoning, but by the study of
God's Word. 4. If our Lord and His apostles found in Moses and tha
prophets evidences of His Messiahship, why may not we f {Ibid.) The
journey to Emmaus : — After He has comforted the weeping, disconsolate Magdalene,
and graciously restored the fallen Peter, He hastens to lay hold of those sad
wanderers who have ignorantly turned away from where they might have found
light and consolation. The first word He addressed to them, after He had drawn
out their thoughts and feelings by two questions which He needed not to ask, but
which it was well they should answer, was a word of rebuke — " O fools, and slow of
heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken." Thus do chiding and reproof
oftentimes precede the most gracious manifestations. Our faults must be corrected
before any real and lasting comfort can be administered. To remove all discomfort
*nd distress, without touching the evil state of mind from which they spring, would
be Uke relieving the patient's pain at the expense of aggravating his disease ; it
would be to countenance and encourage us in the wrong thoughts and feelings
which it behoves us to abandon. Not thus does the Great Physician deal with the
souls whom He lovea. Injudicious earthly teachers may try to minister relief to
distempered minds, by simply soothing their sorrows without correcting their faults,
making them believe that all their troubles spring from something without them-
selves which will shortly be put right, instead of leading them to look within that
they may correct what is wrong there ; pleasing them with flattery when they
should first pain them by rebuke; and thus, for the sake of yielding them a little
momentary pleasure, inflicting on them a permanent injury. Not so the Saviour.
How prone we are all to close our eyes to the things which we dislike — to believe
only in those we like 1 The disciples were ready enough to listen to what seemed
to justify their hopes of a coming kingdom : when He spoke of His sufferings they
were equally ready to say, •* Be it far from Thee, Lord." Whatever we may think
of the manner in which the Old Testament writers were inspired — a question on
which bold theorising is but a bold mistake, the conduct of our Lord on this occa-
sion places the fact of their inspiration beyond all dispute among those who recog-
nuse His authority. " Abide vrith us," tbey said, " for it is towards evening, and
the day is far spent. ' The reason of this request was the fascination of His speech
— the effect it had produced on them in dispelling their doubts, reviving their droop-
ing hopes, and quickening their languid affections. Such is the invariable eon-
sequence of converse with the Saviour. Such experience naturally awakens the
desire that the fellowship may be prolonged. From souls who thus earnestly leek
Him the Saviour will not withhold His gracious presence. •* He went in to tarry
with " these disciples, and " sat at meat with them " ; thus oondescending not only
to become their guest, but toplace Himself somuchonanequaUty with them, asto sit
at the same table and partake of the same meal. Be this as it may, this portion of
the narrative is beautifully representative of what often takes place in the experience
of believers. Where the Saviour's presence is earnestly desired and prayed for. He
not only grants the request, but enters into more intimate fellowship with the
longing soul. But delightful as fellowship with Christ is to the truly Christian
Boul, the passage may very well remind us that there is something for us to do
besides gratifying our desire, even for the highest spiritual enjoyment. Peter, on
the Mount of Transfiguration, though he said, " It is good for us to be here," was
not permitted to build tabernacles as he desired, because at the foot of the moim-
tain there were distresses to be relieved. The two disciples, though they would
fain prolong their interview with the Lord, must, just when their gratification is at
the highest, be deprived of His presence, and return to Jerusalem to share theii
623 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [6HA». xxih.
joy with others. And so we, sometimes, when we might greatly prefer quiet medi<
tation and devotion to active service, must nevertheless, because the world need®
onr ministrations, go forth from communion with our Master to do the Master'*
•work. I cannot conclude without calling attention to that which appears so con-
spicuously throughout the whole of the narrative — the marvellous condescension
of our Lord. These are but weak disciples when He finds them — foolish, slow of
heart to understand the Scriptures — their faith much clouded, though it does not
relinquish its hold of Him. And how He condescends to their weakness, suits His
instruction to their case, gradually leads them to a full preception of the truth and
apprehension of Himself. Tenderly He deals with them, not breaking the bruised
reed, nor quenching the smoking flax ; but gathering the lambs in His arms, and
carrying them in His bosom. {W. Landcls.) Communion with Christ : — L This
CONVERSATION SHOWS WHAT LITE WOULD BE WITHOUT ChEIST. 1. When We fail tO
discern the presence of Christ our hearts are overwhelmed with grief. 2. When
we fail to discern the presence of Christ our minds are clouded with doubt. II.
This conversation shows what life mat be with Christ. 1. We should never
forget that Christ is near to His disciples in all their sorrow. 2. We should never
forget that Christ instructs His disciples in all their sorrows. IH. This conversa-
tion SHOWS WHAT LIFE SHOULD BE FOB Chbist. 1. What did these men do?
" They rose up the same hour, and returned to Jerusalem." It was night, and the
distance considerable, but they went immediately to proclaim the Saviour's resur-
rection. If we have any word to speak, or any work to do for Christ, let us do it
at once ; for time is short, and life is uncertain. 2. What did these men find f
' ' And found the eleven gathered together." Men are drawn together by common
sympathies and common beliefs. Why were they together ? For counsel and
prayer. Why together at midnight? For secrecy and security. Seasons of
personal danger should be seasons of united communion with God, 3. What did
these men hear ? " The Lord hath risen indeed." What joyful tidings these must
have been I They not only heard of Christ's resurrection from others, but they had
seen Him themselves. This is love's reward. The givers were receivers. Thus
experience answers experience in the Divine life. 4. What did these men say ?
" Told what things were done in the way," &c. Personal testimony to the fact of
Christ's resurrection. If Christ has appeared to you, rise up at once, and acknow-
ledge Him before His people. It will cheer them, and confirm you. (J. T. Wood-
home.) The ab-^ent Lord appears : — I. Though Jesus be absent, His disciplb»
MAKE Him their theme. II. The absent Jesus comes near while His disciples talk
of Him. Blessed sequel to their saintly converse. And so it is to-day. •' Where
two or three," &c. It was a tender superstition which our fathers held — that to
speak much of the absent or the dead brings them near. And the beautiful fiction
becomes blessed fact, when we refer it to Jesus. He is the true Mentor whom
Homer ignorantly celebrated. We have but to think of Jesus, talk of Jesus, wish
for Jesus — and He is by our side. {A. A. Ramsey.) Jesus near, but unrecog-
nized:— I. We shall note, first, reasons why, in the vert presence of their
Master, saints mat not know that He is near. The first reason, then, why
these good men did not perceive the presence of their Master was that " their eyes
wereholden." There was a blinding cause in them. What was it? 1. By 8om«
mysterious operation, their eyes, which were able to see other things, were not abl»
to detect the presence of their Master, but they thought Him to be some common
traveller. Still we are permitted to say that in their case, and in the case of a great
many disciples, eyes have been holden through sorrow. 2. Again, in their case, in
addition to the mysterious operation which held their eyes, which we do not attempt
to account for, we have no doubt their eyes were holden with unbelief. Had thej'
been expecting to see Jesus, methinks they would have recognized Him. 3. What-
ever may have been mysterious about the holding of the disciples' eyes, they were
::lso somewhat holden by ignorance. They had failed to see what is plain enough
in Scripture, that the Messiah must suffer, bleed, and die. At other times they
may not see Him, because of something in the Master. Mark, as I have tdd you,
eays He appeared unto them •' in another form." I suppose he means in a form
in which they had not seen Him before. Perhaps you have only seen Jesus as your
joy and consolation ; under that aspect may you always see Him, but, remember,
" He shall sit as a refiner ; He shall purify the sons of Levi." When you are in
the furnace, sufifering affliction and trial and depression of spirit, the refiner is
Christ, the same loving Christ in a new character. Hitherto you have seen Christ
as breaking the bread of life to you, and giving yon to drink of the water of life.
HEAP. XXIV.] 8T. LUKE. 629
bnt you mnst yet learn that His fan Ib in His hand, and He will thronghly purge
the floor of your heart. He is not another Christ, but He puts on another aspect,
and exercises another office, II. Secondly, let us speak of the mannebs or the
SAiNrs WHEN THEY ABE IN BDCH A CASE. When their Master is with them and they
do not know Him, how do they conduct themselves ? First, they are sad ; because
the presence of Christ, if Christ be unknown, is not comfortable, though it may
be edifying. It may be for rebuke, as it was to them ; but it certainly is not for
consolation. For joy we must have a known Christ. Next, these disciples, though
they did not know that their Master was there, conversed together — a good example
for all Christians. Whether you are in the full joy of your faith or not, speak ofien
one to another. He who is strong will help the weak brother ; if two walk together,
ii one shall trip perhaps the other will not, and so he will have a hand to spare to
support his friend. Even if both saints are unhappy, yet some good result will come
from mutual sympathy. Note, again, that though they did not know their Master
was there, yet they avowed their hopes concerning Him. I cannot commend all that
they said, there was not much faith in it, but they did confess thai they were followers
of Jesus of Nazareth. " We trusted that it had been He which should deliver Israel.
And, besides all this, to-day is the third day." And they went on to let out the
secret that they belonged to His disciples. " Certain women of our company made
as astonished." They were under a cloud and sad, but they were not so cowardly
as to disown their connection with the Crucified. They still avowed their hope.
And oh, beloved, when your comforts are at the lowest ebb, still cling to your
Master, But, passing on — these poor people, though very sad, and without their
Master as they thought, were very willing to bear rebukes. Although the word used
by our Lord should not be rendered " fools," yet it sounds somewhat hard even to
call them inconsiderate and thoughtless : but we do not discover any resentment on
their part because they were so severely chided. Souls that really love Jesus do
not grow angry when faithfully rebuked. And then, they were willing to learn.
Never better pupils, never a better Teacher, never a better school book, never a
better explanation. Again, notice that while the two were willing to learn, they
also wished to retain the Teacher and His instruction, and to treat Him kindly too.
They said, " Abide with us ; the day is far spent." They had been benefited by
Him, and therefore they wished to show their gratitude to Him. Have you learned
BO much that you are willing to learn more? And, once more, though they did not
know that their Master was with them, they were well prepared to join in worship.
Some have thought that the breaking of bread that night was only Christ's ordinary
way of offering a blessing before meat ; it does not seem so to me, because they had
already eaten and were in the middle of the meal when He took the bread and
blessed it. HI. Lastly, let us try to set forth the actions of believees when thet
DiscovEB theib Lobd. "Their eyes were opened, and they knew Him." What
then 7 Well, first, they discovered that there had been aU along in their hearts
evidences of His presence. " Did not our hearts bum within us while He spake
with ns by the way ? " This heavenly heartburn never comes to any but through the
presence of the Lord Jesus. The next thing they did was to compare notes. The
lOne said to the other, "Did not our hearts bum within us ?" It is always a good
thing for believers to communicate their returning enjoyment. Somehow we are
rather chary as to speaking of our joys. Ought we to be so ? Once again. These
disciples, when they saw the Master, hastened to tell others about it. I notice that
while they told of their Lord's appearing, they made mention of the ordinance
which had been blest to them, for they especially said that He had been known to
them in the breaking of bread. I like to see them mention that, for, though ordin-
ances are nothing in themselves, and are not to be depended upon, they are blest to
us. (C H, Spurgeon.) Present, but unknown: — I. The time when the wai.k
occmiBED. 1. On the first of the forty days between resurrection and ascension.
2. Probably the longest period of intercourse with disciples between resurrection
and ascension. II. The new methods adopted by oub Lobd to opebats on thb
HINDS ON THEBB TWO HEN. He makes them first define their grief, and then state
their belief. Here are two of the most instmotive lessons in tiie Scriptures of the
human soul as well as the Holy Scriptures. The first lesson is : measure your
Borrow, see its nature and extent, and know exactly its bearings on your happiness.
The second is : if you are in doubt and apprehensions, if you are tempted to distrust
Ood and Christ, if scepticism or the worst horror of infidelity threaten yoor heart,
go back to what you do assuredly believe. Find honest footing for yourselves. Rest
on the great fondamentals that lie imbedded in the instincts, the granite sabstrik
630 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOB. [chap. xxiv.
turn of nature and the basis of all real characters. Let as learn &om the walk
toward Emmaus what Christ expects of us in hours of darkness and dismay, and
then we may hope that, when we get to Emmaus, He will reveal His glory. {A. A.
Lipscomb, LL.D.) Jesut drawing near : — *' He drew very near," solemnly uttered
a youthful believer within a few hours of death. " Who drew near ? " anxiously
inquired a friend who was present, fearful to hear her pronounce the word " death."
" Jesus," she replied, with an unutterable earnestness of expression. " I felt just
now as if He stood close beside me." Soon after she was asked by her sister if she
would like her to pray with her. She gladly assented. But while she prayed the
countenance of the dying one changed, the expression of supplication was succeeded
by one of adoring contemplation — it would have been rapture but for its perfect
calm. A kind of glow sufifused her features, then faded gradually away, and before
that prayerwas ended she was gone. Her ** amen," to it was her first hallelujah in
heaven. Jesus had " come again " and received her unto Himself . {Clerical Library.)
Emmaut: — I. Christ Himself the theme of His disciples' conversation. H. Christ
Himself the expositor of His own sufferings. HI. Christ Himself the gdbst
OF His own disciples. IY. Christ Himself the occasion of His own recogni-
tion. Practical lessons : 1. There is no teacher like Christ. 2. There is no friend
like Christ. {J. JR. Thomson.) The walk to Emmaus : — It may be asked, Why
should not our Lord have declared Himself at once to these burdened friends ?
Why not with one word have assured them, as He did faithful Mary in the garden ?
The answer is suggestive. In them the stupendous miracle of the resurrection
was to be established, not by one appearance, but by many ; not by evidence of one
kind, but of all kinds. Each fresh proof of the fact was to be a separate link in a
chain of proofs, on which ages to come might hang their faith. The particular
link to be wrought and welded on the road to Emmaus was the complete identity
of the slain Jesus of Nazareth with the Messiah of Moses and Daniel, of David,
Isaiah, and Malachi. Had He too soon revealed His personality to these oppressed
disciples, they would have been unfitted, by their great joy, to receive this lesson
and to witness its truth. But now they take it in eagerly. Their ears thirst for
knowledge. Such was the sacred drama of the Emmaus road, and from the whole
story we may instruct and comfort ourselves in several ways : 1. It is good for
disciples to be together. Every appearance of the Lord immediately after Hi8
resurrection, save one, was made to disciples in groups. 2. The Lord may be
much nearer to doubting disciples than they dream. 3. The source of mnoh
modem doubt about Christ is ignorance of the Scriptures as a whole. The
real cure of doubt, therefore, lies in a more comprehensive study of the
Word of God, and the only study that can be a perfect cure is that which
shall " begin with Moses," and end with the Apocalypse. {J. B. Clark.)
The hidden Christ : — No more picturesque and beautiful scene is depicted in the
life of Christ, than this walk, after His resurrection, out to Emmaus. The innocent
onconscionsness of the disciples pleases us hke a scene in a drama. That trait,
too, in the Lord, which led Him to keep in disguise, is peculiarly interesting. It
interprets much of the Divine nature. One would have looked, according to the
ordinary ideas of the Divine mind, and of its methods, for an open and prompt
disclosure of Himself. But no. It was pleasant to Him, for some reason, to be
with His disciples, to love them, to perceive their embarrassments, to instruct
them, without letting them know that He was there. It was not deception. It
was only a permitting them to have their own notions of Him undisturbed, while
He exercised the full mission of love. This cannot be an unintended disclosure of
the Divine nature. I will not call it mystic ; and still less will I call it secretive ;
but there is a love of non-disclosure of personality during the operation of merciful
grace, which has illustration in various other parts of the Gospel. One cannot but
see that the Lord carried Himself to them just as in nature Divine providence is
always carrying itself. Mercies move with wide-spread benefaction ; yet without
interpreting themselves. Nature is blessing without saying, " I bless." Messages
are coming through the air, and through Divine providence, from God ; and yet,
they do not say " God." God is present in a silent way always. A certain hidden
element, or hiding element, there is in the Divine mind, God's blessings steal into
life noiselessly. They are neither self-proclaiming, nor even self-announcing. L
The Lord's presence in unperceived ways in the daily wants of His peolpe.
He is to be found wherever the soul is ready to receive Him. In some tender
moment, amidst cares and toils and sorrows, often there starts ap the thought of
the Divine presence with such majesty and beauty as ft thousand sabbaths ooali
OBAP. xxiv.J ST. LUKE. 631
not shadow forth in the ordinary experience of Christians, Though they did not
see the Saviour, yet they saw His messengers — His blessed angels. Travellers over
wide spaces that are unpopulous, hide their food in what are called caches, that,
returning, they may have it at fit and appropriate points for their necessities. God
fills the world with these spots of hidden food ; and we meet Him and His mercies
not alone in appointed places, in houses of entertainment, but in the wilderness —
everywhere. Christ may be found at the well, if you come there to draw. Christ
may be found at the receipt of custom, where Matthew found Him. Christ may be
found behind the bier, where the widow found Him. Christ may be found on the
sea, where the disciples found Him when they were fishing. He is moving with
world-filling presence everywhere. But notably we may mention that God comes
to His people in an undisclosed and unrecognized form in the hours of their
despondency, as in the text. Or, to put it in other words, that which seems to us to
be a cloud and darkness, is, after all, but the garment in the midst of which Christ
is walking. All right occupations likewise, all duties, all daily fidelities, bring
along with them a Divine presence. We are never alone. We are never doing
things that are merely secular, if we know how to make them Divine. The most
menial callings, routine occupations, things not agreeable in themselves, but
nece sary, and things of duty, all of them have or may have with them a Christ.
II. The »ull privilegb of the soul m God's presence and providence dis-
cerned WHEN THE GIFT 18 VANISHING AWAY. "Man never is, but always to be
blessed," h*- become a motto. Our joys are seldom with us. They are either
remembered o; th^y are anticipated. When we come where they are, how few of
as there are that a re soundly happy ; how few there are that are full of joy and
know it. H'.w few there are that have a power in them of blessing, in any hour or
in any day, :r, si ill less, series of days ! How few there are that can pluck from for-
tune, or from providence, or from Divine grace itself, fruits that shall be sweet to
the taste while they are walking along the road of life ! It is trite, that, " Men do
not know how to value health till they lose it." It is the same with wealth. It is
BO of youth and age. For we take our measures as little children take snowflakes
to examine them, and they are gone. They dissolve in the looking at them.
Especially is this true of moral things — of moral treasures. Hours of religious
peace, hours of spiritual delight, never seem so precious to us, hours of religious
duty are never so dear to us, while we have them ; and they are as it were, in their
ministration, as when they are gone. In our religious life we are finding fault
with our fare. In like manner is it in respect to our privileges in being workers
together with God. While we have the privileges, how little we esteem them 1 and
how much, often, we reluctate and begrudge both time and strength I Now it is an
exceeding privilege for any one to be a worker together with Christ in the work of
the Lord in this world. And so is it with the sanctuary. So is it with the bless-
ings of the soul itself. Our inward thoughts, our inward strifes and resolutions,
our very tears, our prayers, all that sacred history of the soul that is inherited upon
earth, but is more heroic and more wonderful than the history of the battle-field or
the history of empires — that lore unexpressed, that literature of eternity, the soul's
inward life — at the time how little is there to us in it 1 how little of Christ ! Ah !
what a pity, my Christian brethren, it is that Christ should vanish out of sight just
at the moment when He discloses Himself I What a pity it is that just as our
mercies are going beyond our reach, they should for the first time seem to be
mercies I In view of these simple remarks, may yon not derive a motive for the
better use of the present in all the relations of your life than you have been accus-
tomed to f And ought we not, bearing this in mind, to make more of one another ;
more of oar children ; more of our parents ; more of our brothers and sisters ;
more of our neighbours; more of the Church; more of the Bible- class ; more of
the Sabbath-school ; more of all works by which we cleanse the morals of men, and
raise up the ignorant, and prosper those that are unfortunate? May not life by
filled fuller of blessings, if only we know how to redeem the time, and appreciate
the opportunity to perceive the God that is near us? {H. W. Beecher.) The
walk to Emmaus : — I. And, first — the first truth taught us by narrative — see here
the importance of searching and understanding the Scriptures, and how a neglected
or perverted Bible will bring sin and sorrow into the souL IL As these two
disciples pursue their melancholy journey — the deepening shadows of evening a
feeble type of the gloom gathering on their souls — ^we have seen a third join them.
Lkt ub mow titbit cub attbntiok to thib stbahgeb. His fellow-traveUers knew
Him not, but we know Him. I have said that we know not the name of one oC
632 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xn?.
these disciples. But the name of this wayfaring man we know. He is "The Won-
derful." Wonderful was He in the glory which He had with the Father before the
world was. Wonderful was He in His deep humihation. But He is, above all,
wonderful now, as He stands upon the earth, a mighty conqueror returned from
His expedition into the territories of the King of Terrors — having " by death
destroyed death," and become the resurrection and the life. He might hav*
entered the city in regal pomp and equipage, with a retinue of angelic legions ; but
He prefers to enter these desolate hearts, and to awaken festive joy and triumphal
acclamations there. What I desire to mark in the conduct of the Redeemer is the
manner in which He makes himself known to these two disciples. For observe,
my brethren, in the first place, that He does not at once reveal Himself to them ;
and why not ? For reasons most obvious. They had, as yet, no idea of the atone-
ment. When He foretold His crucifixion, declaring that it was necessary, Peter
was indignant, and said, " Be it far from Thee, Lord, this shall not be unto Thee."
Had He not instructed them before showing Himself, they would have been wholly
unprepared rightly to welcome Him ; they would, perhaps, like the apostles, have
been " terrified and affrighted, supposing they had seen a spirit." It is certain
they could not have been filled with the intelligent joy which sprang up in their
eonls when He was made known to them. In the next place, see how He prepares
them for the manifestation He is about to make. It is by opening the Scriptures
to them. He will not let their faith rest on the testimony of men or of angels.
Convincing as was the vision on Mount Tabor, Peter, who was there and beheld
the glorified Jesus, says, " We have a more sure word of prophecy, whereunto ye do
well that ye take heed." And it is to this sure word that Jesus turns the minds of
these disciples. He magnifies " His word above all His name." He teaches them
that faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God. IIL What is thh
EFFECT OF THIS INTERVIEW UPOK THESE TWO DISCIPLES ? Their souls are first con-
soled, then warmed, then heated. While Jesus is speaking the fire kindles ; Hii
words fall upon train after train of memory and hope and love, until everything is
in a glow, and their hearts are burning within them. A burning heart 1 what a
noble expression ; there is something contagious in the very words ; we cannot
utter them without feeling a sacred ardour in our own hearts. Do you ask me what
emotions burned in the hearts of these disciples ? I answer, first, love. In the
whole account of the Saviour's resurrection, we see the difference between the
nature of women and of men. The former are less suspicious, more prompt, un-
Lesitating, unquestioning in their confidence; and more true in their affection.
Hence Jesus appeared first to women. It is to love that Jesus hastens to manifest
Himself, and during the three days between the Saviour's crucifixion and resurrec-
tion it was only in the hearts of women that love would know no abatement.
These disciples, however, had never ceased to love. To me the very ground of
their unbelief is a tender proof of their affection. " Him they saw not " — had they
but seen Him ; they saw a vision of angels, but saw ye Him whom our souls love?
No, •• Him they saw not " ; and what if they saw thousands of angels, what if all
the angels of heaven should appear, they cannot console us for our bereavement.
They still loved, but their hearts had been crushed by such a blow. The fire was
almost extinguished; it is now fanned; the dying embers begin to glow, tho
smoking flax blazes up. They know not the stranger, but He speaks to them of
One dearer to them than life ; how much sweeter the memory of Him than the
presence of all besides I Do you ask me what emotions burned in the hearts of
these disciples ? I answer, jay. " The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise
the simple; the statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart." There is
vouchsafed to them now a foretaste of the Pentecostal fire. Their hearts burn
within them, burn with joy. In a word, and not to dwell too long upon this topic,
the hearts of these disciples burned, not only with love and joy, but with the
strangest, sweetest surprise. Their astonishment and rapture must have been
overpowering an hour later, when " their eyes were opened and they knew Him,
and He vanished out of their sight. " What a moment that 1 What ages crowded
into that moment ! IV. In finishing this discourse, let us extract frou this
HISTORY TWO LESSONS, and let the first be. The duty of living by faith, not by sight
When we open the sacred Volume we find that to faith nothing is impossible ; but
where is this omnipotent grace ? Yet this entire narrative — the Saviour's rebuke
of tiiese disciples — the manner in which He instructs them — His sudden vanishing-
all teaches us that it is not by the senses, but by faith in revealed truth that we are
to walk. He appears to convince them of His resurrection, and to assure them of
CHAP, xxnr.] ST. LUKE, 638
His constant care and faithfulness. He disappears, to teach that, though they hav«
known Him after the flesh, hencelorth they are only to know EQm and commune with
Him spiritually. Another lesson. Let us seek burning hearts. Faith is a great word ;
bat there is a greater, more imperial word, it is Love. The life of love is a truer,
higher life than that of faith ; its strength failed not amidst all the unbelief of these
disciples ; and it will be perpetuated and perfected in heaven, when faith shall cease
for ever. Let us seek burning hearts. Intellect is good, and imagination is good ;
but a heart on fire, a heart infiamed with love, is best of all. {R. Fuller, D.D.)
What manner of commonlcatiouB are these? — Easter consolatiom : — The Lord's
question was the language, not of reproof, but of sympathy. Something like
reproof came later on : but as yet He can think only of their sadtiess. Their
sadness was written, so the original word implies, in their countenances : but He,
of course, saw deeper. And whether the allusion to the sadness formed part of Hia
question, or belongs, as is probable, to the evangelist's description, does not reaUy
matter : the drift of the early part of His question was plain enough. I. What
WAS AT THE BOTTOM 07 THE SADNESS OF THE TWO DISCIPLES ? 1. It WaS, first Of all,
the sadness of a bereavement. They had been with Jesus, we know not how long ;
they had seen and heard Him : He had conquered a great place in their hearts.
They had seen Him arrested, insulted, crucified, dead, buried. So far their sadness
was that of the Magdalene, when she asked the supposed gardener where they had
laid the sacred body. We most of as know something of the heartache of a great
bereavement. 2. But, then, secondly, the sadness of the disciples was also caused
by mental perplexity. Here, as elsewhere in the Gospels, we see the different
bearing of men and women in the hour of sorrow. A woman is most distressed
when her heart has lost its accustomed object. A man is by no means insensible
to this source of sorrow ; but he commonly feels a distress, which a woman does
not feel, at least equally, when his intelligence, his sense of truth, is perplexed.
8. Once more, theirs was the sadness of a forfeited object in life, of a shattered
career. They had, as they thought, given themselves to Jesus, to His cause and
work, for good and all. They had embarked all the energy and resolve of life ia
that service, in that companionship, so full, as it seemed, of coming blessing and
triumph : when lo I as it appeared, all had collapsed. II. In oub modebn world
ARE TO BE SEEN, NOT SELDOM, DISCIPLES OF CHRIST IN NAME, DOWNCAST AND SADDENED,
WHO ABE LEAVING JERUSALEM, AS IF ON THE POINT OF OIVINO HiM UP. And He, aS of
old, joins them in " another form," so that their eyes are holden, and they do not
know Him. He comes to them in His Church, which is in their eyes only a human
institution ; or in His Scriptures, which seem to them bat a human literature ; or
in His Sacraments, in which they can discern nothing more than outward cere-
monies. Yet He has a question to put to them, and a word of comfort to address
to them, if they will but listen. For they are sad ; sad for nearly the same reasons
as were the two disciples on the Emmaus road. 1. First of all, there is the sadness
of mental perplexity. The understanding has its fashions as well as the heart ; its
fashions of distress as well as its fashions of enjoyment. In our day, many men,
who have not wholly renounced the name of Christ, are oppressed by what they
call, not unreasonably, the mystery of existence. They see around them a world
of nature, and a human world too. Each in a thousand ways creates perplexity
and disappointment. Whence comes the natural world i If we lose sight of what
faith teaches as to the creation of all things out of nothing by God, all is at once
wrapped in darkness. Our risen Lord offers us the true solution. 2. Next, there
is the sadness of the conscience. Where distinct acts of wrong-doing are not oon-
etantly and vividly present to the memory, there is a moral cloud brooding over the
eoul, from whose shadow escape is rarely possible. Our risen Lord reveals Himself
to those who are weighed down by sin, as pardoning and blotting it out. He bare
our sins in His own body on the tree ; and it is the blood of Jesus Christ which
cleanses us from all sin. But what is it that gives His death this power t It ia
that the worth and merits of His Person are incalculable, since He is the ever-
lasting Son of God. And what is the proof of this which He Himself offered to
His disciples and to the world ? It is His reearrection from the dead. 3. Thirdly,
there is that sadness of the soul which arises from the want of an object in life ; an
object to be grasped by the affections, to be aimed at by the wilL This is a kind
of melancholy which is common enough among persons who have all the advan-
tages which money and position can secure : they do not know what to do with
themselves. They devote themselves to expedients for diminishing the lassitude of
•ristence ; they apply first to this excitement, then to that : they spend their Utm
Ui THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. ixW.
in trying to "kill time." What a disclosure of the hopeless misuse of life lies in
that expression, "killing time"! To persons who are thus living ■without an
object, Christ our Lord appears, once it may be at least ; to teach them that there is
something worth living for; the known will of the eternal God. (Canon Liddon.)
Our Lord''s question : — 1. This inquiry may be regarded as an instance of our Lord's
tenderness and compassion towards His disciples. 2. Our Lord's question was an
indication of His authority. He speaks not only as a friend, but as their Lord and
Saviour. 3. The question might be proposed in order to teach both them and
others the propriety of frequently putting a similar inquiry to themselves. 1. Is
the general tenor of our conversation light and indifferent, or is it serious and
edifying ? 2. Does our conversation never border upon profaneness, even while it
is free from the grosser expressions of it ? 3. Is our conversation seasoned with
salt, so as to minister edification to the hearers? 4. Are we careful as to the
manner of our conversation, as well as to the matter of it ; to see that the spirit of
it corresponds with the subject of discourse ? As spiritual things can only be
spiritually discerned, so they can be communicated only by such as are spiritually
minded. When our tongues are fluent, are our hearts warm and lively ? In order
that our conversation may be as becometh the gospel of Christ, let us observe the
following directions : 1. Get a good treasure in your hearts, and let them be well
stored with Divine truth ; for it is out of this that the good householder bringeth
forth good things. If the truth dwell in us richly in all wisdom, it will be like a well
of water, springing up unto everlasting life. 2. Meditate much upon Divine subjects.
