Chapter 4

PROVERBIAL teaching is one of the most ancient forms of instruction. It was well adapted to the rudeness and simplicity of the first ages, when books were few, and philosophy little understood. The mind, unpractised to the slow process of reasoning, would be much more easily arrested by terse sentences, expressing a striking sentiment in the fewest words. The wise man himself has given the best definition of these sententious maxims. Their elegance he describes under the figure of "apples of gold in pictures (network) of silver." Their force and permanent impression are "as goads and nails fastened by the Master of assemblies"2—driven closely home to the heart and conscience, and fastened in the memories by the appointed instructor of the people.

The antiquity of this teaching was recognized in the Church even before the age of Solomon. Classic annals have recorded aphorisms similarly constructed from men of wisdom. All of these however were of a later date. Some possibly might be dim scintillations from this fountain light; so that he was, as an old expositor has remarked—'the disciple of none, but the instructor of them all.'4 Indeed his mind largely dealt in this intellectual exercise. "He spake three thousand proverbs." And from this valuable mass of thought he was directed under Divine inspiration, to "set in order" a collection for the instruction of the Church to the end of time.6

Possibly some would rather have desired the preservation of his discourses on Natural History than on Practical Wisdom. But this Sovereign discrimination shows the real intent of the Scriptures—not to teach philosophy, but religion; not to make men of science, but men of sound godliness.

All competent judges will admit this Book to be eminently fitted for this great end. What the Roman Orator pronounced of Thucydides applies far more truly to this King of Jerusalem—'so full of matter, that he comprised as many sentences as words.' This wonderful Book is indeed a mine of Divine wisdom. The views of God are holy and reverential. The observation of human nature is minute and accurate. The rule of life and conduct is closely applied, to make "the man of God perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works;" so that, as Mr. Scott well remarks—'we shall perceive the meaning and utility of the Proverbs, in proportion to our experience in true religion, our acquaintance with our own hearts, and with human nature, and the extent and accuracy of our observation on the character and affairs of men.'2 Eusebius mentions the whole consent of the ancients, considering the Book of Proverbs to be 'Wisdom fraught with every kind of virtue.' Bishop Hall draws out mainly from it a complete system of 'Divine Arts.'4 And though the apostate Julian scornfully preferred to it the sayings of Heathen Philosophy; yet the apostrophe of the son of Sirach was justly applied to its author—'How wise wast thou in thy youth, and as a flood filled with understanding! Thy soul covered the whole earth, and thou fillest it with dark parables.'6

As to its 'canonical authority'—Michaelis well observes 'that no Book of the Old Testament is so well ratified by the evidence of quotations.' A few of the Jewish Talmudists appear to have expressed some doubt of its Divine stamp, but upon grounds so futile, that they were abandoned upon a more mature consideration.8 Ecclesiastical History has recorded only one dissentient from the judgment of the universal Church; and that one condemned by her authoritative council. Witsius has admirably refuted the neological cavils of his day.10 Nothing has been said from any quarter to weaken the unhesitating decision of our judgment, that the pen is that of the King of Israel; but the words are the Wisdom of God.

Some difference exists among expositors as to the exact divisions of the Book. We have been led to divide it into three parts. In giving a more succinct account of these several parts, we shall avail ourselves largely, though necessarily in an abridged form, of the observation of a Biblical scholar, not more remarkable for his profound learning, than for his elegant taste.

The First Part—all agree—extends from the opening of the Work to the close of the ninth chapter. It is—as Dr. Good observes—'chiefly confined to the conduct of early life. All the most formidable dangers to which this season is exposed, and "the sins which most easily beset it," are painted with the hand of a Master. And while the progress and issues of vice are exhibited under a variety of the most striking delineations and metaphors in their utmost deformity and horror; all the beauties of language, and all the force of eloquence are poured forth in the diversified form of earnest expostulation, insinuating tenderness, captivating argument and sublime allegory, to win the ingenuous youth to virtue and piety, and to fix him in a steady pursuit of his duties towards God and man. Virtue is pronounced in the very outset to be essential wisdom, and vice or wickedness essential folly. The only wise man therefore is declared to be the truly good and virtuous, or he that fears God, and reverences his law; while the man of vice and wickedness is a fool, a stubborn or perverse wretch, and an abomination to Jehovah.

'Wisdom is hence allegorized as a tree of life, yielding delicious shade, fruit and protection to those that approach her branches; throwing a garland of honor around their shoulders, and decorating their heads with a graceful chaplet, more precious than rubies. She is a sage and eloquent monitor, lifting up her warning voice at the gates and in the squares of the city; denouncing to the young the snares and dangers, to which they are exposed; and exhorting them to abandon "the way of the wicked, which is as darkness," for the path of the just, which is

—— 'As the brightening dawn,

Advancing and brightening to perfect day.'

'The Second Part commences at the opening of the ninth chapter, as is obvious from the introductory clause. The style and manner of the second part are as different as possible from those of the first. It is evidently designed for the use of persons advanced from the state of youth to that of manhood. While in the preceding, addressed to the young, the richest ornaments of the fancy are made choice of to captivate their attention, and allure them to a right practice; in the present all is business and activity, brevity, continuity, and terseness. Every thought, though as highly polished, is at the same time as compressed as possible; and the Writer, thoroughly aware of the value of every moment of time at this important period, lays down a complete series of short rules of life, and concentrates the most momentous precepts into the narrowest compass. The former appeals to the imagination; the latter to the judgment. The one exhibits all the genius of poetry; the latter all the art of composition; and hence the general matter is rendered as attractive in the one instance as in the other.

'The great object in each of the Proverbs of the present part is, to enforce a moral principle in words so few, that they may be easily learnt, and so curiously selected and arranged, that they may strike and fix the attention instantaneously; while, to prevent the mind from becoming fatigued by a long series of detached sentences, they are perpetually diversified by the changes of style and figure. Sometimes the style is rendered striking by its peculiar simplicity, or the familiarity of its illustration; sometimes by the grandeur or loftiness or the simile employed on the occasion;2 sometimes by an enigmatical obscurity, which rouses the curiosity; very frequently by a strong and catching antithesis;4 occasionally by a playful iteration of the same word; and in numerous instances by the elegant pleonasms or the expansion of a single or common idea by a luxuriance of agreeable words.'6

The Third Part we conceive to comprise the last seven chapters. The first five were written by Solomon, and edited some centuries after by the royal scribes in the reign of Hezekiah. The two last were written by separate hands, but preserved by Divine care, and altogether worthy of the place they hold in the inspired Canon.

The time when this book was written is a matter of some uncertainty. We cannot doubt but its contents were a part of "the three thousand Proverbs," which "he spake" before his most lamentable fall. They were therefore the exercise of his vast and comprehensive mind, under the full influence of his Divine wisdom.8 They might, however, as many judicious critics have thought, been "set in order" in their present form at a period subsequent to that afflictive event. Both parts of this hypothesis read a most solemn practical lesson. Do we see "outlandish women causing him to sin"10—this "beloved of his God" falling himself into the snare which he so minutely described, and against which he so earnestly and repeatedly warned? Christian Ministers! Does not Solomon no less than Paul12 awfully teach us, that preaching to others will not save our own souls? The supposition of the posterior arrangement gives additional weight to his faithful admonitions. They come to us like the exhortations of the restored Apostle—with all the force of painful experience—in the true spirit of his Master's command—"When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren."14

The interpretation of this Book requires much care and sobriety. Believing the principles of the Old and New Testament to be essentially the same, it seems reasonable to expound the more obscure by the more clear. The primary duty is indeed to affix to each Proverb its own literal and precise meaning. This is undoubtedly its spiritual meaning—that is—the mind of the Spirit. In an extended application of this discovered meaning, or in deducing inferences from it, judgment—not imagination—must be the interpreter. When no other than a literal meaning is plainly intended, the object must be—not to search out a new and miscalled spiritual meaning, but to draw practical instruction from its obvious sense.

There is however—we may remark—a line to be drawn between exposition and illustration. The figures used in this Book—after their literal meaning has been wrought out—may fairly be used as illustrative of other collateral truths, not specifically intended. The Sacred Writers appear to warrant this principle of accommodation, though its use requires great delicacy and consideration; lest it should divest Scripture of its determinate meaning, and identify us with those artists, whom Dr. South memorializes—'who can draw any thing out of any thing.'2

But with all care to preserve a soundly-disciplined interpretation, we must not forget, that the Book of Proverbs is a part of the volume entitled—"The Word of Christ." And so accurately does the title describe the Book, that the study of it brings the whole substance of the volume before us. It furnishes indeed the stimulating motive to search the Old Testament Scripture4—the true key that opens the Divine Treasure house; so that, as Mr. Cecil observes—'If we do not see the golden thread through all the Bible, marking out Christ, we read the Scripture without the Key.' This remark however does not undervalue its large mass of historical and practical instruction. But unquestionably Christ is the Sun of the whole Scripture system; "and in his light we see the light,"6 that reflects upon every point of practical obligation, and quickens life and energy throughout the whole Christian path. There is therefore, as Professor Franke reminds us—'much joy, comfort and delight to be found in the writings of the Old Testament (especially in reading those places, which before were wearisome and almost irksome) when we percieve Christ is so sweetly pictured there.'

It has been recorded of Mary Jane Graham, 'that she was delighted in the course of her study of the Book of Proverbs to have Christ so much and so frequently before her mind'—a recollection—her Biographer ventured to observe—of 'great moment for the spiritual discernment of the Divine Wisdom treasured up in this storehouse of practical instruction.'9 Indeed—considering that these "Proverbs set in order—these words of the wise"—were originally "given from one Shepherd," whom we cannot surely fail to identify; we might naturally expect them to record a distinct testimony of himself.

We cannot but fear however, that this portion of the Sacred Volume is not generally estimated at its just value. Doubtless its pervading character is not either explicit statement of doctrinal truth, or lively exercises of Christian experience. Hence the superficial reader passes over to some (in his view) richer portion of the Scriptural field. Now we readily admit, that all parts of the Bible are not of equal importance. But to value one part to the disparagement of another, is a slight to the Divine. Testimony, that will be visited with a severe rebuke. Such a reader will only be possessed of mutilated fragments of truth, severed from their vital influence. He will never rise beyond a sickly sentimentalism. Seeking for novelty and excitement, rather than for the food of solid instruction; like Pharaoh's kine, he devours much, but digests nothing. Never will he have light enough for the firm settlement of his faith. Neither can he receive the true moulding of the mind of the Spirit, or the impress of the Divine image.

But the question has been often asked—and that—not in a cavilling, but in an anxiously enquiring, spirit—'How can I read this Book profitably?' Not unfrequently the confession has been added—'My mind and soul do not get food from it. I think I am less interested in this, than in any other, part of Scripture. I acknowledge the wisdom of its sayings. I am fully persuaded, that—being the Word of God—it was not written in vain. The fault therefore must be in myself. Still the question returns—How am I to read it with profit?'

Now it might almost appear, as if the rules given at the opening of the Book were intended to answer this question. Certain it is, that they do furnish the most satisfactory reply. The first and chief direction—that which gives life to every other—that which applies to every page and every verse of the Bible is—Begin with prayer—"Cry—lift up thy voice." Then combine a pondering mind with a praying heart. Actively apply thyself to "seek and search for the hid treasures." The riches lie not on the surface. Only those therefore, that dig into the bowels of the earth—not the readers, but "the searchers—of the Scriptures"—are enriched. If the surface be barren, the mine beneath is inexhaustible. Indeed it is a wise discipline, that has made an active spirit of meditation necessary to give solid and fruitful interest to this study, and to possess ourselves of a blessing, which carelessness or indolence will never realize. The promise here held out to diligent investigation fixed that intelligent Christian just mentioned 'on one occasion in intense meditation for two hours. She appeared to be lost in astonishment and gratitude at the condescension and kindness of God in giving a promise, so free, so encouraging. She grasped it, as if determined not to let it go.'4

The habit of interested attention being fixed, how shall we best "apply the heart to the understanding" of the Book? Here the valuable exercise of Scripture reference will greatly expand our own thoughtful meditation. Gather contributions from all parts of the field. Many a doubtful or apparently uninteresting Proverb will thus be brightened in instructive application. We are persuaded, that an enlarged Scriptural study, with whatever collateral helps may be within our reach, will bring no regret in having rested awhile in this part of the field, instead of passing onwards to a more inviting surface. To advert once more to our Scriptural Student—'she frequently employed herself in the profitable exercise of "comparing spiritual things with spiritual"—Scripture with itself; thus making God his own interpreter. Much light and heavenly unction she conceived herself to have gained by this means.' The fruitfulness of this exercise will be, when we "find God's words" as our treasure, "eat them" as our invigorating food, and "they" thus become "the joy and rejoicing of our hearts." 'Set your affection'—saith the apocryphal writer—'upon my words. Desire them, and ye shall be instructed. Wisdom is glorious, and never fadeth away; yea, she is easily seen of those that love her, and found of such as seek her. She preventeth those that desire her, in making herself first known unto them. Whoso seeketh her early shall have no great travail; for he shall find her sitting at his doors. Whoso watcheth for her2 shall quickly be without care. For she goeth about seeking such as are worthy of her, showeth herself favorably unto them in the ways, and meeteth them in every thought.'