" Whilst I was musing," says David, "the fire burned." What God communicates to us
by our thoughts, we shall be ready to communicate to others in our words. 3. Seek
Divine direction, and say with the Psalmist, " Open Thou my lips, and my mouth
shall show forth Thy praise." If we were as full of matter as Elihu, yet what we
utter would not tend to the glory of God, unless we are ander the influence of His
Holy Spirit (Psa. li. 15 ; Ephes. v. 18, 19). 4. Carefully avoid whatever might
prove an impediment to spiritual and edifying conversation. Shun carnal company,
disregard the reproaches of ignorant and wicked men, and seek the society of
experimental Christians. " He that walketh with wise men shall be wise ; but a
companion of fools shall be destroyed " (Prov. xiii. 20 ; Hos. xiv. 9). {B. Beddome,
M.A.) A wise method of dealing with mourners : — Observe that, when the Saviour
did come to these mourning ones, He acted very wisely towards them. He did not
at once begin by saying, " I know why you are sad." No ; He waited for them to
speak, and in His patiends drew forth from them the items and particulars of their
trouble. You that deal with mourners, learn hence the way of wisdom. Do not
talk too much yourselves. Let the swelling heart relieve itself. Jeremiah derives
a measure of help from his own lamentations ; even Job feels a little the better
from pouring out his complaint. Those griefs which are silent run very deep,
and drown the soul in misery. It is good to let sorrow have a tongue where
sympathy hath an ear. Allow those who are seeking the Lord to teU yon their
difiiculties : do not discourse much with them till they have done so. You will be
the better able to deal with them, and they will be the better prepared to receive
your words of cheer. Often, by facing the disease of sorrow the cure is half
effected ; for many doubts and fears vanish when described. Mystery gives a tooth
to misery, and when that mystery is extracted by a clear description, the sharpness
of the woe is over. Learn, then, ye who would be comforters, to let mourners hold
forth their wound before you pour in the oil and wine. (C. H. Spurgeon.) Sad
hearts : — Samuel Kutherford used to say, " I wonder many times that ever a child
of God should have a sad heart, considering wnat the Lord is preparing for him."
" When we shall come home, and enter into the possession of our Brother's fair
kingdom, and when our heads shall find the weight of the eternal crown of glory,
and when we shall look back to pains and suffering, then shall we see life and
Borrow to be less than one step or stride from a prison to glory, and that our little
inch of time-suffering is not worthy of our first night's welcome home to heaven."
What things 7 — Faith and fact .-—We naturally inquire, why did He ask this
question ? Not for His own sake, certainly. He not only knew, but was Himself
the very subject of the narrative which He would obtain from their lips. " What
things r " He asks. I. Notice, first of all, the important circamstance that He calls
THBiB ATTBNTioN TO rAOTB. It t< an important circumstance. In the world, fact is
oar master ; the troth is, after all, that which we need, and which controls us. No
alehemy of logic, no splendour of fancy, can dissolve this. A man may live in an
ideal world while he dreams, but waking brings him to solid earth, and to the slow
XMAi. XXIV.] ST. LUKE. 636
and real steps of daily life. The ultimate question for us, with reference to every-
thing that demands our allegiance or assent, is this : Is it fact ? Christianity
must submit to this test, as all other things. Men fancy that it does not meet the
requirement. The impression is widely prevalent. We may not stop to enumerate
all the circumstances that lead to this impression, and yet a few may be referred to.
Pirst of all, those circumstances that have existed in connection with widely-spread
revivals of religion have impressed upon the minds of many critical observers the
conclusion that Christianity is all a romance, a dream. It may be impossible, by any
mere human criteria, to discriminate between that which is passional and earthly and
that which is the work of the Spirit. God knoweth His own. It is not necessary
for me to know whether my neighbour be a Christian ; it is necessary for me to
know that I am in communion with God. I am not bound to anatomize, dissect,
and understand the working of his heart. I must deal with my own heart. A
second circumstance that leads to this impression is the wide disparity between
the profession of Christians and the manifestation of the power of the gospel in
their lives. They cannot probe nor underctand hidden life. Christianity seems
unreal to them, because it is still and unobtrusive. A third cause of the impression
is the persistent and earnest efforts, often reiterated, and especially prominent in
our day, to do away with the historic basis of Christianity, and to construct a God
out of human consciousness. They tell us that Christianity, after all, is only the
religion of nature ; it found a temporary manifestation here ; but it existed before,
and exists now, without revelation. That it is, indeed, the religion which nature
demands, the outcry of the soul among all nations, civilized and barbaric, affirms ;
but that it is the religion that nature offers, the agony of the crucified, and the wail
of the philosopher in the early ages, and the burden of those who in heathenism
to-day cry out for light and confess their despair, all these deny. And yet we have
those who placidly teU us that " religion is storaz, and chlorine, and rosemary ; a
mountain air, and the silent song of the stars is it." A " mountain air," indeed, is
such religion — very thin and very cold, where men soon gasp and die. Not thus
did Christ and His apostles deal with the historic facts of Churistianity. Here, you
observe, He appeals to certain " things," upon the reality of which all His further
dealings with these men, and all their hopes, are based. If these " things " have
not occurred — if these " things " are not brought back vividly to their memory — if
upon these •* things " and their actuality He cannot build His subsequent words,
they are deluded and defrauded, and their hopes are vain. The Gospels themselves
sure a compend of almost naked facts. Men now, as well as then, have to deal with
concrete actualities in Christianity and its attendant evidences. Let me refer to
two or three. You remember that famous answer to the king who demanded a
visible miracle : '* Your Majesty — the Jews." They are an anomaly, a perpetual
miracle among the nations. Living in every country, yet having no country;
intermixed in trade, yet not in blood, with other nations ; preserving their distinct
identity ; a people with a memory and a hope, who look longingly and passionately
back to empty Jerusalem, and claim it still as their own, though for hundreds of
years they have been only permitted to touch the precious stones of the foundation
of their temple. How shall we explain their presence in the world ? How are we
to account for the circumstances which environ them 7 I see upon them the brand
of blood, and I remember how, at the transaction in Jerusalem, they said, " His
blood be upon us." If this Bible gives the true history of the Jews, their condition
is explained ; if not, no theorist, no philosopher, no student of the science of
history can explain it to me. I look to the Church of God — and, that I may be
more specific, to a single Church — not to the Church universal, whose outlines are
not clearly visible. I look to a single Church, as an existing institution, as a fact
in the community. I put it alongside of earthly institutions — of those various
organizations which men have framed for benevolent, social, and literary purposes.
I point to the perpetuity of the individual Church. I come to individuals. It is
sufficient if there be a single man who realizes, in any considerable degree, that
which the gospel promises concerning the restoration of man to ideal perfectness.
Bead over that wonderful catalogue which Paul gives us of the Christian virtues, in
the thirteenth chapter of the First Epistle to the Corinthians. Think of a man
who is wise, and patient, and pure, and long-suffering, and charitable, and unenvious,
and hopeful, and truthful — all the virtues that yon can catalogue. But he tells
you all this is built upon his companionship with Christ — upon the power of faith
in actual redemption through Christ. Is not such a case a fact in life, and bas not
eneh a fact come within your reach ? But take another case. Let it be a woman.
636 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xnr.
who, in her early womanhood, has given her heart, full of overflowing affection, to
the one she trasted as her husband. He has deceived her. The world has dealt
uoldly with her. She has no longer a home or a husband, and her children look
despair into her eyes as she tarns to them. Yet there is a Book she clings to, and
a sacred place of comfort ; and the heart does not burst with agony. Alone I She
declares she is not alone. That which no human sympathy could give — that which
no haman wisdom could teach — has been given and taught ; strength has been
put into that dismayed soul that makes her master of herself and of the world,
notwithstanding its crushing power. Is not this a fact? ^7d now I insist that
these facts of which I have spoken have no significance, except they relate back to
the facts to which these two men referred. The Lord's Supper, celebrated month
by month, would have no explanation in facts, and no meaning as a ceremony, if
it had not been an uninterrupted and perpetual memorial of an event that tran>
spired. The Church has no foundation, if it be not founded on a real Christ and
His authentic work among men. You will find that this monument of fact in the world
rf.p.ta upon Calvary ; and Calvary itself thrusts its deep roots down to the earlier
world. A solid basis of history is given us, su3h as no other religion has. Cbns-
tlanity gives as a historic record from the foundation of the world; and the New
Testament is knit upon the Old as the subsequent history of the Church is knit
iipon it. Now I say that, if it be not literal truth, as these men reiterated it, that
Christ was crucified ; if it be not a fact, as revealed to them, that Christ is risen ;
if this basis for our faith be swept away, then the Church is dissolved like the
fabric of a vision. I look back through the centuries to Paul, and hear him say :
" If Christ be not risen, your hope is vain ; ye are yet in your sins." I hear the
army of martyrs cry: "Our blood is spilt in vain." I hear Luther lifting np
his voice, crying : " I have deceived the nations, declaring that the just shall live
by faith." But, admitting the need that these facts should exist, why does He
ask these men to recount them ? Why does He bid them go back again over those
painful, thorny steps which they have just trod, and view again those agonizing
scenes, and recall the moomful words ? Before we answer the question, let as ask
another : Why did these facts, so momentous, infiuence so few 7 Why was not Palestine
convulsed morally as well as physically by the mighty earthquake when Christ died 7
" What things ? " And, first of all, I recognize the fact that He would fix their
attention upon the events that have been transpiring. We must distinguish between
the mere open eye npon which passing objects paint their unnoticed outline, and
the observing eye. We must distinguish between things which are just seen and
then dismissed, and those which are retained by voluntary eSort. These men ate
about to dismiss the subject of their thoughts. He calls it back. "What things ? "
They have fallen into mere musing, mere droning over the past. He brings them back
to active memory and active study again. I. In the second place, He asks them,
•'What things?" that, in recounting, they may perceive the belations of thh
EVENTS NABBATE©. This is the greater part of knowledge. The mere mob of motley
transactions that are fiovring before as in the world, cannot, as such, be of service
to us. He who would learn from nature, must study the order of nature — mast
bind np hke with like, and study the dissimilarities of things that differ. He who
will fairly study Christianity in the earth, must take the dominant facts of Chris-
tianity, and impartially weigh them in their relations. Christianity must be con-
trasted with error, in the whole breadth of each. Things that are alike must be
noticed and marked out, as the algebraist strikes out, from the two sides of an
equation, elements that correspond, retaining only those that differ. The accidental
must be distinguished from the necessary, the formal from the essential ; and so a
broad and impartial vision must measure the outlines. Compare the godly man
with the ungodly, and when you have sifted the two, and so reached radical
character, how much is left in the godly man, and how much is left in the
ungodly ? These are the inquiries with which you have to do. In the history of
Christianity as a force among nations — socially and govemmentally — in the historio
development of doctrine, and its bearings on hfe — in the history of individual
Churches — it is the question for men fairly to consider : What are the facts, the
residuary facts ? So comes the '* conclusion of the whole matter." These disci-
ples had not forgotten, but remembered confusedly and in fragments. They must
pass the whole in review, in broad vision see the relation of part with part, lest
they lose the benefit of the lesson which has been given them. There are two
difficulties in attempting fairly to weigh facts. One is, the disposition to prejudge
— to test history by thaory. These men had a theory. It was perfectly elear to
€BAP. xxiy.] ST. LUKE. 637
them. God had not given it to them ; intuition had not disclosed it ; but they had
concluded it — they were sure that, when the Messiah should come, He would be a
triumphant Saviour ; that He would march boldly into Jerusalem, lay His hand
upon the sceptre and throne, and the Boman power dissolve before Him. This had
not been. They had seen Him hang pale and lifeless upon the cross, and con-
signed to the tomb stark and dead. How could He be the Messiah f The matter
was disposed of in their minds. A second difficulty that lay in their way is a
«ommon one. With half glimpses, and a confused idea of facts, they had begun
"reasoning together." This is almost instinctive. Men get two facts of a case,
and presume a third ; and, upon the two facts and a presumption, go to work to
build a conclusion. Here is a surveyor who wishes to measure the height of yonder
tree. He measures the base-line ; he knows the tree is perpendicular, and so has a
light-angle ; now, he guesses at the angle from here to the top of the tree, and on
these data seeks to find the height of the tree. Will he ever get it f Science offers
to as two or three data ; to these known, we add certain unknown quantities,
oounting them as also known, and so set off to map out the heavenly spaces. These
men had a part only of the facts, and they had begun at once to draw general con-
clusions. There was a fairer way. They remembered Christ's words — they alluded
to them. They remembered the event of the crucifixion, and that three days had
transpired, and they had heard the words of the women, that He was gone
from the tomb. Did they count this a mere vision of enthusiasts, who, by reason
of their femininity, might be supposed to be peculiarly imaginative t Still, it was
confirmed by their calmer brethren. So far as the testimony went, it was all in the
direction of fulfilment of His word. It was no time to deny or surmise, bat rather
to hope and wait and watch. Philip said to Nathaniel, when he asked, " Can any
good thing come out of Nazareth?" "Come and see." So far as tbe facts you
have seen go, do tbey point to the truth of Christianity 7 Do not pause at that
point to argue, much less to deny, but, if you would have confirmation, " come and
fiee." It is God's own method. Once more. It was not sufficient fob them
eiMPLT TO THINS ovsB the facts — they must also speak them. Now, this may at first
Beem strange to us ; but consider how vital is the relation of human speech to the
development of character, and to self -acquaintance. We see now the process by
which Christ leads these men out of their bewilderment into perfect light. The
facts were all accessible, bat, though within reach, they were not grasped, and
would soon have been swallowed up in forgetfulness. He calls up again these
flitting forms and sets them in array ; and beside them sets a prophecy uttered four
hundred years before, and shows them how, item by item, it corresponds with these.
He goes farther back, from Malachi to Isaiah, and from Isaiah to David, and from
David to Moses. He sets a torchlight on every hill, until tbeir wondering eyes look
back along the pathway to tbe gateway of Eden, and they see the glowing words,
"The seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head"; "It shall bruise thy
head, and thou shalt bruise his heel." They understand now the gigantic conflict
which has transpired, and that from it the Messiah must come forth, " having
trodden the wine-press alone," with garments blood-red, to lift His sceptre over a
redeemed aniverse. His bruised heel upon the crushed head of the monster. Their
hearts bum within them ; they longed for the truth, and now, the truth being come
to them, their hearts are aglow, and they constrain Him to abide with them. They
have learned the lesson — their faith is confirmed. He is known to them, and
vanishes from their sight. This method in the revelation of Himself to a soul,
commends itself to reasonable men ; proceeding from facts to conclusions — from
the known to the unknown — from the naturfj to tbe supernatural. (Jesse B.
Thomas, D.D.) But wo trusted. — A mistaken hope : — I. Theib previous con-
viDENCB. 1. The object of that confidence. They had formed defective views as
to the (1) naedfal atonement, and (2) attendant benefits. 2. The ground of that
confidence. In part substantially and in part visionary. They were misled by
prevailing misconceptions. U. Theib pbesent despondencz. 1. Its extent. Heart-
felt dejection. 2. The occasion of it (see ver. 20). Lessons: 1. To shame our low
distrust. The things we fear are for us (Bom. viii. 28). 2. To confirm our highest
hope. Sufterings, death, and resurrection of Jesus established. (F. Fitch, M.A.)
Sunset sorrow and lost hopes : — Here we have an illustration of men who had hoped
great things, and God had disappointed them. But we learn that God had dis-
appointed them by making His fulfilment larger than their hope. They hoped too
little. It is so yet with many whom sunset sorrow overshadows. It is not easy for
ns to rei^ze that the world of God is larger than oar world. la ancient timei the
638 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. (0HA». xxir.
imperfect knowledge of men reduced the world to a mere fraction of its actual
size and contents. The entire globe rested on the Bhoulders of Atlas then; th»
Mediterranean was the " Great Sea " ; the Straits of Gibraltar formed the world'*
end. But with the advance of knowledge the earth widened; Atlas lost the honour
of being the supporter of the globe ; an Atlantic was discovered beyond the pillars-
of Hercules at Gibraltar, stretching immeasurable and unknown towards the west-
Religious geography has fared no better. The gods of ancient days were mostly
lords, with uncertain divinity and still more uncertain morality. Theology was
superstition. Life was an idle dream. But are we sure that our religious
geography, even in the present day, is so advanced as to be as broad as God's
world ? Councils, and synods, and creeds have eagerly striven to keep enterprising
-• oyagers from passing beyond settled limits. Men have ever been frightened of
(tod's open seas. They prefer a tideless Mediterranean to the broad swell and
shoreless ranges of an Atlantic. " We hoped " — what ? That God was much less
than He has turned out to be ; that His kingdom would fall peacefully within the-
limits we had ordained for it 1 A child, brought up in a deep and narrow glen,
rever having ventured out of it, has reduced the sum of visible things to a very
insignificant item. He has seen the sun rise over the hill, the wheel of its chariot
evidently grazing the summit before mounting higher ; he hopes to touch the sun
some day, and put his hand to hide its face. And the stars that look down upon
liim at night — such little things, so near and so many — they would be charming to
play with. And the blue summer sky — what exquisite joy it would be to place hii
cheek for a moment close to the cool sweet surface ! The day arrives ; the child
stands on the hill, with all the pretty dreams of childhood vanished for ever in the
painful and overwhelming surprise of new thoughts. The sun has cUmbed very-
high, and the summer sky is very far off. Creation has widened, but it has spoilt
many a pleasant hope. His former world is judged ; it is a very little place 1 This
is only a special case that is typical of a great deal in universal human history. In'
the star-guesses of ancient days the earth was made out to be a planet of the first
order — it was the centre of the universe, having sun and moon and stars under its
command. It was the earth — and the rest of creation. We have changed all that.
The earth has slowly and quietly sunk into its proper position, a little orb of light
and shade in the midst of a thousand orbs much larger than it. But, let it bar
remembered, it is not the earth that has grown smaller, but the conception of the
creation that has widened. The same is true with regard to our spiritual attain-
ments. Thoughts of God and of His kingdom that we had cherished long have to
be given up — not because they are too great, but because they are too little. He
does away with our hopes by outshining them, " We hoped " that we might toneh
the sun and stars and eternal sky ; but God lifts them very high and makes the
■world very large. It is thus that God, in loving wisdom, disappoints the hopes of
men, lest they should satisfy themselves too soon. The hand that breaks our
fondest wishes is full of larger mercies than we had expected ever to see. God-
sends OS the pain of a heavy loss in order that we may be led out of our narrow-
ness and self- completeness into broader fields of thought and action. Little hopes
make life little ; great hopes make a great life. When we limit God we make our-
selves poor ; when we enlarge our conception of Him we enlarge our whole being.
(H. Elvet Lewis.) But Him they saw not. — Him they saw not : — L Wk hatb
HKBB AS TTMBBLIEVINO SEABCH. II. We HAVE ALSO HEBE FINDINQ WITHOTJT A 8EAB0H.
An anxions, honest doubt will not shut out visions of God from the souL IIL Wk
BATE HEBE THE DIBCOVKBY OF ChEIST BY WOMAN's LOVE. IV. APPLICATIOH. " Him
they saw not." To see Him is the characteristic and end of all true life. 1.
" Him they saw not " — a sad confession when made in reference to our stated
worship hours. To meet Him we ostensibly assemble and join in the outer forms
of reverence and worship, and yet of how many may our text apply, " Him they
saw not." 2. " Him they saw not," a sad confession when made in relation to the
Bervice of work. We see the terrible aspects of human misery, poverty in •
thousand forms, and sin in many of its loathsome shapes. Do we see Him in
those scenes t In our daily toil how true it is of many — oh, bo many—" Him they
see not " I 3. ** Him they saw not." How sad in relation to earth's sorrows t
Sad, yet tme. The brotherhood of sorrow and trouble is a worldwide brother-
hood. There mns a chain of sorrow through time ; this is all dark and mygterious
if Him the sufleiers see not. {W. Scott.) 0 fools, and slow of heaxi,— The
foU§ of unbelief: — I. Unbelief is folly. L It is folly because it arises from
«Ml «l thought juid jBonsideration. Kot to think is folly. To gire waj tv
muT. xxiT.] ST. LUKE. 6S'
sadness, when a little thought would prevent it, is foolishness. If these twc
disciples had sat down and said, " Now the prophets have said concerning
the Messias that He shall be led as a lamb to the slaughter, and thus was
it with our Master," they would have been confirmed in their confidence that
Jesus was the Messiah. In the Scriptures they would have found types, and
figures, and plain words, in which the death and the rising again, the shame
and the glory of Christ are linked together, and His cross is made the road to
His throne. Had they compared the testimony of the holy women with the
prophecies of the Old Testament, they would have obtained ground of hope. How
many a precious text have you and I read again and again without perceiving its
joyful meaning, because our minds have been clouded with despondency I We take
the telescope, and try to look into heavenly things, and we breathe upon the glass
with the hot breath of our anxiety till we cannot see anything ; and then we con-
clude that there is nothing to be seen. 2. Unbelief is folly because it is inconsis-
tent with our own professions. The two disciples professed that they believed in
the prophets ; and I have no doubt that they did do so. They were devout Jews
who accepted the Holy Books as Divinely inspired, and therefore infallible ; and
yet now they were acting as if they did not believe in the prophets at all. 3. Folly,
again, is clearly seen in unbelisying sadness, because the evidence which should cheer
us is so clear. In the case of the brethren going to Emmaus they had solid ground
for hope. They speak, to my mind, a little cavalierly of the holy women as " oer-
tain women." I say not they speak disrespectfully; but there is a slurring of
their witness by casting a doubt upon it. If those who were at the empty
sepulchre were to be believed, why did they doubt? The evidence which they
themselves detail, though we have it only in brief in this place, was conclusive
evidence that Christ had left the tomb ; and yet they doubted it. Now, you and
I have had superabundant evidence of the faithfulness of Ood, and if we are un-
believing, we are unreasonable and foolish. 4. Unbelief is folly, because it very
often arises out of our being in such a hurry. They said, " Beside all this^ this_,is
the third day." Althgugb the Saviour had sai5~Inat He would rise on the third
day, Efe had not said that He would appear to them all on the third day. He told (/ ,j
them to go into Galilee^ and there they should see Him ; but that meeting had not Mw ^^3%
yet come. "He that believeth shall not make haste" ; but they that do not fv I
loelieve are always restless. Well is it written, " Ye have needof patience." Godja
promises will be kept to the moment, but they will not all be fulfilled to-day.
Divinff~promigifS^ are some of them! bills which are payable so many days after'
sight; and because they are not paid at sight we doubt whether they are good
billi. Is this reasonable ? Are we not foolish to doubt the sure handwriting of
a God that cannot lie ? 6. Tet, again, I think we may well be accused of folly
whenever we doubt, because we make ourselves suffer needlessly. There are
enough bitter wells in this wilderness without our digging more. There are
enough real causes of sorrow without our inventing imaginary ones. No asp ever
Btung Cleopatra so terribly as that which she held to her breast herself. 6. I want
you to notice yet further that it was folly, but it was nothing more. I feel so
thankful to our Lord for using that word. Though we ought to condemn our own
unbelief with all our hearts, yet our Saviour is full of tenderness, and so freely
forgives, that He looks upon our fault as folly, and not as wilful wickedness. He
knows that it is true of his children, as it is of ours, that folly is bound up in the
heart of a child. II. In the second place, our Lord rebuked them for slovtnesb or
BEABT TO BELIEVE. 1. First, WO are slow in heart to believe our God, for we are
much more ready to believe others than to beheve Him. I am often amazed with
the credulity of good people whom I had credited with more sense. Credulity
towards man and incredulity towards God are singular tihngs to find in the same
person. Let us henceforth accept every syllable of God's Wo^d as infallible, while
we turn our unbelief towards man and his philosophies and infidelities 1 2. Is it
not clear that we are slow of heart to believe, since we judge this of others when
they are mistrustful 7 3. There is another point in which we are very slow of
beaj-t to believe, namely, that we do beheve, and yet do not believe. We must be
Tery slow of heart when we say " Yes, I believe that promise," and yet we do not
expect it to be fnlfiUed. We are quick of mind to believe mentally, bat we are
slow of heart to believe practically. The very heart of onr believing is slow. They
talk about believing in tiie Lord for eternity, but for this day and next week tbey
are full of fear. True faith is every-day faith. We want a faith which will
endure the wear and tear of life— a practical, realizing faith, which trusts in God
€40 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chip. rxnr.
from hour to hour. 4. These tvro disciples must have been slow of heart to
Relieve, again, because they had enjoyed so much excellent teaching, and they
ought to have been solid believers. They had been for years with Jesus Christ
Himself as a tutor, and yet they had not learned the elements of simple faith.
6. Once more, these two disciples were very slow of heart to believe, because there
is so much in the Word which ought to have convinced them. See how the
Saviour puts it — "Slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken. "
"What a mighty "all" that is I Brethren, are you half aware of the treasure
hidden in the field of Scripture ? III. Now I want to speak on this matter to the
TJNCONVEBTKD. Somo of you are really seeking the Lord, but you say that you
cannot believe though you long to believe. 1. This unbelief proves you to be
foolish, and slow of heart, for there are other parts of His Word which you easily
believe. If there is a text that speaks of judgment to come you believe it. You are
ready enough to take in the hard things, but the gracious promises of the loving
Christ you will not believe. How can you justify this ? How fooUsh yon are ! The
promises are in the same Book as the threatenings, and if you believe the one, believe
the other. 2. Next, you are very foolish, because your objections against believing
ave altogether poor and puerile. One man cannot believe in Jesus because he does
not feel humble enough ; as if that affected Christ's power to save. If he felt more
humbled, then he could beheve in Jesus. Would not that be just believing in
himself, and trusting in his own humility instead of trusting in Christ ? S. Though
you find it so hard to believe Christ, you have found it very easy to believe in
yourself. 4. Moreover, you are very apt now to believe Satan fi he comes and says
that the Bible is not true, or that Jesus will not accept you, or that you have
ainned beyond hope, or that the grace of God cannot save you. 6. Then yon know
how ready you are, you seekers, to stop short of Christ. 6. And then some of you
are fooUsh and slow of heart because you make such foolish demands upon God.
You would beUeve if yon could hear a voice, if you could dream a dream, if some
strange thing were to happen in your family. What 1 Is God to be tied to your
fancies. 7. You are fooUsh and slow of heart because, to a great extent, you
ignore the Word of God and its suitability to your case. If a soul in distress will
take down the Bible, and turn it over, he need not look long before he will light
^apon a passage which describes himself as the object of mercy. Those two
disciples did not, for a while, see how the prophets met the case of the crucified
and risen Christ ; but as they did see it, their hearts burned within them. As yoa
also see how God has provided for your condition in His Word, in His covenant, in
His Son, your sadness will flee away. (C. H. Spurgeon.) Ought not Christ to liaT9
suffered? — Gain from the tufferings of Christ: — I. In consequence of the suFFEBntas
^F ChBIST, am INMOMBBABLB MUIiTITCDB OF OUB BAOB WILL BE BAISED FBOM k STATS OF
SINFUL DEOBAOATIOH AKD MISBBT, AND EXALTED TO THE SOCIETY OF ANGELS AND OF QtOI>,
IL In consequbnck of thb buffebinos of Chbist, all who finally belietb and
TBUST in Him, as thb Son of God, will be confibmed in a state of pebfbot
HOLINESS AND HAPPINESS FOB BVBB. III. In THE PBOPITLATOBY SACBIFICg OF ChBIST,
THE Divine Chabaoteb, in its tabious attbibutes, is olobiously displayed.
Reflections: 1. From this subject we are led to admire the character of God's
government. 2. We are led to mourn how exceedingly limited are the views of
: those who think that the only object of Christ's coming into our world was ** to
..publish a good system of morality, and to set us a good example 1 " 3. We learn
,Aow very imperfect are the views of those who suppose that the only object of
Christ's coming into our world was to save sinners. But oh ! what is the salvation of
millions who creep on earth — what is this compared with those glorious displays
of God's character, or compared with that eternal confidence in His government
<which is inspired among the loftier and wider provinces of His empire f 4. We
ought not to distrust the wisdom of Providence, even in those events which seem
dark and mysterious. 6. Let Christians be provoked to self-denying sacrifices in
the cause of humanity, and untiring devotedness to the Saviour. 6. Let the
wicked and the worldling, amid the blaze of gospel light, be constrained to repent
^and believe. 7. The reflection very naturally follows, that incorrigible sinners
must be punished with immeasurable severity. 8. We learn from this subject the
^giieat propriety of frequently commemorating the dying of the Lord Jesus. (A.
Dickinson, M.A.) The $uffering$ and the glory of the Chritt : — I. Thb con-
nection between thb buffebinos and the olobt of Chbist. H. The hobal
OBLioATioN. 1. In reference to the fulfilment of inspired prophecy. 2. In refe-
„ggus» to the eternal purpose of God. 8. In reference to the conscious needs of oar
nut. XXXV. -^ ST. LUKE. $43
own nature. (J. Waite, B.A.) Ends proposed in the sufferings of Chritt : — 1. It
was requisite that Christ sbonld Buffer, in order that He might verify His own pre-
dictions. 2. A succession of prophets had foretold His sufferings. 3. That th»
salvation of mankind depended on His death, and could not have been effected
without it. 4. The full display of the glorious character of God required that
Christ should suffer. 5. A farther end, a subordinate one, I confess, was
that Christ, in suffering, might give us an example of holiness and virtue.
{R. Hall, M.A.) The sufferings and glory of Christ: — I. Thb pbdccipai.
EusMENTs or Chbist's buffebinos fob SIM. 1. He had a clear view of
the unspeakable hideousness and odiousness of sin. 2. He was oonscious
of the Divine displeasure on account of sin. 3. He was oonscioas of the
absence of the Divine favour, and the presence and power of Satan. II. Thb
dBCtJMSTANCES WHICH BENDEBED THESE SUFFERINGS NECESSABT. 1. They Wer«
necessary for the full manifestation of the Divine character in the work of
redemption. 2. They were necessary to prevent the salvation of sinners from
infringing on the authority and government of God. III. The globt which is thb
BESOLT AND BBWABD OF THB Savioub's suffebinqs (see Phil. ii. 9-11). 1. The
glory and honour thus bestowed on Christ, are conferred on Him in His character
of Mediator. 2. The glory of Christ arises from His superiority over the hosts of
heaven. 3. Christ possesses glory as the Governor of the world. 4. Christ
is glorious as the Sovereign Head of the Church. {W. L. Alexander, D.D.)
He expounded. — Christ's first sermon after His resurrection; or, Christ tht theme of the
prophets : — I. Let us first consideb oob Lord's sermon on this occasion. II. Let
Tis consider the benefits wb mat derive from this sebmon. 1. It encourages us
to search and understand the Scriptures. 2. It encourages us to preach Scripture
sermons. 3. It calls the people to listen to Scripture sermons. 4. This sermon
should move the preachers of the gospel to imitate their blessed Master in preaching
Christ, as suitable opportunities are presented, even to small congregations. 6.
This sermon strengthens our faith in the truth of the Scriptures. 6. This sermoa
tends to increase our abhorrence of sin. 7. This sermon should increase our love
to Christ. 8. This sermon should revive our zeal for Christ's cause, and for the
salvation of our fellow-creatures. 9. This sermon confirms our hope of heaven.
10. This sermon affords great encouragement to penitent, believing souls. 11. This
sermon should be a warning to us that the threatenings of the Bible will be
fulfilled. (E. Hedding, D.D.) The Bible a rich storehmise : — There are pro-
mises in God's Word ttiat no man has ever tried to find. There are treasures of
gold and silver in it that no man has taken the pains to dig for. There are medi-
cines in it for the want of a knowledge of which hundreds have died. It seems to
me like some old baronial estate that has descended to a man who lives in a modem
house and thinks it scarcely worth while to go and look into the venerable mansion.