An accurate apprehension of the main end and scope of this Book will greatly facilitate the understanding of it. Different portions of Scripture may be seen to have different ends—all however subordinate to one end—primary and supreme. Without entering into detail foreign to our purpose, suffice it to remark, that the end of this Book appears to be—to set out a system of practical instruction, generally applicable. Nor let this be thought a low gradation in the Christian scheme. Unpalatable as it may be to the mere professor of godliness, the true man of God will honor practical inculcation in its place, no less than doctrinal statement. "The truth as it is in Jesus"—that which flows from him, leads to him, and centres in him—that which "we are to be learned, and to be taught by him"—is practical truth.5 While other parts of Scripture show us the glory of our high calling; this may instruct in all minuteness of detail how to "walk worthy of it." Elsewhere we learn our completeness in Christ; and most justly we glory in our high exaltation, as "jointheirs with Christ, made to sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus."7 We look into this Book, and, as by the aid of the microscope, we see the minuteness of our Christian obligations; that there is not a temper, a look, a word, a movement, the most important action of the day, the smallest relative duty, in which we do not either deface or adorn the image of our Lord, and the profession of his name. Surely if the book conduced to no other end, it tends to humble even the most consistent servant of God, in the consciousness of countless failures. Not only therefore is the last chapter—as Matthew Henry would have it—'a looking-glass for ladies,' but the whole Book is a mirror for us all.

Nor is it only a mirror to show our defects. It is also a guide-book and directory for godly conduct. The details of the external life, in all the diversified spheres, are given or implied with perfect accuracy, and with a profound knowledge of the workings of the human heart. 'Beside a code of laws directly religious, a variety of admirable rules stream forth from the deep recesses of wisdom, and spread over the whole field.' All ranks and classes have their word in season. The sovereign on the throne is instructed as from God.2 The principles of national prosperity or decay are laid open. The rich are warned of their besetting temptations.4 The poor are cheered in their worldly humiliation. Wise rules are given for self-government.6 'It bridles the injurious tongue, corrects the wanton eye,8 and ties the unjust hand in chains,' It prevents sloth;10 chastises all absurd desires; teaches prudence;12 raises man's courage; and represents temperance and chastity after such a fashion, that we cannot but have them in veneration.'14 To come to important matters so often mismanaged—the blessing or curse of the marriage ordinance is vividly portrayed. Sound principles of family order and discipline are inculcated.16 Domestic economy is displayed in its adorning consistency. Nay—even the minute courtesies of daily life are regulated.18 Self-denying consideration of others, and liberal distribution20 are enforced. All this diversified instruction is based upon the principles of true godliness. Indeed the Writer may mention as one motive that led him to this work; that, having in a former Exposition22 shown at large Christian experience to be built upon the doctrines of the gospel, he wished to exhibit Christian practice as resting upon the same foundation. That is not sound faith, that does not issue in practical godliness. Nor is there any true morality, apart from "the principles of Christ." This Book—if it be not—as the New Testament—the Rule of Faith—may surely be considered as a valuable Rule of conduct. And—as Mr. Scott observes—'it would be very useful for those, who can command their time, at some stated season every day, to read and deliberately consider a few of these maxims, with reference to their own conduct, in the various affairs in which they are concerned.' Doubtless if the world were governed by the whole wisdom of this single Book, it would be "a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness."

One other weighty consideration the Writer would advert to, as having directed his attention to this Book—its distinctive character—as a Book for the Young. The Wise man's father propounded a most anxious question—"Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way?" His son in this Book has fully opened the answer—"By taking heed thereto according to thy word." Nay he expressly states the Book to be written for the heeding of youth."2 It takes them as it were by the hand, sets up way-marks to warn against coming danger and imminent temptations, and allures them into the bright ways of God by the most engaging motives.4 And never surely was the object so momentous, as at the present day. Our young are growing up at a period, when "the foundations of the earth are out of course;" and when subtle and restless efforts are making to poison their hearts, and pervert their ways. Nothing therefore can be more important, than to fortify them with sound principles; that, when withdrawn from the parental wing into a world or a Church (alas! that we should be constrained to use the term!) of temptation, they may be manifestly under a Divine cover—the children of a special Providence. What this invaluable Book impresses upon their minds is—the importance of deep-seated principles in the heart; the responsibility of conduct in every step of life; the danger of trifling deviations for expediency's sake; the value of self-discipline; the habit of bringing everything to the Word of God; the duty of weighing in just balances a worldly and a heavenly portion, and thus deciding the momentous choice of an everlasting good before the toys of earth.

CHAPTER 1

1. The proverbs of Solomon, the Son of David, King of Israel; 2. To know wisdom and instruction; to perceive the words of understanding; 3. To receive the instruction of wisdom, justice, and judgment, and equity; 4. To give subtilty to the simple, to the young man knowledge and discretion.

THE book naturally opens with a short account of its author. Solomon is recorded as the wisest of men—a man of wisdom, because a man of prayer. His extraordinary wisdom was the admiration of the world.2 Had he been the son of Jeroboam, he would have commanded respect. But he was the son of David—formed by his godly prayers and counsels.4 And if a King's sayings—even though without intrinsic merit—are preserved, much more should we listen with special interest to the wise teachings of this King of Israel.

After all, however, valuable as were Solomon's maxims for their own wisdom (exceeding the sages of his own or any other time); they claim our reverence upon infinitely higher ground. "Behold! a greater than Solomon is here."7 Often does he speak in the person—always under the inspiration9—of "the wisdom of God;" so that his sayings are in the highest sense "Divine sentences in the lips of the King."

The great end of this inestimable book is to teach—not secular or political wisdom (though many excellent rules of each are interspersed)—but that knowledge of God,12 which, while it "maketh wise unto salvation, perfects and furnishes the man of God unto all good works." This is set forth in all its glowing privileges.14 It is pressed upon us with intense earnestness—as "the principal thing"—our very "life." We are taught instruction as the means of gaining it. We are directed to perceive the words of understanding—to receive the instruction, as a complete rule of wisdom, justice, judgment, and equity—sound principles, and practical application. Here also the simple—so readily deluded—learn that subtilty—so needful to dicriminate between truth and error; to guard them from false teachers;4 and to enable them to rebuke and convince gainsayers. Specially is the young man directed to this book. From want of discipline, his ardor runs to waste. Let him seek for that knowledge and discretion, here so richly treasured up for him. For the religion inculcated is not that of feeling, imagination, impulse, or sentiment: but it is the sound and healthful energy of godliness, flowing from the vital principles of Scriptural truth.

5. A wise man will hear, and will increase learning; and a man of understanding shall attain unto wise counsels: 6. To understand a proverb, and the interpretation; the words of the wise, and their dark sayings.

Not only the simple and the young—but even the wise—may here gather instruction. For a truly wise man is one—not who has attained—but who knows that he "has not attained," and is pressing onwards to perfection. David, while conscious of comparative attainments, was ever seeking for higher light.8 Indeed the richest stores would soon waste without constant additions. Hearing is a great medium of knowledge. Jethro instructed Moses—our Lord his disciples.10 Peter enlightened his fellow-Apostles. Priscilla and Aquila "instructed Apollos in the way of God more perfectly."12 And do not we feel ourselves to be learners, the longer we learn—more and more ready to hear, that we may increase in learning? "Unto them that have, more shall be given."14 And at such a crisis as this—a crisis both of the Church and of the world—how eagerly should we improve every medium of instruction, by which we might become "men of understanding, and attain wise counsels—to know what Israel ought to do!" And just as the wise man himself expounded his words and dark sayings to the delight and instruction of his royal scholar; so to a teachable hearer of the Divine Revelation many of its "deep things" will be interpreted in heavenly light. And hence the value of the minister of God—"an interpreter—one of a thousand"—and of his office as the Divinely-appointed mean of coming to the perfection of knowledge. How many disorders and heresies might have been spared to the Church, if—instead of indulging the perversity of an unsettled judgment—men had honored "the Priest as the messenger of the Lord of Hosts," and in humble simplicity had "sought the law at his mouth!"2 Self-will may resist this suggestion as Romish domination. But a teachable subjection to the faithful "steward of the mysteries of God"—coming to learn, not to teach—to have, not the curiosity fed, but the conscience satisfied—this will issue in the "good thing of the heart established with grace"—the rich fruit of reverencing the ordinance of God.

7. The fear of the Lord is the beginning (Marg.—principal part) of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction.

The preface has stated the object of this Book of Wisdom. The book itself now opens with a noble sentence of instruction. 'There is not'—as Bishop Patrick observes—'such a wise instruction to be found in all their books, (speaking of heathen ethics,) as the very first of all in Solomon's, which he lays as the ground of all wisdom.' The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge. So Job had pronounced before. So had the wise man's father.6 Such is the weight of this saying, that Solomon again repeats it. Nay—after having gone around the whole circuit—after having weighed exactly all the sources of knowledge—his conclusion of the whole matter is this, that the fear of God in its practical exercise "is the whole of man"—all his duty—all his happiness—his first lesson and his last. Thus when about to instruct us as from the mouth of God, he begins at the beginning—the principal part. All heathen wisdom is but folly. Of all knowledge—the knowledge of God is the principal. There is no true knowledge without godliness.

But what is this fear of the Lord? It is that affectionate reverence, by which the child of God bends himself humbly and carefully to his Father's law. His wrath is so bitter, and his love so sweet; that hence springs an earnest desire to please him, and—because of the danger of coming short from his own weakness and temptations—a holy fear—anxious care and watchfulness, "that he might not sin against him." This enters into every exercise of the mind—every object of life. The oldest proficient in the Divine school seeks a more complete moulding into its spirit. The godly parent trains up his familyunder its influence.11 The Christian scholar honors it as the beginning—the head—of all his knowledge; at once sanctifying its end, and preserving him from its most subtle temptations.

This is why the mass around us despise wisdom and instruction. Because the beginning of wisdom—"the fear of God—is not before their eyes." They know not its value. They scorn its obligation. Wise they may be in their own sight. But surely God here gives them their right name. For fools they must be to despise such a blessing—to rush into wilful ruin3—to treasure up work for despairing repentance. 'From hardness of heart, and contempt of thy word and commandment, Good Lord deliver us.'5 May thy reverential, affectionate, child-like fear be my wisdom—my security—my happiness!

8. My son, hear the instructions of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother; 9. For they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head, and chains about thy neck.

Next to the fear of the Lord—and always connected with it—is reverence to parents. Let the young ponder this connection, and mark how the opening of this book puts honor upon "the first commandment with promise." God here speaks in the character, and by the mouth, of a parent or teacher7—blending paternal tenderness with his Divine authority—My son. The command supposes the godly character of parents, and—unlike every other system—recognizes the responsiblity of both parents. Their children are rational creatures. Instruction—not blind submission—must be inculcated. Yet they are wayward—Instruction must therefore be enforced with the authority of law. God himself puts his own stamp upon parental discipline. Hear it—Forsake it not. Reverence for his mother's law was the honorable mark of Timothy's profession. Nor must this reverence be confined to the years of restraint. The disciple of the Bible will own himself to be a child in relative obligation, long after he has ceased to be a child in years.10 Neither age nor rank give any just claim for exemption. Joseph—when ripe in years—the head of a family, and the first lord in Egypt—bowed before his father's feet. Solomon, in the glory of his crown, forgot not the respect justly due to his mother. And the crown upon his head, and the chain of gold about Joseph's neck—were not so graceful, as was this ornament of filial humility. Wherever we see it, it is the "putting on of the Lord Jesus Christ" in his lovely example—"going down with his parents, and being subject to them"3—Yea, honoring his mother with his last dying command to his disciple—"Behold thy mother!"

The same reciprocal obligation binds the spiritual father and his children. Authority softened by tenderness—instruction moulded in parental endearment—will always command its measure of reverential and affectionate attention. The Apostolical Ministry to the Churches of Philippi and Thessalonica, exhibits an exquisite pattern of this mutual love. Humility, tenderness, mutual communion, cheerful subjection—this forms the harmony of Christian love and happiness.

10. My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not. 11. If they say, Come with us, let us lay wait for blood, let us lurk privily for the innocent without cause; 12. Let us swallow them up alive as the grave; and whole, as those that go down into the pit; 13. We shall find all precious substance, we shall fill our houses with spoil: 14. Cast in thy lot among us; let us all have one purse: 15. My son, walk not thou in the way with them; refrain thy foot from their path.

Here is the instruction and law of the godly parent and minister. Let the young hearken to it. Who that has the charge of youth does not mourn over the influence of evil companions—so eagerly, often so effectively, exerted? Would that the servants of the Lord were as energetic in His work, as sinners are in furthering the ends of their master! Almost as soon as Satan became an apostate, he became a tempter. And most successfully does he train his servants in this work! If sinners entice thee—This is no uncertain contingency. "My son"—said the wise son of Sirach—"if thou come to serve the Lord, prepare thy heart for temptation." Yet against all multifold enticements,8 the rule is one—Consent thou not. Consent constitutes the sin. Eve consented, before she plucked the fruit,—David, before he committed the act of sin.10 Joseph resisted, and was saved. Job was sorely tried; "yet in all this, Job sinned not."12 Remember—we need not yield. We cannot be forced to sin—else we might throw the blame upon God. The habitual resistance of the will clears us of responsibility.14 The consent of the will—even it be not carried out into action—lays the responsibility at our own door.

The enticement here was to deeds of robbery and blood—covetousness leading to murder. Most fiendish was the cruelty of the plot. The innocent was to be murdered without cause—swallowed up alive and whole—like Korah and his company; going down into the pit in their full strength. The invitation was seemingly harmless—Only come—come with us. Soon the demand rises—Cast in thy lot with us. The spoil is sure. There is no one before to prevent, or afterwards to accuse. Precious substance will be found, when our victim is destroyed. Precious substance! say they—How can that be substance at all, which belongs only to a world of shadows? Much more, how can the fruit of robbery be precious with the curse of God?

Not that this horrible plot is usually propounded at first. But step by step—unless the Lord graciously restrains—it may come to this at last. Seldom indeed is the first temptation so broad. But the cover and varnish is here taken off, to show what sin is in its nature, character, and its certain end. What young man, but would shudder and start away from the wickedness, if presented to his imagination alone? But this is the history of many a deluded sinner, hurried on by the influence of company to lengths of sin that he had never contemplated. Other enticements are prepared for the amiable and the uninitiated, just entering into life; less fearful and obvious, and therefore more really dangerous. For what "advantage does Satan get of us by our ignorance of his devices!"

Is it safe then to trust in our good resolutions or principles? No—Walk not in the way with them. The invitation is—Come with us. The warning is—Refrain thy foot from their path. Avoid parleying with them. No one becomes a profligate at once.10 But "evil communications corrupt good manners." The conscience—once tender—becomes less sensitive by every compliance. Who of us can stop ourselves in the down-hill road? One sin prepares for another—pleads for it—nay even makes it necessary for concealment. David committed murder to hide his adultery, and for its covering charged it upon the providence of God.12

Again then, we repeat with all earnestness—Refrain. The path may be strewed with flowers, but it is a path of evil—perhaps of blood. Every step on Satan's ground, deprives us of the security of the promises of God. Often has ruin followed by not refraining from the first step. The only safety is in flight.15 Run then into "thy hiding-place, and behind thy shield," and boldly bid thy tempter "depart from thee." Awful is the thought—that there is not a sin, that the highest saint of God may not commit, if trusting in himself. "Thou standest by faith. Be not high-minded, but fear."

17. (Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird). 18. And they lay wait for their own blood; they lurk privily for their own lives. 19. So are the ways of every one that is greedy of gain; which taketh away the life of the owners thereof.

A striking picture of the infatuation of sin! Birds by their native instinct avoid the net spread in their sight. Man in his boasted wisdom rushes into it. These men thirsted for their neighbor's blood. But in the end they laid wait for their own. They lurked privily for the innocent without cause. But it proved to be lurking privily for their own lives. Ahab and his guilty partner, in plotting the destruction of their innocent victim, worked out their own ruin.—Little did Haman, when bent upon the murder of Mordecai;5 or Judas when "seeking opportunity to betray his Master," see that they were digging a pit for themselves.7 Yet the sinner, would he but use his own eyes, might see hell at the end of his path. But sin is self-delusive—self-destructive. So are the ways—such the end—of greedy, often murderous gain. My son—once more hear thy Father's instruction—"Flee these things."

20. Wisdom (Marg. Wisdoms,) crieth without; she uttereth her voice in the streets: 21. She crieth in the chief place of concourse, in the openings of the gates; in the city she uttereth her words, saying, 22. How long, ye simple ones, will ye love simplicity? and the scorners delight in their scorning, and fools hate knowledge? 23. Turn you at my reproof: behold, I will pour out my Spirit upon you, I will make known my words unto you.

A Father's instruction has warned us against enticement. Wisdom's voice now invites us to her school. And if there be danger in listening to the counsel of Satan; not less is there in slighting the invitations of God. For it is God the Saviour here before us—the Personal Wisdom of God, in all the plentitude of his Divine power, authority, and grace. And a glowing picture it is. Witness this great "Apostle"—this heavenly preacher—full of yearning love to sinners—not only in the synagogue and in the temple—but crying without in the streets—in the chief place of concourse—in the opening of the gates. The simple and the scorner—each loving his own way—the fools—ignorant only because they hate knowledge—these are the objects of his compassionate remonstrance—How long? A stimulating example for his servants to be "instant in season, out of season," with their Master's energy and earnestness in "plucking the brands out of the fire!" And who shall censure this standard of Divine devotedness?

But let us see how the sinner's case is dealt with—how all the suggestions of unbelief—all the heartless excuses of indolence—are swept away before him. God calls him to turn at his reproof. He cannot turn himself. But, I will pour out my Spirit as a living fountain upon you. He cannot see his way. But, I will make known my words unto you. 'I offer thee both my word outwardly to your ears, and a plentiful measure of my Spirit inwardly to your heart, to make that word effectual to you.' Do you plead that God reckons with you for an inability, which you cannot help—innate without your consent? This is Satan's argument of delusion. He at once answers the charge, by offering to you present, suitable, and sufficient relief. He meets you on your way to condemnation with the promise of free and full forgiveness.6 Your plea will be of force, when you have gone to him, and found him wanting, The power indeed is of Him. But he hath said—"Ask, and it shall be given you." If then your helplessness is a real grievance, bring it to him with an honest desire to be rid of it. If you have never prayed, now is the time for prayer. If you cannot pray—at least make the effort. Stretch out the withered hand in the obedience of faith.8 If your heart be hard—your convictions faint—your resolutions unsteady—all is provided in the promise—I will pour out my Spirit upon you. Move, then, and act in dependence upon the Almighty Mover and Agent. Christian experience explains a mystery unfathomable to human reason. It harmonizes man's energy and God's grace. There is no straitening—no exclusion—with God. His promises with one mouth assure a welcome to the willing heart. If it cannot move, cannot his Spirit compel—point—draw it to the Saviour? Yea, in the desire to turn, hath not the Saviour already touched it, and drawn it to himself?

24. Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; 25. But ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof: 26. I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh; 27. When your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. 28. Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me: 29. For that they hated knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord: 30. They would none of my counsel; they despised all my reproof. 31. Therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices.

The Saviour calls by his word—his providence—his ministers—conscience. But, I called, and ye refused. Not till his calls have been refused, does he thunder his warnings. But such grace, so rich and free, yet rejected—who can take the gauge of this guilt? All creatures beside are his servants. Man alone resists his yoke. He stretched out his hand2 to afford help: to confer a blessing: earnestly to beseech its acceptance—yea, even to command attention to his call. But no man regarded. He gives the wisest counsel, and when this is unavailing—the most wholesome reproof; but all is set at naught. Thus does he "endure with much long-suffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction." But, oh sinner! the day cometh, when he, who once yearned, and wept, and prayed, and died, will have no pity;5 when he shall be as if he laughed and mocked at your calamity; when he shall disdain your cry; when he shall delight in the exercise of his sovereign justice over you.7 All will then be the desolation of realized fear—sudden as a whirlwind9—the distress and anguish of utter despair.

This is his solemn denunciation. But—as if he could bear these despisers no longer in his sight—he changes his address, and pictures the scene itself in its strongest colors. They would not hear when I called. Then they shall call upon me, and I will not answer. They would not listen to my warnings—I will not listen to their cries. They shall call upon me—yea, they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me. Prayer, once omnipotent, will then be powerless. 'The last judgment before the very last of all is come—the very outward court or portal of hell'—the misery of deserted souls. To be forsaken of God at any time is awful woe;2 how much more in the time of trouble? But to have his countenance—not only turned from us, but turned against us—his frown instead of his smile—this will be hell instead of heaven.

Does this unmeasured wrath seem inconsistent with a God of love? But, is he not a just God—"a consuming fire?" And think of his knowledge—instead of being a delight—being hated; his fear not chosen—his gracious counsel—none of it regarded; all his reproof despised. Add to which—is it not just, that the sinner, obstinately bent upon the choice of his own way; should not only gather, but eat the fruit of it? that it should enter into him, and become his substance; that he should be filled with it, even to satiety; and that—not only during his road, but at the end—throughout eternity.7 The moral elements of sin constitute a hell of themselves, apart from the material fire. 'The fruit of sin in time, when arrived at full and finished maturity, is just the fruit of sin through eternity. It is merely the sinner reaping what he has sown. It makes no violent or desultary step, from sin in time to hell in eternity. The one emerges from the other, as does the fruit from the flower. It is simply, that the sinner be filled with his own ways, and that he eat the fruit of his own devices."

This picture might seem to be the foreboding of despair. Yet, such miracles of Divine grace have we seen—nay, such are we ourselves—that we despair of none. But we must not soften down God's own words by a misplaced presumptuous tenderness. Have we never seen them verified in the dying chamber of the hardened sinner, who has neglected and scoffed at the Gospel, and never sent up one cry for mercy on his soul? And is there no warning here of the danger of a protracted repentance; of the worthlessness of confessions extorted by terror—"howling on the bed—not weeping at the cross?" And does it not solemnly tell us, that the day of grace has its limits;10 that there is a knock, which will be the last knock; that a sinner may be lost on this side of hell; intreated—pleaded with—wept over—yet lost! lost even in the day of salvation! To "do despite to the Spirit of grace" (mark the endearing name)—the Spirit of all kindness—of alluring love—who speaks so sweetly, and strives so tenderly with us—to wound him as it were to the soul—this is a provocation beyond words—beyond thought. What "remaineth," but that which might strike into the very centre of the man—"the fearful looking-for of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries! It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God."

32. For the turning away of the simple shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them. 33. But whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from fear of evil.

Once again is the sinner's ruin laid at his own door. He turns away from Wisdom's voice—the voice of the pleading Saviour. He despises the only remedy. He dies a suicide. It matters nothing to what we turn. If we turn away from God, we turn from truth—from our true—our eternal—interests. And, oh! be it remembered, that every inattention—every wilful neglect—is a step towards this fearful apostasy. The word gradually becomes a burden, then a scorn. It may seem to be a prosperous way. But it is the prosperity of fools—the love of ease—indifference—ripening for destruction. The lust of it is the embrace of our deadly enemy. Who that knows his own heart will not feel it a matter—not of congratulation—but of deep and anxious prayer? "In all time of our wealth—Good Lord, deliver us!"3

But to close with the sunshine of promise—Art thou, Reader—like God's own child—hearkening unto him? Then art thou under his cover. Thou hast already found thy place of safety, where no evil can reach thee—dwelling not only safely, but assured of safety—quiet even from fear of evil; as Noah in the ark—in conscious security, while the world were perishing around him;5 as David, fearless in imminent danger, because realizing a refuge in his God. Yes!—even the coming day of distress and anguish brings with it no fear of evil. "The day will burn like an oven." Thou shalt behold the world on fire and feel thou hast lost—thou canst lose—nothing. The "day of darkness and gloominess" will be to thee a day of unclouded sunshine—the entrance into everlasting joy?8

CHAPTER 2

1. My son, if thou wilt receive my words, and hide my commandments with thee; 2. So that thou incline thine ear unto wisdom, and apply thine heart to understanding; 3. Yea, if thou criest after knowledge, and liftest up thy voice for understanding; 4. If thou seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as for hid treasures; 5. Then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord, and find the knowledge of God. 6. For the Lord giveth wisdom: out of his mouth cometh knowledge and understanding.

Wisdom having solemnly warned rebellious scorners, now instructs her dutiful children. If, as is supposed, these are the words of Solomon to his son, they are also the words of God to us. The dark question long before asked—"Where shall wisdom be found?"—is now answered. Rules are given for its discovery. It is set before us—as the fear and knowledge of God; a principle of practical godliness;3 a preservation from besetting temptations: and a guide into the right and safe path.5 Hence follow the security of its scholars, and the certain ruin of its ungodly despisers.7

The rules for its attainment are such as the simplest comprehension can apply. Most valuable are they to us. If carefully pondered and diligently improved, they will furnish a key for the understanding of the whole word of God. Let us examine them more distinctly.

Receive my words—Let them be "the seed cast into the good ground of an honest and good heart"—a heart prepared of God.9 Read the book of God—as one who "sat at the feet of Jesus, and heard his word." Like the Bereans—"receive it with all readiness"11—like the Thessalonians—with reverential faith—acknowledging its supreme authority. Hide my commandments with thee. Carry them about with thee as thy choicest treasure, for greater security; as thy furniture always at hand for present use.14 Let the heart be the hiding-place. Here let the treasure be covered. Satan can never snatch it thence.

But there must be an active, practical, habit of attention. Ear and heart must unite. Yet to incline the ear and apply the heart—"who is sufficient for these things?" Oh! my God! let it be thine own work on me—in me. Thou alone canst do it. Let it be with me as with thy Beloved Son—"Waken my ear morning by morning to hear as the learned."2 So let me under thy grace, "incline mine ear, and hear, that my soul may live."

Without this spirit of prayer—there may be attention, earnestness, sincerity; yet without one spiritual impression upon the conscience—without one ray of Divine light in the soul. Earthly wisdom is gained by study; heavenly wisdom by prayer. Study may form a Biblical scholar; prayer puts the heart under a heavenly pupilage, and therefore forms the wise and spiritual Christian. The word first comes into the ears; then it enters into the heart; there it is safely hid; thence rises the cry—the lifting up of the voice in awakened prayer. Thus "the entrance of the word giveth life; it giveth understanding to the simple." God keeps the key of the treasure-house in his own hand. "For this he will be enquired of"5 to open it unto thee. No other inspiration can be looked for than Divine grace to make his word clear and impressive. Every verse read and meditated on furnishes material for prayer. Every text prayed over opens a mine of "unsearchable riches," with a light from above more clear and full than the most intelligent exposition. David and his wise son7 sought this learning upon their knees; and the most matured Christian will to the end continue to lift up his voice for a more enlarged knowledge of God.

But prayer must not stand in the stead of diligence. Let it rather give life and energy to it. Look at the miner—his indefatigable pains—his invincible resolution—his untiring perseverance—seeking—yea—searching for hid treasures. Such must be our standard in searching into the sacred store-house; leaving nothing untouched that lies before us. To read—instead of "searching the Scriptures"—is only to skim the surface, and gather up a few superficial notions. The rule of success is—Dig up and down the field; and if the search be discouraging—dig again. The patient industry of perusal and re-perusal will open the embosomed treasure. "Surely there is a vein for the silver." Yet what miner would be content with the first ore? Would he not search deeper and deeper, until he has possessed himself of the whole treasure; not satisfied with taking away much, but determined to leave nothing? Thus let it be our daily exercise to explore "the length, and the breadth, and the depth" of our boundless stores, until we be "filled with all the fulness of God."