Year after year passes away, and he pays no attention to it, since he has no suspi-
cion of the valuable treasures it contains, till at last some man says to him, " Have
yon been up in the country to look at that estate ? " He makes up his mind that
he will take a look at it. As he goes through the porch he is surprised to see the
skill that has been displayed in its construction ; he is more and more impressed
as he goes through the halls. He enters a large room, and is astonished as he
beholds the wealth of pictures upon the walls, among which are portraits of many
of his revered ancestors. He stands in amazement before them. There is a Titian,
there is a Baphael, there is a Correggio, and there is a Giorgione. He says, " I
never had any idea of these before." " Ah 1 " says the steward, " there is many
another thing that you know nothing about in this castle " ; and he takes him
from room to room, and shows him carved plate and wonderful statues, and the
man exclaims, " Here I have been for a score of years the owner of this estate,
and have never before known what things were in it ! " But no architect ever
conceived of such an estate as God's Word, and no artist, or carver, or sculptor,
ever conceived of such pictures, and carved dishes, and statues, as adorn it»
apartments. Its halls and passages cannot be surpassed for beauty of architec-
ture, and it contains treasures that silver and gold and precious stones are not to
be mentioned in connection with. {H. W. Beecher.) Abide with us. — Disciple*
atEmmaui: — I. Theeb bequest. "Abide with us." 1. As a companion. 2. Al
a teacher. 3. As a comforter. 4. As a guest. II. Their plea. " Toward
evening." Christ makes the night to be light about us. HI. Theib babnbstnbsb.
"Constrained." L Hearty. 2. Prompt. 3. Persistent. IV. Theib success.
" He went in." Wonderful power in prayer. Peasants of earth ean prevail witb
TOL. m. 41
S4S THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, fcHAP. xnr.
Prince of heaven. Creatures of a day can detain Creator of universe. (W. Jackson.)
Christ constrained to abide : — ^I. Christ's peesence is exceedinglt desirable to
THE saints. This appears from their earnest desires after it, and their sorrows
when deprived of it. 1. The presence of Christ is an evidence of His love.
Fellowship is the frait of friendship. 2. Christ's presence is attended with the
most desirable effects ; none can enjoy it without deriving the greatest advantages
from it. It conveys light into the understanding, as well as warmth into the
affections ; so that in proportion to the measure of Christ's revealing Himself to
as will be the measure of our profiting in the knowledge of Him. 3. Present com-
munion with Christ is an earnest of everlasting fruition. IL A seemimoly departino
Savioub mat be constrained, as it were, to abide with His people. Speaking
after the manner of men, there are three ways of constraining Christ to abide with
us. 1. By the exercise of a lively faith. 2, By fervent prayer. 3. By a suitable
conduct towards Him. If we would have Christ abide with as, we must do what
we can to delight Him and make His stay pleasant. (B. Beddome, M.A.) The
blessed Guest detained: — I. Companions likely to part. 1. Observe the reason
of parting. If Jesus had gone further, it would have been entirely because they
forgot to invite Him or failed to urge Him to stay. 2. The point at which they
were at all likely to part company with Christ. (1) A point of change. (2) A point
where something had been accomplished. (3) They were now about to rest for a
tima 3. Had they parted company, the act would have been most blameworthy
on their part. II. The Gdbbt needing to be pressed. 1. He could not very
well have tarried otherwise. 2. This is a characteristic of the Son of God at all
times. (!) He is jealous of our love. (2) Another reason is His anxiety to do as
good. He wisely wishes that we should value the mercy which He gives, by being
led to consider what a case we should be in if He did not give it. III. A Guest
WORTH PBESSINO. IV. An ARGUMENT WITH WHICH TO HOLD HiM. 1. They WOuld
be dreary and lonely without Him. 2. The night was coming on, and they coald
not think of His being out in it. (C H. Spurgeon.) The evening prayer of
Christ's friends : — I. Notice some of the feelings which must have been in
THE hearts of THOSE WHO PRESENTED THIS PRAYER. 1. Grateful interest in a
spiritaal benefactor. When a soal has become truly alive to God, and to eternal
things, there is no tie so pare and deep as that which binds it to the scenes and
instruments which opened its view to the higher life. It is when Churches and
families and friendships are held together by such ties as these^by helping one
another in the way of God and life eternal — that they are united and strong, that
they can feel there is no nightfall which has any right or power to part them, and
that they must tarn in at the journey's close, and dwell together in the same
abiding home. One of the enjoyments of that home will be to review and renew
the intercourse of the journey, and to discover how the ties were deeper and the
benefits higher than oar hearts at the time anderstood, and how these sojourning
associations were preparing the way for the unending union of souls. And Christ
desires to have a personal share in these ties of grateful affection. He is the
Author of spiritual light and life to all who receive it, bat here He becomes also
the direct instrument — He is the channel as well as the foantain — teaching us that
His heart lies hidden behind every other heart that is made a source of blessing to
us, and also that He wishes to attach us to Himself as " a man speaketh to his
friend." 2. A desire to have such conversation continued. He who has had saoh
fellowship in the thoughts of God on the way will desire to have them also in the
house at nightfall. He cannot surrender them at the setting of any earthly snn,
but will pray as these disciples did, " Abide with us, for it is toward evening." 3.
The last feeling we mention in the hearts of these friends of Christ was the pre*
sentiment of something more than they had yet seen or heard. They had gratitude
to the speaker, they had love to the theme, but they felt that there was still a
mysteiy behind. They had learned much, but their heart told them they had not
learned all. The sense of a great presence hovered near them ; a great truth
floated before them ere yet it disclosed itself to their eyes. They fear to ask Him
of it ; they shrink from whispering it to themselves ; but there is a beam of light
in the stranger's look which promises to lead to fuller revelation, a tone of hopeful
confidence in His words that reminds them of a voice which once before spoke from
the gloom. What if now, amid a severer storm and out of a denser darkness, thai
beloved form should step forth again, and the words be heard, *' It is I ; be not
afraid" 7 Such a hope of a risen Saviour, and that this was He, unuttered evea
to themselves deep down in their sool, and fighting with fears as once their ship
-mir. xziT.] ST. LUKE, 64f
did with waves, was sarely present in their hearts when they arged this reqatst :
"Abide with as, for it is toward evening." IL Some of thb circumstances m
WHICH THIS BEQUEST UAT BE OFFEBED BT US. It maj be Said to be soitable to tha
whole earthly life of every Christian. The Ghorch of Christ, and every member
of it in this world, is pursuing this Emmaus joamey — travelling from the death of
■Cbilst on to the house where He shall give the manifestation of His resurrection.
We feel that He who sustains us on the way, and drops into our soul great desires
and deep presentiments, will answer them when ve reach the heavenly house, and
show us there things which eye hath not seen, neither hath it entered into man's
heart to conceive. Our life is now hid with Christ in God, but •' when He who is
our life shall appear, then shall we also appear with Him in glory," and therefore
we hold Him fast to the close. " Abide with us." Next, it is suitable to those who
are suffering under some special despondency of spirit. It is then we need to cling
to Him most, and then that He is accustomed to reveal Himself. It is His "to
lighten men's darkness, lest they sleep the sleep of death." If He seems to ba
passing by, constrain Him. "Abide with us, for it is toward evening." "I will
not let Thee go until Thou bless me." Oh, faithful heart, thou hast wrestled and
overcome. Another time suitable for presenting this request is in approaching tha
evening of life. Last, we remark that this request is suitable to those who live in
Ba age of the world such as ours. It would be unwarrantable to say that this is
the evening of our earth's history, and that we are close upon the second coming
of Christ. The world has probably much to look on yet before the final end. But
ihere are various days and nights in God's dispensations, and one of these evenings
seems now creeping in upon us. There is a cold vapour of materialism spreading
over the minds of many, chilling their conviction of a living God who made and
fiuperintends His world. There is only one duty and one source of safety for any
man who wishes to hare a life that rises above the most barren materialism ; it is
to seek a close and personal contact with the Saviour as the life of His Spirit, to
know Christ as the risen Son of God, who quickens dead souls. These evening
shades and doubts and trembling fears, that settle down ever and again on the
world's way, are permitted, to compel us to this — to urge us to seek His fellowship
with a closer access, and to constrain Him to enter the house with us and reveal
Himself in such Uving power that we, for our parts, can never doubt His truth any
more. We need not fear for the gospel of Christ, whatever dangers threaten it.
Calvary has still its Olivet; the shades of the Cross, the ascension glory; and
every night of trouble in its history, a brighter day-dawn. (/. Ker, DJ).) How
to detain Jesus in tlie soul : — I. Doubts as to the use of holy things we do, or of
Ood's gifts to us, or even of the faith, and of the reality of every thing unseen, are
parts of Satan's assaults against us. Men cannot but see that God does promise,
in His Word , that He will hear prayer, bless fasting, enrich those who give alms ;
that by baptism we are clothed with Christ, in the Holy Eucharist are made one
with Him ; that the Church is the appointed channel of His gifts and of salvation.
But men come short of God's gracious vrill for them ; and so they are tempted to
donbt of His promises altogether. Just so the disciples of Emmaus. The^ had
believed that Jesus was " He who should redeem Israel." But He redeemed it not
in the way they looked for. He had foretold that He should arise from the dead
on the third day ; " To-day," they say, " is the third day since these things were
done," and He had not appeared. Had they, upon this, gone away. He never
-would have appeared unto them. They were saddened, perplexed, yet still they
mused on Jesus and His promises. And so, as and when they looked not, relief
came. " Jesus drew near, and went with them," while they knew not, hoped not,
that it was He. And so in the like cases now, doubts will have no real hold upon
OB while we hold fast to Jesus. II. Then, while thus communing with Jesus, take
we heed that we act as He teacheth. Our deeds are the fruits of onr faith, but
they fix it and secure it in our souls. Without deeds love grows chilled, and, with
it, faith. Nothing shall hurt thy faith while thy heart is whole with God ;
nothing shall warp thy heart while, for love of Christ, thou dost deeds of love.
ni. There is yet another and larger teaching of this history, which extends over
the whole of life, relates to every communion, to every fervent prayer which any,
by God's grace, prays, to every melting of the hard heart, to every drawing of the
soul to serve God better. So is it with the soul. Jesns visits it many ways.
jBvery visitation of God, in awe and mercy, is a visit of Jesus to the sonl. It feels
His presence. It is troubled, and turns to Him ; it is alarmed at itself, or with
aears of heU, and flees to Him; or He brings before it its own orooked ways and
644 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xof.
the loathsomeness of its sin, and it would fain escape out of itself to Him ; or Hfl
gives it thoughts of His own everlasting love, and the bliss of ever loving, ever
being beloved ; and kindles some longing for Him. Everything which deadens the
Boul to the world, or quickens it to heavenly things, is a visit of Jesus. And now,
what should we do, when, in this fleeting world, nothing, not even virtue, abidetb
at one stay ? What should be our hope, when all fleeteth, but in Him who alone
abideth, who alone is our stay ? " And now, Lord, what is my hope ? Truly, my
hope is even in Thee." " Abide with us. Lord." He giveth His grace, that we
may know His sweetness ; He seemeth to withdraw it, that He may draw us up
after it to Himself. He showeth Himself, that we may love Him ; He hideth Him>
self, that we may long for Him, and the more we seek Him the more may find
Him. •* ' Abide with us. Lord ! ' For without Thee this world's light, and all the
purest joys of the whole world, were but a false glare, cold and comfortless to the
soul. With Thee, who art light and love, all darkness is light and joy." Precious,
above the price of the whole world, is every moment in which Christ speaks to the
BOuL Only, in all we say, think, do, fear, hope, enjoy, let us say, " Abide with ua»
Lord." We fear our own unsteadfastness ; " Lord, abide with us 1 " The foe ia
strong, and we, through our sins, weak ; " Lord, abide with us," and be our
strength. We are ever subject to change, and ebb, and flow ; " Abide with us.
Lord," with whom *' is no change." The pleasures of the world would lead u»
from Thee ; " Abide with us. Lord," and be Thou our joy. The troubles of the
world would shake our endurance ; " Abide with us. Lord," and bear them in Ds>
as Thou didst bear them for us. Thou art our refreshment in weariness ; Tboo
our comfort in trouble ; Thou our refuge in temptation ; Thou in death our life ;
Thou in judgment our Redeemer. If our Lord give thee any fervour in prayer,
say to Him, " Abide with me. Lord I " Use the fervour He giveth, to stretch on to
some higher fervour, to long for some more burning, deeper love ; not as though
thou couldest gain it for thyself, but, as emboldened by Him who hath "held
out His golden sceptre of His righteousness and mercy unto thee, that
thou mayest "touch it," and ask what thou wilt. If Satan would withdraw
thee from prayer by weariness, hold thou on the firmer. Say, "Abide with
me. Lord," and He will be with thee in thy prayer. (E. B. Pmey, D.D.y
As He sat at meat with them, He took hre&d.— The meal at Evimaus : — I. Thk
BKEAKiNO AND DisTBiBUTioN OF BBEAD. 1. The old, familiar, blessed intercourse
between Christ and His disciples had not been put an end to, then, by all that had
passed during those three mysterious days. Death vanishes as a nothing in their
intercourse ; they stand where they were ; the fellowship is unbroken ; the society
is the same ; all that there used to be of love and friendship, of peaceful concord,
of true association — it abides for ever. 2. The true idea of the relation which
results from Christ and His presence is that of the Family. He takes His place at
the head of the table ; He is the Lord of the household, though it be but the
household of two men, and they belong to the family and the society which He
founds. 3. Where Christ is invited as a Guest, He becomes the Host. Our Master
never comes empty-handed. Where He is invited. He comes to bestow ; where He
is welcomed, He comes with His gifts ; when we say, " Do Thou take what I offer,"
He says, " Do thou take Myself." II. The discovert. The consequence of tWt^
assumption of the position of Master, Host, Bestower, is that " their eyes were
opened, and they knew Him." Where Christ is loved and desired, the veriest trifle*
of common life may be the means of His discovery, There is nothing so small
but that to it there may be attached some filament which will bring after it the
whole majesty and grace of Christ and His love. IIL The disappkarancb of thb
Lord. 1. When Christ's presence is recognized, the senses may be put aside. We
have lost, it is true, the bodily presence of our Master ; but it is more than made
up to us by the clearer knowledge of His spiritual verity and stature, the deeper
experience of the profounder aspects of His mission and message, the indwelling
Spirit, and the knowledge of Him working evermore for us all. 2. When Christ is
discerned, there is work to be dotie. (A. Maclaren, D.D.) Their eyes were
opened. — The spiritual eye : — It is quite certain that there is an inward faculty in
the mind which accurately corresponds to the natural eye. It is the power by
which we morally see and morally apprehend truth. And that eye, just like the
bodily eye, admits of being either closed or opened. This eye of the soul is a part
ef man's original constitution. Familiarly we have known it under the name of
faith. Faith is that eye of the soul. This eye is bom blind. But while nature*
in this matter of oar blindness, has done much, we ourselves have done mnob mor^
CHAP. XXIV.] ST. LVKE. 645
The closed eye is being continnally closed more and more, and sealed in its close-
ness. The mistakes of education — the bad early training — youthful prejudice —
every neglect of a duty, and every violence done to conscience — the grievings of the
spirit, each secret sin and wilful act of disobedience — all our proud tempers, and
impure desires, and self-willed thoughts — all that has not God in it — the whole
contact with this wicked world — almost every act, and word, and imagination of
our lives — all has, every day, been fastening up the fast eye faster and faster. And
so at last it comes, that a man can really see nothing but what is material. He
has no perception of Divine things. Jesus is practically hidden. Neither his sin,
nor its pardon, nor its punishment, nor peace of mind, nor the higher love, nor the
heavenly life, nor another world, nor God, does he descry. And yet, all the while,
all these things are near him and about him every moment — he moves in that
beautiful circle, heaven is round him, but there is a thick curtain before him, it is
an unknown thing, it is all to him as if it were not. How is the shut eye opened ?
Now, it might be enough to say that it is done by an act of sovereign grace and
power. That is true ; but that would not practically help you. You would then
say, " I must wait till that act of sovereign power passes upon me." Therefore,
let me look at it rather diSerently. There is the eye of the body, which you shut
and which you open. How does the physical eye open ? There is an act of will in
the brain, and that act of will in the brain moves the organ. It is a perfect
mystery how the will can take effect upon the nerves, and so upon the muscles, of
any part of our body ; but it is done. The will acts naturally ; but there is another
power, an appointment, and a secret omnipotence, which is wanted. So it is with
the opening of the spiritual eye. There must be will. True, God gives the will ;
but He is always giving it, and you are always resisting it. The will begins — the
will produces an effort — the effort puts certain things in motion — and God being in
it all — in the will which He has created, and in the effort, and in the process — the
thing is done — the eye opens, vision is restored. It may be gradually, it may be
with more or less of clearness and growth, but it is vision — the eye is opened — and
things which were invisible come in through the new avenue, and make their mark,
and stamp their impression on the inner man. And the man, the highest part of
the man, sees ; he finds he is in a new world, and because he is in a new world, he
is a new creature. (J. Vaughan, BI.A.) Did not ourjieart bum within us. —
Christ talking — hearts burning : — I. Christ's method of bevealing Himself. 1.
Scripture exposition. 2. Talking. The grandest things demand the simplest
presentation. II. Look now at some of the effects of this revelation on Hia
DisciPLEB. 1. The first effect was deeply interior and experimental. " Their hearts
began to bum within them." There was an unusual interest— a feeling they had
never had till now — a longing and a love, and a begun enthusiasm which all their
after-life was to express. What effect can be finer than this? or more desirable?
— the effect of the burning heart. It is well enough to have an idea, and a sight
of things ; to see the things that can be seen, and know the truth that can be
known. But it is yet better to have a deep, warm, inward sense of them ; to have
them burning in the breast, and all the breast aflame with the holy fire. No better
effect oould come to us of our " talkings " together by the way ; and of our en-
deavours to open to each other the Scriptures. 2. The next effect is what we may
express in the phrase : ♦' the willing feet. " *' They rose up the same hour and
returned to Jerusalem." The feeling was instinctive that something must be done,
and done immediately. All this good news which has turned their hearts into
fountains of joy, must, in some way, be told, and told without delay ; in what way
may best remain to be seen ; but the first thing to be done is to return to Jerusalem.
There their hopes were buried three days ago, and they go now to tell of their
resurrection. There, their friends are ; and probably their work, and possibly their
Bufferings. No matter. They must go. Is it not always thus with those to whom
Christ makes Himself known ? Arising out of the feeling of His presence, along
with the burning of heart that makes that presence known, is the immediate and
ineffaceable conviction that something must be done for Him. " Here am I, send
me." »• Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do f " At least, I feel that whatever my
hand findeth to do, I must do it with all my might, and without delay. I must go ;
and when I reach the end of the little journey, I must speak. 3. Thus we come to
another effect of the relation of Christ, which we may call the effect of the ready-
tongue. When they came to Jerusalem, they told "what things were done in the
way," and how *' He was known of them in the breaking of bread." (A. Raleigh,
J[>J>.) Hallowed feelings .'—Our emotions are connected with our intellectual
646 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTRATOB. [chap. xxiv.
Btates, yet distinct from them and beyond them, because the result of them. The
text records the way in which the feelings of the two disciples were excited by the
oonversation of the unknown stranger who joined them on the way to Emmaus.
It suggests a twofold observation. L The oospel appeals to the feelinqs or
MEN. It is a religion intended for man in the sense that it meets the wants of his
entire nature. And the emotional is as really a part of man's nature as any other.
It would not be a sufficient religion for man if it merely issued its commands as to
what should be done in the shape of bodily service, or even in the exercise of a
discipline intended for the subjugation of the body ; nor if it only furnished the
intellect with instruction and elevating material. It must address itself also to the
moral and emotional nature. Accordingly, Christianity seizes on the passions,
sympathies, and susceptibilities of our nature. The Old and New Testaments are
alike full of them, as the experience of the godly. It follows that those whose
feelings are not touched by it are unacquainted with its saving power. II. Thb
OOSFEIi IS ADAPTED TO EXCITE THE FEELINQS OF MEN. 1. The trUths Of the gOSpel
are in themselves adapted to excite feeling. You attempt to produce emotion by
the exhibition of objects that are suitable to that end. Take, as illustrations, the
feelings of joy and of love. Could anything be more adapted to their production
than the truth that God loves the world of sinners ; that He gave His Son to death
for them ; and that whosoever believes in Him receives pardon and eternal life ?
2. This is especially the case when they are addressed to men in certain states of
mind. You would never expect to interest a dying man by placing on his pillow
the crown of an earthly kingdom. A word of comfort respecting the future is
incomparably more to him than all the splendours of this world. Thus, when yoa
laboured under deep conviction of sin and consequent distress, perhaps amounting
to hopelessness, the nature, sufficiency, and freeness of salvation iu Christ was
expounded, and you found it exactly what you wanted. Thus, when you have
come to the sanctuary with some trouble on your heart that has almost shaken your
faith to its centre, the theme of the ministry has been God's faithfulness and love,
or the mystery along with the benevolence of His providence ; and your fainting
soul has felt like a falling child whose mother has tenderly taken it up and saved it
from hurt. 3. Some circumstances are specially favourable to the excitement of
the feelings by the gospel. The public worship of the sanctuary. The communion
of Christian friends. The retirement of the closet. 4. Spiritual feelings must b«
sustained by the means which first produces them. Do you wish to keep your
heart warm in this sense f Often walk and talk with Jesus. Let Him be much in
your thoughts. {John Bawliiwon.) A suggestive question : — I. This question which
these disciples asked themselves, illustrates the ditficcltt we hate m dndebstand*
XNG at the TniE THE BELATITE IMPOBTANCE OF EVENTS IN OUB LIVES, AND ESPECIALLT
or THE BELioious EVENTS IN THEM. We are naturally disposed to think that the
important events must be striking ; that they must address themselves powerfully
to the imagination ; that they must stand out, in obvious prominence, from among
surrounding occurrences. Whereas it may very well happen that what is most
important in reality, that is to say, in its bearing on our prospects in the future
life, is in appearance commonplace and trivial. Of course in this world we look at
the plan of our hves from below, not from above. We deal with the task of each
day, of each hour, as it comes ; we have no time or capacity to make a map or
theory of the whole and to arrange the several parts in their true proportion and
perspective. It is with oar conceptions of life as with a landscape painting ; some
tree in the immediate foreground fills up a third of the canvas, while the towers of
a great city, or the outlines of a mountain range, lie far away in the distance. In
another state of existence the relative worth of everything will be clear to us : here
we constantly make the wildest mistakes, partly from the narrowness of our out-
look, and partly from the false ideals which too often control oar judgment. We
look out for the sensational, which never comes to as quite as we anticipate it ; we
walk near Jesus Christ, who veils His presence, in the ordinary paths of life;
perhaps we never get beyond a certain passing glow of emotion, which dies away
and leaves us where we were. Our hearts burn within us. But what this has
meant we only find out when it is too late. IL Another point suggested by the
words is the use op RELiaions feeling. " Did not our heart burn within as ? *•
The disciples ask each other the question in a tone of self-reproach. While oar
Lord explained to them the true sense of the Hebrew Scriptures with reference to
His person and His work, His sufferings and His triumph, their whole inward
being, thought, affection, fancy, had kindled into fiame. They were oa
«HAS. XXIV,] ST. LUKE. 647
fire, and jet it all had led to nothing. Oaght it not to have led to some-
thing? Ought it not, at the least, to have convinced them that, withia
the range of their experience, One only conld have spoken as He did?
Certainly, my brethren, true religion cannot afford to neglect any elements of man's
complex nature ; and so it finds room for emotion. That glow of the soul with
which it should hail the presence of its Maker and Redeemer is as much His handi-
work as the thinking power which apprehends His message or the resolve which
enterprises to do His will. Yet religious emotion, like natural fire, is a good
servant but a bad master. It is the ruin of real religion when it blazes ap into a
fanaticism that, in its exaltation of certain states of feeling, proscribes thought,
and makes light of duty, and dispenses with means of grace, and passes through
some phase of frantic, although disguised, self-assertion, into some further phase
of indifference or despair. But, when kept well in hand, emotion is the warmth
and lustre of the scAil's life. III. A third consideration which the words suggest,
is THB DUTY OF MAKINO AM ACIIVB BITOBT TO UNDEBSTAND TBUTH AS IT IB PBESBNTKD
TO US. I say, an active effort ; because, as a rule, our minds are apt to be passive.
We let truth come to say what it can ; we do not go out to meet it, to welcome it,
to offer it a lodging in the soul, and, if it may be, to take its measure and under-
stand it. If we have serious thoughts now and then, and look into our Bibles in a
casual way, and attend some of the Church services, we think we have good reason
to be satisfied that we know all that it concerns our soul's health to know ; perhaps
even that we know enough to discuss religious questions of the day with confidence.
We drift through life in this way, some of us ; making our feelings and preferences
the rule of truth ; assuming that what is popular for the passing hour, or what
comes readily to us, must be the will of God. He indeed is near from whom we
might learn the truth ; walking by our side, ready and longing to be inquired of if
we only will ; but we dispense ourselves from the necessity. Religious truth, we
say to ourselves, is very simple and easy of acquirement ; that which is intended
for all must be open to all, and cannot be the monopoly of those who make efforts
to know it. And yet nothing in the Bible is clearer than that it makes the attain-
ment of truth depend upon an earnest search for truth (Matt, vii, 7 ; Prov. viii. 17 ;
Jer. xxxiii. 3 ; Prov. ii. 3-5). In conclusion, let us reflect that our Lord's presence
with His disciples during the forty days after His resurrection was in many ways an
anticipation of His presence in His Church to the end of time. His religion wears a
commonplace appearance ; its sacred books seem to belong to the same category as
the works of human genius ; its Sacraments are, St. Augustine said, rites_ chiefly
remarkable for their simplicity ; its ministers are ordinary, and often erring and
sinful, men. But for all that, the Incarnate Son is here, who was crucified and
rose from death, and ascended and reigns in heaven, He is here ; and the trial and
duty of faith is what it was eighteen centuries ago, namely, to detect, under the
veil of the familiar and the commonplace, the presence of the Eternal and the
Divine. We, too, walk along the road to Emmaus ; and the Divine Teacher
appears to us, as St. Mark puts it, "in another form"; and our hearts, perhaps,
glow within us, yet without doing anything for our understandings or our wills.
{Canon LiddoTi,) Christ warms the heart: — I. Consideb the occabiok, ob the
MEANS EMPLOYED. "He talked with us by the way." "He opened to us the
Scriptures." II. Consideb the effect peoduced by that occasion and those
UBANS. " Did not our heart burn," &c. There is in real communion that which
warms the heart. Away from Christ, all is coldness in regard to God and spiritual
things ; away from Christ, men even pride themselves in a sort of stoical apathy in
regard to the claims of God ; away from Christ, the most constraining motives of
the gospel are heard with unconcern. There is communion to be had with Christ
in prayer. Many pray in a formal way, but have never yet known " the heart to
bum within them " in prayer. So with meditation : " My meditation of Him shall
be sweet," said the psalmist. " Did not our heart bum within us? " And whence
this effect? They were, you remember, anxious disciples, perplexed with doubts
and seeking the truth. Hence, as they heard Him expound the Scriptures, they
found their doubts gradually cleared away. It is when you discover your personal
interest in the things spoken of—" That promise speaks to me," " That Saviour is
my Saviour," " This God is our God even unto death," " He is mine, and I am
ms " — that you will again feel " the heart to bum within you." {J. H. Hamhleton,
M.A.) The means, author, and effects of Christian instruction : — I. We have
XHa IMSTBDMENTALITY used by OUB LoBD in the instruction 01" Hl8 DISCIPIiES.
We are told it was " the Scriptures." God honours EUs word above all Hia attri-
648 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xdt,
butes '•Thon hast magnified Thy word," says David, "above all Thy name ;" f.«.,
"all Thy perfections." Why does He do so? Because it is by His Word He
leveals the mystery of His essence, and His moral perfections. Because without
His Word there would be no God to be recognized and worshipped. II. We have
to consider, thb agency by which this instbumentaiiIty was made effective.
We read that Christ " opened " the Scriptures. But where was the necessity for
" opening " the Scriptures ? What is there so mystical in the nature of this book,
that it should have been as written in unintelligible characters which they did not
understand? Eemember that the Bible is a sealed book to any who are unen-
lightened by the Spirit of God 1 It is true of the Bible as of every department of
Divine knowledge, that the natural man cannot receive the things of the Spirit of
God they are foolishness to him : he cannot know them, because they are
BpirituaUy discerned. III. But, again. What was the sensible effect produced
IN THE MINDS OF THOSE WHO WEBE THUS INSTRUCTED BY OUR LOED ? Their heattS
burned within them. Observe, they got light and heat at the same time, " Did not
our heart burn within us? " With what did they bumf — with shame for their
sins ; their hearts were melted into penitence, inflamed with zeal, and filled with
the fire of Divine love ; the Spirit of God kindled within them what the breath oi
God breathed in them 1 — the bright light of hope shone within their minds, and
they were enabled to take a clear view of Christ — Christ was manifested to them —
" their heart burned within them." Here, then, we see the sensible effect produced
by the instruction of our Lord in the Scriptures. Here we have presented to ua
the instrumentality employed in the work of conversion ; the agent in the work of
conversion ; and the effect of the work of conversion — we have the Bible as the
instrumentality ; we have Christ as the teacher ; and we have burning hearts as the
effect produced by the Spirit of God. (il. H. Beamish, M.A.) The Bible gives light
and warmth: — A gentleman approached the fruit stand of an Italian woman, whom he
found very intently engaged reading a book. " What are you reading there, my good
woman, that seems to interest you so much ? " he inquired. •* The Word of God," said
the woman. " The Word of God ! Who told you that ? " " God told me Himself,"
answered the woman. ♦' God told you ? How did He do that ? Have yoa ever
talked with God ? How did He tell you that was His Word ? " Not accustomed to
discuss questions of theology, the woman was a little confused. Kecovering
herself, she said : " Sir, can you prove to me that there is a sun up there in
heaven ? " " Prove it," said the man, " Why do you ask me to prove it T It proves
itself. It warms me and I see its light; what better proof can any one want? *•
The woman smiled and said : " Just so ; you are right. And that is just the way
God tells this Book is His Word. I read it, and it warms me and gives me light.
I see Him in it, and what it says is light and warmth which none but God can
give; and so He tells me it is His Word. What more proof do I needf *'
Divine influence needed to understand the Scriptures: — Unsanctified men cannot
read tie Bible to profit. If you bring me a basket full of minerals from California,
and I take them and look at them, I shall know that this specimen has gold in it,
because I see there little points of yellow gold, but I shall not know what the white
and the dark points are that I see. But let a metallurgist look at it, and he will
see that it contains not only gold, but silver, and lead, and iron, and he will single
them out. To me it is a mere stone, vnth only here and there a hint of gold, but
to him it is a combination of various metals. Now take the Word of God, that il
tilled with precious stones and metals, and let one instructed in spiritual insight go
through it, and he will discover all these treasures ; while, if you let a man
nninstructed in spiritual insight go through it, he will discover those things
that are outside and apparent, but those things that make God and man
friends, and that have to do with the immortality of the soul in heaven,
escape his notice. No man can know these things unless the Spirit of God
has taught him to discern them. (JT. W. Beeeher.) While He opened to
US the Scriptures. — The opening of the Scriptures : — I. The Scriptures cw)sed.