This habit of living in the element of Scripture is invaluable. To be filled from this Divine treasury—to have large portions of the word daily passing through the mind—gives us a firmer grasp, and a more suitable and diversified application of it. There can be no sound judgment without this feeding, enriching study. In the mere exercise of reading we often scarcely know where to begin, and we perform the routine without any definite object. Our knowledge therefore must be scanty and ineffective. Nor is the neglect of this habit less hurtful to the Church. All fundamental errors and heresies in the Church may be traced to this source—"Ye do err, not knowing the Scriptures." They are mostly based on partial or disjointed statements of truth. Truth separated from truth becomes error. The mind, therefore, prayerfully occupied in the search of Divine truth,—crying and lifting up the voice—will never fail to discern the substance and preciousness of the two great principles of godliness—The fear and knowledge of God. There is no peradventure nor disappointment in this search—Then shalt thou understand—The Lord giveth wisdom; it cometh out of his mouth. None shall search in vain.

7. He layeth up sound wisdom for the righteous: he is a buckler to them that walk uprightly. 8. He keepeth the paths of judgment, and preserveth the way of his saints. 9. Then shalt thou understand righteousness and judgment, and equity; yea, every good path.

Vanity and foolishness6 are the stamp on the wisdom of this world. Here is sound wisdom. It looks at things, not in their notions, but in their proper substance. It is sound, because it is practical. It is indeed a hid treasure—so safe, that no spoiler can reach it; so free, that every sinner may have access to it. Yes; in the Son of God himself "are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge." All these treasures in him are laid up for the righteous—made over to them. Oh, let us draw upon this infinite treasure daily—hourly—according to present need. Here is our light to direct an upright walk. 'To those that are true and upright in heart, he will in his own good time reveal true and saving knowledge, and that sound spiritual wisdom, which shall make them eternally happy.' Our faithful God is a buckler to them that walk uprightly3—covering us by the exercise of this wisdom from that subtle sophistry, which would spoil us of our treasure. Our path indeed is fraught with danger; beset with temptation; yet is it safe5—kept and preserved by Almighty power; so that the way of his saints, even on the very edge of the enemy's ground, is guarded from deadly ill.

We may observe also the completeness of this godly privilege. For not only does it enlarge our knowledge of God, but it brings us to a full understanding of every practical obligation. That only is sound wisdom, that guides our feet into every good path; that "makes the man of God perfect, throughly furnished unto all good works." The wisdom or grace that saves the soul, sanctifies the heart and life.

10. When wisdom entereth into thine heart, and knowledge is pleasant unto thy soul; 11. Discretion shall preserve thee, understanding shall keep thee.

We have seen the good that wisdom brings to us. Now see the evil, from which it preserves us. But observe its place—in the heart. Here only has it any life or power. While it is only in the head, it is dry, speculative, and barren. When it entereth into the heart, all the affections are engaged, and how pleasant is it to the soul! Religion now is no lifeless notion. It is handled, tasted, enjoyed. It gives a discreet and understanding direction to the whole conduct. It becomes not only an external rule, but a preserving, keeping principle; like the military guard for the safety of the royal person.14 Before, it was the object of our search. Now, having found it, it is our pleasure. Until it is so, it can have no practical influence. It is "the man whose delight is in the law of the Lord," who is preserved from "walking in the counsel of the ungodly." All other restraints—education, conviction, high moral principle—are, at best, only partially operative. The reclaimed drunkard may be true to his Temperance pledge; but, if the "root of bitterness" be untouched, he may be a Socialist, or a Chartist, or revel in some other equally ruinous course. External wickedness may be exchanged for decent formality. Vagrant affections may be turned from some object of vanity; yet not fixed upon the Divine centre of attraction. The mind may be disciplined from utter unprofitableness, only to indulge in the idolatry of talent, or the fascinations of poisoned literature. The folly of the pride of life may be resisted, yet pride in other of its multiform fruits tenderly cherished. In all these cases, the principle is unsubdued. The forsaken sin only makes way for some more plausible, but not less baneful, passion. The heart, cast into the mould of the Gospel, is the only crucifixion of the flesh—the only antidote to those snares from within and from without, which so imperceptibly, yet so fatally, estrange us from God. Never, till the vital principle is implanted, is their mischief discerned. Never, till then, does the heart find its proper object—its true resting-place.

12. To deliver thee from the way of the evil man, from the man that speaketh froward things; 13. Who leave the paths of uprightness, to walk in the ways of darkness; 14. Who rejoice to do evil, and delight in the frowardness of the wicked; 15. Whose ways are crooked, and they froward in their paths.

Some of the various snares for the young, are about to be detailed; a fearful picture of the temptations, to which our beloved children are exposed! Will it not awaken our earnest cries for their immediate and solid conversion to God; that wisdom may indeed enter into their hearts, and its pleasures be really enjoyed; that they may have a religious taste as well as a religious education; that they may know the Gospel—not only in the conviction of their conscience, or the excitement of their feelings—but in the entire renewal of their hearts before God? This—and nothing else—will preserve them from the snare of their cruel foe. Every town and village swarms with his emissaries: first, initiated themselves into the mysteries of his art; then going forth, laborious and practised teachers, well trained by their Master for his murderous work. Against one of these enticements we have been before warned. Another is here given:—The tempter bears his character upon his lips; the evil man, that speaketh proud things against God—his law—his word; like a poisonous fountain sending up poisoned waters. Oh! how quickly does the contamination spread! He does not sin in ignorance. He and his companions have probably been trained in the paths of uprightness. But they were ready for the first opportunity to leave the paths which they never loved, to walk in the ways of darkness—more suitable to their taste, and which their hearts do love. And now, having left the hated paths, they become foremost in iniquity. They rejoice, like Satan himself, to do evil—to draw their fellow sinners into the net; and they delight in those, who are most froward in their wickedness. Thus they plunge deeper and deeper into sin, till all traces of the straight way are lost to their eyes, and all their ways become crooked, leading, with sure steps, to eternal ruin. Is not this the picture, drawn to the very life, of many a Sunday-scholar, or a child of godly parents, the subject of deep and tender care, "hardened through the deceitfulness of sin"—the neglect of faithful warning—the stifling of solemn conviction? How do they deserve to be left of God, who have first left him with such fearful aggravation! Young man! especially shun companions, who are sinning against better knowledge and instruction. They are hardened in devotedness to their master's work. Oh! if misguided sinners could but see sin in its horrid deformity, and certain, eternal ruin, would not "their hearts meditate terror?" But, the crookedness of their ways hides the end from view. Satan presents the bait, palliates the sin, covers the enormity, closes the eyes, and conceals the certain end of all—Hell. The froward in their paths cannot—will not—turn back.

16. To deliver thee from the strange woman, from the stranger, which flattereth with her lips; 17. Which forsaketh the guide of her youth, and forgetteth the covenant of her God. 18. For her house inclineth unto death, and her paths unto the dead. 19. None that go unto her return again; neither take they hold of the paths of life.

Another snare of the fowler is here, as often in the course of this Book, graphically portrayed. Wisdom hidden in the heart is, as before, the most effectual deliverance. This wisdom will show itself in restraining even the eye from the hurtful object. Ought not the strange woman—even if she be born and baptized in a Christian land—to be counted as a stranger, and foreigner among us? A vile flatterer with her lips!8 forsaking him, whom she willingly took as the guide of her youth; forgetting this solemn bond of the covenant of her God. The slave of her lust—having no guide but herself; no will but her own; no pleasure but sensual gratification—quickly she becomes her own and her victim's murderer. Her house is the land of death. Eternal death is her doom.2 Her paths incline to the dead, with the awful monuments of Divine vengeance in olden time. Some instances indeed of deliverance are given—not so much examples, as special miracles, of grace, to show how far the "arm of the Lord," and the Gospel of his grace can reach. But so rare are they, that it is as if scarcely none5 that go unto her were known to return again. And what madness is it to rush into the snare upon so faint and glimmering hope of escape! The spell of lust palsies the grasp, by which its victim might have taken hold of the paths of life for its deliverance. Those that are "saved—it is so as by fire"—the wonder of heaven and earth?—"Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?"7

20. That thou mayest walk in the way of good men, and keep the path of the righteous; 21. For the upright shall dwell in the land, and the perfect shall remain in it; 22. But the wicked shall be cut off from the earth, and the transgressors shall be rooted out of it.

Here is the consummating blessing of engrafted wisdom. Not only does it deliver from evil men; but it guides us into the way of good men. Thus endued with wisdom—thus clad with divine armor,—thou shalt have courage, like Joseph, to turn thy face from the enchantment of sin, and keep the paths of the righteous—rugged indeed and difficult, yet the only paths of rest and security. Thus shalt thou dwell and remain in the land, as its rightful inheritor; having the best portion in earth, and an infinitely better portion in heaven; while the wicked and transgressors, though they may "enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season," shall be ultimately cut off, rooted out, and "driven away" into everlasting ruin.

And now, what serious reader of this chapter can fail to estimate above all price, the privilege of being early enlisted under the banner of the cross; early taught in the ways, and disciplined in the school, of the Bible; and early led to hide that blessed book in the heart, as the rule of life, the principle of holiness, the guide to heaven?

Parents, Sponsors, Teachers of youth! ponder your deep responsibility with unceasing prayer for special grace and wisdom. Be ware of glossing over sins with amiable or palliating terms. Let young people be always led to look upon vicious habits with horror, as the most appalling evil. Discipline their vehemence of feeling and ill-regulated excitement. Keep out of sight—as far as may be—books calculated to inflame the imagination. To give an impulse to the glowing passion, may stimulate the rising corruption to the most malignant fruitfulness. Oh! what wisdom is needed to guide, to repress, to bring forth, develop safely, and to improve fully, the mind, energies, and sensibilities of youth!

Young man! Beware! Do not flatter thyself for a moment, that God will ever wink at your sinful passions—that he will allow for them, as slips and foibles of youth. They are "the cords of your own sins," which, if the power of God's grace break them not in time, will "hold" you for eternity. Shun then the society of sin, as the infection of the plague. Keep thy distance from it, as from the pit of destruction. Store thy mind with the preservative of heavenly wisdom. Cultivate the taste for purer pleasures. Listen to the fatherly, pleading remonstrance, inviting to thy hiding place, thy rest—"Wilt thou not from this time cry unto me; 'My Father! thou art the guide of my youth?' "2

CHAPTER 3

1. My son, forget not my law; but let thine heart keep my commandments; 2. For long life, and peace shall they add to thee.

THIS is not the stern language of command. We are listening to our Father's voice in all the endearing persuasiveness of promise—My son. He had before instructed us to seek and search after wisdom, and set out before us its invaluable blessings. Now he calls us to bring it into practical exercise—Forget not my law. Not the infirmity of the memory, (for which a special, though we fear too much neglected, help, is provided,) but the wilful forgetfulness of the heart,5 is here implied. Let thine heart—like the ark of the testimony—be the keeping place of my commandments. And is not this the child's desire—"O that my ways were directed to keep thy statutes?"7 while his conscious helplessness takes hold of the covenant promise—"I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts."

Herein lies our interest, not less than our obligation. The reward of this lively obedience (need we add—a reward of grace?) is a long and happy life—the highest earthly good. The wicked indeed live long, and the godly often "live out only half his days." The wicked die in outward comfort, the righteous in outward trouble.2 But length of days is the promise to the righteous—whether for earth or for heaven, as their Father deems fittest for them. In itself the promise, as regards this life, has no charm. To the ungodly, it is a curse; to the people of God, a trial of faith and patience;4 to all a weariness. But peace added forms the sunshine of the toilsome way—"peace with God through the blood of sprinkling,"7 eternal peace in his home and in his bosom—where all the fightings of a rebellious flesh—all the counterstrivings of a perverse and ungovernable will, shall have ceased forever. "Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gate into the city."9

3. Let not mercy and truth forsake thee; bind them about thy neck; write them upon the table of thine heart; 4. So shalt thou find favor and good understanding (Marg. success), in the sight of God and man.

Mercy and truth are the glorious perfections of God—always in exercise—always in combination—for his people's good. While we rest upon them for salvation, let us copy them in our profession. Are not his children new created in his image. Let then our Father's image be manifested in us, "as his dear children."11 Let these graces be, as with God, in combination. 'The want of one buries the commendation of the other. Such a one is a merciful man to the poor; but there is no truth in him. Such a one is very just in his dealings, but as hard as flint.' "Put on, as the elect of God, bowels of mercy. But lie not one to another. Speak every man truth with his neighbor." Nor must these virtues be in temporary or occasional exercise. Let them not forsake thee. Bind them as jewels about thy neck. Let them be "written—not in tables of stone, but in fleshly tables of the heart." God indeed is not thy debtor—yet none shall serve him for naught. The man who shews mercy to his neighbor shall find it with him. "They that deal truly are his delight."17 So shalt thou find favor and good understanding—(success)19 both in his sight, and in the sight of man. Witness Joseph in Egypt—David in the family of Saul2—the servants of God in the Eastern courts—the early Christians with the people around them.4 What is more lovely than thus to live down reproach by consistent godliness? What more acceptable to God, or more edifying to the Church? Was not this the record of "the holy child, that he increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man?" The highest crown of a youthful profession is conformity to the Divine pattern.7

5. Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not to thine own understanding. 6. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

This is the polar-star of a child of God—faith in his Father's providence, promises, and grace. Let the eye look upward, and all will be light. This is the privilege of adoption. The unmeaning expression of trust on the lips of the ignorant and ungodly is a fearful delusion. What ground of confidence can there be, when there is every thing to fear? Can the sinner's God—a just, avenging God—be an object of trust? What owe we to that precious atonement, which has opened up our way to a reconciled God, and assured our confidence in him as our Friend and Counsellor! Nor is this the cold assent of the enlightened judgment. It is the trust of the heart—of all the heart. It is a childlike confidence without wavering, in our Father's well-proved wisdom, faithfulness, and love. Any limit to this confidence is a heinous provocation.11 He is truth itself. Therefore he loves, that we should take him at his word, and prove his word to the utmost extent of his power.

But our trust must not only be entire, it must be exclusive. No other confidence—no confidence in the flesh—can consist with it. Man with all his pride feels that he wants something to lean to. As a fallen being, he naturally leans to himself,—to his own foolish notions and false fancies. Human power is his idol. He makes his understanding his god. Many would rather be convicted of want of principle than of want of talent. Many bring God's truth to their own bar, and cavil at it, as an excuse for rejecting it. In these and other ways, man "trusteth to himself, and his heart departeth from the Lord." This is the history of the fall—the history of man from the fall—the dominant sin of every unhumbled heart—the lamented and resisted sin of every child of God. Need we advert to it as the sin of youth? How rare is the sight of the "younger submitting unto the elder!" If advice is asked, is it not with the hope of confirming a previously-formed purpose? In case of dissent, the young man's own understanding usually decides the course.

Great reason then is there for the warning—Lean not to thine own understanding. Once indeed it gave clear unclouded light, as man's high prerogative—created in the image of God. But now—degraded by the fall,3 and darkened by the corruption of the heart—it must be a false guide. Even in a renewed man—a prophet of God—it proved a mistaken counsellor.5 Yet throw it not away. Let it be diligently cultivated in all its faculties. In a world of such extended knowledge—ignorance is a reproach—the fruit of sloth, dissipation, or misguided delusion. Use it then actively. Religion strengthens—not destroys—its power. But—lean not to it—lean—trust in the Lord. Self-dependence is folly—rebellion,7 ruin. 'The great folly of man in trials'—as Dr. Owen justly remarks—'is—their leaning to or upon their own understanding and counsels. What is the issue of it? "The steps of his strength shall be straightened, and his own counsel shall cast him down." First he shall be entangled, and then cast down; and all by his own counsels, until he come to be ashamed of it.10 Whenever in our trials we consult our own understandings, or hearken to self-reasonings, though they seem to be good, and tending to our preservation; yet the principle of living by faith is stifled, and we shall in the issue be cast down by our own counsels.'

Next—let our confidence be uniform—In all thy ways acknowledge him. Take one step at a time—every step under plain warrant, and Divine direction. Never venture to plan for yourself, except in simple dependence on God.13 It is nothing less than self-idolatry to conceive, that we can carry on even the ordinary matters of the day without his counsel. He loves to be consulted. Therefore take all thy difficulties to be resolved by him. Be in the habit of going to him in the first place before self-will, self-pleasing, self-wisdom, human friends, conveniences, expediency. Before any of these have been consulted, go to God at once. Consider no circumstance too clear to need his direction.15 In all thy ways, small as well as great—in all thy concerns, personal or relative, temporal or eternal, let him be supreme. Who of us has not found the unspeakable "peace" of bringing to God matters too minute or individual to be entrusted to the most confidential ear? Thus it was that Abraham acknowledged God. Wheresoever he pitched a tent for himself, there was always an altar for God. In choosing a wife for his son there was a singular absence of worldliness. No mention of riches, honor, beauty, or of any thing, but what concerned the name and honor of his God.3 Thus did the wise man's father in all his ways acknowledge God, asking counsel of him in all his difficulties, and never disappointed. This is indeed to walk with God as a Father. This is true faith—not superseding, but invigorating exertion.5

Now if we be weaned from the idolatry of making our bosom our oracle, and our heart our counsellor; if in true poverty of spirit we go every morning to our Lord, as knowing not how to guide ourselves for this day—our eye constantly looking upward for direction, the light will come down. He shall direct thy paths. We want no new revelations or visible tokens. Study the word with prayer. Mark the Divine Spirit shedding light upon it. Compare it with the observation of the Providence of the day;8 not judging by constitutional bias (a most doubtful interpreter), but pondering with sober, practical, reverential faith. Let the will be kept in a quiet, subdued, cheerful readiness, to move, stay, retreat, turn to the right hand or to the left, at the Lord's bidding; always remembering, that is best, which is least our own doing, and that a pliable spirit ever secures the needful guidance. We may "be led," for the exercise of our faith, "in a way that we know not."10—perhaps a way of disappointment, or even of mistake. Yet no step well prayed over will bring ultimate regret. Though the promise will not render us infallible; our very error will be overruled for deeper humiliation and self-knowledge; and thus even this mysterious direction will in the end be greatly acknowledged—"He led me forth in the right way."

7. Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the Lord, and depart from evil; 8. It shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones.

Another warning against self-confidence! and who needs it not? So natural is it to idolize our own devices! Yet self-wisdom is self-delusion.13 True wisdom is its opposite—the fear of God and the fear of sin. God is loved and honored. Sin is hated, loathed, resisted. It lives indeed; but it is condemned to die.2 It cleaves to the child of God; but his heart departs from it. Often is it the sickness of the body: always of the soul.4 The departure from it, in the exercise of self-denial and godly discipline, is health to the body. The soul revives in fruitfulness.6 The man that feareth the Lord, under "the healing beams of the Sun of Righteousness goeth forth," as from his sick chamber, full of life and Christian energy. "The joy of the Lord is his strength."8

9. Honor the Lord with thy substance, and with the first-fruits of all thine increase; 10. So shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out with new wine.

This is the rule of sacrifice—a costly precept to the worldling and the formalist. But to the servant of God, is it not a privilege to lay aside a portion of substance with this sacred stamp, "This is for God?" The first fruits of the increase were the acknowledgment of redemption from Egypt. And shall we—redeemed from sin, Satan, death, and hell—deny the claim?11 Nay, could we be happy in spending that substance on ourselves, which he has given us, wherewith to honor him? What a value—what a dignity—does it give to the talent, that he should condescend to employ it for his grand eternal purposes! This sacred devotedness is moreover the true road to riches.13 God challenges us to "prove him now herewith," if the abundant harvest, and the overflowing vintage shall not put unbelief and covetousness to shame. A niggardly spirit, is therefore narrow policy, contracting the harvest, by sparing the seed corn.15 There is no presumption or enthusiasm in looking for the literal fulfilment of the promise. If we doubt the temporal, should we not suspect our assumed confidence, in the spiritual engagements? If the Lord's word be insufficient security for our substance; much more must it be for the infinitely weightier deposite of our soul!

The rule and obligation, are therefore clear. Only let us carefully prove our motives, that we beware of bye-ends and selfish principles; that we honor the Lord, not ourselves. Let there be a self-renouncing spirit, implicit faith,17 constraining love, special regard to his own people.19 And doubt not, but he will affix his own seal—"Them that honor me, I will honor."

11. My son, despise not the chastening of the Lord; neither be weary of his correction; 12. For whom the Lord loveth, he correcteth; even as a father the son in whom he delighteth.

Prosperity and adversity in their wise mixture and proportion form the present condition of man. Each is equally fruitful in opportunity of honoring the Lord; in prosperity—by the full consecration of our substance; in adversity—by a humble and cheerful submission to his dispensations. In prosperity it is well to expect the rod; 'and suppose it be his pleasure let it not disatisfy thee, nor make thee either doubt of his gracious Providence, or out of impatience take any unlawful course to remove it from thee.'2 His "exhortation"—the Apostle reminds us—"speaketh to us as unto children." And indeed, under no character does he approach so near to us, and endear himself so closely to us, as that of a Father. Most precious at all times, especially under correction, is the privilege of adoption—My son.

This is a most important exhortation. Nowhere are our corruptions so manifest, or our grace so shining, as under the rod. We need it as much as our daily bread. If we be children of God, we are still children of Adam—with Adam's will, pride, independence, and waywardness. And nothing more distinctly requires Divine teaching and grace, than how to preserve in our behavior the just mean between hardness and despondency—neither despising the chastening of the Lord, nor being weary of his correction. We are left to infer the rules from the evils mentioned, which will ever be the exercise of prayer, watchfulness, and conflict.

Too often, while we guard against an error on the right hand, we forget one not less hurtful on the left; like the man who feels he cannot go too far from the precipice on the one side, and rushes into some fearful hazard on the other. The middle path is the right path. Doubtless the Lord means his chastening to be felt. A leviathian iron-heartedness6 is the stubbornness of the flesh, not the triumph of the spirit; a frame most offensive to him, and most unseemly for the reception of his gracious discipline. To be as though no pain was felt or cared for; sullenly to "kick against the pricks," and to dare God to do his worst—this is indeed to despise his chastening. But pride will lift up the head, stiff and unbending: many a stroke does it require to bring it down.

Yet alas! this is not the sin only of the ungodly. Do we not often see the child of God in an undutiful spirit? He then cares little whether his father smiles or frowns. The chastening is lightly passed over. He considers only second causes, or immediate instruments. He is irritated by looking at the rod, rather than at the hand that inflicts it.2 He shrinks from searching into the cause. He disregards his Father's loving voice and purpose. Hence there is no softening humiliation, no "acceptance of the punishment of iniquity;"4 no child-like submission; no exercise of faith in looking for support. Is not this to despise the chastening of the Lord?

But while some despise the hand of God as light, others "faint" under it as heavy. They are weary of his correction. Beware of yielding to heartless despondency or fretful impatience. Resist hard and dishonorable thoughts of God.7 Their very admission spreads destruction. Very apt are we to judge amiss of our Father's dealings; to neglect present duty;9 to cherish a morbid brooding over our sorrows; to forget our title and privilege of adoption;11 or in obstinate grief to "refuse to be comforted" with the "hope of the end." And is not this to be weary of his correction?

We must here remark, that the rules imply much more than their negative meaning. Instead of despising—reverence—the chastening of the Lord. Let it be a solemn remembrance to thee, that thou art under thy Father's correction. Instead of being weary of it, hang upon his chastening hand, and pour thy very soul into his bosom. Kiss the rod.15 Acknowledge its humbling, but enriching, benefit. Expect a richer blessing from sustaining grace, than from the removal of the deprecated affliction.17

After all we must add, that chastening is a trial to the flesh; yet overruled by wonder-working wisdom and faithfulness to an end above and contrary to its nature. So that eyeing God in it, we see it to be love, not wrath; "receiving,"19 not casting out. We are thus better with it than without it; nay—we could not be without it for our soul's salvation. Faith understands the reasons of the discipline;21 acknowledges it as a part of his gracious Providence, and the provision of his everlasting covenant;23 waits to see the end of the Lord; and meanwhile draws its main support from the seal of adoption. He corrects whom he loves, and because he loves—the son in whom he delighteth. He "rejoiceth over his child to do him good," and as a wise and affectionate father, he would not suffer him to be ruined for want of correction. It is correction—this is for our humbling. It is only correction—this is our consolation, the intolerable sting of penal infliction is removed. Here then the child has rest indeed!3 The rod is now meekly—yea—thankfully borne, because it is in the hand of One, supreme in wisdom as in love, who knows the time, the measure, and the effectual working of his own discipline.5 The child compares his affliction with his sin, and marvels not that it is so heavy, but that it is so light. He knows that he more than deserves—that he needs it—all. 'O God, I have made an ill use of thy mercies, if I have not learnt to be content with thy correction.'

Should then he, at any dark season ask—"If it be so, why am I thus?"—you are thus, because this is your Father's school—his training discipline for heaven.9 He loves thee so well, that he will bestow all pains upon thee. He will melt thee in his furnace, that he may stamp thee with his image. He would make thee "partake of his holiness,"11 that thou mightest partake of his happiness. But unless thou enter into his mind thou wilt—so far as thou canst—defeat his purpose and lose the benefit—a loss never to be told! Look then well into the dispensation.13 Every rod is thy Father's messenger, and he will not bear to have his messenger despised. Be anxious to "hear the rod, and who hath appointed it;" well "knowing that the Lord hath not done without cause all that he hath done."15 Be more concerned to have it sanctified than removed; yea, above all things deprecate its removal, until it has fully wrought its appointed work. We can but admire that considerate dispensation, which uses these "light afflictions" as the means of deliverance from the most deadly evil. And should flesh and blood rebel—should the earthly tabernacle shake with "the blow of his hand"—yet shalt thou bless him throughout eternity, that even by this crushing discipline he should accomplish his most merciful purpose. Meanwhile, give him unlimited confidence, and if some steps of the way are hid, wait and "see the end."18 Watch for the first whispers of his will—the first intimation of his Providence—the guidance of his eye. Many a stroke will thus be saved to thy peace and quietness. Never forget that this is a golden opportunity, requiring for its due improvement much study, prayer, and retirement; that no communion is so close—so endearing—so fruitful—as with a chastening God; that we delight in a sense of his love in the midst, yea in the very form, of his chastening, that never have we such a full manifestation of his character and perfections; that what we have before learnt in theory, we here learn experimentally; and what we have before imperfectly understood, is here more fully revealed.2

13. Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth (Marg. draweth out,) understanding; 14. For the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold; 15. She is more precious than rubies, and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared to her.