1. The mysterious nature of the Bible itself. 2. The degenerate faith of the
disciples. IL The Scriptures opened. 1. It is necessary to have Christ as the
interpreter. 2. The disciples must possess a sympathetic heart. 3. Given these
conditions, the Scriptures are opened with the utmost ease. IIL The result o»
THE OPENING OF THE ScBiPTUBES. 1. The two disciplcB Understood that a thorough
unity of design pervaded the whole Bible. 2. They perceived that Christ was the
great theme of the Scriptures. 3. They were fiUed with wonder at the aspect in
which Christ was revealed. 4. They experienced true happiness. (H. Ot
CHAP. X3IV.] ST. LUKE. 649
fFilUams.) ChrUt opening the Scriptures: — I. Oob Lord's sermon ok this
OCCASION. IL The benefits we may derive therefrom. 1. It encourages us to
search the Scriptures. 2. It encourages us to preach Scripture sermons. 3. It
calls on the people to listen to Scripture sermons. 4. It strengthens our faith in
the truth of the Scriptures. 5. It strengthens our faith in the predictions con-
cerning the increase of Christ's kingdom. (Canon Fleming.) Scripture opened : —
I. The Holt Scriptures are the only source of Divine wisdom and consola-
tion. II. For the full understanding of the Scriptures, we need thr
SPIRITUAL teaching OF OUB LoRD JeSUS ChRIST. III. ThIS SPIRITUAL TEACHING 1»
OFTEN SPECIALLY GRANTED TO TRUE DISCIPLES, WHEN ENGAGED IN HOLY CHRISTIAN
COMMUNION. IV. When YOUB affections are warmed by discoveries made TO
SOU IN THE Word of God, then you should at once recognize the presence
OF Jesus, and earnestly entreat His continuance with you. {J. Jowett, M.A.)
Christ opening Scripture : — L It is Christ's work to open and apply the
Scriptures where they reach the heart. He is the great Prophet of His
Church, who hath already revealed the will of God for our salvation. He opens
the Scripture that it may not remain a sealed Book, and opens the understanding,
and unbars the heart, that the light may enter to make the first saving change,
and to be our strength and comfort afterward. II. The opening and applying of
THE Scriptures are the means Christ will ordinarily use, to reach and
CABBY on His design upon the heart. IIL 'Tis in this way of opening and
APPLYING THE SCRIPTUBES, THAT ChKIST IS TO BE CONCEIVED OF, AND REGARDED AS
taleino with His people. He did so personally while He was upon earth, and
continues to do so by His ministers and Spirit now when He is gone to heaven.
IV. In what eespects theib hearts may be said to burn, to whom Christ
ETFEOTUALLY SPEAKS. To keep your thoughts distinct, I shall consider this, either
with respect to sinners, whom He is drawing to him : or to believers, whom He is
acquainting with their interest in Him. 1. As to sinners whom He is drawing to
Him. When Christ opens the Scriptures, and talks with such, their hearts may be
said to burn — (1) With a sense of sin, and a fearful apprehension of deserved
wrath. (2) Their hearts are made to bum with ardent desire for deliverance from
their sinful wretched state, and for an interest in Christ the only, all-sufficient
Saviour. 2. As to believers, whom Christ is acquainting with their interest in Him,
and thereby talking with them to their comfort ; whilst He does so, their hearts
may be made to bum. (1) With love to Him; and (2) With longing desires to be
with Him. And both these are excited by what He makes the subject of His
discourses with them, namely. His sufferings, and His glory. The followers of
Gbrist may have their hearts made to bum, with desire to see, and be for ever with
Him. V. With what temper they, who undbb Christ's speaking to them
SAVE FELT THEIB HEARTS TO BURN WITHIN THEMSELVES, SHOULD BE LED TO OPEN IT
TO OTHERS. The answer to this is obvious. 1. With deep humility ; as having
their eye upon their unworthiness, that the Lord of glory should talk with such as
them, and in so plain and powerful a manner lead them into an acquaintance with
the Word of truth ; and thereby with the things concerning Himself, which are so
necessary to their safety and peace. 2. With raised wonder ; they being ready to
Bay, How strange an ardour did we feel within us kindling into an heavenly flame,
while H« talked with as, and opened to us the Scriptures ? 3. With thankfulness
and joy ; from a just sense of the value of that distinguishing grace of Christ,
which made the remembrance of the time and place where it was vouchsafed so
pleasant to them afterwards. 4. With desire and endeavour to bring others
acquainted with Christ, by whom their hearts were made to bum within them.
(D. Wilcox.) The right point of viev) : — I go into a gallery where there are
illustrious persons hung in portraiture. I see one that I am attracted to, and I
look upon it, and I know this much — ^that it is a man. I know that it is a man of
beauty, or, lacking beauty, indicating great intellectual development and power of
brain. A number of such external things I know of him, but nothing more. By
and by, some one says to me, " His name is Goethe." Ah 1 instantly a vision
springs up in my mind. I have read of Goethe. I know his poems. I know his
dramas. I know mnch of the whole German literature which he has created.
And the moment I hear his name, and associate it with that portrait, it assumes
new life. It is a hundred times more to me than it was before. I say to myself,
" Then that is Goethe, is it f Well — well — well " ; and all these wellt merely mean
that I am thinking, and gathering together aU my scattered knowledge, and
concentrating it on that effigy. I do not know him personally, though I know him
660 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap.
ftB well ae a book could interpret him to me. But suppose I had been in Germany ;
Buppose I had been invited to his house ; had seen him in the morning, at noon,
and at night ; at the table, familiarly ; with his manuscripts, in his study ; sapposa
I had seen him when topics came before him for discussion, or in his intercourse
with men ; suppose I had seen him surrounded by little children, and seen how
they affected him ; suppose I had seen how noble personages affected him ; suppose
I had seen him in moments of calmness and silence and reverie ; or at funerals ; or
lit great public rejoicings ; in all those moods and circumstances which go to show
exactly what a man is ; suppose I had lived with him, and seen the coruscation,
the whole play of his soul, would I not then have a knowledge of him which no
portrait could give me ? Having gained this larger knowledge of him, I say, " I
never knew Goethe before"; but one exclaims, "You never knew Goethe before?
Yes you did. I pointed him out in such a gallery at such a time ; and now you say
you never knew him before!" But would it not be true? {H. W. Beeeher.)
Understanding the Scriptures : — The biographer of Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, when
describing his plan of studying the Bible, makes this important observation :
•' There are two methods of reading Scripture, perfectly distinct in their object and
nature : the one is practical, the other scientific ; the one seeks the religious truth
of Scripture as bearing on the inquirer's heart and personal feelings ; the other,
the right comprehension of the literary and intellectual portions of the Bible. . . .
Only those who feel the Bible can understand it." Christ's method of imparting
■instruction: — There are here several points of very great interest. We have a
striking illustration of our Lord's method of teaching, which was to give more when
that already given had been duly received. We have also a most emphatic warning
as to the danger of losing golden opportunities, or of letting slip through ignorance
or procrastination the means of acquiring great accessions of knowledge and grace.
These truths will open before you as we proceed : at present we need only announce,
as the general object of our discourse, the showing you how near the disciples were
to the losing the manifestation of their Master, forasmuch as though •' He made as
though He would have gone further," and how certainly they would have lost that
manifestation, had they not been enabled to say with perfect truth, in the words of
our text — " Did not our heart bum within us, while He talked with us by the way,
and while He opened to us the Scriptures ? " Now, you may all see, if you study
with any attention the record of our blessed Saviour's ministrations, that He
required a peculiar state of mind in those to whom He taught truth, withholding it
where likely to be despised or made an instrument of injury, but imparting it where
He aaw that it would be reverently and profitably received. It was evidently a
principle with Christ, as indeed He expressly announced, to give more where what
had been given had been duly improved, so that fresh communications were made
to depend upon men's use of past. He did not pretend to open truth after truth,
just as though His whole business had been to furnish to the world a certain
amount of revelation, whether they would hear or whether they would forbear ; but
He watched with great attentiveness the reception of truth, and He added or with-
held according as that reception did or did not indicate love for truth and a readi-
ness to obey its demands. And the importance to ourselves of observing the coarse
which Christ pursued upon earth lies mainly in this. We have no reason to
suppose that such course was followed only in the days of His public ministrations,
but rather, that it was universally characteristic of God's spiritual dealings. Yoa
will never make way with the Bible by going to it in a spirit of speculation, canying
to it the same feelings as to a treatise on some branch of human science. It is not
indeed now, as it was when our Lord personally taught ; when the letter, so to
speak, of Scripture might be variously distributed, according to men's various
dispositions and capacities, but it still is, that the letter, though equally accessible
to all, is not equally illuminated to all ; and by keeping altogether to Himself the
power of illuminating the page, so that He can leave that a parable to one which He
clears from all mystery to another, God can cause that now, as much as in the days
of the Eedeemer, the amount of knowledge shall be proportioned to certain moral
qualities and acts. You may be sure that it is as true now as ever it was, and in
as large a sense, that " whosoever doeth the will of God, he shall know of the
doctrine" ; for there are innermost meanings in Scripture which will never be reached
through learning and ingenuity, but which open before the hunble and prayer<
f ol inquiry ; so that passages on which criticism is vainly tnming all its strength,
and to whidi it can attach none hot an obscure and nnimportant sense, reveal to
many an uneducated and simple-minded Christian the coonsels of God and the
CBAP. xrw.] ST. LUKE. 651
glories of eternity ; so that it still depends on your love for truth, and on your
willingness to act on it so fast as discovered, whether you shall grow in the know,
ledge of heavenly things ; just as it was in the days of the Redeemer, when a parable
was employed to veil truth from the careless, or a miracle concealed, to withhold
evidence from the obstinate. But never think that an unaided intellect can master
scriptural dilficulties, or that unimproved knowledge can be a good thing. There
is a certain point up to which Divine teaching will advance, but there will pause,
in order that it may be ascertained whether you prize what you have learned, and
are sincere in the desire to learji more. And all this was imaged by the conduct of
Christ with reference to His disciples. This " making as though he would have
gone further," was but an instance of that cautiousness of which we have spoken
as characteristic of His ministry. He just wanted to have evidence whether truth
were duly loved ; for on His finding that evidence depended, according to His
universal rule, His continuing His instruction. There are many, we are thoroughly
persuaded, who often miss the manifestation of Christ through the indolently letting
slip some presented opportunity ; nay, we doubt whether there be any man who is
brought within hearing of the gospel unto whom there have not been moments in
which he has stood upon the very threshold of the kingdom of heaven, in which
it has depended upon his immediately obeying some impulse or hearkening to some
suggestion whether the door should fly open or remain closed against him. The
mind of the unconverted man, stirred through some secret instrumentality, has
felt it proposed to it that it should take into its chambers a Ouest who might
discipline the passions and remodel the character ; but then it has been questioned
whether the proposal should be instantly closed with, or longer time given for
deUberation, and because the latter course has been adopted — because, that is, the
disciples when at Emmans have parted from their Teacher in the street, and gone
alone into the house, the golden opportunity has been lost, and there has been no
manifestation of Christ to the soul. You may not be thoroughly aware of it, but
we should wish you to be assured, that religion is of such a nature that eternity is
very frequently dependent on a moment. You can never be certain that an impulse
will be repeated or a suggestion renewed ; so that in parting from the Teacher
who has awakened some serious emotion, in place of taking Him with you into your
dwelling, that the emotion may be deepened, you are perhaps letting go your last
likelihood of salvation, and shutting yourselves up to indifference and impenitence.
{H. Melvill, B.D.) While He talked with ut : — " I have lately seen," wrote Mr.
Hervey, " that most excellent minister of the ever blessed Jesus, Mr. . I
dined, supped, and spent the evening with him at Northampton, in company with
Dr. Doddridge, and two pious clergymen of the Church of England, both of them
known to the learned world by their valuable writings ; and surely I never spent a
more dehghtful evening, or saw one that seemed to make nearer approaches to the
felicity of heaven. A gentleman, of great worth and rank in the town, invited ns
to his house, and gave as an elegant treat ; but how mean was his provision, how
coarse his delicacies, compared with the fruit of my friend's lips 1 They dropped
as the honeycomb, and were a well of life." The Lord is risen Indeed. — Jesus
risen : — The evidence for the resurrection of Christ is of two kinds, predictive and
historical. From the Old Testament it appears that Messiah was to rise ; from the
New, that Jesus of Nazareth did rise, and therefore is the Messiah. Among the
predictive witnesses, the first place is due to that ancient and venerable order of men,
styled patriarchs, or heads of families, whose Uves and actions, as well as their
words, were descriptive of the person, in faith of whom they lived and acted,
instructing, interceding for, and conducting their dependents, as representative
prophets, priests, and kings; looking forward unto the Author and Finisher of their
faith and ours, who, by dying and rising again, was to exhibit to the world the
Divine fulness of all these characters. In the class of the predictive witnesses of
our Lord's resurrection, the second place is claimed by the law. When we see the
Levitical high priest arrayed in the garments of glory and beauty ; when we behold
him purifying all the parts of the figurative tabernacle with blood, and then entering
witibin the veil, into the holiest of all, to present that propitiating blood before the
offended Majesty of heaven ; is it possible, even though an apostle had not applied
all these circumstances for us, to detain the imagination a moment from fixing
itself on the great High Priest of our profession ; the plenary satisfaction made on
the erosB ; Hu resurrection in an immortal body, no more to stand charged with
aiBt BO more to see corruption ; the purification of the Church by His precious
Mood ; His ascension into heaven, and intereeHion for oa, in the presence of God t
65S THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohat. xdt.,
Next to the patriarchs and the law, the prophets press for admittance, to delivei
their testimony ; for " the testimony of Jesus," as saith the angel in the Revela-
tion, •• is the spirit of prophecy." Some of these give their evidence in the ancient
way of fignre and emblem ; others, with less reserve, in express literal declarations.
A fact of 80 extraordinary a nature as the resurrection of a body from the dead,
predicted, as W3 have seen, at sundry times and in divers manners, by the patriarchs,
the law, and the prophets, cannot be supposed to have happened without sufiQcient
witnesses of its accomplishment. {Bishop Home.) The Lord it risen indeed : —
I. Let TJ8 VEBiTJ THE STATEMENT OF THE TEXT. In attempting this, let me first of
all call your attention to Christianity as an existing fact. And the centre of that
belief is the doctrine of the resurrection. We can thus trace the doctrine of the
resurrection to its source, and see that it was no gradual innovation into the
Church's belief ; no doctrine gradually taking shape, as myths do, from ideas which
have been floating about in the minds of men ; but an alleged fact, attested by those
who professed to be eye-witnesses of the event ; and believed in by the Church at
a time when these witnesses were still alive. Now, in testing the value of their
testimony, two questions present themselves, and give rise to two concurrent traces
of thought, both of which, as we think, lead to the conclusion, that no testimony
could be more trustworthy than that borne by the evangelists and others to the
resurrection of our Lord. This first question, Were they competent witnesses,
divides itself into two. Were they deceived themselves? Did they attempt to
deceive others ? If either of these questions can be answered in the affirmative,
their testimony is invalid ; if answered negatively, their testimony deserves to be
received. That they could not be deceived themselves, is evident from the following
considerations — 1. The question to which they bear testimony is not one of doctrine
on which their judgment might have misled them ; but one of fact, on which they
were guided by the evidence of their senses. 2. The witnesses were not one or
two, but a large number — upwards of five hundred having seen the risen Redeemer
at the same time. 3. The men were not fanatics, whose excited imagination might
cause them to mistake some uncommon appearance for, or to invest it with, the
form of their Lord. Their whole demeanour is the very antipodes to anything like
fanaticism. No finer specimen of sobriety than their narrative presents can be
found in any language. 4. The times and the manner of the Saviour's appearing
were such as to render deception impossible. He appeared repeatedly — at different
times and in various circumstances, and was not only visible to the eye, but palpable
to the touch. Lastly, their familiarity with the Saviour previous to His death
qualified them for recognizing Him after His resurrection. They had been with
Him in all circumstances. These considerations amply suffice to show that they
could not be deceived. But did they attempt to deceive others ? One would think
the principles they propagated should be sufficient to acquit them of such a charge.
Could impostors devise and propagate principles which surpass the practice of the
nations almost as much as heaven contrasts with hell — principles which, wherever
they obtain, promote the highest morality, making men truthful, honest, upright,
generous, and devout— could impostors devise and propagate such principles as
these 7 We think not. Besides, men do not practise imposition without an object.
If they attempt to deceive, it is with a view to some selfish end — could there be
any such end contemplated by the disciples of Christ ? They could not hope to
improve their temporal circumstances. Then, did they hope to gain for themselves
a reward in heaven ? A reward in heaven, for publishing a falsehood, and imposing
on their fellows ! We pass on now to consider the second question. Would their
testimony if false have been believed in Jerusalem and elsewhere? and the concur-
rent though different train of thought to which it gives rise. All these statements
of the history must have been known to be false by those among whom they were
circulated ; or at least their falsehood might easily have been made so manifest a?
to render their reception impossible, and to confine them to the parties with whom
they originated. And not only were they capable of effectual contradiction ; but
those who had the power, had also the strongest inducement to make known their
falsehood. II. Let va account fob the exultant feelings with which the
DisciPiJis published this statement. In attempting this it is necessary to place
ourselves to some extent in the position of the disciples, in order that we may judge
of the manner in which they were personally affected by the event. It is evident
from the Gospels that they were greatly overwhelmed by His death. _ They had
■aorifioed all they possessed, and were, as it now appeared to them, to gain nothing.
Vheir temporal proapeets were blasted. Their friends were alienated from them ;
«HAP. xxiv.J ST. LUKE. 658
and all they oould look for in return was the derision of their neighbours for
having indulged baseless expectations. In this state of mind, when it became
evident to them that the Lord was risen, when they saw and heard Him, and knew
from the old manner and spirit that it was He himself, what a strange revulsion of
feeling they must have experienced I What new light must suddenly have flashed
upon them 1 Then He t« a king after all, though in another sense than we imagined.
Then our expectations are not disappointed ; there is a reward for as still, higher
than we had dreamed of. Then we have still our friend to lean upon, to care for
as, and comfort us, and goide, and help us. Now we have a new conception of our
calling and of our Master's reign. Now we can see how our carnal-mindedness
kept us from perceiving the full meaning of His gracious words ; and that when
we attributed to Him hard sayings, He was but holding out to us greater blessings
than our hearts were prepared to receive. No wonder that when such thoughts
dawned upon them, their hearts were filled with joy I There were reasons, perhaps,
for their joy, which even they did not yet fully apprehend — reasons relating to
as as well as to them. They did not yet perceive all the results to humanity which
were to flow from His death, though ultimately they showed that they knew what
importance was attached to it — Peter, e.g., making it the principal subject of his
sermons, connecting it with the miracles which he wrought, and in his Epistle
attributing to it the new birth of believers ; while Paul, in 1 Cor. xv., to which we
have already referred, makes it lie at the basis of the entire Christian faith — " If
Ohrist be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain." The
meaning of these words, and the supreme importance of the event to which they
refer, may be illustrated by the following considerations : The resurrection was the
Divine seal to the Saviour's mission. During His life He claimed to be the Son of
God in a sense which made Him equal with the Father — to have come from the
bosom of the Father that He might reveal His character to mankind, and open a
way by which sinners might approach and find acceptance with Him — to pat away
sin by the sacrifice of Himself, and, ere His death, exclaimed in reference to this
work, " It is finished I " Now, suppose that after all this. He had not risen. In
that case His claims would have been falsified. It would have been evident that
He was a mere impostor. God does not own this pretended Son of His, who claimed
to be one in nature with Himself. His revelation of the Father is untrue. Whereas
the resurrection pat the Divine seal to His claims, and made manifest His own
Divine attributes. By it God declared before all the worlds that He was all that
He professed to be, and had done what He professed to do ; that His life and
teaching contained a true revelation of the Divine character ; that He had opened
a way of access to God through the atonement which He had offered for the Bins
of the world ; that through Him the love of God was free to our fallen race ; that
in Him there was pardon and life for mankind sinners. All this, if His miracles
had not previously made it manifest, was clearly revealed in the light which shone
on the sepulchre on that first Easter morning. But oh the joy which comes to us
from that deserted grave ! " The Lord is risen indeed ! " Then woe unto those
by whom His overtures of mercy are rejected and His authority set at nought. As
the conqueror of death no one can successfully resist His will. The power which
rifled the grave can crush the proudest rebel. {W. Landelt.) Chrisfa rauirrec-
tion:—!. The besurbection of Chbist is a prvoTAi. faot. The key-stone of
Christ's religion. All turns upon this. Either Jesus rose, or else He is an impostor,
ftnd imposture in one thing makes Him false in all. Take away the resurrection,
and there is no link left between heaven and earth : preaching is a lie, faith is idle,
happy dying is a delusion, and happy living is a greater fiction still. But, with
St. Paul, we may challenge the world to disprove the assertion in the text. II. The
BESUBBECTioM OF Ghbist WAS A MiBACUE. Otherwise impossible. Nature possesses
no power to raise a dead body. But once admit that the work is God's, and all
difficulty disappears. III. What the besdbbection body was. The saije palpable
and substantial frame which quivered on the cross. I argue this — 1. From the
fact that He prophesied His own personal resurrection, in His own proper identity.
2. From the fact that the disciples recognized that identity, though reluctantly.
8. From the fact that He recognized His own identity. (T. Armitage, DJ).) The
resurrection of Christ : — I. His besobbection is the pledge of oitbs. 1. First,
because He promised that it should be — " because I live, ye shall live also." His
human nature was the grain of seed (John xii.) which, sown by the hand of God
in the field of the world, was to fructify in death, to bear a thousandfold in resnr-
Motion. He linked oar nature with Hia. It was united not for a Mason* bat for
(,U THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, ran
ever. 2. But we have, secondly, more than the identity of our nature with Hia, to
establish the fact that in His resurrection we have the pledge of our own. W*
need to be assured that His triumph will avail for us ; and we are. In Hia handv
SRev. i. 18), we are told, are placed "the keys of death and hell." No longer ia-
eath in Satan's power; he was compelled to surrender his dominion to the Saviour.
II. We proceed to view our Lord's resurrection as the pattern op oubs. To b»
raised in the lowest character in which it were possible, would be an exaltation
too glorious to be understood in our present humiliation. Let us examine a few
of the particulars of resemblance between His resurrection and ours. 1. And, first.
He retained the identity of His person. No change passed upon Him, save that
round His humanity glory appeared, like that, perhaps, which He wore for a season
on the Mount of Transfiguration. And we, too, shall rise, in the likeness of Hia
resurrection, our very selves. 2. "We shall be raised, too, by the same instrumentality.
We are told by the Saviour that He had power to lay down His life, and power to-
take it up again. We are nowhere told that He did so ; on the contrary, it is plainly
declared that He was not His own deliverer from the prison-house of death. He is
said, in the first of Peter, the third chapter, at the eighteenth verse, to have beeH'
" quickened by the Spirit " ; and again, in the eight chapter of Romans, the second
verse, to have been raised by the Father. Hence it is evident that God the Father
was the Author, and God the Spirit the Agent of the resurrection of Christ. If it
ehould be asked, *' Why is it so ? " the answer is, that Christ came to fulfil all the
conditions of oor salvation; He must be "made like unto His brethren in all
things," and therefore in His resurrection. 8. Angels were employed instrumentaUy
in the resurrection of Christ ; and they will be in ours. Wherefore is the Lord of
Hosts indebted to an angel's hand for His deliverance ? Why does not the prison
door fly open as the God-Man awakens from His death-sleep? Why? Because He
must " fulfil all righteousness " ; He must travel back to the glory He had left in-
the character of those He ransomed ; He must submit to every condition of that
covenant by which the ransomed fallen are to enter into life ; He must, in short,
return to glory as a Man. III. We come to speak upon some of the EnrEoxs op
THE Savxode's resobrection. These we regard in a twofold aspect. 1. As the*
resurrection affects our present relation to God. The atonement and resurrection
of Christ are inseparably connected. We take but a defective view of the atone-
ment when we limit it to the work wrought on Calvary ; nay, we will say, that if
the work of the Saviour ended here, there could have been no atonement. The-
work was commenced on Calvary — it is completed in heaven. Without the resur-
rection there could be no triumph over death, no entrance into glory, and hence no
atonement available for our entering where Christ had not gone before. 2. Bufc
there is another and most important way in which the tidings of our text affect us,
W? stand in the same position as Israel of old occupied on the day of atonement,
as regards our justification our privileges in other respects exceed. We have lost
more than God's favour in the fall ; we have lost our right of access to Him. A.
rebel may be pardoned, and fuUy pardoned, and yet never find access to the royal
presence. It was so with Israel | they approached God only through the person of
their high priest. Ours is the high and holy privilege of access to God. 3. W»
connect the resurrection of Christ with our own ; not as regards its reality for this
we have done before, but its glory. But what can we say of this ? To tell of thfr
glory which shall burst upon a waiting Church in the resurrection morning, would
be to describe that sun which shall no more go down ; it would be to fathom the
perfections of that God whose glory fills heaven and earth. In conclusion : There i»
not a being in the universe which will not be affected by the resurrection of JesuB.
(A. C. Carr, M.A.) The necetsity of Christ' i resurrectiom : — The resurrection of
Christ was necessary — 1. In order to the atonement. 2. In order to the holinei»
of the believer. 8. In order to the salvation of the Church. {M. H. Seymour,
Vera. 86-49. Jeaus Himself stood In the midst of them.— T^^lrat appearance of
the rUen Lord to the eleven : — The cebtaintt of our Lord's bebcrreotiom. No
^t in history is better attested. 1. Observe, that when this person appeared ia
the room, the first token that it was Jesus was His speech : they were to have the
evidence of hearing : He used the same speech. No sooner did He appear than He
■poke. His first accents must have caUed to their minds those cheering notes with
vhich He had closed His last address. They must have recognized that charming;
voice. He was a peace-maker, and a peace-giver, and by this sign they were gives
CHAP, mv.] ST. LUKE. 656
to discern their Leader. I want you to notice that this evidence was all the better,
because they themselves evidently remained the same men as they had been.
*• They were terrified and affrighted, and supposed that they had seen a spirit " j
and thus they did exactly what they had done long before when He came to them
walking on the waters. They are not carried away by enthusiasm, nor wafted aloft
by fanaticism ; they are not even as yet upborne by the Holy Spirit into an unusual
Btate of mind, but they are as slow of heart and as fearful as ever they were. It
they are convinced that Jesus has risen from the dead, depend upon it, it must be
BO, 2. Thus far in the narrative they had received the evidence of their ears, and
that is by no means weak evidence ; but now they are to have the evidence of sight ;
for the Saviour says to them, •' Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself " j
" and when He had thus spoken, He showed them His hands and His feet." John
says also "His side," which he specially noted because he had seen the piercing o£
that side, and the outflow of blood and water. They were to see and identify that
blessed Body which had suffered death. 3. Furthermore, that they might be quite
sore, the Lord invited them to receive the evidence of touch or feeling. He called
them to a form of examination, from which, I doubt not, many of them shrank ;
He said, " Handle Me, and see ; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see Me
have." The saints are not at the coming of their Lord to remain disembodied
spirits, nor to wear freshly created bodies, but their entire manhood is to be restored,
and to enjoy endless bliss. It will be of a material substance also ; for our Saviour'^
Body was material, since He said, "Handle Me, and see that it is I Myself ; for a
spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see Me have." 4. Still further to confirm
the faith of the disciples, and to show them that their Lord had a real Body, and
not the mere form of one. He gave them evidence which appealed to their common
sense. He said, " Have ye any meat ; and they gave Him a piece of a broiled
fish, and of an honeycomb. And he took it and did eat before them." This waa
an exceedingly convincing proof of His unquestionable resurrection. In very deed
and fact, and not in vision and phantom, the Man who had died upon the cross
stood among them. II. Oub Lobd's chabacteb when bisen fbom the dead.
1. Notice, first, that in this appearance of Christ we are taught that He is still
anxious to create peace in the hearts of His people. No sooner did He make Him-
self visible than He said, " Peace be unto you." He has not lost His tender car©
over the least of the flock ; He would have each one led by the still waters, and
made to lie down in green pastures. 2. Note again, that He has not lost His habit
of chiding unbelief, and encouraging faith; for as soon as He has risen, and speaks
with His disciples, He asks them, " Why are ye troubled ? and why do thoughts
arise in your hearts ? " He loves you to believe in Him, and be at rest. 3. Notice,
next, that when the Saviour had risen from the dead, and a measure of His glory
was upon Him, He was still most condescendingly familiar with His people. H«
showed them His hands and His feet, and He said, " Handle Me, and see." 4. The
next thing is that the risen Lord was still wonderfully patient, even as He had
always been. He bore with their folly and infirmity ; for " while they yet believed
not for joy, and wondered," He did not chide them. 5. Observe that our Saviour,
though He was risen from the dead, and therefore in a measure in His glory,
entered into the fullest fellowship with His own. Peter tells ns that they did eat
and drink with Him. I do not notice in this narrative that He drank with them,
but He certainly ate of such food as they had, and this was a clear token of His
fellowship with them. 6. Let me call your attention to the fact that when Jesus
bad risen from the dead. He was just as tender of Scripture as He was before His
decease. 7. Once again, our Saviour, after He had risen from the dead, showed
that He was anxious for the salvation of men ; for it was at this interview that He
breathed upon the apostles, and bade them receive the Holy Ghost, to fit them to go
forth and preach the gospel to every creature. III. The light which is thrown by this
incident upon the natubs or oub own besdbbeotiok. 1. First, I gather from this
text that our nature, our ^n-hole humanity, will be perfected at the day of the
appearing of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, when the dead shall be raised
incorruptible, and we that may then be alive shall be changed. Jesus has redeemed
not only our souls, but our bodies. 2. I gather next that in the resurrection our
natute will be full of peace. Jesus Christ would not have said, " Peace be unto
yon," if there had not been a deep peace within Himself. He was calm and nndis*
tnrbed. There was much peace about His whole life ; but after the resurrection
His peace becomes very conspicuous. There is no striving with scribes and Pharisees,
there is no battling with anybody after oor Lord is risen. Such shall be oar life, we
666 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. Tar,
shall be flooded with eternal peace, and shall nevpr again be tossed abont with trouble,
and sorrow, and distress, and persecution. 3. When we rise again our nature will
find its home amid the communion of saints. When the Lord Jesus Christ had
risen again His first resort was the room where His disciples were gathered. His
first evening was spent among the objects of His love. Even so, wherever we are
we shall seek and find communion with the saints. 4. Furthermore, I see that ia
that day our bodies will admirably serve our spirits. For look at our Lord's Body.
Now that He has risen from the dead He desires to convince His disciples, and His
Body becomes at once the means of His argument, the evidence of His statement.
His flesh and bones were text and sermon for Him. 5. In that day, beloved, when
we shall rise again from the deac"! we shall remember the past. Do yoa not notice
how the risen Saviour says, " These are the words which I spake unto yon, while I
was yet with you." He had not forgotten His former state. It is rather a small
subject, and probably we shall far more delight to dwell on the labours of car
Eedeemer's hands and feet ; but still we shall remember all the way whereby the
Lord our God led us, and we shall talk to one another concerning it. 6. Observe
that our Lord, after He had risen from the dead, was still full of the spirit of ser-
vice, and therefore He called others out to go and preach the gospel, and He gave
them the Spirit of God to help them. When you and I are risen from the dead,
we shall rise full of the spirit of service. He will use us in the grand economy of
future manifestations of His Divine glory. Possibly we may be to other dispensa-
tions what the angels have been to this. Be that as it may, we shall find a part of
our bliss and joy in constantly serving Him who has raised us from the dead.
(C. H. Spurgeon.) A Divine visitation : — I. When He appeabed. 1. When they
had been acting unworthily by fleeing from Him at His betrayal, and deserting
Him at His trial. 2. When they were unprepared, and unbelieving, doubting Hia
express promise, and refusing the testimony of His messengers. 3. When they
greatly needed His presence, for they were like sheep without a shepherd. 4. When
they were exercising the little life they had by coming together in loving assembly.
So far they were doing well, and acting in a way which was likely to bring blessing.
5. When they were lamenting His absence, and thus proving their desire after Him.
This is an admirable means of gaining His presence. 6. When certain among
them were testifying concerning Him. Are not we in a similar condition ? May
we not hopefully look for our Lord's manifestation of Himself? II. What Hk
SAID. "Peace be unto you." L It was a benediction: He wished them peace,
2. It was a declaration : they were at peace with God. 3. It was a fiat ; He
inspired them with peace. 4. It was an absolution : He blotted out all offences which
might have spoiled their peace. IH, What came op His appeabing. 1. He
banished their doubts. Even Thomas had to shake off his obstinate unbelief.
2. He revealed and sealed His love upon their hearts by showing them His hands
and His feet. 3. He refreshed their memories. "These are the words which I
spoke unto you " (verse 44). 4. He opened their understandings (verse 45).
6. He showed them their position. " Ye are witnesses of these things " (verse
48). 6. He filled them with Joy (John xx. 20). Peace be unto you. — Peace
bestowed vpon man : — I. Notice the nature of the blessing which the Lord
Jesus proclaims. It is the blessing of "Peace." II. We observe the pecu-
liar connection which the Bedeemer implies this blessing to possess with Him-
self. He comes to them as the author of peace : and the peace which He
wishes for them. He Himself gives. 1. Let it be considered that reconciliation
with God arises wholly and exclusively from the sacrificial efficacy of the Saviour's
Bufferings. 2. Not only is reconcihation secured entirely by the sacrificial efficacy
of His sufferings, but from the Lord Jesns Christ proceeds the mission of the Holy
Spirit, whose office it is to apply actually to men the various blessings of redemption.
III. The animating influence which the Lord Jesus designs a participation of this
blessing to exercise over all those by whom it is enjoyed. 1. The possession of this
spiritual peace is designed to act as a preservative against temptation. 2. As designed
to be a consolation amidst sorrow. 3. As designed to be an incentive to activity.
4. Ab an exciting cause of gratitude. {J. Parsons.) The timely presence and
•o/utatum of Jesus: — I. With reference to the charactbb op the visit we may
remark, that the visits which Christ makes to His Churches are of two kinds. He
Bometimea comes in anger, to chastise them. In this manner He threatened to
visit some of the Asiatic Churches. At other times He visits His Churches in •
gracious manner, to comfort, animate, and bless them. This is evident, in the first
place, from the langnage in which He addressed them ; Peace be with yoa. Thif
CMAP. xxiT." ST. LUKE. %B1
M BO mere formal greeting on His lips, but the expression of a genuine desire for
leir welfare. Nay, more ; it was an assurance that peace existed between God and
lem. Nor was this all : it was also the bestowmeut of His peace upon them.
L Ths timk whbn this gracious visit was madk. 1. It was made at a time
?hen the disciples were exceedingly unworthy of such a favour, and when they
rather deserved to have been visited in anger. They had treated Him in a very unkind
and ungrateful manner. 2. It was made at a time when the Church was very im-
perfectly prepared for it, and when very few among them expected it, or had any hope
of such a favour. 3. The time when Christ made this gracious visit to His Church
was a time in which it was very much needed. The faith, and hope, and courage
of its members were reduced to the lowest point of depression, and unless revived
by His presence, must soon have expired. 4. This visit was made at a time when
the Church was employed in exerting the little life which yet remained among them,
and in using proper means to increase it. Though assembling at this time was
dangerous, so that they did not dare to meet openly, yet they did assemble, and
they assembled in the character of Christ's disciples. This proved the existence of
B bond of union among them, which drew them together. This bond of union
consisted in sympathy of feeling. They all felt the same afiections, the same
apprehensions and anxieties, and the same sorrows, and all their thoughts centred
in one object. This object was their crucified Master. 5. The gracious visit appears
to have been made the very first time that the Church met after Christ's resurrec-
tion. This circumstance is highly indicative of His affection for them, of His
unwillingness to leave them mourning one moment longer than was necessary, and
of His strong desire to be again in the midst of them. We remark lastly, that
this gracious visit was made on the Lord's day. And the next visit which He made
to His Church was made on the next Lord's day. My brethren, should He not
favour ns with His presence on this occasion, let us consider this evil as the cause
of His absence, and set ourselves to remove it without delay. {E. Payson, D.D,)
The mission and equipment of the disciples : — I. The salutation — " Peace be unto
you." These words were, no doubt, meant to allay the fears which were then
agitating the disciples' minds. In themselves they were fitted to have this effect,
as showing the spirit and purpose with which He had come among them. But they
were also, and still more, fitted to have this effect, because of what they brought to
their remembrance. They were, in fact, like His wounds, signs by which they
might identify the risen Lord. The twofold utterance of this salutation is not with-
out significance. As Luke tells us, " The disciples had beheld, touched, and gladly
received their rebuke ; but there is again a wondering among them before the final
clear and tranquil assurance fills their hearts. As before through fear, so now
through astonished joy, they cannot altogether and fully believe." Their joy,
though it has actual faith in it, " does not reach to peace and joy combined in their
fulness." ^ It has " in its first vehemence and disquietude too little peace." It is a
" violent joy, in which, notwithstanding its semblance of overpowering feeling, a
deep and firm faith can scarcely fix its roots. Therefore the wise and patient
Master gradually brings them to the peace of faith." But we unduly limit ths
significance and scope of these words, if we view them only as designed to remove
the fears of the disciples. Bather are we to regard them as the salutation which
His resurrection brings to those for whom He died — the message borne by His
wounds to all who look to Him for salvation. This resurrection as plainly as His
advent proclaims, «• peace on earth and goodwill to men." II. The sending — " Ap
My Father hath sent Me, even so send I you," This was fitly preceded by the
salutation, inasmuch as the man who is to be the herald of peace to others needs to
enjoy peace himself. How great the honour which He puts upon His servants in
thus comparing their mission with His own ! And we offer the following remarks,
not as exhaustive, but only as possible helps to the interpretation : 1. That they
are, in some measure, to represent Him before men even as He represented ths
FaUier, giving men, both by their life and their teaching, a representation of His
character, so as to enable them to form a conception of what He was. Such was
unquestionably their calling. They were to be living epistles of Christ. He was
to Hve in them. 2. That they receive authority from Hun in some measure, as He
received authority from His Father. They speak in His name, as He spoke in His
Father's name. They do His works, as He did the works of His Father. 3. That
they are to be His messengers to mankind, as He was the Father's messenger,
taking np and publishing among the nations the gospel which He first proclaimed.
4. That they are to prosecute their work in the same spirit as He did — a spirit of
658 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRAl on. [chap.
Belf-denial and benevolence, seeking not their own gratification, but the glory of
<Jod and the salvation of men. 5. That they must seek to do their work by the
same instrumentality — not with carnal weapons, but by the spiritual forces which
are mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds — not depending on
human might or power, but on the Spirit of the Lord of hosts. 6. That they are
to be in the world as He was — in it, though not of it — seeking no portion in it, nor
making it their rest — desirous of remaining in it only while they have work to do
glad to leave it when their work is done. Such are some of the things which
may be implied in their being sent by Him as He was sent by the Father. III.
The endowment — " He breathed on them, and saith unto them, Eeceive ye the
Holy Ghost." IV. The momentous wokk to be done — " Whose soever sins ye
remit, they are remitted unto them ; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are
retained." {W. Landels,) Behold My hands and My feet — Jesus on the evening
of Easter Day : — I. Here we note first of all odb Lord's indulgent teeatment of
MISTAKES AND IMPERFECTIONS IN BELIGI0U8 BELIEF. We may vcuture to say that
the disciples, seeing our Lord in the midst of them, ought to have recognized Him
at once. They knew, from long companionship with Him, that there were no dis-
coverable limits to His power over life and nature. That our Lord held His dis-
ciples responsible for such knowledge as this is plain from the words which He had
used, earlier in the afternoon, when addressing the two on the Emmaus road ;
and from St. Mark we learn that on this occasion, too. He " upbraided them with
their unbelief and hardness of heart." Yet, looking to St. Luke's report, what
tender censure it is 1 Here certainly is no expression which betrays grief or anger.
He meets their excitement with the mildest rebuke — if it be a rebuke. " Why are
ye disquieted ? and why do critical reasonings arise in your hearts ? " He traces
their trouble of heart to its true source — the delusion which possessed their under-
standings about His being only a " spirit." In His tenderness He terms their
unworthy dread a mere disquietude of the heart ; they are on a false track, and
He will set them right. What a lesson is here for all who, whether as fathers and
mothers, or teachers, or clergymen, have upon their hands the immense responsi-
bility of imparting religious truth to others I The first condition of successful
teaching is patient sympathy with the difficulties of the learner. A great master
was once asked, " What is the first condition of successful teaching ? " " Patience,"
he said- "What is the second?" "Patience." "What is the third?" He
paused, then said, " Sympathy." And what a rebuke is here on the want of con-
siderateness, of courtesy, of generosity, which so often disfigures our modern treat-
ment of real or supposed religions error 1 Who can wonder at our failures to con-
vince, when our methods are so unlike that of the Great Teacher I U. Here, too,
we see oub Lord's sanction of the principle of inquiby into the foundations
OF OUR BBLiGious BELIEF. Undoubtedly the understanding has great and exacting
-duties towards Eevealed Truth. If God speaks, the least that His rational creatures
-can do is to try to understand Him. And therefore, as the powers of the mind
gradually unfold themselves, the truths of religion ought to engage an increasing
share of each of them, and not least of the understanding. What too often
happens is, that while a young man's intelligence is interesting itself more and
more in a widening circle of subjects, it takes no account of religion. The old
childish thoughts about religion lie shrivelled op in some out-of-the-way comer of
a powerful and accomplished mind, the living and governing powers of which are
-engaged in other matters. Then, the man for the first time in his life meets with
some sceptical book ; and he brings to bear on it the habits of thought and judg-
^nent which have been trained in the study of widely different matters. He forms,
Jie can form, no true estimate of a subject, so unlike any he has really taken in
tiand before: he is at the mercy of his new instructor, since he knows nothing that
irill enable him to weigh the worth or the worthlessness of startUng assertions.
He makes up his mind that science has at length spoken on the subject of religion;
«nd he turns his back, with a mingled feeling of irritation and contempt, on the
truths which he learned at his mother's knee. This is no imaginary case ; and
among the reasons which go to explain so sad a catastrophe, this, I say, is one ;
that the understanding has not been properly developed in the boy and the young
{man, with relation to religious truth. What is the law of that development ? It is
^his : that as the mind grows, it learns to reinforce the teaching of authority by
ihe inquiries of reverent reason. But do not suppose that, because it condescends
(o be thus tested by your understanding as regards its reality, it is therefore within
the oompass of your onderstanding as regards its scope. It begins with that which
OHAP. XXIV.] ST. LUKE. 6S»
yon can appraiae ; it ends in that which is beyond yon : because while you are
finite and bounded in your range of vision, it is an unveiling of the Infinite, of the
Incomprehensible. III. Once more, note heee the direction which oub Lobo
POBPOSELY GAVE TO THE THOUGHTS OF HiS PERPLEXED DISCIPLES. He doCS not tum
them in upon themselves ; He does not take their trouble, so to speak, sympatheti-
cally to pieces, and deal with its separate elements ; He does not refute one by one
the false reasonings which arise within them. He does not say to them, " These
disquietudes, these doubts, are mere mental disorders, or interesting experiences,
and the mind itself can cure diseases which the mind has produced." He would,
on the contrary, have them escape from themselves ; from the thick jungle of their
doubts and fears and hopes and surmises : and come to Him. Whatever they may
think, or feel ; He is there, seated on a throne which enthusiasm did not raise, and
which doubt cannot undermine ; in His own calm, assured, unassailable Life.
" Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself : handle Me, and see ; for a
mere spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see Me have." Let us remind ourselves
that whether we believe them or not, the facts of the Christian creed are true ; and
that faith only receives, but that it cannot possibly create or modify Christ and His
^fts. Whether men believe or not in His eternal person, in the atoning virtue of
His death, in the sanctifying influences of His Spirit, in the invigorating grace ol
HiB sacraments — these are certain truths. They are utterly independent of the
hesitaticiis and vacillations of our understandings about them. To ourselves,
indeed, it is of great moment whether we have faith or not : to Him, to His truth,
to His gifts, it matters not at all. " The Lord sitteth above this waterflood " of
our changing and inconstant mental impressions ; " the Lord remaineth a Xing for
«ver." " If we believe not, yet He abideth faithful ; He cannot deny Himself."
{Canon Liddon,) The reality of the resurrection : — I. The nature of oub Lord's
BiSEN BODY. It was the Body which had been bom of the Virgin Mary, and had
been nailed to the cross ; the Body from which life had been expelled by the painful
death of crucifixion, ere it bad been buried in the grave of Joseph of Arimathea.
This identity is insisted on by our Lord. •* I Myself." '• Flesh and bones." Our
Lord's risen body, then, was literally the very body which had been crucified; and
vet it had properties attaching to it which distinguished it. It was sown a natural
body, that is a body governed by ordinary natural laws ; and raised a spiritual body,
that is, a body which, while retaining physical substance and unimpaired identity,
was yet endowed and Interpenetrated with some of the properties of spirit. II.
Now, corresponding to the twofold character of our Lord's risen Body, visible and
palpable on the one hand, and spiritual on the other, is the character of ths
BELiGiON which REPRESENTS HiH AMONG MEN. Beligion is like a sacrament : it has
its outward and visible signs and its inward fact, or thing signified. Of these, the
latter is, beyond dispute, the more important. Beligion, the bond between the soul
and God, lives in the habits, or acts, whereby the soul adheres to, and communes
with, the Infinite Source of life. It is made up of faith, hope, and love, pouring
themselves forth at the feet of the Invisible King ; it is by turns aspiration, worship,
resolve; it expends itself in a thousand unheard, unuttered acts, whereby the
human spirit holds converse with its Creator. Beligion is thus in its essence
altogether removed from the province of sense ; we cannot feel, or see, or hear,
these acts of the soul, which assert its presence. It belongs to the purely immaterial
world ; it is hid with the Father, who seeth in secret, and who is worshipped, if at
all, in spirit and truth. On the other hand, religion has another aspect. It steps
forth from the sphere of the supersensuous, which is its congenial home ; it takes
bodily form and mien, and challenges the senses of hearing, and sight, and touch.
It appeals through the human voice to the ear of sense. It meets and fascinates
the eye ; it even presents itself, as in the outward elements of a sacrament, to the
touch. It is represented by a visible society — the Church. This society has its
ministers, its assemblies for worship, its characteristic rites, its public buildings —
all of which fall within the province of sense. The visible Church is, as our Lord
said, a city set on a hill, which cannot be hid. Again, religion is represented by a
book — the Bible. The Bible, too, belongs to the world of sense, just as much as
<he Church. We see it, handle it, read it. It brings religion visibly into the area
of history, of poetry, of philosophy, as embodied in a large ancient literature. In
the same way, religion takes an outward shape in the good works and characters
of individual Christians. They arrest observation ; they invite comment, examina-
tion, discussion; they belong just as much to the public life of mankind as
do the lives of worldly or wicked men. By them, too, Jesus Himself stands
660 THE Bir.LICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xnr.
in the midst of human society. In short, religion in the world has this.
double character — outward and inward. III. Odb Lord's pbecept, "handle
Me, and see," is addressed to two different classes op men. 1. It iff
fin encouragement for the timid. 2. It is a direction for the perplexed. {Ibid.y
The wounds of Jesm : — I wish to draw your attention to the simple fact that our
Lord Jesus Christ, when He rose again from the dead, had in His body the marks
of His passion. If He had pleased He could readily have removed them. I. Of
WHAT USE WAS THE EXHIBITION OF THOSE WOUNDS TO THE DISCIPLES? They Were^
infallible proofs that He was the same person. Had not some such evidence been
visible upon our Saviour, it is probable that His disciples would have been un-
believing enough to doubt the identity of His person. But, now, think 1 If Christ
had to undergo in His countenance those matchless transformations, that must
have been, first of all, connected with His bloody sweat, then, with His agony, and
after that, with the transforming, or, if I may use such a word, the transmutation
of ffis body into a spiritual body, can you not conceive that His likeness would be
changed, that the disciples would scarcely know Him if there had not been some
deeply graven marks whereby they would be able to discover Him ? The disciples
looked upon the very face, but, even then they doubted. There was a majesty
about Him which most of them had not seen. Peter, James, and John, had seen
Him transfigured, when His garments were whiter than any fuller could make
them ; but the rest of the disciples had only seen Him as a man of sorrows ; they
had not seen Him as the glorious Lord, and, therefore, they would be apt to doubt
whether He was the same. But these nail-prints, this pierced side, these were marks
which they could not dispute, which unbelief itself could not doubt. II. Let us turn to
the second question : Why should Christ wear these wounds in heaven, and op what
AVAIL ARE THEY ? 1. I Can conceivc, first, that the wounds of Christ in heaven will be
a theme of eternal wonder to the angels. 2. Again, Christ wears these scars in His
Body in heaven as His ornaments. The wounds of Christ are His glories, they are
His jewels and His precious things. 3. Nor are these only the ornaments of
Christ : they are His trophies — the trophies of His love. Have yon never seen a
soldier with a gash across his forehead or in his cheek ? Why every soldier will
tell you the wound in battle is no disfigurement — it is his honour. 4. Another
reason why Jesus wears His wounds is, that when He intercedes He may employ
them as powerful advocates. When He rises up to pray for His people. He needa
not speak a word ; He lifts His hands before His Father's face ; He makes bare Hia
side, and points to His feet. These are the orators with which He pleads with God
— these wounds. Oh, He must prevail. 5. Jesus Christ appears in heaven as the
Wounded One, this shows again that He has not laid aside His priesthood. If the'
wounds had been removed we might have forgotten that there was a Sacrifice; and,
mayhap, next we might have forgotten that there was a Priest. But the wounds
are there: then there is a Sacrifice, and there is a Priest also, for He who is wounded
is both Himself the Sacrifice and the Priest. 6. There is another and terrible
reason why Christ wears His wounds still. It is this. Christ is coming to judge
the world. Christ has with Himself to-day the accusers of His enemies. And
when Christ shall come a second time to judge the world in righteousness, seated
on the great white throne, that hand of His shall be the terror of the universe.
" They shall look on Him whom they have pierced," and they shall mourn for their
sins. They would not mourn with hopeful penitence in time ; they shall mourn
with sorrowful remorse throughout eternity. III. What does Christ mean by show-
INS to us His hands and feet ? 1. He means this, that suffering is absolutely
necessary. Christ is the head, and His people are the members. If suffering
could have been avoided, surely our glorious Head ought to have escaped ; but inas-
much as He shows us His wounds, it is to tell us that we shall have wounds too.
2. But next He teaches us His sympathy with us in our suffering. " There," saya
He, " see this hand 1 I am not an high priest that cannot be touched with the
feeling of your infirmities. I have suffered, too. I was tempted in all ways like aa
you are. Look here 1 there are the marks — there are the marks. They are not
only tokens of My love, they are not only sweet forget-me-nots that bind Me to love
you for ever. But besides that they are the evidence of My sympathy. I can feel
for you. Look — look — I have suffered. Have you the heart-ache ? Ah, look you
here, what a heart-ache I had when this heart was pierced. Do yon saffer, eren
onto blood wrestling against sin ? So did I. I have sympathy with yon." 8.
Christ wears these wounds to show that soffering is an bonoorable thing. To
suffer for Christ is glory. 4. Lastly, there is one sweet thought connected with the
OHAT. XHv.J ST. LUKE. 661
•wounds of Christ that has charmed my sonl, and made my heart run over with
delight. It is this : I have sometimes thought that if I am a part of Christ's Body,
I am a poor wounded part ; if I do belong to that all-glorious whole, the Church,
which is His fulness, the fulness of Him that filleth all in all, jet have I iaid
within me, '• I am a poor maimed part, wounded, full of putrifying sores." But
Christ did not leave even His wounds behind Him ; even those He took to heaven.
" Not a bone of Him shall be broken," and the flesh when wounded shall not be
discarded — shall not be left. He shall carry that with Him to heaven, and He
shall glorify even the wounded member. Is not this sweet, is not this precious to
the troubled child of God? (C. H. Spurgeon.) The crucial test : — In an old
legend it is said that Satan once appeared to an old saint and said, " I am Christ,"
when the saint confounded him, and exposed his pretensions, as he said, "Then
where are the nail-prints? " (H. 0. Mackey.) They yet believed not for Joy. —
Primitive doublings and their cure : — I. The doubts of the disciples. II. Thk
Lobd's way op meeting the doubts of the disciples — '* He showed them His
hands and His feet." Strange as this kind of recognition, this way of fixing the
doubted identity, may seem, it was satisfactory. The mother in the story knew her
long-lost child by the scar on the shoulder received in infancy ; so was the Son of
God recognized by the nail-prints and the bruises of the Cross. But did the dis-
ciples need this ? Were the loved features not the same as ever ? Were the eyes
that wept over Jerusalem not the same as before ; or had the grave robbed them of
their tenderness and lustre f Were the lips, from which came the gracious words
of parting love, not the same as in the upper chamber at the last supper ? Was
the voice so altered, that they did not know its tones ? No. These resemblances
might all be recognized ; but so many things threw doubt upon these recognitions.
It is, then, to remove all doubt that He exhibits the marks of His Passion.
And in doing so, He shows us the true way of dispelling doubt, of whatever kind it
may be, viz., the fuller knowledge of Himself, as the dead, the buried, the risen,
and living Christ. It is this that is the cure of all unbelief, the death of doubting,
the cherisher of faith, the perpetual source of stability and peace ; for the real
cause of all doubting is imperfect knowledge of the Lord. {H. Bonar, D.D.) Too
good to be true : — In the case before ub, the disciples saw Christ manifestly before
their eyes. To a certain extent they believed in His resurrection ; that belief gave
them joy, and at once that very joy made them unbelieving. They looked again ;
they believed once more ; anon, a wave of joy rolled right over the head of their
faith, and then afresh their doubts returned. If God had been half as merciful or
a tithe as kind as He was, I could have believed it, but such exceeding riches of His
grace were too much ; such out-doings of Himself in goodness, such giving exceed-
ing abundantly above what one could ask or even think, seemed too much to
beheve. We will at once attempt to deal with this temptation. I. To begin, det
UB ACCOUNT FOB IT. 1. It is httle marvel that the spirit is amazed even to astonish-
ment and doubt when you think of the greatness of the things themselves. The
black sinner says, *• My iniquity is great ; I deserve the wrath of God ; the gospel
presents me with a pardon, full and complete. I have laboured to wash out these
stains, but they will not disappear ; the gospel tells me that the precious blood of
JesQS cleanseth from all sin. 2. Another reason for incredulity may be fonnd in
our sense of onworthiness. Note the person that receives these mercies, and you
will not wonder that he believes not for joy. " Ah," saith he, " if these things were
given to the righteous I could believe it, but to me, an old offender, to me, a hard-
hearted despiser of the overflowing love of God that cannot be 1 " 3. Add to these the
strange terms upon which God presents these things to poor sinners. The miracle of
the manner equals the marvel of the matter. No works ; simply trust thy soul with
Christ. 4. And add to this one more thought — the method by which God proposes
to work all this ; that is to say. He proposes to pardon, and to justify the sinner
instantaneously. II. Having thus tried to account for this state of the heart, may
I have the help of God while I try to no battle with the evil that is in it, that we
KAT BE ABLE TO BELIEVE IN Chbist 1 1. Ttonbled heart, let me remind thee, first of
all, that thou hast no need to doubt the trnth of the precious revelation because of
its greatness, for He is a great God who makes it to thee. Let no low thoughts of
God come in to make you doubt His power to save you. 2. Again, let me remind
yoo that the greatness of God's mercy shoold enooorage yon to beheve that it comes
from God. 3. Let me remind yon again, that yon may get another argument to
put an end to your fears about the greatness of God's mercy from the greatness of
Hifl pcoTidenoe. IIL I close by using tocb vest fbabb as an enticeubnt to isluvs.
ee» THE BIBLICAL ILLUSIRATOR. [chap, xxir.
If it be so joyous only to think of these things, what must it be to possess them 1
If it gives such a weight to thy spirit only to think of being pardoned, adopted,
accepted, and saved, what must it be really to be washed? {C. H. Spurgeon.)
The final recorded meeting in Jerusalem: — I. Consider the waitino (see A-cts
1. 4). II. The pbomised baptism (see Acts i. 5). III. Chbist's exegesis, o&
EXPLANATION OP IHE Old TESTAMENT. 1. Kemiuds them of former teaching.
2. Law, prophets, Psalms, &c., must be understood of Him. IV. The opbnin»
OF THBIE UNDERSTANDING. V. ThE COMPREHENSIVE OHARACTEB OF GhBIST'S COM-
MISSION. 1. Eepentance. 2. Eemission of sins. 3. In His name. Christ the
sole hope. 4. Among all nations. Missions an essential part of the Church.
6. Beginning at Jerusalem. VI. The dispensation of the gospel committed
TO THEM. VII. Tabrting AT JERUSALEM. " Tarrying," when done because of
faith, is a fine proof of faith, and strengthens prayer, and is an exercise of humility.
{G. VenaUes, S.C.L.) The Saviour's last words: — I. Essential chabacteristics
OF THE Old Testament Scriptures. 1. Prophetic. (1) The books of Divine
origin. (2) Its writers holy men. 2. Messianic. (1) In their spirit. . (2) In their
letter. (3) In their symbols. 3. Harmonic. (1) Moses, the prophets, and psalms
distinct chords of one Christly anthem. (2) This wondrous unity of the Old
Testament Scriptures an irrefragable proof of their essential divinity. II.
Essential need of Divine illumination to understand the Old Testament
ScBiPTUEES. 1. Suggested by Christ's exposition. 2. Proved in the disciples'
experience. 3. Corroborated in all generations. HI. Essential pre-bequisites
fob human saltation. 1. The death of Christ. 2. The resurrection of Christ.
3. Repentance and remission of sins. IV. An essential chaeacteristic or a
disciple of Christ. 1. To bear witness of personal salvation through Christ.
2. To bear witness of personal interest in the salvation of others. V. An essential
NEED FOB SUCCESSFUL WITNESSING FOB Chbist. 1. This promise of the Father was the
gift of the Holy Spirit (Acts i. 8). 2. This gift of the Holy Spirit was to endue the
disciples of Christ with power for testimony. 3. This enduement with the power of the
Holy Spirit essential for successsful bearing witness for Christ. Practical questions :
1. Are we all disciples of Christ? 2. Do we all bear witness for Jesus Christ? 3. Is
our witnessing for Christ accompanied with the power of the Holy Spirit ? 4. If not,
why not? (D. C. Hughes, M.A.) The gospel for the world : — I. The basis of thk
GOSPEL FOB THE WORLD. 1. This threefold division of the Scriptures suggestive in this
connection. (1) As showing that Christ is the central glory of each and every part.
(2) As showing in tbis the essential unity of all the parts. 2. The fulfilment of
the Messianic prophecies of the Old Testament Scriptures most important in the
evangehzation of the world. (1) Because it proves the Divine origin of the
Scriptures. (2) Because it shows the Divine authority with which the Christ of
the Scriptures is invested as the world's Saviour. II. The qualifications fob
THE PROMULGATION OF THE GOSPEL TO THE WORLD. 1. A Spiritual Understanding
of the Scriptures. (1) Concerning the fitness of a sufifering and a triumphant
Christ. (2) Concerning the essentials of gospel preaching. 2. Another quali-
fication is Christian discipleship. 3. A third qualification is the special endue-
ment of power. (1) This enduement of power by the Holy Spirit should be
distinguished from the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, which is not a special, but
general privilege of every Christian. (2) The condition for this enduement may
be seen in the account given of the prayerful waiting therefor, before the day
of Pentecost (Acts i. 12-14 ; ii. 1-4). HI. The return of Christ to heaven
NECESSARy FOB THE SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL IN THE WORLD. 1. The retum of OUf
Lord to heaven was necessary in order that the Holy Spirit might be sent.
(John xvi. 7). 2. On the work of the Spirit depend the conviction and conversion
of men, and the completion of the truth (John xvi. 8-14). IV. Peactical con-
clusions. 1. The world's great need — the gospel of Christ. 2. The Church's
great responsibility to supply this need. 3. The importance of being equipped.
(Ibid.) Then opened He their understanding. — Christ illuminates the under-
standing : — I. What is included in this act of Christ ? 1. It Implies the
transcendent nature of spiritual things, far excieding the highest flight and
reach of natural reason. 2. Christ's opening the understanding implies the
insafficiency of all external means, how excellent soever they are in themselves
to operate savingly upon men, till Christ by His power opens the soul, and ^ so
makes them effectnaL 3. Christ's opening the understanding imports His Divine
power, whereby He is able to subdue all things to Himself. Who but G vd knows
the heart r Who but God can unlock and open it at pleasure 7 II Bx yruAT
«HAP. XXIV.] ST. LUKE. 6S3
ACTS Chbist performs this work. 1. By His Word. 2. By His Spirit. He breaks in
tipon the understanding and conscience by powerful convictions and compunctions
^John xvi. 8). When this is done, the heart is opened : saving Ught now shines in
it ; and this light set up, the spirit in the soul is — 1. A new light, in which all things
appear far otherwise than they did before. The names "Christ" and " sin," the
words "heaven " and "hell" have another sound in that man's ears, than formerly
they had. 2. It is a very affecting light ; a light that hath heat and powerful
influences with it, which makes deep impressions on the heart. 3. And it is
a growing light, like the light of the morning, which " shines more and more unto
the perfect day" (Prov. iv. 18). Inferences: 1. If this be the work and office of
Jesus Christ, to open the understandings of men ; hence we infer the miseries
that lie upon those men, whose understandings, to this day, Jesus Christ hath not
opened ; of whom we may say, as it is Deut. xxix. 4. 2. If Jesus Christ be the great
Prophet of the Church, then surely He will take special care both of the Church
and the under-shepherds appointed by Him to feed them. 3. Hence you that
are yet in darkness, may be directed to whom to apply yourselves for saving
knowledge. It is Christ that hath the sovereign eye-salve that can cure your
blindness. 4. Since then there is a common light, and special saving light,
which none but Christ can give, it is therefore the concernment of every one
of you to try what your light is. " We know that we all have knowledge " (1 Cor.
viii. 1). These lights differ — 1. In their very kind and natures. The one is
heavenly, supernatural, and spiritual ; the other earthly and natural, the effect of a
better constitution or education (James iii. 15, 17). 2. They differ most apparently
in their effects and operations. The light that comes in a special way from Christ,
is humbling, abasing, and soul -emptying light ; by it a man feels the vileness of his
own nature and practice, which begets self-loathing in him ; but natural light, on
the contrary, puffs up and exalts, makes the heart swell with self-conceitedness
(1 Cor. viii. 1). The light of God is practical and operative, still urging the soul —
yea, lovingly constraining it to obedience. 3. They differ in their issues. Natural
eommon knowledge vanisheth, as the apostle speaks (1 Cor. xiii. 8). 'Tis but.