Who does not admire this glowing picture of happiness? Yet cold and barren is admiration without an interest in the blessing. The happy man has found a treasure—possibly when he least expected it—under the chastening of the Lord. David and Manasseh5 found—as who hath not found?—'God's house of correction to be a school of instruction.' Under all circumstances, however, prayerful diligence in the heart of wisdom ensures success. The naturally wise man is a fool in heavenly wisdom. The man of prayer getteth understanding, drawing it out to light, as out of the hid treasure. We wonder not at the merchantman's concentrated interest, at his untiring toil.9 But here the wise man, though himself enriched with the merchandise of fine gold—points out to us a better merchandise. It is the search for "the pearl of great price"—more precious than rubies, yea, than all things that could be desired. So the apostle judged. So upon a trial he found it. All the world's shew—all his former valuable "gain he counted as dung and dross" for "the true wisdom"—"the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus his Lord." Never will solid happiness be known without this singleness of judgment and purpose. This inestimable blessing must have the throne. The waverer—the half-seeker—falls short. Determined perseverance wins the prize.2

16. Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and honor; 17. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace; 18. She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her: and happy is every one that retaineth her.

Behold this heavenly Queen dispensing her blessings on the right hand and on the left! Her right hand presents the promise of both worlds—the rich enjoyment of this world's lawful comforts4 and the yet higher joy of serving the Lord and his church—a privilege, for which the apostle was content for a while to be detained from heaven. Add eternity to the balance—length of days, without end—and the amount sets at naught all computation. Her left hand offers riches and honor, so far as may be for her children's good; yet, in their highest splendor, only a feeble picture of her more "durable riches" and of the honor of a heavenly crown.

But what say we of her ways? Often is she described 'as a sullen matron, who entertains her followers only on sighs and tears; so that to obtain the joys of the next life, we must bid eternal adieu to the contents of this life; that we must never more expect a cheerful hour, a clear day, a bright thought to shine upon us.' This is the world's creed. And hence their wish—"Torment me not before the time." But this must be a slander of the great forger of lies to deter us from wisdom's ways. They must be ways of pleasantness, because—"Thus saith the Lord." And if we feel them not to be so, we know them not.

The man of pleasure utterly mistakes both his object and his pursuit. The only happiness worth seeking is found here; that which will live in all circumstances, and abide the ceaseless changes of this mortal life. The ways may be thorny, painful, dark and lonely. Yet how does the sunshine of reconciliation beam upon their entrance! Every step is lighted from above; strewed with promises; a step in happiness; a step to heaven. Wisdom's work is its own reward—strictness without bondage.9 God rules children, not slaves. They work neither from compulsion, nor for hire; but from an ingenuous principle of love and gratitude to their Benefactor; filial delight in their Father. Pleasant therefore must be the labor—yea—the sacrifices, of love; short the path, cheerful the way, when the heart goes freely in it.

It is saying far too little, that the trials of these ways are not inconsistent with their pleasantness. They are the very principles of the most elevated pleasure. 'The verdict of Christ,' says Dr. South, 'makes the discipline of self-denial and the cross—those terrible blows to flesh and blood—the indispensable requisite to the being his disciples.' And yet, paradoxical as it may appear, in this deep gloom is the sunshine of joy. For if our natural will be "enmity to God,"2 it must be the enemy to our own happiness. Our pleasure, therefore, must be to deny, not to indulge, it. Never are we more happy, than in the mortification of sinful appetites, that only "bring forth fruit unto death." Even what may be called the austerities of godliness are more joyous than "the pleasures of sin." Far better to cross the will, than to wound the conscience. The very chains of Christ are glorious.4 Moses endured not "his reproach" as a trial. He "esteemed it as a treasure—greater riches than the treasures of Egypt." Never do we so enjoy the comfort of our principles as when we are making a sacrifice for them. Hannah yielded up her dearest earthly joy. But did she sink under the trial? Did she grudge the sacrifice? She took up her song, and prayed, and said—"My heart rejoiceth in the Lord;" while—to shew that none serve him for naught—for one child that was resigned, five were added.7 In fact, the world see only half the prospect. They see what religion takes away. But they see not what it gives. They cannot discern that, while it denies sinful, it abounds in spiritual, pleasure. We drudge in the ways of sin. But we "shall sing in the ways of the Lord."

But ways of pleasantness are not always safe. Yet all wisdom's paths are peace. The deadly breach is healed. The cloud vanishes. Heaven smiles. And peace, the Saviour's last bequest, is realized even in the heat of "this world's tribulation." "The feet are shod" for the rugged path "with the preparation of the Gospel of peace."10 The subjugation of the will—the sorrow of contrition—the weariness of the cross—all end in peace.

Yet nothing can make wisdom's ways palatable to a carnal mind. "They that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh;" so that—as "they cannot please God," God's ways cannot please them. Nor again—though wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness—are wisdom's children always happy. Sometimes a naturally morose temper gives a gloomy tinge to religion. Professors forget, that it is no matter of option, whether they should be happy or not; that it is their obligation, no less than their privilege to be so; that the commands of God on this duty carry weight, and demand obedience. The prophets in the burst of their rapture search heaven and earth, bring forth the most beautiful objects of nature; nay—call the inanimate creation into glowing sympathy with the joys of the Gospel.2 The character of the servants of God—especially in affliction4—sets a seal to this rejoicing spirit. Is then thy happiness clouded? Has there not been some deviation from wisdom's paths? Does not thy God call thee to search—to humble thyself—to return?

Lastly—to the glory, beauty, and fruitfulness of wisdom, the Paradise of God alone can furnish the full counterpart. 'The tree of life was the means ordained of God for the preservation of lasting life and continual vigor and health, before man sinned. So true wisdom maintains man in the spiritual life of God's grace, and the communion of his Spirit.' Once our way was barred up, and none could touch her.8 Now our way is open to her in a better paradise. We "sit down under her shadow with great delight." Her branches bend down upon this world of sin and misery. Her clusters hang within the reach of the youngest child, and "the fruit is sweet to the taste."10 For what is so refreshing as near communion with God; access to him; boldness in his presence; admission to his most holy delight? And if the earthly shadow and fruit be so rich, what will be "on the other side of the river"—her monthly fruits—her healing leaves! And yet only the weeping, wrestling soul can lay hold upon the beloved object, and embrace it in despite of all the enemy's struggle to loosen the grasp.13 And even when Almighty power has enabled us to lay hold; the same continual miracle of grace—the same continually renewed effort of faith—is needed to retain it. There must be "continuance in the ways"15—"settled—rooted and grounded." "Keeping the works" holding the beginning of our confidence steadfast "unto the end."17 Happy is every one that retaineth her. The promises are "to him that overcometh." God honors perseverance in the weakest saint.

What think we of this lovely description of wisdom's blessings? It is no fancy picture, but Divine reality. Rest not, till thy heart is filled with its substance. Take it to the Lord in prayer, and ere long, thou shalt rejoice in thy portion.

19. The Lord by wisdom hath founded the earth: by understanding hath he established (Marg. prepared,) the heavens. 20. By his knowledge the depths are broken up, and the clouds drop down the dew.

We have seen wisdom, as it is in man, with all its enriching blessings. Here we behold its majesty, as it is in the bosom of God and gloriously displayed in his works. 'Hereby he sheweth, that this wisdom, whereof he speaketh, was everlasting; because it was before all creatures, and that all things—even the whole world—were made by it.' Behold it founding the earth "upon nothing;" and yet "so sure, that it cannot be moved." See how this great architect hath established the heavens, fixing all their bright luminaries in their respective orbits—'such a glorious canopy set with such sparkling diamonds.'4 Each of these departments declares his knowledge. In the earth—breaking up the depths—gathering them up into rivers and streams for the refreshment of man. In the heavens—collecting the moisture into dew—dropping down fatness upon the parched ground; each of these countless drops falling from this Fountain of life.7 Thus does every particle of the universe glitter with infinite skill. The earth—its pavement, and the heavens—its ceiling—"declare the glory of God." How beautiful is the uniformity of the two great systems of God! Both are the work of the same architect. Both display the wisdom and knowledge of God. The universe is a parable—a mirror of the gospel. Does not the manifestation of these Divine Perfections in the field of Creation open a rich provision for our happiness? And does not their more glorious exhibition in the great work of redemption, fill us with adoring praise? "O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God."

21. My son, let them not depart from thine eyes: keep sound wisdom and discretion; 22. So shall they be life unto thy soul, and grace unto thy neck.

Again we listen to wisdom's voice. Her repetitions are not "vain repetitions;" but well fitted to impress upon youth the weight of her instructions. As thy much loved treasure—as thy daily guide—let them not depart from thine eyes. Worse than valueless are they, if received as notions; of inestimable price, if kept as principles. Man's instructions reach only "the form of knowledge." God's teaching is sound wisdom—full of light and substance—transfiguring divine truth with heavenly glory. Therefore keep it close to thine heart. Exercise it in that practical discretion, which disciplines all our tempers and duties. Man's wisdom—how utterly devoid is it of all glow and energy! The soul, is "alienated from the life of God," is in a state of death, 'until the entrance of God's word giveth light and understanding,5—"the light of life." The excellency of this knowledge is, that "with this light and understanding,"—"it giveth life to them that have it." Every truth under its influence springs up into the new creature with heavenly glow, and with all the grace of "the beauty of the Lord," outshining, even in the most despised garb, the richest glory of an earthly crown.

23. Then shalt thou walk in thy way safely, and thy foot shall not stumble. 24. When thou liest down, thou shalt not be afraid: yea, thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet. 25. Be not afraid of sudden fear, neither of the desolation of the wicked, when it cometh. 26. For the Lord shall be thy confidence, and shall keep thy foot from being taken.

The habitual eyeing of the word keeps the feet in a slippery path. David from inattention to wisdom's words "well nigh slipped."10 Peter from the same neglect fearfully stumbled. But our sleeping hours, no less than our waking steps, are divinely guarded. "So he giveth his beloved sleep."12 "Underneath them are the everlasting arms." They enjoy a childlike repose, sleeping in his bosom without fear. Thus did David 'sleep in God, and in a state of salvation,' amid the tumultuous warfare with his undutiful son.14 Such was the sleep of Peter in prison—in chains—between two soldiers—on the eve of his probable execution—when "there seemed but a step between him and death." Yet in such a place—in such company—at such a moment—did he lie down so fearless, and sleep so sweetly, that an angel's stroke was needed to awaken him. What would not many in troublous times—waking at every stir—give for one night of this sweet sleep! And yet how many such nights have we enjoyed; waking, as Jacob on his stony—we might add—his downy pillow, in the conciousness of our Father's keeping! But where has been with us, as was with him, the renewed dedication to our God?

But sudden fear may come. Yet be not afraid. It is the desolation of the wicked. They must fear. But child of God—run you to your confidence, and "be safe." Surely he shall keep thy foot from being taken. Noah found this security in the flood of the ungodly—Lot in the destruction of Sodom6—the Christians in Pella in the desolation of the wicked city. Luther sung his song of confidence:—"God is our refuge and strength." In the consummating desolation when it cometh—what will then be the sudden fear—the undismayed confidence? "All the tribes of the earth will mourn" at the sight of their despised Saviour—then their Judge. But, "when ye see these things, then look up, and lift up your heads, for your redemption draweth nigh."9

27. Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, (the owners thereof, Marg.) when it is in the power of thine hand to do it. 28. Say not unto thy neighbor, Go, and come again, and to-morrow I will give; when thou hast it by thee.

The wise man now comes to practical points. He strikes at the root of selfishness—withholding dues. Many are the forms of this dishonesty, borrowing without payment, evading the taxes,11 "keeping back the laborers hire." But the rule probes deeper than this surface. If we have no legal debt to any, we have a Gospel debt to all.13 Even the poor is bound by this universal law to his poorer neighbor. Every one has a claim upon our love.15 Every opportunity of doing good, is our call to do so. Our neighbors are the real owners of our good. The Lord of all has transferred his right to them, with a special reference to "his own brethren."17 Kindness is therefore a matter—not of option, but of obligation; an act of justice, no less than of mercy. To withhold it will be our eternal condemnation.

Christian benevolence will also do good in the kindest manner. Delay is an offence against the law of love. Too often the cold repulse—Go, and come again—is a cover for selfishness. There is a secret hope, that the matter will be forgotten, dropped, or taken up by some other party. Often an application is put off from mere thoughtlessness. We have it by us: but it does not just now suit our convenience. This is a serious injury to the applicant. A little given in time of need, is more, than a larger sum, when the time is gone by. We should cultivate a quick sensibility of others; putting ourselves as much as possible in their place; not only "doing good," but "ready to every good work." If we are to "do justly"—which sometimes (as in the punishment of criminals) may be our sorrow; we are, after the example of our God, to love mercy; seizing the present, perhaps the only,4 opportunity; rather anticipating the need, than wantonly or thoughtlessly delaying to relieve it. The Gospel presents every neighbor before us, as a brother or sister needing our help, and to be loved and cared for "as ourselves."6 Why do we not more readily acknowledge this standard? The Lord raise us from our selfishness, and mould us to his own image of mercy and love!

29. Devise not evil against thy neighbor, seeing he dwelleth securely by thee. 30. Strive not with a man without cause, if he have done thee no harm.

The command—not to withhold good—is naturally followed by the forbidding to devise evil. The treachery here rebuked was a scandal even to a heathen. It is generally abhorred by the world, and should be doubly hated by a godly man. With him all should be clear and open as the day. An evil device against a neighbor, from whatever cause, is a cursed sin. But to take occasion from confidence reposed, betrays "the wisdom that descendeth not from above—devilish."10 Such was the craft of Jacob's sons against the unsuspecting Shechemites—Saul's malice against David, when under his protection12—Joab's murder of Abner and Amasa—Ishmael's of Gedaliah.14 No trial cuts so keenly. This was one of the bitters in the Saviour's cup of suffering.16 And many a wounded spirit has been cheered by his sympathy with their poignant sorrow.