Mayflower, and dies in its month. " Doth not their excellency that is in theiik
go away?" (Job iv. 21). Bat this that springs from Christ is perfected, not
destroyed by death ; it springs up into everlasting life. The soul in which it
is subjected carries it away with it into glory. 5. How are they obhged to love,
Berre, and honour Jesus Christ, whom he hath enhghtened with the saving
knowledge of Himself ? 0 that with hands and hearts lifted up to heaven,
ye would adore the free grace of Jesus Christ to your souls ! {J. Flavel.) On
the understanding of Scripture: — I. Odb Lord dxsiqned to put an especial
BONOUB ON THE ScBiPTUBES. He might have taught His disciples without them.
Be might have enabled them, by immediate inspiration, to understand all things
which related to His person. His office, and Divine commission ; to His death and
Bufferings, His resurrection, and the glory that should follow. But He ohose
rather to refer them to the hving oracles, given by God unto their fathers. Let
me solemnly ask you, beloved brethren, what value do you set upon the Scriptures ?
11. Bat, while vast numbers read not the Scriptures at all, mant bead them, but
CNDEBSTAND TEEU NOT. Their meaning is sealed up. If we would profit by the
Scriptures, we must not read them like another book. III. That these remarks
may be brought to some practical end, let us, finally, ask — Do we bead thb
SCBIPTUBES CONTnOJALLY WITH THIS CONVICTION, THAT, WITHOUT THE TEACHINO OF
THB Spibit or Chbist, WE CANNOT UNDEBSTAND THEM ? It is our duty to searcb
the Scriptures; it is the Lord alone who can enable us to understand them.
1. If this conviction be strong on our minds, it will lead us to read the Scriptures
with earnest prayer. 2. Again, if we be under an abiding conviction that,
without the teaching of the Spirit, we cannot nnderstand the Scriptures, we shall
read them with diligence and perseverance. 3. Once more, if we be deeply con-
vinced of our need of the grace of God, we shall read the Scriptures with an
obedient, humble, teachable spirit. {E. Blencowe, M.A.) The understanding
opened : — I. The change fboduced. The unlocking of the whole sonl ; the
breaking down of all the barriers of pride, prejudice, and sin, which preclude the
gospel, and prevent the cordial reception of its salutary truths. U. The authob
or this change. The Lord Jesus Christ, by His Spirit. Inward illumination is
necessary, because of — 1. The insufficiency of human powers. 2. The inefficiency
of ontward means. IIL The end of this change ; the object which its Divine
Author particularly regards ; and this is, a right acquaintance with the holy
064 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xwt.
ScriptareB, "Then opened He their nnderetanding " ; why? to what end and
purpose? " That they might understand the Scriptures." Here let it be carefully
noted the holy Scriptures are a complete revelation of the mind and will of Goi
But what is this understanding of the Scriptures, this right acquaintance with the
"Word of God, which evinces the teaching of the Spirit of Christ? 1. It is impressive.
It is knowledge which touches and interests the heart. 2. It is progressive. The
Spirit of Christ teaches gradually. " More and more unto the perfect day." 3. It
is practical. This knowledge has influence on the spirit and conduct of men, an
influence most salutary and important. (1) It humbles for sin. (2) It endears the
Saviour. (3) It promotes holiness. From the whole we remark — 1. The unhappy
condition of those whose minds are yet closed against the light of the word and
Spirit of Christ. Natural blindness is a melancholy affliction, but unspeakably
more so this darkness of the soul 1 2. The duty of such as desire Divine teaching.
Think not highly of yourselves, but soberly as you ought to think. 3. The
encouragement which the gospel gives to apply to Jesus Christ. This encourage-
ment is large and free. (T. Kidd.) Understanding the Scriptures: — Whilst
at prayer-meeting to-night, I learned more of the meaning of Scripture than ever
before. Suitable frames of soul are like good lights, in which a painting appears
to its full advantage. (S. Pearse.) The opened understanding : — This is in
all probabihty as stupendous a miracle as any in the Lord's history. That men
should in a moment receive a power of mental comprehension which they had not
before, and that this power should enable them to see the true import and meaning
of a book which had hitherto been closed to them, seems greater than any acts
of healing, or feeding of multitudes, or stilling of tempests. It implies Divine
power over our spiritual and intellectual nature such as God only can exercise.
And yet it is the commonest of all miracles, and the one which survives amongst
us. Th« opening of the mind and heart to the things of God is constantly now going
on. To many — we may say to all — who submit their wills and understandings
to God, the Scriptures are unlocked, a new light is shed upon every part of them,
especiaDy upon the works and words of the Lord. This power of a risen Christ
we claim every time we put up to God one of the most familiar of all our prayers,
that " by patience and comfort of His holy "Word we may embrace and ever hold
fast the blessed hope of everlasting life" in Jesus Christ. (M. F. Sadler.)
ThUB it Is written, and thus it behoved Christ to suffer. — ChrisVs epitome of the
gospel: — I. Thb gospel is heeb eepkesented as the outcome of the long-
CHEBiSHBD PDEP0SE8 OF GoD. It behoved Christ to suffer and to rise again, because
it was included in God's redemptive purposes as revealed by His servants the
prophets. Redemption was not an afterthought in the Divine mind. II. Thb
GOSPEL IS herb BEPEESENTED AS GBODNDINO ITSELF IN TWO HISTOBICAIi FACTS: VIZ.,
ON THB BUFFEBING6 AND TEE EE8UERECTI0N OF ChEIST. ILL ThB GOSPEL, AB
EXPBEBSED IN THESE TWO FACTS, IS EEBB BEPEESENTED AS THB SUBJECT MATTBB OF
AFOSTOUO PEEACHiNG. Why? Unquestionably, because they are the most vital
and essential doctrines of Christianity. They lie at the root of all experimental
rehgion. IV. The gospel is heeb bepbesented as embbacing in its mebciful
DESIGNS thb ENTIEB HUMAN EACE. It IS TO BE PBEACHED " AMONG ALL RATIONS."
■y. Thb gospel is hebe bepeesentbd as ofpeeing Divine mebcy to the chief op
8INHEBS. •• Beginning at Jerusalem." {W. H. C. Harris.) The principles and
proclamation of the gospel: — It would be difficult to find in the Word of God another
paragraph which contains within itself more of the essential principles of the
gospel than that to which this text belongs. I. The gbound on which thb
GOSPEL pboclamation BESTS : " It behoved Christ to suffer, and to rise from the
dead the third day." There could have been no gospel if there had been no Cross;
but the death, even of Jesus, would have had no efficacy for the removal of human
guilt, if He had not risen from the grave. The one fact is invariably connected
with the other in the Epistles. The honour of the law required a victim. Three
doctrines unite to form a trinity of gospel truth : 1. The person of Christ as God
incarnate. 2. The death of Christ as the sacrifice. .S. The resurrection of Christ
as the witness to the other two doctrines. II. Thb bobstancb of the oospbl
MESSAGE HBBE DBSCBiBBD : " That repentance and remission of sins should be
preached in His name." It is a proclamation of the remission of sins. This
pardon is— 1. Full ; 2. Free ; 3. Immediate ; 4. Irreversible. But it is not a pro-
clamation of forgiveness alone. Two things, repentance and remiBsion, are_ to go
together. A man cannot have forgiveness and continue «t the same time to
indulge in sin. This mention of repentance is yirtoallj the same thing M that
SBAV. xxpr.] ST. LUKE. 661
Insistance on faith bo constantly found in the New Testament. Faith is the Christ-
ward side of repentance. Repentance is the sinward side of faith. III. Thb ordeb
IN WHICH THIS PEocLAMATioN 18 TO BE MADK : " To all natioDS, beginning at
Jerusalem." The reasons of •• beginning at Jerusalem " were— 1. To magnify tha
Divine mercy. 2. To secure a convincing illustration of the gospel's elficacy. 3.
To establish a principle for the guidance of God's people in all ages. So the law
is that our first efforts should begin in our own homes — " beginning at Jerusalem "
—but we are not to be content with working there. We must look abroad also " to
all nations.' {W. M. Taylor, D.D.) Christ's sufferings, resurrection, d-c. : — I.
The expediency of Christ's suffering and resurrection. 1. That prophecy
might be fulfilled (Zech. xiii. 1). 2. That justice might be satisfied, and peace
made (Rom. iii. 25, 26). 3. To convince and confound His adversaries. 4. To
confirm the faith of His disciples. 5. To conquer sin, death, and grave. 6. That
He might be the firstfruits. 7. That after abasement He might be exalted. II.
Thb blessed effects resulting. " That repentance and remission of sins should
be preached in His name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem." 1. The
nature and necessity of repentance (Acts v. 31). 2. Full and free remission (Acta
xiii. 39). 3. " In His name," or by His authority (Mark xvi. 15, 16). 4. Begin-
ning at Jerusalem in the first place (Luke i. 72). 5. And carrying it to all nations.
in. The improvement. 1. The grace of Christ always prevents us (Luke xix. 10).
2. Repentance and remission of sins are the fruits of Christ's death and resurrec-
tion (Bom. viii. 33, 34). 3. Remission of sins also accompanied with the saving
knowledge of salvation. 4. The gospel commission is without exception of nations,
as God's people are in all nations. 5. Salvation is alone in the name of Christ.
(T. B. Baker.) Two supreme necessities : — I. It behoved Christ to suffer. 1.
Because He must show the evil of sin ; and this is only seen in its results. 2. Be-
oause He must vindicate the Divine honour ; and this He could only do by bearing
the penalty of sin. 3. Because His truth would oppose the natural inclinations of
men, and they would be sure to make Him suffer. 4. Because He must render a
perfect obedience to the Father; and this could only be tested and proved ba
Buffering. II. It behoved Christ to rise. 1. Because His work was a oo^.
mission, and some sign of its acceptance was needed. 2. Because His work was
incomplete at death ; part must be accomplished in renewed life. {The Weekly
Pulpit.) Christ's death and resurrection foretold in Scripture: — I. That Messiah
8H0ULD BUFTEB DEATH. 1. Forotold in the Pentateuch. (1) Gen. xxii. 18. (2)
Sacrificial slaying of beasts. 2. Foretold in the Prophets (Isa. liii. ; Dan. ix. 25, 26 ;
Zech. xii. 10). 3. Foretold in the Psalms (Psa. xvi. 9, 10). II. That it behoved
Him also to bise again. 1. This was first foreshown in the same story of Isaac,
wherein his sacrifice or suffering was acted. For from the time that God com-
manded Isaac to be offered for a burnt-offering, Isaac was a dead m^^n ; but the
third day he was released from death. This the text tells ns expressly, that it was
the third day when Abraham came to Mount Moriah, and had his son, as it were,
restored to him again : which circumstance there was no need nor use at all to
have noted, had it not been for some mystery. For had there been nothing in-
tended but the naked story, what did it concern ns to know whether it were tha
third or the fifth day that Abraham came to Moriah, where he received his son from
death ? (see Heb. xi. 17-19). The same was foreshowed by the law of sacrifices,
which were to be eaten before the third day. Some sacrifices were to be eaten tha
same day they were offered; but those which were deferred longest, as the peace-
offerings, were to be eaten before the third day. The third day no sacrifice might
be eaten, but was to be burnt : if it were eaten, it was not accepted for an atone-
ment, but counted an abomination. Namely, to show that the sacrifice of Messiah,
which these sacrifices represented, was to be finished the third day by His rising
from the dead : and therefore the type thereof determined within that time, beyond
which time it was not accepted for atonement of sin, because then it was no longer
a type of Him. 2. As for the prophets, I find no express prediction in them for the
time of Christ's rising (for that of the case of the Prophet Jonah, I take to be rather
an allusion then a prophecy) only in general, " That Christ should rise again," is
implied both in that famous prophecy of Isa. hii., and that of Zech. xii. 3. 1 come
to the Psalms, where not only His rising again is prophesied of, but the time
thereof determined ; though at first sight it appears not so : namely, in Uiat fore-
alledged passage of the Sixteenth Psalm, " Thou wilt not leave My soul in hell, nor
Buffer Thine Holy One to see eorraption." All men shall rise again, but their bodies
mist flrit ntom to dust, and see ootruptioa. But Messiah was to rise again befon
66« THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOB. [CHAJ xxif.
He saw corrnption. If before, then, the third day at farthest ; for then tho body
naturally begins to see corruption. (J. Mede.) Necessity for Christ's sufferings :—
Christ's sacrifice upon Calvary came along by a process of natural simplicity. His
death is readily explicable, and yet after He died He said that that death was one
of the foregone conclusions of history : " Thus it behoved Christ to suffer." Paul
said " Christ must needs have suffered." '• Must." It is well to think down deep
thoughts into the " musts " of history. The ages were surveyed — using the word
of the civil engineer — before they were peopled and built upon, and the points were
fixed which now century by century God is covering with facts and events. (C H.
Parkhurst.) Why it behoved Christ to suffer and to rise : — I. To sutfeb. 1. It
did not primarily behove Christ to suffer merely because the prophets had foretold
that He should suffer and die ; the necessity of His sufferings was rather the reason
why prophets were directed to foretel a suffering Messiah. It behoved TTim to
suffer, that He might make a full and sufficient atonement for the sins of guilty
man. It was the will of the Divine Father, and that will was sovereign and
absolute, that Jehovah Jesus, the everlasting Son of the Father, should assume our
nature, live in our world, and suffer in our stead. It was the voluntary engage-
ment of the Son of God to accomplish His Father's will — " Lo 1 I come ; in the
volume of the Book it is written of Me, I delight to do Thy will, 0 My God." 2. I
grant you there are collateral reasons why it thus " behoved Christ to suffer."
" Thus it behoved Him to suffer," that He might exhibit a perfect pattern of all
excellence, and of patience in the midst of suffering. In all His condescension, in
all His meekness, in all His forgiveness, in all His charity. He has taught us how
to live and how to suffer ; and "if we say we abide in Him, we ought to walk as
He also walked." 3. •' It behoved Him to suffer " in our nature, and in our world,
that He might, in some sense, ennoble and dignify the path of poverty and of suffer-
ing. 4. " It behoved Him to suffer," that from personal experience in our nature
and in our world, He might know how to sympathise with His suffering people.
6. " It behoved Him to suffer,'" preparatory to that glory to which, as Mediator, He
was to be exalted. " Ought not Christ to suffer these things, and to enter into His
glory ? " Not nnfrequently does it happen, that the path of suffering is the high
road to honour and glory ; and never does true greatness appear in a light so im-
pressive and interesting, as when seen grappling with difficulties, struggling with
opposition, and ultimately rising superior to all. Through what a scene of suffer-
ing and agony and blood did our Divine Saviour pass, preparatory to entering into
His glory ! And when He arrived at the heavenly world, what an outburst of
triumph and joy do we hear 1 •» Worthy is the Lamb that was slain." And let
His suffering followers know, that if so be they suffer with Him, in His cause and
in Hie state and temper, they shall also be glorified together. U. To bibb again.
1. It behoved Him to rise, that in rising He might show that the redemption-price
paid by the shedding of His blood was sufficient, and that it was accepted. 2. It
behoved Him to rise from the dead, that in rising He might show that He had
triumphed over death. 8. It behoved Him to rise, that in rising He might be " the
firstfrnits of them that slept." 4. It behoved Him to rise from the dead, that in
rising He might assert and exercise His regal character and office as King
of saints, as Lord of the earth. (R. Newton, D.D.) That repentance
and remission of sins should be preached. — Christ's first and last subject : —
From Matt. iv. 17, coupled with this verse, we learn that repentance was
the first subject upon which the Bedeemer dwelt, and that it was the last
which, with His departing breath, He commended to the earnestness of His dis-
ciples. He begins His mission crying, " Bepent " ; He ends it by saying to His
enccessors the apostles, " Preach repentance and remission of sins among all
nations, beginning at Jerusalem." I. Bepentance — rrs obioin. When we cry,
" Bepent and be converted," there are some foolish men who call us legal. Now,
we beg to state, at the opening of this first point, that repentance is of gospel
parentage. It was not bom near Mount Sinai. If repentance is ever obtained by
the poor sinner, it must be found at the foot of the Cross, and not where the ten
conomandments lie shivered at Sinai's base. And as repentance is of gospel
parentage, I make a second remark, it is also of gracious origin. Bepentance was
never yet produced in any man's heart apart from the grace of God. IL But to
pass forward from this first point to our second head, let us notice the EssENTUiiS
of true repentance. I have thus, as best I coold, feeling many and very sad dis-
tractions in my own mind, endeavoured to explain the essentials of true repen-
tance— ^illmnination, hunuliation, detestation, transformation. IC. And now, with
CHAP. xxiT.] ST. LUKE. ee?
all brevity, let me notice, in the third place, the coMPAiaoNO of true repentance.
Her first companion is faith. There was a question once asked by the old Puritan
divines, "Which was first in the soul, faith or repentance? " Some said that a
man oould not truly repent of sin until he believed in God, and had some sentje of
a Saviour's love. Others said a man could not have faith till he had repented
of sin ; for he must hate sin before be could trust Christ. So a good old minister
-who was present made the following remark : " Brethren," said he, " I don't think
you can ever settle this question. It would be something like asking whether,
when an infant is bom, the circulation of the blood or the beating of the pulse can
be first observed." Said he, " It seems to me that faith and repentance are simul*
taneous. They come at the same moment. There could be no true repentance
without faith. There never was yet true faith without sincere repentance." We
endorse that opinion. I believe they are like the Siamese twins — they are bom
together, and they oould not live asunder, but must die if you attempt to separate
them. Faith always walks side by side with his weeping sister, true repentance.
There is another sweet thing which always goes with repentance, just as Aaron
went with Moses, to be spokesman for him ; for yon must know that Moses was
slow of speech, and so is repentance. Repentance has fine eyes, but stanmiering
lips. In fact, it usually happens that repentance speaks through her eyes, and
cannot speak with her Ups at all, except her friend — who is a good spokesman — is
near. He is called " Mr. Confession." This man is noted for his open-breastedness.
Bepentance sighs over the sin — confession tells it out. Holiness is evermore the
bosom friend of penitence. Fair angel, clad in pure white linen, she loves good
company, and will never stay in a heart where repentance is a stranger. Bepen-
tance must dig the foundations, but holiness shall erect the structure, and bring
forth the top- stone. Bepentance is the clearing away of the rubbish of the past
temple of sin; holiness builds the new temple which the Lord our God shall
inherit. Bepentance and desires after holiness never can be separated. Tet once
more — wherever repentance is, there cometh also with it peace. IV. And now I
come to my fourth and last point, namely, the excellencibs of repentance. I shall
somewhat surprise you, perhaps, if I say that one of the excellencies of repentance
lies in its pleasantness. " Oh ! " you say, *' but it is bitter 1 " Nay, say I ; it ia
sweet. At least, it is bitter when it is alone, like the waters of Marah ; but there is
a tree called the cross, which if thou canst put into it, it will be sweet, and thou
wilt love to drink of it. At a school of mutes who were both deaf and dumb, the
teacher put the following question to her pupils : " What is the sweetest emotion ? "
As soon as the children comprehended the question, they took their slates and
wrote their answers. One girl in a moment wrote down "Joy." As soon as the-
teacher saw it, she expected that all would write the same, but another girl, more
thoughtful, put her hand to her brow, and she wrote "Hope." Verily, the girl
was not far from the mark. But the next one, when she brought up her slate, had
written " Gratitude," and this child was not wrong. Another one, when she
brought up her slate, had written "Love," and I am sure she was right. But
there was one other who had written in large characters — and as she bronght
up her slate the tear was in her eye, showing she had written what she
felt — " Bepentance is the sweetest emotion." And I think «/i« was right.
Besides this excellency, it is specially sweet to God as well as to men. '| A
broken and a contrite heart, 0 God, Thou wilt not despise." When St. Angustine
lay a-dying, he had this verse always fixed upon the curtains, so that as often as he
awoke he might read it — " A broken and a contrite heart, 0 God, Thou wilt not
despise." When you despise yourselves, God honours you ; but as long as yoa
honour yourselves, God despises you. (C H. Spurgeon.) The gospel com-
mission : — L The foundation of this commission (see ver. 46). IL The fecdliab
woBE of this commission. The preaching of repentance and remission of sins in
the name of Christ. III. Its beginnino as to locality. Jerusalem. IV. The
EXTENT OF THE COMMISSION. All natioUB. V. ThE OBANS USB TO WHICH THE
COMMISSION MUST NOW BE PUT BT THE PEOPLE OF GoD. (A. SomervUle.) The
apostolic commission: — I. The wobe presceibed by the Savioub. The end of
this work is, that sinners should be saved. This practical end we must ever keep
in view. 1. The means here prescribed is preaching — preaching repentance and
remission of sins. This ordinance of preaching, even in the general sense of
public religions teaching, is all hot peculiar to the religion of Christ. 3. The
Eowei indicated in our text is the power of troth, of the true Word of God. And
ere we see the ultimate source of our strength, in the revealed will of Ood. The
668 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xxm
BO-called orusaders, in their wild enterprise for the recovery of God-forsaken Pales*
tine from the infidels, were animated and sustained by the battle-cry, " God willa
it." In seeking to win the lost world to its life in God, from the bondage of sin
and death and hell, we have to cheer us and sustain us the Bible truth, " God willa
it." For the work which He has ordained shall certainly be done (Isa. Iv. 10-13).
This glorious work the gospel is fitted instrumentally to achieve by its nature aa
true and Divine, " the Word of God." 3. Not only the gospel is true and Divine ;
its Teacher is true and Divine. It is ordained in this Will that the preaching shall
be "in the name" of Jesus the Christ. II. The ordeb in which this wobk la
TO BK undertaken: " beoinnino AT Jebusalem." Not passing by Jerusalem, nor
coming to her in the last place, but " beginning at Jerusalem " : so runs the WilL
I. They are the nearest, most easily reached. (1) In place. To the apostles elect
Jerusalem was literally the nearest point of Judiea, and Jndffia of Palestine, and
Palestine of the world. And even beyond Judaea and Palestine, in every important
city of the Gentile world, there was a Judsea and Jerusalem, a Jewish quarter and
synagogue, more accessible and convenient for public religious teaching and discus-
Bion than any other quarter and temple. This is one of his points of resemblance
to the Scot — his nation, far more than ours, is the ubiquitous nation. All the
world over, the Jew is nearest in place. (2) They are nearest in mind. The wood
has first to be hewn in the savage forest, and the stones to be quarried from the
bowels of the earth, before the heathen mind can furnish as much as an altar for
our faith to be laid on. But in the mind of the Jew the altar is built to our
hands ; the wood is there upon it, ready to be kindled to a blaze. 2. They are,
when found and saved, fitted to be the most precious, as instruments of diffusing
the gospel to others. I have already referred to their lot of ubiquity, showing that
they are by position an army in actual occupation of the world. I might add that
they have a natural gift of tongues, being familiar with the languages of all the
nations among which they are dispersed. And we have seen that they have a
theological knowledge, derived from Old Testament revelation, such that they need
only to know Jesus as the incarnate Word in order to be ready-made preachers of
Him in the gospel. 3. They are the worst. They are the chief of sinners, pecu-
liarly the children of the devil (John viii. 44). No other nation has sinned as they
have sinned, so long and deeply and desperately, against the light of God's offered
mercy, first in '• Moses and aU the prophets," then in the person of Jesus the
Christ, and finally in the apostles and evangelists throughout the new dispensation
of the Spirit. Therefore we ought to preach the gospel of salvation "to the Jews
first." For, first, in so doing we act in the spirit of the gospel as a dispensation of
healing mercy : we illustrate the abounding grace of the great Physician, who
hastens to go first with His remedy where the malady is deadliest. And second :
when Jerusalem has yielded at last, and believed and repented for salvation, what
shall her actual salvation be but spiritual resurrection to the world ? For she will
love much because she has been forgiven much. {J. Macgregor, D.D.) The
work of the Chri$tian ministry: — I. Tek oband bubjects of the Chbistian
minibtbt: repentance and remission of sins. U. How these subjects abe to
be delivered : preached. (1) Simply ; (2) earnestly ; (3) faithfully ; (4) affec-
tionately, in. In whose name these two great subjects abe to bb pbeached:
in the name of Christ. lY. To whom: all nations. V. Where itbst: at Jeru-
salem. (TT. J. Grundy.) Repentance and pardon: — Repentance and pardon are
like to the tiiree spring months of the year — March, April, and May. Sin comes
in like March — blustering, stormy, and full of bold violence. Eepentance succeeds
like April — showery, weeping, and full of tears. Pardon follows like May — springing,
singing, full of joys and fiowers. If our hands have been full of March, with the
tempest of unrighteousness, our eyes must be full of April, with the sorrow of
repentance ; and then our hearts shall be full of May, in the true joy of forgiveness.
The duty and importance of special e forts for the conversion of cities : — I. Oub
Sa\iour devoted His personal ministrt vert uuch to cities and laboe towns.
II. Christ, in His instbuctions to His disciples, farticulably dibectb theib
attention to cities and laboe towns. IIL Cities were the theatres of the
Holt Spibit's first and most illustrious achievements. Instance — Jerusalem,
Antiooh, Ephesus, Corinth, <fec IV. Wb should seek the conversion of cities.
because in tbeu tee adverbabt beions with peculiab power. Would yoo see
the power of Satan in cities 7 Cast your eye back npon the past. What were
Sodom and Gomorrah ? What were Tyre, and Sidon, and Nineveh T What was
Babylon? What was Jerusalem in its latter days, when given up, aconrsed of Ood 7
«HAP. 33IT.] ST. LUKE. «ef '
What were they but sinks of poUation and fountains of ruin f And, could we draw
aside the curtains of darkness, what might we see in modetn cities ? V. Thebs
ABB PBCnUAB ADTANTAQBS FOB THE PBOMOTION 07 BEUOION IN CITIES. In CitieS,
ministers and good men can readily and effectually co-operate in plans of useful-
ness. Cities also furnish peculiar advantages for individual exertion. If Christiana
in onr cities would conduct themselves agreeably to the Bible, how awfnl to the
wicked would be their example I What reformations would be wrought among the
worldly and profane 1 How many haunts of poverty and wretchedness would be
searched out ! How many souls, once in communion with the saints, would be
brought back from their wanderings 1 YL Anotheb bgason tob special eftobts
IN BBHAIiir OF CITIES IS, THB INFLUBNCE WHICH THEY BXEBT ON THE OO0NTBY AND
ON THB woBLD. {W. Pattou, M.A.) The charge to the apostles : — I. What thet
WEBB TO PBEACH. 1. Bepeutance. This consists in conviction of sin, contrition
of heart, and godly sorrow for transgressions; and it ends in real conversion to
God. 2. Bemission of sins. Free, fall, finaL The Forgiver retains no anger. 3.
They were to preach both repentance and the remission of sins. We are not to
separate what God hath joined together. To encourage the hope of pardon, with-
out repentance, is rebellion against common sense, and treason against the whole
spirit and letter of the Word of God. And, on the other hand, there is no true
repentance without proper views of, and faith in, God's pardoning mercy and grace.
Witliout these the heart may be terrified, but it never can be softened. IL How
TBET WEBB TO PBEACH THIS. "In His name." 1. In His stead. 2. By His
authority. 8. Through His mediatorial influence. HI. Among whom webb thet
TO pbbaoh ? " Among all nations." 1. Christianity was designed to be universal ;
to enter and to pervade all nations of the earth. 2. Christianity is adapted to
aniversality. 3. Enough has already been done to encourage our hope of its actual
oniversality in due time. TV. Where mtebe they to begin theib wobk f "In
Jerusalem." 1. To fulfil Scripture (Zech. xiv. 8). 2. To attest more strongly the
truth of Christianity. They were to begin to preach the facts of the gospel in the
very place where it is reported they occurred; and so recently as to be in the
memory of those they addressed. Would impostors have done this ? 3. To afford
proofs of the Saviour's compassion. He sends His ambassadors with offers of
meroy and pardon to a city whose inhabitants were reeking with His blood. 4. It
was tiiat His ministers should afford encouragement to all ; so that none should
have a just pretence "to perish in despair." "Though your sins are as scarlet,
they shall be as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." 5.
It was to encourage His servants in their endeavours to evangelize. The apostlea
were not to begin at a distance, but as near as possible. Suppose, now, yoa had a
wilderness covered with briers and thorns, and you wished to make a smooth passage
through it ; would it be wiser to begin at the farther end, and work homewards, or at
home first, pursuing your course to the farther end ? Would not the latter way
save you some time and trouble ? And, as yon went on, would not the little parts
you cultivated afford supplies to aid you to proceed with your cultivation 7 ( W. Jay.)
Repentance: — ^He that repents leaves the wrong way to take the right. Bepentance
is a change of mind leading to a change of conduct. He that repents turns quite
round to God ; his back was to heaven's gate, his face is now toward it. A single
action may show the change, as the weather-vane, pointing to a new quarter, teUs
us that the wind has changed. And what a change that may be ! *' The wind is
west," we cry ; "the drought is over 1 " How simple is repentance, how mighty the
effects I " Effects ! " ** Simple I " Is the rain that blesses the thirsty land caused
by the taming weather-cock ? Is the great change of wind, of which even smoke
or a straw may give as notice, only to be had for the wishing, or so very simple in
its oaoses ? We cannot state too simply to ourselves what repentance is ; but this
rcpentanoe, of which we so speak, is a very great thing. This change in the sonl's
weather may come in with stormy darkness ; thunder and rain and tempest may be
the servants of God that bring the blessing. To preach repentance then is not
merely to cry : ** Consider your ways, amend them." It is to present such induce-
ments, and to provide such " assistances " that the soul may feel itself very power-
fully dealt with for amendment ; and these are provided and presented in Jesus
Christ. (T. T. Lynch.) Remission of sins: — " Bemission of sins " is the assor-
anoe that God will not charge them against the repentmg soul ; and that He will
break the strength they still have in it, and wholly disperse and destroy them.
Pardon and complete deliverance are assured ; and at once the effeet of former ma,
begins to be put away. But the process of salvation is a gradual one. To pot oa
670 THE BIBLICAL ILLVSTRATOB. [chap. xxiv.
Christ is not the work of an hour. The Physician once welcomed, many a visit
must He pay. Even were the soul at the hour of its repentance absolutely assured
that no more harm could ever come to it from what it had done amiss, it has all its
good yet to win and to appropriate : as yet it occupies a low place ; it is untaught,
unclad ; it must be educated ; it can rise only by degrees. Christ has said for it,
and for all souls, " I have overcome evil ; I have perfected good." By faith in Him,
i.e., by our bo personal union with Him, through trust, that He is ours and we His,
we gain all the benefits of His protection from evil, and His promised imparta-
tion of God. But we enter into the fulness of the blessing gradually. And, strong
as our confidence in the Divine pardon may be, sin in us does not at once die ; and
earnest as our repentance toward God may be, the good new hfe in us is not at once
adult and all-accomplished. But, in the name of Christ, there has been preached
to us, and still is, " repentance and remission of sins " : " repentance," with all
inducements and all assistances ; " remission," with all assurance : the comfort of
the blessing, the earnest of its full realization — these may at once be ours. In the
name of Christ : shall we say, by His power the one is preached ; for His sake, the
other ? Yes ; bo we may say. But the two blessings are one in Him who has
subdued the past for us and won for us the future. Vain, and wrong, were any
declaration of pardon without a call to repentance. Vain, and even mocking, were
any call to repentance without the promise of pardon. Hope there can be none for
man unless he be made divinely good. Good, and happy in his goodness can no
man be made, unless the forces of evil with which he was leagued, by which he
was thralled, to which he contributed, are overcome. {Ibid.) Beginning at
JemBalem. — Reasons for " beginning at Jerusalem" : — I, That the pbomibe op thb
Fatheb mioht bb fulfilijED. II. That the tbuth of Chbistianitt might bb
coMFniMXD. m. That the ftoness of Christ's mebct might be proclaimed.
IV. That the effioaot of His grace might be manifested. In conclusion, w*
learn from the subjeot^l. That it is the duty of professing Christians to manifest
the spirit of Christ. If Christ is dwelling in you, you cannot but manifest His
spirit, for His life is your life. 2. We learn from this subject, that it is our duty
to spread the gospel of Christ. 8. From this subject we learn how sincere and
earnest is God's desire for the salvation of sinners — " He is not willing that any
should perish." {J. Dobie, D.D.) Beginning at Jerusalem; — I. What they were
TO preach. 1. Repentance. (1) Repentance as a duty. (2) The acceptableness of
repentance. (3) The motives of repentance. Not mere fear of hell ; but sorrow
for sin. (4) Repentance in its perpetuity. (5) The source of repentance. The
Lord Jesus Christ is exalted to give repentance. 2. Remission of sins. Free, fulU
irreversible pardon for all who repent of sin, and lay hold on Christ by faith. H.
Where it is to be pbbached. Among all nations. Divine warrant for missions.
III. But this is not all. We are actually told how to preach it. Repentance and
remission are to be preached in Christ's name. What does this mean ? 1. Ought
we not to learn from this that we are to tell the gospel to others, because Christ
orders us to do so ? In Christ's name we must do it. Silence is sin when salvation
is the theme. But it means more than that. 2. Not only preach it under His
orders, but preach it on His authority. The true servant of Christ has his Master
to back him np. 8. But does it not mean, also, that the repentance and the remission
which are so bound together come to men by virtue of ,Hi8 name ? Oh, sinner,,
there would be no acceptance of your repentance if it were not for that dear name I
IV. Now, I ehal'. ask your attention to the principal topic of the present discourse,
and that is, that He told His disciples where to begin. The apostles were not to-
pick and choose where they should start, but they were to begin at Jerusalem.
Why ? 1. Because it was written in the Scriptures that they were to begin at
JeroBalem (l8a.iL3; Joel ii. 32, iii. 16; Zech.xiv.8). 2. 1 suppose that our Lord bade
His disciples begin to preach the gospel at Jerusalem, because it was at Jerusalem
that the facts which make up tiie gospel had oocnrred. 8. The third reason why the
Lord Jesus told them to begin at Jerusalem may have been that He knew that there
would come s time when some of His disciples would despise the Jews, and there-
fore He said — When yon preach My gospel, begin with them. This is a standing
commandment, and everywhere we ought to preach the gospel to the Jew as well as
to the Gentile; Paal even says, " to the Jew first." 4. The fourth reason for
beginning at Jerusalem is a practical lesson for yon. Begin where yon are tempted
not to begin. Naturally these disciples would have said one to another when they
mat, ** We eannot do much here in Jerusalem. The first night that we met together
tb» doors were shut for fear of the Jews. It is of no nse for ns to go oat into th*
OHAP. xxiv.) ST. LUKE. 67 J
street ; these people are all in such an excited frame of mind that they will not
receive us ; we had better go up to Damascus, or take a long journey, and then
commence preaching ; and when this excitement is cooled down, and they have
forgotten about the crucifixion, we will come and introduce Christ gradually, and
Bay as little as we can about putting Him to death." That would have been the
rule of policy — that rule which often governs men who ought to be led by faith. But
our Lord had said, "Beginning at Jerusalem," and so Peter must stand up in the
midst of that motley throng, and he must tell them, " This Jesus whom ye have
with wicked hands crucified and slain is now risen from the dead." Instead of
tearing Peter to pieces they come crowding up, crying, '• We believe in Jesus : let
us be baptized into His sacred name." The same day there were added to the
church three thousand souls, and a day or two afterwards five thousand were con-
verted by the same kind of preaching. We ought always to try to do good where
we think that it will not succeed. 6. Begin at home. Look well to your own
children, servants, brothers, sisters, neighbours. 6. Begin where much has been
already done. The Jerusalem people had been taught for centuries in vain ; and
yet Christ's disciples were to speak to them first. We must not pass the gospel-
hardened ; we must labour for the conversion of those who have enjoyed privileges
bat have neglected them. 7. Begin where the gospel day is short. It was about
to end at Jerusalem. Now, then, if you have any choice as to the person you shall
Epeak to, select an old man. He is near his journey's end, and if he is unsaved
there is but a little bit of candle left by the light of which he may come to Christ.
Or when any of you notice a girl upon whose cheek you see that hectic flush which
marks consumption — if you notice during service the deep " churchyard " cough —
say to yourself, " I will not let you go without speaking to you, for you may soon be
dead." We ought speedily to look up those whose day of grace is short. 8. Begin,
dear friend, where you may expect opposition. That is a singular thing to advise,
bat I recommend it because the Saviour advised it. If they began at Jerusalem,
they would arouse a ferocious opposition. But nothing is much better for
the gospel than opposition. 9. The Saviour bade them begin at Jerusa-
lem, because the biggest sinners lived there. (C H. Spurgeon.) Beginning
at Jerusalem: — I. The charge to begin at Jerusalem shows how the gospel
challenges investigation of the facts which it proclaims in the locality in which they
transpired, and where, in consequence, they are capable of being most thoroughly
sifted. II. The charge to begin at Jerusalem shows that even Jerusalem sinners —
the men who had thirsted for the Saviour's blood — the men who had cried, " Away
with Him, crucify Himl " — the men who mocked Him in His last agonies — the
men who reviled and tortured and murdered Him — were not excluded from His
compassion. 1. Taking at the outset the lowest ground, we learn from His words
that there is mercy for the greatest sinners. 2. But this is not alL The text
requires as to advance a step further. It not only teaches that there is mercy for
the worst sinners, but that the worst and most wretched sinners are especially the
objects of mercy. Should you begin to ask how this is, and on what principle it ia
to be accounted for, our own feelings under certain circumstances may help us to an.
answer. The mother, if she loves as a mother should, has no arbitrary or ground-
less preference for any of her children. While they are all about her, behaving as
children should, she cannot tell you which is dearest. Most sincerely she will tell
you that she loves them all alike. But in after years, when their character is deve-
loped, and each pursues his own course, it is the poor prodigal whose suffering most
awakens her solicitude, and not so much his snSering as his sin. It is his image'
that is most frequently present to her mind. Let me add here, that the salvatioa
of the worst sinners will serve most to magnify the Divine mercy. As the rough
sea makes manifest the good quahties of the lifeboat which has weathered the
storm ; as the physician's skill is most illustriously displayed, and the efficacy of
his medicines most strikingly evinced, by the cure of the most aggravated disease ;.
as the builder's reputation is advanced, not only by the beauty and symmetry of
the structure which he has erected, but also by the worthlessness of the materials
oat of which it has been formed ; so is mercy most illustriously displayed and most
gloriously magnified in the salvation of the greatest sinners. Moreover, the for-
giveness of the greater guilt is fitted to awaken greater gratitude in the forgiven,
sinner. III. The Saviour's charge shows the order in which we shoold prooe»d in
oar efforts for the conversion of the world. The principle which He commends to
ns is the sound principle of begiiming at home. But while our efforts should begin
»t home, they should only begin tbez«. (TT. LandeU.) The Divine order of
«57» THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap, xat,
preaching : — Mark the order to be observed, for it is here prescribed, in promnl-
gating the system of troth and mercy throughout the world. They were to '* begin
at Jerusalem" ; and therefore we must begin there. For thus it is written — " A law
shall go forth from Zion, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem." This part of
4h« Divine order gives to our common Christianity a character of the most resplen-
dent truth. " Beginning at Jerusalem." Suppose they had begun anywhere else
but at Jerusalem. Suppose they had passed Jerusalem by. Suppose they had
sone to the coasts of Tyre and Sidon. Suppose they had gone to countries still
more remote, and there commenced operations, and there proclaimed repentance
and remission of sins in the name of Jesus Christ. Infidelity with both its eyes
©pen and both its ears, to look at anything that can be seen, and listen to anything
that can be heard, which can be lifted up to the discredit of Christianity — infidelity
would very soon have raised its crest, and lifted its voice on high. It would have
said, •* You see how these apostles, as they are called, managed this matter. Not
a man of them dared say a word in Jerusalem. They knew, if they had gone there
with their tales about the darkened sun, the rending rocks and rising dead, the
people of Jerusalem would have risen up to confront them ; a child of seven years
old would have been enough to confront them all. Away they went to another part
of the world, and there began with their tales of one Jesus that lived and died and
irose again, and that all who believe in Him will be saved by Him ; and these un-
tutored people, who had no means of ascertaining whether the statements were true
or false, seeing the confidence with which they were asserted, were credulous enough
to receive them, and thus your Christianity made a beginning in the world." Did
it so ? Let infidelity blush, if of a blush it is capable — which I very much doubt —
for where shame is, virtue may be some day or other. Let infidelity blush 1 — at
Jerusalem they did begin. On the very spot where the facts happened, there were
those facts fearlessly and triumphantly proclaimed. They did not wait half a
century, till almost all that lived when the facts occurred were numbered with the
■dead. They went immediately ; they " began " there on the very spot ; there they
preached a risen Saviour, and repentance and remission of sins in His name.
Tmth loves daylight, truth glories in the sunshine — invites attention, challenges
•examination, commands conviction and assent. ** Begin at Jerusalem ! " and does
mot this give to our Divine Christianity a character of the tenderest compassion ?
<« Begin at Jerusalem?" lean almost imagine I hear Simon Peter, who had a
warm heart and therefore a ready tongue, say to his Master — ♦' Oh 1 let it be rather
anywhere but Jerusalem. Hast Thou forgotten how they treated Thy prophets
before Thee? Hast Thou so soon forgotten how they treated Thyself? — how they
despised Thy teaching and Thy prayers, and Thy entreaties and tears ? Hast Thoa
-BO soon forgotten how they thirsted for Thy blood, and how they rested not till they
Jiad imbrued their hands in it? Look at Thy hands and side, do not they bear the
marks of their cruelty ? — Anywhere but Jerusalem." Such might be the language
of man, but such was not the determination of our merciful Bedeemer — *• As the
fheavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My
thoughts than your thoughts." " Begin at Jerusalem." " Though I bear the marks
of their cruelty, they shall have the first offer of My clemency. Begin there. Go
and try to find ont those that falsely accused Me, and tell them I am ready to be-
come their advocate, to plead their cause before the throne on high. • Begin at
Jerusalem ' try to find out those that scourged Me, and teU them from Me, that by
Hy stripes they may be healed. 'Begin at Jerusalem' — find out those cruel
wretches that mingled for Me in My extremity the cup of vinegar and gall, and tell
■4hem from Me, that at My hand they may receive the cup of salvation. • Begin at
Jerusalem ' — find ont those that plaited the crown of thorns — that put it on — that
ismote Me with a reed, and mocked Me — and tell them from Me, that from Me they
may receive • a crown of glory that fadeth not away.' " (R. Newton, D.D.) _ The
€hxircK$ duty to those outside : — Suppose^ you gentlemen who are in business
leoeived no business letters to-morrow morning when you reached your office, and
-you were expecting large remittances from abroad, you would be Tery much
-astonished. You would wait for the next post, and for tiie next, but I expect that,
'before noon, your excitement would be so great that you would hurry off, probably,
i4o the General Post Office, and, if there was a imiversal non-delivery of letters in
<the city of London, you would really wish to see the Postmaster-General if he were
within reach, or, at any rate, the postmaster of the main office. And what would
be your criticism if, when you explained your troubles and the non-delivery of the
d^tera, that official shnigged his Bhonlders, andealmly replied that the letters
CHAP, xnv.] . 8T. LUKE. «7»
all there, and that yon were quite aware that the post-office was open from seven to
ten, and that you had only to call and you could have your letters. You would turn
round and say, '• The Government pays you to deliver the letters at our address."
And in the same way God has given you and me certain messages of mercy to th©
einners in this neighbourhood, and it is our business to take those messages to
them. {H. P. Hughes, M.A.) Tarry ye In the city of Jerusalem. — Tarrying for
fitneti: — I. The fitness op the Chbisxian. 1. Its essential feature. "Power."
This comprehends all the "fruits of the Spirit." 2. It is properly and distinctly &
gift imparted from without and above. "Endued with power from on high."
S. Its purpose. Not an ornament or accomplishment merely. It qualified mea
for various offices in the Church (Eph. iv. 7, 11). II. Tabbying foe fitness.
Great benefits require time for their realization : and spiritual exercise pre>
pares for spiritual endowment. 1. By their enforced tarrying the disciple*
were taught that no man must thrust himself into the ministry of Christ.
2. The delay was an important element of their preparation. 3. The place
for power is the place of Divine appointment. Why " Jerusalem " 7 It
was full of associations of His ignominy and death. It contained the worst
enemies of His cause. But " Christ is God's forgiveness." (A. F. Muir, M.A.\
Times of waiting : — The time during which they were to " tarry " proved to be ten
days — from the Thursday to the Sunday week following. It was just long enough
to be a real test and tri&l. You may say, perhaps, considering the circumstances,
it was a tremendous trial. And yet, mercifully, just shortened enough to be not
intolerable — a discipline, but like every other from the Father's hand, a discipline
beautifully tempered. I am inclined to think that this interruption — I speak, of
coarse, according to man — this interruption by ten days had a great design, and
that it was to iUustrate one very important part of God's methods with all His
children, at all times and under all circumstances. I see traces of the same method
of dealing throughout the Bible. There is a pause, there is a breathing time,
before anything falls. In judgments, the flood did not begin till not only a
hundred and twenty years had passed, but not until seven days after the date foi
which it had been positively announced. And at Sodom, at Gomorrah, at Jericho,
at Nineveh, at Jerusalem, there were intervals, distinct, between sentence and
execution. While equally, many, I might say most, of the best blessings of which
we read did not come till there had first been what you may call their period — a
waiting-time. Sometimes it is very short, as in the case of the Syrophoenician
woman, or Mary and Martha at Bethany, three or four days ; sometimes longer, as
with Abraham looking for a son, or David's succession to his predicted throne ;
sometimes exceedingly protracted, as when good king Hezekiah never lived to see
the answer to a father's prayers in the conversion of his son, and yet, nevertheless,
when the appointed moment came, his son was brought to God, though the lips
that prayed it were silent. And what, what is the whole of this dispensation
through which we are now passing ? A space between two advents — a waiting time
for that which seemed to be, and which apostles thought to be, quite close at the
door two thousand years ago. Do you say that is too long to be a parallel, that is
not an interval T Nay, " a little while and ye shall not see Me ; and again a little
while and ye shall see Me, because I go to the Father." And we are dealing with
One to whom " one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.'*
The thought, then, which I wish to impress upon yon, and which seems to me to
be the lesson of this season is, that God is a God who delights in intervals —
intervals as they relate to our little minds, but all an equal part in one grand
design — and that the right viewing and the proper use of these intervals is an
essential part of the Christian's education. We ought to know how these intervale
should be passed. First, you must have in your mind a remembrance that it is anr
interval, only an interval, an ordained interval, an interval with a defined boundary
line — though you cannot see it — that it is in the map, that it is as much a part oi
the map of God's covenant as the issue which is to come, or as the means which
yon are now using to obtain it. Then, acknowledging it as God's own waiting
time, yon must honour Him. Shall the great God, all wise and true, be hurried by
one of His creatures ? " Tarry thou the Lord's leisure " is written on the fore-
front of all God's government. Is not it enough for yon that He has told yon
♦• what " ? — are you to dictate the " when," and determine the " where " ? Still,
while yon keep the eye of expectation upon the horizon where the promise is to
arise, keep your hand on the door. The hour is a fixed hour — it is in the " deter>
minate counsel and fore-knowledge of God." Then, in the interval, you will do
Toi.. m. 43
«74 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xxxf.
well to do just what Christ told His little Church to do in this great model of all
waiting — go on with present duties, be content for a little time to have a very small
sphere, keep in the appointed path, and be sure that you use ordinances, be whera
all blessing comes, stay in Jerusalem. Then, in your Jerusalem, look to it that it
is all love, else your prayers will be hindered. And, like the twelve — and this is a
wonderful record, and shows how God blesses and honours His waiting ones, even
when all outward circumstances are quite dark — spend the time in great joy. And
be much in prayer, especially united prayer. {J. Vaughan, M.A.) Endued witli
power from on high. — Spiritual power : — Our need to-day is the same as that of
the apostles. Our work is prosecuted under different circumstances, but its diffi-
culties are essentially the same. The weak things of the world have still to contend
against the mighty, and can be equal to the struggle only in so far as they are
made mighty by power from on high. And the promise to us is unchanged. I.
What this bpibituaij power is. In a word, it is intensity in every part of the
Christian life. There is power in faith — the strong, simple, unwavering faith
which BO lays hold of a truth that it possesses and controls the soul, stiriing its
deepest sympathies, and awakening its mightiest faculties. There is power in
the devoted loyalty to truth which leads a man to obey her caU at whatever cost, to
Burrender wealth, ease, honour, and, what is as hard as all besides, personal
prejudice, as well as interest for her sake. There is power in the courage which
leads a man to work out his own ideal of duty ; to speak what is true, and do what
is right, without taking counsel with flesh and blood ; to stand alone and defy a
Ecoffing world, rather than compromise his integrity or betray his trust. There is
power in sympathy — the gentle, loving, active compassion, which finds its chief
delight in doing good ; which unlocks the hearts of men as by a magic key, and
establishes a rule within them by the force of its own unselfishness. There ia
power in the grandeur and sublimity imparted to life by its conscious association
with another and eternal state of being, and the desire so to shape all its thoughts
and words and deeds that it shall be but the fitting prelude to that better and purer
life. There is power in devoted love to a high and noble Person : a love which not
only inspires in the soul the earnest desire to partake of His goodness and beauty,
hut to forget itself in the daily effort to exalt and honour Him. All these elements
are united in that ** spiritual power " of which I speak. II. The need which ths
Church has of this power. It is the one great want of this age. With it, we
need not be afraid of the utmost liberty ; without it, there is no safety, even in the
most watchful and zealous conservatism. With it, we shall be able to silence the
gainsaying even of this sceptical generation ; without it, we may employ the most
cogent arguments, and put them in the most convincing form, and our labour will
be utterly fruitless ; for it is the hearts of men we have to move rather than their
intellects, and hearts are only reached by the power of soul. With it, we may
stiU have controversy, but there will be a counteractive force that will repress all
its evil and violence ; without it, we may have uniformity and quiet, but in them
Hiete will be the seeds of corruption, decay, and death. With it, we may have a
feeble agency and imperfect organization and defective plans, and yet out of their
-very weakness will be perfected strength ; without it, we may have improvement in
our machinery, but for lack of the motive power there will be no result. Give this,
and everything will follow. The whole aspect of our religious condition will be
altered, a new and more vigorous love will characterize the action of the Church,
problems that seem insoluble will be settled, and difficulties that have been
regarded as insuperable will be overcome. III. How this power is to be obtained.
It is ♦• power from on high." God gives it — gives it to every humble and trusting
fioul, gives it in answer to prayer, gives it liberally to all who earnestly seek. The
first and great condition of it is absolute trust in Him. Nothing else can impart
earnestness and sincerity to our supplications. (J. O. Rogers, B.A.y ^ Power
from on high : — I propose to illustrate this description of the blessed Spirit — I. Bt
the bztbaobdinaby effects produced upon the apostles. II. By the ordinabt
SNFLUBNCB EXERTED ON THEM AND ON ALL TBUE CHRISTIANS. I. Consider, then, itt
these extraordinary gifts, which were only intended for the time, how mightily God
wrought in man. 1. Take the gift of tongues. 2. Mark the illumination of th«
mind with tiie full truth. 3. Mark the power with which they spake. All was light,
all feeling. 4. Mark their miracles of healing. 6. Note their discernment of spirits,
as in the oases of Ananias and Simon Magus. 6. Finally, take their courage. II. Bt
THS ORDINABT INFLUENCES EXERTED ON THE APOSTLES AND ON ALL TRUE CHRISTIANS.
Ltt OS, then, oonsider how this power manifests itself. And here, too, we shall sea
■tmiT. rxxr.
ST. LUKE. 675
a mighty working of God in man, not inferior in real glory, and superior ia grace,
tc ihose extraordinary illapsea. This is displayed — 1. In the awakening of the
soul of man from its deep and deadly sleep of sin. 2. Our subject is illustrated
bv the office of the Spirit as the Comforter. 3. "We have another instance in the
office of the Spirit as the Holy Ghost the Sanctifier. 4. Take a final instance
from the fruits of the Spirit. I apply this subject to your edification by observing
— 1. That there is a power promised to you more glorious than all the endowments
-of apostolic gifts. 2. Fix the greatness of the blessing before you. 3. Do you ask
how you are to attain it ? See your example in the apostles. Believe your Lord :
" I send the promise of My Father upon you." 4. Know that " if any man have
not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of His. " Aspire, then, to this. 5. Ask the effusion
of the Spirit upon your friends, the whole Church, and the world. {R. Watson.)
Power: — The chief aim and labour of Boulton was the practical introduction of
Watt's steam engine as the great working power of England. With pride he said
•to BosweU, when visiting Soho, " I sell here, sir, what all the world desires to
have — power." (Smiles.) Power from on high : — Some men are richly endowed
with this priceless gift. When they speak their hearers feel that a supernatural
power is grappling with them, and forcing them to yield or to set up a conscious
resistance. People are often at a loss to account for the infiuence which such men
possess. As men they see nothing in them to account for it ; but they are compelled
to feel and confess that mysterious something with which their entire being is
surcharged. Mr. Carpenter, of New Jersey, a Presbyterian layman, who lived many
years ago, presents a most striking instance of this wonderful power. His education
was very limited, and his mental endowments were of the most ordinary kind. Till
anointed of the Holy Ghost he was a mere cipher in the Church. As soon,
however, as he received that anointing, he became a man of marvellous spiritual
power. The hardest sinners melted under his appeals, and yielded to Christ. At
his death it was stated that by a very careful inquiry it had been ascertained that
more than ten thousand souls had been converted through his direct instrumen-
tality. Finney is another instance. '* Soon after his conversion," we are told,
*• he received a wonderful baptism of the Spirit, which was followed by marvellous
effects. His words uttered in private conversation, and forgotten by himself, fell
like live coals on the hearts of men, and awakened a sense of guilt, which would
not let them rest till the blood of sprinkling was applied. At his presence, before
he opened his lips, the operatives in a mill began to fall on their knees, and cry for
mercy. When traversing Western and Central New York, he came to the village of
Bome in a time of spiritual slumber. He had not been in the house of the pastor
an hour before he had conversed with all the family, and brought them all to their
knees seeking pardon or the fulness of the Spirit. In a few days every man.
woman, and child in the village and vicinity was converted, and the work ceased
from lack of material to transform ; and the evangelist passed on to other fields to
behold new triumphs of the gospel through his instrumentality." {John Qriffith.)
Nev power : — When I was preaching in Farwell Hall, in Chicago, I never worked
harder to prepare my sermons than I did then. I preached and preached ; bat it
was beating against the air. A good woman used to say, " Mr. Moody, you don't
Beem to have power in your preaching." Oh, my desire was that I might have a
fresh anointing. I requested this woman and a few others to come and pray with
me every Friday at four o'clock. Oh, how piteously I prayed that God might fill
the empty vessel. After the fire in Chicago, I was in New York city, and going
into the bank on Wall Street, it seemed as ii I felt a strange and mighty power
coming over me. I went up to the hotel, and there in my room I wept before God.
and cried, " Oh, my God, stay Thy hand 1 " He gave me such fulness that it
seemed more than I could contain. May God forgive me if I should speak in a
boastful way, but I do not know that I have preached a sermon since, but God has
given me some soul. Oh, I would not be back where I was four years ago for all
the wealth of this world. If you would roll it at my feet, I would kick it away
like a football. I seem a wonder to some of you, but I am a greater wonder to
myself than to any one else. These are the very same sermons I preached in
Chicago, word for word. It is not new sermons, but the power of God. It is not a
new gospel, but the old gospel, with the Holy Ghost of power. (D. L. Moody.)
Need of the Spirit of God— the fire from heaven : — Suppose we saw an army sitting
down before a granite fort, and they told us that they intended to batter it down,
tra might ask them, " How 1 " They point to a cannon ball. Well, but there is
•0 power ia that ; it is heavy, hat not more than half -a-handred or perhaps •
•76 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTEATOS. [CHi». xxw,
hundred- weight ; if all the men in the army hurled it against the fort they would
make no impression. They say, " No, but look at the cannon ! " "Well, but there
it no power in that. A child may ride upon it ; a bird may perch in its mouth. It
is a machine, and nothing more. "But look at the powder." Well, there is no
power in that ; a child may epill it ; a sparrow may peck it. Yet this powerless
powder and powerless ball are put into the powerless cannon : one spark ct fira
enters it, and then, in the twinkling of an eye, that powder is a flash of lightning,
and that cannon ball is a thunderbolt which smites as if it had been sent from
beaven. So is it with our church or school machinery of this day ; we have the
instruments necessary for pulling down strongholds, bat O for the fire from,
heaven 1 (W.Arthur.)
Vers. 50-58. While He blessed them He was parted from them. — The at'
cension : — I. Consideb the ascension as the ckowninq fact of Cheist's life. It
was the consummation of aU His glorious work for man, and henceforth man
through Him becomes a conqueror too. " He led captivity captive. He received
gifts for men." And with the baptism of these we are conquerors, in onr temptations
over the devil, in our gardens of agony over sorrow, and in the end over death and
the grave, when we shall ascend to be with Him in glory. II. Consitbe Hia
ASCENSION AS His ENTEBONEMENT AS KiNO ovEB ALL. Unsesn but ever present.
Buling from His throne in heaven over all the affairs of the world till His enemies
become His footstool. III. Consideb His ascension in belation to His comimo
AQAiN (Acts i. 11). {R. Davey.) Our Lord's ascension: — I. Notice the flack
FBou WHICH ocB LoBD ASCENDED. Near Gethscmanc. Near Bethany. A familiar
haunt. II. Notice the witnesses of oub Lobd's ascension. His faithful
apostles. III. Notice the last act of oub Lobd befobe His ascension.
Blessing. IV. The ascension of Chbist helps oub thoughts, and gives
definiteness to oub conceptions of the futube life of the bedeemed. v.
Chbist's ascension is the pledge of the heavenly lite of the bedeemed.
yi. When oub Lobd ascended into heaven He gained fob us a obeat and
UNSPEAKABLE BLESSING, THE GIFT OF THE HoLT SpIEIT. (TF. Bull, B.A.}
The ascension : — In this quiet and unostentatious manner did our Saviour take His
departure from this world. His exit was as noiseless — as Uttle attended with pomp
— as His entrance. He has finished the redemption of a world — He has vanquished
the powers of hell— He has triumphed over death and the grave. 1. From His
ascension, therefore, we may learn that heaven has been opened for us. He
became our brother. He stood as our representative. There is not only comfort
for OS in the assurance of admission, but in the thought, that when admitted we
shall find One so closely related to us occupying such an exalted place. 2. Out
Saviour's ascension in the nature He wore while on earth may teach us that,
though He be so highly exalted. He has sympathy with us still ; though far
removed from us as regards His bodily presence, the brotherly tie which united ua
has not been severed. 3. The presence in heaven — the exaltation to the throne of
universal dominion of One so closely related to us, and having such sympathy with
lis, should give confidence to our prayers, leading us to desire and expect great
blessings at His hands. 4. Finally. Let us be thankful for the privilege we enjoy
in the exaltation of One who bears our nature. (W. Landels.) On the ascension
of Christ : — First, let us consider the time of the occurrence of this event. This
interval, also, was sufficient in order to afford Him an opportunity of detailing
much that to them would be highly interesting, in relation to His kingdom, to the
preaching of His gospel, and to the establishment of His empire through the world.
Once more. He continued a sufficient period of time on earth in order to afford the
strongest evidence of the love He bore to His Church and people ; that He would
not even take possession of the promised crown, nor enter upon " the joy set before
Him," till He had ordered all things relating to His kingdom. We notice, in the
second place, the site ob spot at which this occurrence took place. " He led themt
out as far as to Bethany." I pass on, in the third place, to consider the uankeb in
which the ascent of our Lord Jesus Christ took place. You will observe, first, that
it was while He prayed — " as He blessed them," Observe, again, that it was while
they were listening to the interesting communications which our Lord had to impart.
It belongs to this part of the subject to observe their solemn adoration of Hii&
after that they saw Him no more. " He was parted from them, and carried up
into heaven : and they worshipped Him." I hasten to the last point of our
discourse — to consider the gbbat ends akd objects of this most xhfobtant tbans*
CBAP. xht.] ST. LUKE. <77
ACTION. Christ has. left onr world — He is gone — He has gone to the mansions of
heavenly glory ; and for what purposes has He taken His departure. First, in
order that He might celebrate a signal tritmiph over all His enemies. He has
gone, secondly, to take possession of the well-earned reward, the stipulated recom-
pense, to which His obedience and His suffering have so well entitled Him. Thirdly,
He has gone to receive and to communicate that fulness which the Father had
entrusted into His hands; and especially the gift of the Holy Ghost, which he
bestows upon "the rebellions also, that the Lord God might dwell among them."
Fourthly, He has gone to ensure and prepare a place for all His believing fol-
lowers. I only add that He has gone thus to heaven in order to give an example
and specimen of the manner in which He will come again in the clouds of
Heaven. And is He gone ? and have the heavens received Him ? Then, first,
let ns send our hearts after Him. Secondly, in the absence of our Lord, let us
abide closely in the fellowship of His Church. Like the disciples, let ns resort
to the temple ; like the disciples, let us keep together. Let us not be scattered
and disunited. Thirdly, this subject should lead us to cherish a cheerful con-
fidence with respect to our entrance into eternity. And let this soothe our spirits
when we are mourning over onr dead. {0. Clayton, M.A.) The Lord's fare-
well:— I. The last acts of thb Bsdbkhsb on eabth. 1. He selects a suitable
place fiom which to take His departure. 2. He solemnly blesses His disciples.