Yet we must guard not only against secret malice, but against causeless strivings. A propensity to embroil ourselves in quarrels kindles strife, instead of following the rule of peace.

This spirit is a just hindrance to holiness, and inconsistent with a true servant of God.2 Irritable persons strongly insist upon their rights, or what they conceive to be due to them from others—"Is there not"—say they—"a cause?" But impartial observers frequently judge it to be striving without cause; that no harm has been done—none at least to justify the breach of love; that more love on one hand, and more forbearance on the other, would have prevented the breach; that "there is utterly a fault—Why do ye not rather take wrong." How valuable is a close application of the self-denying law of Christ!4 How earnestly should we seek from himself his meek and loving spirit! 'O Lord, pour into our hearts that most excellent gift of charity, the very bond of peace, and of all virtues; without which, whosoever liveth is counted dead before thee.'6

31. Envy thou not the oppressor (a man of violence, Marg.) and choose none of his ways. 32. For the froward is an abomination to the Lord; but his secret is with the righteous.

What is there—we might ask—to envy in the oppressor? The love of power is a ruling passion: and the slave of his own will enjoys a brutish pleasure in tyranny. Yet little reason have we to envy him—much less to choose his ways. Can he be happy—going froward (fromward) the Lord, in perverse contradiction to his will? with the frown of heaven? For 'he who hateth nothing that he hath made, abhors those who have thus marred themselves. They are not only abominable, but "an abomination" in his sight.' Really to be envied—or rather ardently to be desired—is the lot of the righteous—enriched with the secret of the Lord—'his covenant and fatherly affection, which is hid and secret from the world.' Sinners he hates, but saints he loves. The one is an abomination. The other is his delight. 'They are God's friends, to whom he familiarly imparts, as men use to do to their friends, his mind and counsels, or his secret favor and comforts, to which other men are strangers.' Communion with himself11—peace—joy13—assurance—teaching15—confidence—an enlightened apprehension of Providence17—yea, all the blessings of his covenant, this is the secret between God and the soul—an enclosed portion, hidden from the world—sealed to his beloved people. Here then—child of God—"dwell in the secret place of the Most High." If he hath given to thee the knowledge of himself, and of thine interest in Him—and to the froward oppressor only worldly advantage—is it not the seal of his love to thee, and rejection of him? Is it not infinitely more to dwell on high with thy God, than in the vain pomp of an ungodly world?

33. The curse of the Lord is in the house of the wicked; but he blesseth the habitation of the just.

The contrast between the sinner and the saint affects us not only personally but relatively. The curse or blessing of the Lord follows us to our homes. Shall we then envy the wicked—with his cup of earthly joy filled to the brim? The curse of the Lord is in his house—a "curse that never cometh causeless."4 It is my Maker's curse—How awful, that my being and my curse should come from the same sacred source! It is not the impotent wishing of ill. Could we trace its deadly work, we should see the man wasting, withering, consuming under it. Observe "the roll in the house of the thief, and of the swearer—twenty cubits long"—a long catalogue of woes—"flying"—to mark its swiftness—"remaining in the midst of the house—consuming it, even with the timbers and stones thereof." Is this an idle dream? Surely—but for the blindness of the heart—the wicked would see the naked sword hanging by a hair over his head, or the awful "handwriting upon the wall," solemnly proclaiming—"There is no peace—saith my God—unto the wicked." Vainly will the proud worm resist. Ahab multiplied his house beyond all human average, as if to set at defiance the curse pronounced against it. Yet at one stroke all were swept away. Similar instances8 abundantly prove, whose words shall stand—man's or God's. "Who hath hardened himself against him, and prospered. Who hath resisted his will?"10

But bright is the sunshine of the just. Not only is the secret of the Lord with their souls, but his blessing on their habitation. And when he blesseth, who can reverse it? Many a homely cottage, tenanted by a child of Abraham, shines more splendidly, than the princely palace of the ungodly.12 An heir of glory dwells here. A family altar of prayer and praise consecrates it as the temple of Jehovah. Promises, like clouds of blessings, rest over it. God has been honored, and God will honor."14 "They that dwell under his shadow shall return." Is then my house under the curse or blessing of the Lord? Let my God be honored in his own gifts: that I and mine may be manifestly sealed with the full tokens of his love.

34. Surely he scorneth the scorners: but he giveth grace unto the lowly.

Two Apostles have combined with the wise man, to set out this rule of the Divine government. On no point is the mind of God more fully declared, than against pride—the spirit of scorning. It displaces man, and would—if possible—displace God himself. Jealous therefore of his own glory, he sets himself in battle array, as against the usurper of his prerogative—the rebel against his dominion. Witness the Babel-builders3—Pharaoh—Sennacherib5—the proud opposers of his Gospel—all the objects of his scorn. But most hateful to him is the sinner, that will not submit to his righteousness—that scorns the corner-stone of salvation. How fearfully does it then become "a rock of offence"—of eternal ruin! Surely without doubt—without way of escape from his frown—he scorneth the scorners.

A lowly spirit—a deep conviction of utter nothingness and guilt—is a most adorning grace. Nor is it an occasional or temporary feeling—the result of some unexpected hateful disclosure, but an habitual principle, "clothing" the man "from the sole of the foot to the head." It combines the highest elevation of joy with the deepest abasement of spirit. And those who sink the lowest, stand nearest to the most, exalted advancement. For "he that scorneth the scorners, giveth grace to the lowly"—"more grace," till his work is perfected in them. He pours it out plentifully upon humble hearts. His sweet dews and showers of grace slide off the mountains of pride, and fall on the low vallies of humble hearts, and make them pleasant and fertile."10 The Centurion—the Canaanite12—the penitent—the publican14—such as these are the objects of his favor. Their hearts are his dwelling-place.16 Their inheritance is his kingdom. The soul swelling with its proud fancies has no room for his humbling grace. Blessed exchange of the little idol of self-esteem for Him, who alone has the right!—when even his own graces are only desired as instruments to set out his glory.

35. The wise shall inherit glory: but shame shall be the promotion of fools; (exalteth the fools; Marg.)

This is the last contrast drawn to restrain our envy at the prosperity of the wicked. It carries us forward to eternity. The difference between these two classes is not always shown to man's vision. But the day cometh, when all shall "discern" in the full light of eternity.2 The wise—the heirs of glory—are identified with the lowly—the heirs of grace. Our self-knowledge—the principle of lowliness—is the very substance of wisdom. Their inheritance also is one—grace and glory. For what higher glory can there be, than the grace, which "hath redeemed" a vile worm of the earth, "and made him a king and priest unto God?" Oh! let the redeemed cherish honorable thoughts of their present glory. Be careful to clear it from the defilement and degradation of the world's dust, and enjoy it in adoring praise to Him, who hath chosen thee to this so undeserved grace.

But who can tell the glory of the after inheritance—not like this world's glory—the shadow of a name—but real—solid—'an infinite gain in the exchange of dross for down-weight of pure gold.' All occasion of sin and temptation are shut out forever. 'The tree of knowledge shall be without enclosure. There shall be neither lust nor forbidden fruit; no withholding of desirable knowledge, nor affectation of undesirable. The glorified spirits touch nothing that can defile, and defile nothing they touch.'8 But after all, the glory of this glory will be communion and likeness with our Lord—"to be with him—to behold his glory." We need not pry too minutely. Thus much is clear. The value of our inheritance is beyond all price—its happiness unspeakable—its security unchangeable—its duration eternity. The wise shall inherit glory. "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament forever and ever."

Oh! will not the fools then discover the vanity of this world's glory—too late to make a wise choice? Shame is their present fruit. Honor even now sits unseemly upon them.12 But "what fruit will eternity bring" of those things, whereof they will "then be ashamed?" Truly shame will be their promotion. Their fame will be infamous; their disgrace conspicuous, lifting them up, like Haman upon his elevated gallows, 'a gazing-stock to the world.' How solemn and complete will be the great Separation for eternity! "Many that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake; some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt."

CHAPTER 4

1. Hear, ye children, the instruction of a father, and attend to know understanding. 2. For I give you good doctrine, forsake not my law.

SURELY these frequent repetitions are as the angel's visit to the prophet; "waking him, as a man that is wakened out of his sleep." A mind like Solomon's, "large even as the sand that is on the sea-shore,"2 might readily have made every sentence a fresh discovery of knowledge. But more suitable to our sluggish and forgetful heart is "the word of the Lord, precept upon precept." Often do we see children bereft or destitute of a parental instructor. Here these orphan children are taken up, and called to hear the instruction of a father. For truly does the wise man, like the Apostle in after-days, "exhort and charge as a father doth his children."

Solomon evidently speaks from the mouth of God, declaring his doctrine—his law. Therefore he claims attention to know under standing, for I give you good doctrine. To many—exciting6—curious and speculative—compromising8—self-righteous—self-exalting doctrine—is more attractive. But—Young people—remember! that which humbles the soul before God; that which exhibits the free grace of the Gospel; which melts down the will, consecrates the heart, imbues with the spirit of the cross—however unpalatable to the flesh, is alone good doctrine for the soul. Therefore forsake it not.

3. For I was my father's son, tender and only beloved in the sight of my mother. 4. He taught me also, and said unto me,' Let thine heart retain my words: keep my commandments and live. 5. Get wisdom, get understanding; forget it not; neither decline from the words of my mouth. 6. Forsake her not, and she shall preserve thee: love her, and she shall keep thee. 7. Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom; and with all thy getting get understanding. 8. Exalt her, and she shall promote thee: she shall bring thee to honor, when thou dost embrace her. 9. She shall give to thine head an ornament of grace: a crown of glory shall she deliver to thee.'

Solomon here claims our attention as a teacher of youth, on account of his own godly education by such a father. He was a tender child—well-beloved, as an only son. The more dearly he was loved, the more carefully was he taught. Thus we are brought into the family of "the man after God's heart," to hear him "commanding his child" in the fear and service of the Lord! A special mercy is it to us, if we can tell of an Abraham or a David—of a Lois or an Eunice, having taught and bound us to the ways of God! Parents! remember—a child untaught will be a living shame.3 Training discipline, not foolish indulgence, is the truest evidence of affection to our tender and beloved.

But let us examine this beautiful specimen of parental instruction. Observe the anxiety for his son's heart-religion. Let thine heart retain my words. Often (and this is a comfort to a weak memory) words may be lost to the memory, yet retained in the heart with a permanent sanctifying impression. This heart-keeping is the path of life, without which we "have only a name that we live, and are dead." Observe again the earnestness of the exhortation. Many a parent, like Augustine's father, insists—'Get wealth—worldly honor or wisdom.' This godly parent inculcates "line upon line"—Get heavenly wisdom—get it with all thy getting—at any cost and pains, and when thou hast got it, forget it not—decline not from it—forsake it not; and—as the cleaving principle of perseverance—love10—embrace—exalt—her. Such a keeping is she for thy soul! Such a treasure for thy happiness! Such a promoting honor even in this life! Such an ornament of grace in the Church! Such a crown of glory in heaven! Is not then wisdom the principal thing, not only important, but all-important? Shall it not then have our first choice—infinitely above this world's glitter?13 It can have no place, if it has not the first place. Earthly wisdom may be "a goodly pearl:" But this "wisdom from above" is "the pearl of great price;" worth getting indeed; but only to be got, by "selling all that we have to buy it."

10. Hear, O my son, and receive my sayings; and the years of thy life shall be many. 11. I have taught thee in the ways of wisdom; I have led thee in right paths. 12. When thou goest, thy steps shall not be straitened; and when thou run nest, thou shalt not stumble. 13. Take fast hold of instruction: let her not go: keep her; for she is thy life.

It is instructive to see a king (whether David or Solomon) not forgetting in the midst of his royal cares his domestic responsibilities. 'Youth'—we are told—'will have its swing.' So—adds an old Commentator solemnly—'it may—to hell.' For where else can a wayward will lead? Ponder the need of guidance of every step, both to take and to avoid. The ways of wisdom assure a happy life in the favor of God. And what rest to the parent's conscience on the death-bed will be the recollection of children—not brought up for the world,—but taught in these ways! Yet this cannot be, if the rod, when needed, has been spared; if the will has been indulged; the love of the world cherished. This will be—if godly discipline has been exercised; if the Bible has been laid down as the rule of life; if habits of prayer,—love to the service of God,—fellowship with his people, have been encouraged. The path, though rough—sometimes lonely, is a right path;—and, though strait and narrow, a path of liberty. The single eye and the humble heart, will preserve a steady, cheerful, and safe walk4—Thou shall run, and shalt not stumble.

And yet the animated exhortation to take fast hold, shews the struggle necessary to retain our principles. Feeble indeed is our hold—when connected merely with the excitement of novelty, temporary convictions,7 the restraint of education, unestablished knowledge,9 or the indulgence of sin. The fast hold of instruction implies intensity of interest, determination of pursuit—"continuing in the things which we have heard and been assured of"—cleaving with purpose of heart unto the Lord. "As Jacob detained the angel12—as the spouse held fast hold of her Beloved,"—as the disciples "constrained the Saviour to abide with them"14—so—young Christian—let not her go. Keep her as the "man for joy" guarded his precious treasure. So let thy heavenly treasure stand above every earthly blessing. Thus will it be thy life. And while others "turn back, and walk no more" in the way, thine heart will turn to its only spring of happiness—"Lord! to whom shall I go? Thou hast the words of eternal life."

14. Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men. 15. Avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it and pass away. 16. For they sleep not, except they have done mischief: and their sleep is taken away, unless they cause some to fall. 17. For they eat the bread of wickedness, and drink the wine of violence.

How often does fellowship with the wicked loosen the fast hold of instruction! Their path is so contrary to the way of instruction, that the very entrance into it is forsaking the way of God. The character of the wicked is here drawn in their Father's image—first sinners—then tempters. Mischief is their meat and drink. 'To do evil is more proper and natural than to sleep, eat, or drink.'2 With sleepless eagerness do they pursue their work, caring little for any lengths of violence, so that they do mischief, or cause some to fall. Judas with his midnight torches;5 the early morning assemblage of the Jewish rulers; the frenzied vow of the enemies of Paul;7 and many a plot in after ages against the Church—all vividly portray this unwearied wickedness.

Yet if we be preserved from this undisguised malignity, what are all the allurements for every rank and circumstance of life, but the more subtle poison of the murderer? A light-minded young person pours into the ear of his companion—simple and inexperienced in the ways of sin—filthy conversation; or presents before him images of lasciviousness. What but a rooted principle of grace can save his unsuspecting victim? Or again—the venomous infidel, intent upon "spoiling" his fellow creature of his most precious treasure, drops into his bosom the repetition of the first lie.9 No principle appears to be given up; no fundamental doctrine denied; yet the foundation of an unwavering confidence is shaken to pieces. And are not these deeds of mischief and violence, malignant and destructive as the murderer's stab?

Is it not then mercy, that forbids needless intercourse with the evil man? With a constitution prone to evil—when the alternative is—whether we shall shun or dare the danger—can we doubt our path? The whole Scripture is on the side of caution—to hazard nothing, except on a plain call of duty—tantamount to a call of Providence. Observe how the wise man heaps up his words—Enter not into the path—no—not so much as set thy foot into it. If some accident throws thee into it, go not on in it, avoid it with detestation. Pass not by it, lest thou shouldest unwittingly turn in. Not only avoid it when near; but avoid nearness to it. It is like living in the atmosphere of contagion; taking up thy abode in a pest-house, in the midst of virulent and fatal disease. The earnest repetition of the warning shews at once the imminency of the danger, and the certainty of the injury. The world around us is the action of mind upon mind. We are continually, through the medium of intercourse, moulding ourselves by other minds, and other minds by our own. Intercourse with the ungodly must therefore be fraught with fatal Contamination. The occasions, the company, the border, of temptation—all must be avoided. It is far easier to shun the occasion of sin, than the sin, when the occasion presents it. There must be no tampering with it; no trial of strength, to see how far our resolutions will keep us. Let the examples of Lot3—Dinah—Solomon5—Peter—warn us—how far only the entrance into the path of the wicked may carry us; lengths, that we could never have contemplated in prospect without horror. Here and there some special miracle of preservation may be manifested. But no one comes out of the path without hurt or defilement; and the general issue is an open door to ruin.8 To pretend to dread sins without fearing temptation, is self-delusion. Satan has too nearly allied them for us to separate them. The evil company is loved—then the evil of the company. To pray "not to be led into temptation;" yet not "watch that we enter not into it"10—is not this practically to contradict our prayers—to mock our God, by asking for what we do not heartily wish? "Come out then, and be separate"—is the voice of God. "Touch not the unclean thing." "Watch and pray."12 Walk with God and his people. Take care to avoid fellowship with them, who hinder thy fellowship with God.

18. The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.

This is a fine picture of the Christian's path of light, in contrast with the dark and dangerous path of the wicked. It is not the feeble wasting light of a taper, nor the momentary blaze of the meteor; but the grand luminary of heaven, "coming out of his chamber, and rejoicing as a strong man to run his race," from earliest dawn to his noon-day glory. And a beautiful sight it is to see the soul thus rising out of darkness, beginning his course; rising higher and higher; taking in a wide circle; advancing onward with increasing brightness unto the perfect day. Knowledge—faith—love—holiness—irradiate every step. It is at first but a glimmering ray—the first dawn of day. But "following on"—the eye becomes more unveiled; the heart more enlightened; the truth more vividly impressed upon the conscience; the "understanding" more quick in "the fear of the Lord;" the taste more discerning between good and evil. Faith now becomes more strong in the Saviour's love, more simple in the promises of God. Subjection to the Redeemer's sceptre is more unreserved; love rises to a higher estimation, to a closer union with him—to a more intimate complacency in him. Experience may be confused. But light will clear away the mists. Practice in some points may be inconsistent. But, "beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, we are changed into his image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." Such is the godly man. Such is his path. The devout Nathanael was cheered with the promise of a brighter day. The clouds upon the minds of the Apostles gradually melted away before a brighter sun.3 The Eunuch and Cornelius sincerely seeking, rejoiced in the full sunshine of Gospel light. The Thessalonian Church shone more and more with Christian graces.

But is this shining light the picture of my path? There is no command given—"Sun—stand thou still." Therefore it rebukes a stationary profession. It is a rising and advancing, not a declining, sun. Therefore it rebukes a backsliding state. It is not necessary that every thing should be perfect at once. There may be an occasional cloud, or even (as in the cases of David and Peter) a temporary eclipse. But when did the sun fail of carrying its early dawn unto perfect day? Be thankful then for "the day of small things. Despise it not." But be not satisfied with it. Aim high, and you will reach nearer the mark. Religion must be a shining and progressive light. We must not mistake the beginning for the end of the course. We must not sit down at the entrance, and say to our soul—"Soul—take thine ease." Let us hasten on to the perfect day, when the path of the just shall be eternally consummated—when 'they shall come to full perfection—which is—when they shall be joined to their Head in the heavens.' "Then shall they shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father."9 Their "sun shall no more go down; for the Lord shall be their everlasting light, and the days of their mourning shall be ended."

19. The way of the wicked is as darkness; they know not at what they stumble.

The contrast is again repeated. Each has his own way. The path of the just is glowing light and joy. The way of the wicked is darkness—without direction, comfort, safety, or peace—till "his feet at last stumble on the dark mountains"—till he falls into "the blackness of darkness forever." His way is not only dark—but as darkness—a compound of ignorance, error, sin, and misery. The love of sin "rebels against the light." The darkness is wilful, and therefore accountable. There is no stumbling in the path of the just. So far as he is upright, the Lord keeps him. The wicked go on "groping as if they had no eyes;" hurrying on blindly into misery, that they can neither foresee nor avoid.5 They know not at what they stumble. Oh! if they did, would they not startle, and shrink back? For they stumble on the very foundation of the gospel; making the rock of salvation the rock of offence. Would they but listen to the merciful warning of their Lord!—"Yet a little time the light is with you, walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you: for he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth."

20. My son, attend to my words: incline thine ear unto my sayings. 21. Let them not depart from thine eyes; keep them in the midst of thine heart. 22. For they are life unto those that find them, and health to all their flesh.

These repeated injunctions are an admirable pattern to the Christian Parent or Minister. The desire of wisdom—the first step in the path—is encouraged. The means of obtaining it, and the privilege when obtained, are pointed out. Eye then the treasury of wisdom habitually. A neglected Bible is the melancholy proof of an heart "alienated from God." For how can we have a spark of love to him, if that Book, which is the full manifestation of his glory, be despised? And yet a superficial acquaintance with it is of no avail. If our ears were bored to the door of the sanctuary; if the words never departed from our eyes; yet, except they were kept in the heart, our religion would be a notion, not a principle; speculative, not practical: conviction, not love. Nor even here must they possess the mere threshold. Let that be for the world; let the word be kept in the midst of the heart. Here only can it be operative; "for out of the heart are the issues of life."10 Here it becomes lively and substantial truth. Here then let a home be made for it—a consecrated sanctuary in the most honored chambers—in the midst of the heart. This inhabitation of the word is a covenant promise, the test of our interest in the Lord and in his people.

This keeping of the word will be life to those that find it. Vigorous and healthy will be the soul, that feeds upon this heavenly manna. We shall not then bear our religion as our cross, as a cumbrous appendage. We shall not drag on in Christian duties as our chain. Godliness will be to us an element of joy. The functions will be free and lively. The spirit will feel a vital glow. The mind will be enriched with Divine wisdom. The heart will be established with gospel grace.

23. Keep thy heart with all diligence (above all keeping, Marg.); for out of it are the issues of life. 24. Put away from thee a froward mouth, and perverse lips put far from thee. Let thine eyes look right on, and let thine eyelids look straight before thee. 26. Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established, (all thy ways shall be ordered aright, Marg.) 27. Turn not to the right hand nor to the left: remove thy foot from evil.

Invaluable are these rules as our safeguard. Assaulted as we are at every point, every inlet of sin must be strongly guarded—the heart—the mouth—the eye—the feet.

First—the heart—the citadel of man—the seat of his dearest treasure. It is fearful to think of its many watchful and subtle assailants. Let it be closely garrisoned. Let the sentinel be never sleeping on his post. "Take heed to thy way, and keep thy soul diligently." Can then I keep my own heart? Certainly not. But, though it be God's work, it is man's agency. Our efforts are his instrumentality. He implants an active principle, and sustains the unceasing exercise. The first act of conscious faith will be to "commit the keeping of the heart to our faithful Creator." Then in his strength and guidance diligently improve all the means of preservation. Watch unto prayer. Cherish a humble dependent spirit. Live in the atmosphere of the word of God. Resist the admittance of an evil world, even in its most plausible forms.6 Here lies the conflict to the end. 'The greatest difficulty in conversion is to win the heart to God, and after conversion to keep it with him.' 'What is there'—asks Mede—'that will not entice and allure so fickle a thing as the heart from God?'8

Above all keeping—exhorts the wise man—keep thine heart. Here Satan keeps—here therefore must we keep—special watch. If the citadel be taken, the whole town must surrender. If the heart be seized, the whole man—the affections, desires, motives, pursuits—all will be yielded up. The heart is the vital part of the body; a wound here is instant death. Thus—spiritually as well as naturally—out of the heart are the issues of life. It is the great vital spring of the soul—the fountain of actions—the centre and the seat of principle, both of sin and of holiness.10 The natural heart is a fountain of poison. The purified heart is "a well of living water."12 As is the fountain, so must be the streams. As is the heart, so must be the mouth—the eyes—the feet. Therefore above all keeping—keep thine heart. Guard the fountain—as they keep the precious wells of the east—lest the waters be poisoned.

Not less necessary is it to keep the outlets of sin! What a world of evil does the heart pour out from the froward mouth!3 Commit therefore both heart and mouth to Divine discipline. Then let prayer and faith be the practical principles of Christian watchfulness. Not only shun—but put away—yea—far from thee—the perverse lips. Their evil—be it remembered—extends beyond ourselves; so that even; should the peace-speaking blood speak peace to ourselves, still will remain the painful sense of injury to our fellow-creatures—perhaps without remedy.

Next to the heart and mouth—keep thine eyes—"the light of the body"—the directive faculty of the soul, yet too often a most dangerous inlet to sin.6 Therefore like Job—"make a covenant with them." Place them under heavenly restraint.8 Let them look right on—straight before us. Had Eve done so, she would have looked on the command of her God, not on the forbidden tree. Had Lot's wife looked straight before, instead of "behind her," she would, like her husband, have been a monument of mercy. Achan was ruined by neglecting this rule of wisdom.11 David's example may warn the holiest men in the world to have a watchful jealousy. In asking the way to Zion, be sure that your "faces are thitherward." Take the racer's motto, "This one thing I do"—Eye the mark, and press onward to it.14

Lastly, keep your feet. Oh! has not experience, no less than Scripture, shewn your need of a circumspect walk? Snares are laid out for every path—yea for every step in your path; for your meat, your drink, your calling—perhaps more than all—for the service of God. What deep pondering should there be in a path so beset with danger! Every step should be carefully weighed. Joseph pondered, and thereby established his way. Peter, neglecting to ponder, was fearfully sifted. David also, looking at the trial of the path, instead of pondering its direction, brought shame upon himself; like the trouble, which Christian made for himself in the smooth exchange of Bye-path meadow for the rough and strait road.

Here then is the voice of wisdom. Beware of mistaking presumption for faith—temptations for Providential appointments. Never forsake a plain for a doubtful command. Estimate every step by its conformity to the known will of God. Dare not to advance one step without God. In his path you may fearlessly "tread upon the lion and adder." But who shall venture into a path of his own choosing without a wound? See that "your feet are straight" like those of the Cherubim.2 "The pleasures of sin" lie on the right hand and on the left. The eyes therefore, looking right on, escape the sight. The pondering foot is established in steady perseverance; and by marking small deviations, and never turning out of the straight path to avoid a cross—is removed from evil.

May we all have grace and wisdom to ponder these sound practical rules! The man of God must only have one standard. He must "know no man after the flesh."5 He must often put aside the Church no less than the world, that he may listen more closely to the command—walk before me. He must discern and crush the first motions of the scorpion's brood; guarding every avenue of sin—the senses—the memory—the imagination—the touch—the taste. He must walk by the straight rule of the gospel; else will he not only bring discomfort upon himself, but stumbling to the Church.7 A single eye, steadily fixed upon the One Object, will make the path luminous. Straight-forward progress will insure prosperity. Keeping the middle path, and daily lifting up the voice for restraint and guidance.10

"Thine ears shall hear the word behind thee, saying—This is the way; walk ye in it—when ye turn to the right hand, and when ye turn to the left."

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Chapter 4

Chapter 4

An Exposition of the Book of Proverbs

by Charles Bridges

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PREFACE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4