3. He ascends up to heaven. 4. "It came to pass, while He blessed them. He
was taken up." Did His ascension, then, interrupt and cut short the blessing?
No ; He still continued to bless as He went up. No — nor is the blessing yet at an
end : for this is that Christ who, as St. Paul says, " is even at the right hand of
God, who also maketh intercession for ns." U. The fibst acts of the bedebued
AFTBB His depabtube. 1. They worshipped Him. Bemember that I The appointed
teachers of the Christian religion " worshipped " Christ ; it was their very first
act after they had ceased to behold Him. 2. They were filled with joy — great
joy. Now therefore they rejoiced — 1. On their Lord's account. "If ye love
Me," He had said, " ye would rejoice, because I said, I go to the Father." And
this their joy is now fulfilled. 2. On their own account. All was now plain
in the system of that redemption, concerning which they had long formed such
erroneous expectations. 3. In the use of appointed means they sought and
expected His gifts of grace. In Jerusalem were they to receive the " promise of
the Father"; therefore they at once returned thither. On their arrival, behold
them " continually in the temple, praising and blessing God! " continually — that
is, at every appointed service. (J. Jowett, M.A.) Our Lord's attitude in ascend-
ing : — I. His hands webe ttplifted to bless. 1. This blessing was no nnusual
thing. To stretch out His hands in benediction was His customary attitude. In
.that attitude He departed, with a benediction still proceeding from His lips. 2.
This blessing was with authority. He blessed them while His Father acknowledged
Pi'tt) by receiving Him to heaven. 3. This blessing was so full that, as it were, He
emptied His hands. They saw those dear bands thus unladen of their benedictions.
4. The blessing was for those beneath Him, and beyond the sound of His voice ;
He scattered benedictions upon them all. 5. The blessing was the fit Jlnis of His
sojourn here ; nothing fitter, nothing better, could have been thought of. IL Those
HANDS WEBE piEBCED. This could be seen by them aU as they gazed upward. 1.
Thus they knew that they were Christ's hands. 2. Thus they saw the price of the
blessing. His crucifixion has purchased continual blessing for all His redeemed.
8. Thus they saw the way of the blessing; it comes from those human hands,
through those sacrificial wounds. 4. A sight of those hands is in itself a blessing.
By that sight we see pardon and eternal life. 5. The entire action is an epitome
of tile gospel. This is the substance of the matter — " hands pierced distribute
benedictions." Jesus, through suffering and death, has power to bless us out of
the highest heaven. This is the last that was seen of our Lord. He has not
changed His attitude of benediction. He will not change it till He shall descend
in His glory. IIL Those hands swat the sceptre. His hands are omnipotent.
Those very hands, which blessed His disciples, now hold, on their behalf, the sceptre
— 1. Of providence: both in small affairs and greater matters. 2. Of the spiritual
kingdom : the Church and all its work. 8. Of the future judgment and the eternal
teign. IC. H. Spurgeon.) The Saviour's hand : — That wonderful hand of Christ I
It was tiie same hand which had been so quickly stretched out to rescue Peter when
sinking in Galilee's waves. It was that same hand which had been held in the
•ight of the questioning disciples on the third evening after they had seen it laid
878 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. zztr.
lifeless in the tomb. It was that same hand which incredulons Thomas mast see
before he would believe its risen power ; it was that same hand which was extended
to him not only to see, bat to touch the nail-prints in its palm. It was that same
hand which the disciples last saw uplifted in a parting blessing when the oload
parted Him from them. It was only after ten days that they realized the fulness
of blessing which came from that extended, pierced hand of Christ. Peter at Pente-
cost must have preached with that last eight of it fresh in his memory, when h«
said, " God hath made that same Jesus, whom ye have crucified, both Lord and
Christ." That hand, with its nail-prints, knocks at the heart's door for entrance.
That hand, with its deep marks of love, beokons on the weary runner in the
heavenly way. {F. B. Fullan.) Lessons from the ascension: — The ascension
was the appropriate bloom and culmination of the resurrection. I. Since ona
Lord has ascended, we abe meveb to thine of Him as dead. He has rounded the
black and inscrutable Cape of Storms, and changed it for us henceforth into the
Cape of Good Hope. It follows that all the great offices pertaining to His exalta-
tion are in active exercise. 1. He stands in heaven to-day the Living Head of H'3
redeemed Church. 2. He stands in heaven to-day our Priestly Advocate. 3. He
stands in heaven to-day as the Controller of all things in God's providential
government. H. Since our Lord has ascended, we are never to think op Him
AS DISTANT. Coutact of Spirit with spirit — nothing can be nearer, more intimate.
Christ's inner presence by the Holy Ghost is the special boon and issue of Hia
ascension. III. Since cub Lord has ascended, wb are neveb to think of Hni
AS DIFFERENT. He has not laid aside His brotherhood with as. To our Srother'a
heart prayer must find its way; from Him to us a perfect sympathy must ever flow.
(W. Hoyt, D.D.) On the ascension of Christ: — I. In the first place, Bt oub
SaVIOUB'S ascension into heaven IT WAS MADE TO APPEAR THAT THE GREAT DESION VOB
WHICH He descended to the EARTH WAS COMPLETELY FULFILLED. A Solemn attesta-
tion was thus given by God to the virtue and efficacy of that great sacrifice which
He offered by His death for the sins of the world. The ascension of Christ was the
signal of His triumph over all the powers of darkness. II. It is, in the next place,
to be viewed by us with respect to Christ Himself, ab a merited restoration to
His obioinaii felicity. As the Son of God, all glory belonged to Him for ever.
III. In the third place, Christ ascended into heaven that He might act thebe, in
the pbesence of God, as oub Hioh Priest and Intercessor. (H. Blair, D.D.)
The ascension of Christ : — 1. This event had been foretold and typified in the Old
Testament. See especially Psalms Ixviii. and ex. Moses, ascending the moant to
receive the law, may be a type of Christ ascending to receive spiritual blessings for
men. Elijah, taken ap into heaven, and imparting a double portion of his spirit
to his successor, was probably typical of Christ ascending and imparting the
Pentecostal gift of the Holy Ghost. And the Jewish high priest, in passing from
the holy place, which represented earth, to the most holy, whicn figured heaven,
also foreshadowed the ascension of our Lord. 2. These predictions and types were
now to be fulfilled. 3. To the top of this mountain our Saviour led His disciples,
purposing to ascend visibly from thence. He might have taken His departure
unseen by them, but He ascended openly, to confirm their faith in Him as the
promised Messiah, to assure them of the certainty of the life in the world to oome,
and of their own exaltation to the place whither He had gone before. 4. The
manner in which Christ was taken up from the midst of His disciples, as described
in our text, was most interesting, and is worthy of our attention. In the very act
of blessing them He was taken away. Oh, what a delightful consistency and love-
liness of character we have in Jesus from the beginning of His mission to its close I
The first assurance of His birth was accompanied by the cry of peace on earth and
good-will to men ; and here. He goes from the world with hands outstretched in
benedictions upon those He left below. Surely if any man love not such a Saviour
he deserves to be " Anathema, Maranatha." 5. But what feelings must have pos-
sessed the hearts of the disciples when they witnessed these things. 6. And where
was He from whom they had been separated t His place on the eternal throne of
glory had been resumed, and He sat there now not as God merely, but God-man,
the great mediatorial king. 7. Such were the leading circumstances attending the
ascension of our Lord. (W. H. Lewis, D.D.) The ascension of Jesris : — I. Thh
witnesses of the ascension. Only friends. Only the small band of the eleven
apostles. II. The place. In the neighbourhood of Jerustdem, which had been
the scene of many of oor Lord's great miracles, where Hia most violent enemies
■eaided, and where He had suffered d^ath in the moat publio nuumer. Also meat
CHii zziT.] ST. LUKE. Vn
Bethany, a spot safficiently retired to permit the assemblage of the eleven without
exciting the vigilance of enemies. III. The manneb of Christ's ascension. The
ascension seems to have been slovr and gentle. The apostles could therefore view
it distinctly and deUberately, so that they might be assured of its reality, and be
able to describe it to others. No chariot nor horses of fire were seen Uke those
which wafted the prophet Elijah to heaven ; no violent whirlwind agitated the air,
no blaze of glory dazzled the eyes, or overpowered the feelings of the anxious spec-
tators. Every part of the scene accorded with the character of the mild and bene-
volent Jesus. Though a parting scene, there was nothing in it to terrify or depress
the minds of the apostles. They were indeed surprised and filled with astonish-
ment, but it was an astonishment which expanded, elevated, and delighted them ; for
we are told they returned to Jerusalem with great joy. lY. Let us next inquire
WHAT BEA80N3 OAK BS ASHGNED rOB THE ASOENSIOK OF JeSUS. 1. Elrst, then, it waS
necessary to complete the proof of His exalted rank and Divine mission. 2. The
ascension was necessary in order that the Lord Jesus should complete His media-
torial functions. 3. It was necessary that Jesus should ascend to heaven, to
receive the approbation and honour from His heavenly Father, which were to be
given to Him as the Mediator and Redeemer of man. Y. The benefits which ws
MAT DERIVE FBou THE ASCENSION OF Jbsus. 1. It tcuds to Complete our faith in
EUm. His miracles proved His Divine power; and His prophecies, His Divine
knowledge. His death proved His own declaration, " that He had power to lay
down His life"; His resurrection, "that He had power to take it again." In
addition, His ascension showed that all the purposes of His coming to this world
were finished, that He was going to return to the glory which He had with the
Father before the world was ; nay, that the glory of His human nature was to be in-
creased in a high degree. Hereby, then, is our faith in Him enlarged, strengthened,
and completed, for we have fuU assurance of the dignity and perfection of Jesus,
and that the great and benevolent purposes for which He visited this world
were fully accomplished. 2. We are assured, also, as connected with the ascension
of Jesus, of another event resembling it in maimer, namely, the second coming of
the Lord Jesas. 3. By the ascension of Jesus His promises to the righteous are
fully ratified. {J. Thomson, D.D.) The Lord's ascemion: — I. The circum-
stances OF O0B Lord's ascension. 1. The time. Not until after He had appeared
to Eis disciples frequently, and conversed with them freely. He tarried with them
forty days, to convince them of His resurrection, to instruct them in the knowledge
of the truth, and to encourage them to stedfastness in the cause of the gospel 2.
The place of His ascension. Mount Olivet. This was a place to which He fre-
quently resorted for secret prayer. So, also, the bed of sickness, though the
believer may endure much agony there, is generally the spot whence his soul,
released from trouble, ascends to the joys of heaven. 3. The ascension of Christ
took place in the presence of numerous witnesses. There was no necessity for any
persons being present when our Lord rose from the dead, because Hia appearing
after His resurrection to those who knew Him before His crucifixion was a sufficient
proof of His resurrection. 4. Another circumstance of which we are informed is,
that this event took place while our Lord was employed in blessing the disciples.
By this action He showed the strength and the duration of His aSection for Hla
disciples. 5. We are told, in Acts I. 9, that " a cloud received Him out of their
sight." Clouds are frequently mentioned in Scripture as a medium through which
the Lord in some degree manifested Himself to men. 6. The last circumstance we
have to notice is, that our Lord's ascension was attended by angels. H. Its ends,
or the chief purposes for which He ascended. 1. Christ ascended in order to send
down the gifts of the Holy Spirit. 2. Jesus Christ ascended into heaven in order
to make intercession for His people. 3. Jesus Christ ascended in order that He
might receive infinite power, happiness, and glory, as the reward of His humiliation.
He is set down on His throne of glory to exercise dominion over the universe, but
especially over His Church. 4. Our Lord ascended into heaven that He might
prepare a place for His followers, and bring them home to Himself. III. Having
considered the chief circumstances and ends of our Lord's ascension, we now come
to consider, in the last place, tbb fbacticai. effects which the consideration op
^HE btbnt SHont.D PRODTJCK ON cs. 1. It should lead us to pay the Redeemer that
Divine homage which is so justly due to His name. 2. It becomes us to rejoice on
aooonnt of our Lord's ascension. 3. Our Lord's ascension should lead us unhesi<
tatingly to trust in Him for salvation. 4. Christ's ascension should encourage us
to engage with liveliness in religious exercises. 6. The consideration of ooi Lord's
680 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [chap. xxIT.
ascension ehonld raise our thoughts and affections to heaven. 6. Our Lord'i
ascension should carry forward our thoughts to His second coming. (Jos. Foote,
M.A.) From home to heaven : — It seems natural to wish to pass away from this
world from the place which we call our home. How many persons — when they are
in search of health in the mountains of Switzerland or by the lake side, in the
■watering places, or bright sunny spots, where they seek to fan the dying embers
of life — ^when they find that their end is approaching, desire to go home to die.
Those who go out to India in the Civil Service have this hope before them,
' that they shall spend their last days in England and die at home. So it was
natural that our Saviour should choose to pass away from the familiar slope of
Olivet, within sight of Bethany, the nearest place to a home that the Son of Man
knew during His public ministry, that from this oft-frequented haunt He should
ascend to His Father and our Father, to His God and our God. [W. Bull, B.A.)
The parting blessing : — He departed from them in the act of blessing ; He was still
blessing when the cloud received Him out of their sight. And what was this bat
the natural climax of all our Lord's precedent life ? That life had been one of
continual blessing. And before we turn from this subject of " connection," does it
not seem as though heaven and earth are here represented as coimected with blessing?
The lark, soaring up on high, seems nevertheless to connect the skies and earth
by her train of song ; thus binds Christ the heaven and the earth now. There is
no sight ; but from the height above drops blessing — blessing for all who will take
it ; no less blessing on His part because it may be refused by us ; blessing which
shall fall upon all believers now ; and which shall soak into the thirsty bosom of
the millenial earth when He is owned as King of all its kings and Lord of all its
lords. And with this thought of connection comes that of activity also. We have
not presented before us any careful thoughts of Christ about His own glory ; the
activity of His mind — yea, even of His body — was all being pat forth on behalf of
others. We can easily imagine how comforting thoughts flowed in npon the dis>
ciples when they remembered this. He ascended into the heavens while blessing
them ; and, if so, what bat blessing could they look for from that other world?
Those who knew Him not might look up with fear and trembUng, and see ths
Judge upon His throne. The heavens contained nothing but woe for them ; but
Jesus, by entering heaven in the very act of blessing, taught His people how tc
look up, what there to see, and what thence to expect. There is yet one more
thought which presses npon oar minds in connection with this parting aspect of
Christ. What He dropped on them they in turn were to drop upon the world. The
last impression of their Lord was to exercise its peculiar power upon their after
lives ; and we may be well assured that so it did. Activity in blessing marked
Jesus' career to the very last ; He was unwearied in well-doing. He has carried
His energy with Him into heaven. Remembering, then, that all good things are
given to as for others as well as for ourselves, let ns use for others this word
" while," in whatever teaching it conveys to our souls. Good things most tmly
perform their mission to us when they pass on through as to perform a ministry
to others also. We never know the power of a good thing — how really good it is —
antil we begin to use it, to pat it in the way of evolving its fragrance. (P. B,
Power, M.A.) Christ departs while blessing : — Oh, what a fitting close to such a
life as that of the Bedeemer 1 He had come to bless the world, and He spent Hia
every moment on earth in commanioating blessings ; and now, as though He were
going within the veil to carry on the same gracious purpose. He quits the earth
with extended hands, and the last words that He utters in mortal hearing are
words of Divine benediction. What could be more worthy of His character ? what
more likely to assure and comfort His followers ? It was not, you observe, when
He had finished His benediction, but while He was pronouncing it, that Christ
commenced His ascent ; so that His departure may be said to have interrupted the
blessing. And we are disposed to think that there was something in this wliich
was designed to be pre-eminently significant. At all events, we are certain that the
fact may be interpreted into lessons of general application and of no common
merit. It was no proof, yon see, that Christ did not love His disciples, and that He
was not consulting their good, that He withdrew Himself from them._ On the
contrary, He was blessing them in leaving them. If there had been nothing in the
departure itself from which to argue a blessing, there might have been place fox
suspicion ; but the mode of departure irresistibly proves that Christ went away
not in anger, bat in tenderness. And though when anything analogous to Hu
departure occors it may not be possible to assure oarselves that the departing One
flKAP. xxiv.J ST. LUKh. «81
has left us in the act of blessing ns, it cannot be unreasonable to regard the history
before us as in some measure a parable, and argue from it something general.
"When, for example, the spiritually-minded have enjoyed seasons of communion
■with the Saviour — seasons most blessed, which assuredly there are, though the
cold and the worldly may think it merely enthusiasm to speak of the manifestations
to the soul of the invisible Mediator — and when these seasons have been followed
by others of less intimate fellowship, how apt are Christians to be troubled and
cast down, as though it must have been in wrath that the Redeemer withdrew the
tokens of His presence I But they should rather go in thought to the Mount of
Olives, and behold how Christ parts from His disciples. Oh, it is not necessarily
in displeasure that the Saviour withdraws Himself. If you oould see Him depart,
it may be that you would behold those extended arms, and hear the lingering
benediction, and thus learn that He went away only because it was expedient for
you — because He could bless yoa better and more eSeotually by temporal removal
than through unbroken continuance amongst you. (fl. Melvill, B.D.) The
ascension and exaltation of Christ : — I. Thb pkepabation fob the ascbnsiont. The
small procession of Christ and the eleven apostles gradually increases till it con-
sists of five hundred persons. They reach and climb the Mount of Olives. Then
the arms which not long before had been stretched out upon the accursed tree are
uplifted in prayer. A last smile He leaves for a legacy behind Him ere He quits
the world — a smile involving whole oceans of meaning ; and who can venture to
fill up the outline, or clothe in words that blessing which He gives to His little flock
whom He is leaving alone in the world ? All He has to leave them is a blessing,
and yet a blessing whieh is felt to be a shield of defence and a security in trial to
them all. And, lo 1 while He is thus employed in blessing, the cloud that has been
approaching on the breath of the gentle breeze rests on Christ's head and conceals
His face, and obliterates His smile, and gathers around His uplifted arms, and
snrrounds His whole form and hides it from view. II. Let us follow Ghbist
DPWABDB WITH THB wiNO OF FAITH. As through a Veil, though the disciples may
not see Him, He sees them, and counts their tears. He sees, too, Jerusalem
itself, and perhaps weeps over it again. But night has come over the landscape.
The land below fades away from His view. Olivet, the Moabite mountains, the
loftiest x>eak of all the Sinaitio range, have disappeared, and the cloud chariot
plunges amidst the stars. Orion on the south, and the Great Bear on the north,
are left behind. The moon becomes Chiist's footstool, and is then spumed away
as He mounts higher still. Through the milky way, as through the multitudinous
laughter of an ocean's billows, He pursues His course. The last star which, like a
giant sentinel, keeps its solitary watch, and treads its enormous round on the verge
of the universe, ceases to be seen, and the hoUow and blank space which lies beyond
is found to be peopled with an innumerable company of angels, who have come oat
to meet and to welcome their Eing and their Lord. And then the gates of the
heavenly city appear, flaming with diamond and gold as with the lustre of ten
thousand suns. From the angelic cavalcade the cry arises, " Open, ye everlasting
gates, that the King of glory may enter in " ; and it is met by the challenge from
the walls, •• Who is this King of glory ?" and the reply comes, " The Lord of hosts,
that is also the Man of Nazareth, the mighty in battle. He is the King of glory."
And, lo ! the gates fly open, and the everlasting doors are anbarred, and thus the
King of glory enters in, and the Man of Nazareth, amidst the acclamation of ten
thousand timet ten thousand and thousands of thousands, takes His seat upon the
right hand of the Majesty on high. IIL Consideb the sfibiiual sense in which
ChBIST lUT BE SAID TO HAVE ASCENDED TO BE EXALTED. 1. Christ iS in the
ascendant as the highest example of moral excellence. (1) No character, con-
fessedly, can be named beside His in richness and depth, in pureness and
simplicity, in dignity and truthfulness and affection. (2) No death, in grand
QnconsciousnesB, in profound submission, in ateolute rennnciation of self, in the
spirit of forgiveness which pervades it, in its meekness, gentleness, and patience,
can be named with that of Calvary. Truly said Bousseau, " If the life and death
of Socrates were those of a sage, the Hfe and death of Jesus were those of a Ood."
S. Jesus is the best specimen of the risen man. No other risen man has got beyond
the lowest step in the stage leading up to the footstool of the throne on which the
Man of Galilee is thus exalted. 8. Christ is one the history of whose faith is the
most wonderfol of all histories. 4. The moral and spiritual principles which were
the teaching and the glory of Christ are those on which the happiness of the world
present and the prospects of the world future are felt to be dependent. In eooo
682 TEE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR, [chap, rar^
elusion : 1. What a cheering doctrine is that of Christ's exaltation. God haa
recognized His principles as the laws of universal government. 2. Let us seek to
ascend. " Excelsior." (G. GilfiUan.) Great joy. — A ttrange joy, yet explic-
able : — They had parted from their beloved Master ; they had to face a trying life
now, without having Him near to counsel or to help ; they would never see Him
Again, till they died. And yet they were glad. From the place of that last earthly
parting they went away, not stricken to the earth, not stunned and stupefied, as we
are after the like heart-breaking wrench, bat in high spirits, cheerful and elate.
*' They returned to Jerusalem with great joy 1 " WeU, it is very strange. Perhaps
the disciples, coming back to Jerusalem, could not easily have sorted out and
explained to other people the reasons of their great joy. First, there was some-
thing very cheering about all the surroundings of Christ's departure. It was to be,
the disciples knew ; and the whole event was so different from what such a parting
might have beeiL For one thing, it was so triumphant, so glorious, so miraculous,
that it was proof irresistible that the work which brought the Bedeemer to this
world was finished successfully. And it was blessing His servants that the
^Redeemer left them. Sometimes, while here. He had spoken severely, and that
not to His enemies only, but to His friends — to the great apostle Peter, " Get thee
behind Me, Satan " ; but all that was gone, and there was only kindness in the
departing heart and voice. Now, as a second reason for this strange joy, let us
remember that there was one great definite gain which was to come of Christ's
going ; and upon the enjoyment of that gain His Church was soon to enter
now. The blessed Spirit, the Holy Ghost, could not come till the Saviour
went ; and He Himself had declared strongly that it would be gain for His
disciples to lose Him if thus they received the blessed Spirit in His stead.
They hardly understood, perhaps, the disciples, on the day Christ went — they did
not understand, as we do now, all that the Holy Ghost would be, of light, strength,
wisdom, joy, peace, strong consolation. It needed experience of His sympathy.
His faithfulness. His patience. His almighty power, to make Christian people know
what He is. But the disciples knew enough to make them anticipate His coming
with joyful expectation ; and for this reason, doubtless, among others, even from
the spot where they had seen their Saviour for the last time in this life, they
" returned to Jerusalem with great joy." We can think of a third reason for this
joy on that parting day. It was a parting quite by itself. He went away, in visible
form. It was better for His Church that He should ; but, after all. He never left
it. He went away, as concerns the material presence, which must be here or there.
He abode yet in that Divine, real though unseen presence, which can be everywhere.
Even as He departed from sight and sense. He uttered the sure and hopeful promise,
" Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world." He could be with the
disciples He left, He can be with us day by day, as God is with us ; present that
is, to faith, not to sense, but as really, substantially, influentially present, as any
thing or person we can touch or see. Beyond these spiritual consolations which
might cheer under the departure of their Saviour, the disciples had yet another
hope, which some might esteem as having something more substantial in it. Master
and servants were to meet again. This same Jesus, now gone, is to come again in
glory ; and since that day, the Church is " waiting for the coming of onr Lord
Jesus Christ." That wUl be the consummation of all things. Then, all will be
well at last. {A. K. H. Boyd, D.D,) Joy in working for Christ: — In a recent
great European war, the soldiers of both countries, whan they were ordered to the
seat of war, received the order enthusiastically, and marched to the front with
waving of banners and singing. The joy of the disciples when called to win the
world for Christ, seem to have been similar (vers. 52, 63). If a father entmsts his
eon with a difficult piece of work, the boy does it joyfully and proudly. Shoold we
have less joy in performing a great work entrusted to us by Christ ? The counter-
balance : — This statement is of more interest and importance to as than appears
at first sight. It embodies a great principle ; and that, one which enters continually
into the Christian's life. The inward counterbalancing the outward — this is the
great idea brought before ns ; and it will unfold itself, as we proceed to examine
the circumstances under which the apostles were placed, when they thus " returned
to Jerusalem vritix great joy." At the first glance, we should have supposed "joy " to
have been the very last emotion, which, at this particular time, would have swayed
the apostles' minds. We shall find no cause for it in anything outward.^ Nature
seemed to indicate everything but joy. We should not have been surprised, had
w« been reading merely an ordinary narratiTe, to have hetrd that terror instead of
OHAP. XXIV.] ST. LUKE. 888
joy was the leading feeling in the apostles' minds. Another class of feelings, also,
was calculated to arise within their breasts ; and whatever emotions these were
likely to be productive of, they were certainly not those of joy. The feelings which
nature would have engendered under these circumstances were those of indignation
and revenge. Then, there was the natural shrinking from sad associations. Were
they to be affected by the outward only, almost every stone in Jerusalem would
have a mournful voice for them, saying, " Here He once was, but He is gone ; and His
place knoweth Him now no more." But there were other and higher influences at
work; there must have been, for we read, not of resignation, but of joy ; and not
only of joy, but of "great joy"; and to produce this, there must have been a great
counterbalancing principle within the heart. The actual feeling of the apostles
was that of *' great joy" ; and whence this great joy came we can easily see. All
doubts were now removed. Coldly and damply, unbelief, from time to time, had
struck in upon tkem ; but it was now dispelled for ever. The veil's last fold was
removed from their eyes ; and they now stood forth upon firm ground, prepared to
meet the world in the power of clear, inward light. Wherever there is full, clear,
molouded faith, and that in unhindered exercise — there, there is joy, and all the
power that flows forth from a hghtand joyous heart. The disciples had seen also the
exaltation of the One they loved. Moreover, they had now a union with the unseen.
We can understand how a new hght was now thrown on all old scenes ; how a new
destiny lay outstretched before the disciples' eyes ; how they felt that th«y had that
which the world had not given, and which the world, therefore, could not take away ;
and, rich in all this, they turned from the place whence their Lord had ascended up
on high, " leading captivity captive," and re-sought the place where He had been
bound, and led as a lamb to the slaughter ; all tears now wiped from their eyes,
and their hearts fiUed with " great joy." Here, then, was the power of the inward to
counterbalance the outward; and what says it to us as regards our own experiences?
First of all it says : As with the disciples, so also with you ; look not always for
a eliange in the outward aspect of things, but look for the introduction of a new
element therein, modifying, compensating, supporting, as the case may be. The
outward remains unmoved ; but it is met by the inward which pervades it, and
puts forth its more than compensating power; there is, as the apostle says in
1 Thess. i., "much affliction, with joy of the Holy Ghost." And now, with regard
to ourselves. What is the power of the inward with us ? In the first place, have
we an inward living power within us which exercises an unmistakeable influence ;
and can compensate, energize, or support, as circumstances may require ? It is
surely impossible to have this without knowing it, there are so many circumstances
which are calculated to call it into exercise, and in which, if it existed, it must
have acted. Have we a felt and realized union with God, which influences us, so
ttist we feel we have something which the world cannot see ; and which, indeed,
is not of the world at all ? Our perceptions may be more or less vivid on these
points, but have we a perception, so that there is as distinct an inward life as there
is an ontward? Moreover, are we conscious of how this "inward" has acted?
Have we felt when disappointed of earthly things, or in them, that, after all, there
was nothing unduly to depress us : for that we had something else of infinitely
Ibore importance, in which we could not be disappointed ? When darkness closed
in upon us in the outward world, have we had distinct inward light, in which we
could move, and see, and rejoice ? When called upon to sacrifice any of the " out-
ward," have we been enabled to do so because it was as nothing compared with the
** inward " — the possession of which soothed and comforted us, and kept us from
Deing down-trodden by poverty, and being made to feel ourselves miserably poor ?
Let the believer also never be a gloomy man. If ever any men on earth had cause
for gloom the apostles had, when they returned to Jerusalem ; but they returned
with " great joy." Let us not be gloomy in the world or to the world ; let us show
it that we have something more than it has. Perhaps men will believe that faith
is a real power when they see it able to do something ; when, acting from within,
it can make as cheerful in times of sadness, and contented in times of reverse and
poverty, and patient in times of weariness and pain, and ever hopeful for the
fatoxe — our horizon being, not the valley of the shadow of death, but the glorious
land which lies beyond. And who knows whether, thus looking beyond this earth,
we may not lead others to ask whereon our eyes are fixed, and, it may be, that they
also wUl look onward and upward and join us on oar way. One Adrianus, in ancient
times, seeing the martyrs suSer each grievouB things in the oaoae of Chriat, asked,
** What if that which enables them to bear soch saflerings ? " Then he was toU
684 THE BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATOR. [ohap. mr.
of the •* inward " oounterbalaucing the •' outward"; for one of them replied, " Eye
hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things
which God hath prepared for them that love Kim." And thas was Adrianus won
not only to conversion, but to martyrdom also, for he laid down his life manfully
for Christ. (P. B. Power, M.A.) Continually in the temple, praising and blessing:
God. — Christian worship : — L The objbct of Chbistiam wobshif. 1. A human
Christ. 2. A living Christ. 3. A glorified Christ. 4. A oruoified Christ. 11. Thb
PLACE OF Cbbistian wobship. " The temple." Where two or three are met together
in Christ's name. III. The time of Chbistian wobship. •• Continually." Every
day. No opportunity of doing homage to the Saviour should be missed. lY. The
FOBU OF Chbistiam wobship. " Praising and blessing God." Magnifying His
mercy, and speaking good of His name. Y. The sriBrr of Chbistian wobship.
" With great joy." The Christian rejoices in the Saviour's exaltation — 1. For
Christ's sake. Beward of redeeming work. 2. For his own sake. A pledge and
guarantee of his acceptance and salvation. 8. For the world's sake. {T. Whitelaw,
M.A.) Earnestness in using means of grace : — "Continually in the temple 1"
Observe that I The disciples wer^ now thoroughly assured that they had an Advocate
in the heavenly temple, but this did not withdraw them from the earthly. On the
contraiy, they seem to have resorted with greater frequency to the courts of the
Lord's house, well convinced, by the circumstance of their Master's departore, that
they had an Advocate with God, and we may be sore that there is something
radically wrong when a sense of the privileges of Christianity produces listlessnesa,
and does not produce earnestness in the use of Christian ordinances. He is not a
strong Christian who feels that he can do without sermons and sacraments, any
more than it is the appetite of an energetic man, when there is no rehsh for food.
It is no aign of good faith or well-grounded hope that the Christian seems beyond
needing the means of grace ; as well might you think it a sign of knowledge and
seourity against shipwreck that the mariner was above eonaulting his ohart or
making observations. "Those that be planted in the hoaie of ute Lord ahall
floarifih in the ooorts of oar God." {H. Meivill, BJ>.)
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