Chapter 18

Chapter 18

CHAPTER 14

1. Every wise woman buildeth her house; but the foolish plucketh it down with her hands.

WE have seen the wife to be a blessing or curse to her husband. Such is she to his house. Her wisdom may supply many of his defects; while all the results of his care and prudence may be wasted by her folly. The godly matron instructs her children by her example, no less than by her teaching. She educates them for God and for eternity; not to shine in the vain shew of the world, but in the Church of God. Her household order combines economy with liberality; strict integrity in the fear of God.12 Thus, as godly servants bring a blessing to the house, so does the wise woman build her house14 under the blessing of God, 'establishing it in a firm and durable state.' Who can estimate the worth of a Christian mother—a Hannah16—an Eunice?

But mark the foolish woman—her idleness, waste, love of pleasure, want of all forethought and care—her children's wills allowed—their souls neglected—their happiness ruined! We see her house plucked down in confusion. A sad issue, if an enemy had done this. But it is the doing—or rather the undoing—of her own hands. In proportion to her power and influence is her capability of family mischief. Such was Jezebel—the destroyer of her house.

What responsibility then belongs to the marriage choice, linked with the highest interests of unborn generations! If ever there was a matter for special prayer and consideration, this is it. Here to err once, may be an undoing of ourselves and of our house. Of how little account are birth, fortune, external accomplishments, compared with godly wisdom!

2. He that walketh in his uprightness feareth the Lord: but he that is perverse in his ways, despiseth him.

There can be no stream without the fountain. Grace in the heart is the spring of the upright walk. The proof that we believe the reality of religion, is that we walk in the power of it. The proof of the influence of the fear of God is, that we "are in it all the day long," not saints in our prayers, and worldlings in our conduct; not substituting active zeal for personal devotedness; not teaching our families half of religion—to read and pray; but "whatsoever things are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report—to think on these things."5 Man may boast of his moral uprightness—that he would scorn a mean action. But the heartsearching Saviour lays open the root of worldly selfishness, and shews his way to be perverse before him. Does he remember—or does he know—while he slumbers in the delusion of external decency, that the allowed supremacy of any earthly object,7 or the indulgence of a secret lust—brings him under the fearful guilt of the despising God?

3. In the mouth of the foolish is a rod of pride: but the lips of the wise shall preserve him.

How many figures does the wise man employ to shew the destructive evils of the tongue! Here it is a rod10—a rod of pride. The rod in the mouth is often sharper than the rod in the hand. Sometimes it strikes against God—sometimes it is "the rod of his anger"12 against his people permitted, yet restrained.14 Always in the end is it the rod for the fool himself. Yet when the heart is humbled, and filled with wisdom, the tongue becomes the preservative from imminent dangers—even from the threatened scourge of the rod of pride.

Were this iron rod to rule the earth, who could tolerate the abodes of men? But adored be the grace, which converts this unruly boasting member of unrighteousness, to be "an instrument of righteousness unto God!"4

4. Where no oxen are, the crib is clean: but much increase is by the strength of the ox.

Oxen are the Eastern instruments of husbandry. Where, therefore, no oxen are, to till the ground, the crib is clean. Because, where is no labor, there can be no food wherewith to supply it. God works by means, not by miracles. There must be good husbandry, in order to an abundant harvest. Let the ox be put to his work, and much increase will be by his strength. In the spiritual husbandry, where there are no laborers, all is barrenness and desolation. But see the much increase—the harvest of precious souls—the fruit of their strength and effectiveness. "In all labor"—both in the natural and spiritual husbandry—"there is profit."9 But God will never acknowledge a slothful servant.

5. A faithful witness will not lie; but a false witness will utter lies.

This might seem to be a truism—unworthy of inspiration. But a closer inspection brings out a valuable maxim of practical wisdom. A faithful witness is moved neither by entreaties nor bribes, neither by promises nor threats, to swerve from truth. He is the man to trust. He will not lie. But a false witness has lost all principle of truth. He will utter lies—without any inducement but his own interest or pleasure. Flee from his very breath.

The faithful witness answers God's requirements. He is therefore his delight.12 He is the citizen of the heavenly Zion, and the ornament of Godliness.14 In the Sacred office he will not lie. His spirit is firm and independent. His message is full and transparent truth.16 But the false witness is a true child of "the father of lies." Awful indeed is his utterance in common life; more awful in the profession of the gospel;19 awful beyond conception in the Sanctuary. A minister of God in his commission—a Minister of Satan in his work,21 delivering a lying message; "subverting the gospel of Christ," to the destruction of his people, to the double destruction of his own soul.

Thus "the good and the corrupt tree"—each brings forth its own fruit. Let us remember, that our principles—good and evil—are exemplified in the most trivial transactions, and gather strength from the slightest, as well as from the most important exercise.2

6. A scorner seeketh wisdom, and findeth it not: but knowledge is easy unto him that understandeth.

What then? Is the promise belied—"He that seeketh findeth?" The failure lies at the scorner's own door. He seeks indeed, but without seriousness; without honesty of purpose;5 without delight; for his own interest.7 He 'finds therefore matter enough for his humor, but none for his instruction!' He charges the darkness upon the Scripture—not upon his own heart. He feels himself able to comprehend the subject, and therefore free to reject what is beyond his conception, or contrary to his prejudices. He scorns the humbling submission of faith, so that the glory even of the wisdom of God is foolishness with him. No wonder that while he makes an effort to seek, he findeth not. He seeks his object, but neglects the means, and perishes in the scornfulness of his own unbelief.

To another class of seekers knowledge is easy. The Ethiopian Eunuch gathered his knowledge from simplicity.13 God gave him a ready will, a right taste; and in "doing his will he knew his doctrine." Obedience is the path of understanding. "Whosoever shall humble himself as a little child, the same is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

Shall not we thus unite with our Divine Master in adoring the gracious Sovereignty of this dispensation? "Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." Shall not we seek for deeper humility, as the pathway to higher instruction? While we "are in our Father's hands" as the object of his love, think of the privilege of "sitting down at his feet, every one to receive of his words."17

7. Go from the presence of a foolish man, when thou perceivest not in him the lips of knowledge.

Fellowship with the ungodly is absolutely forbidden. And it is never safe to contradict a plain command. Let us labor to win their souls to Christ. But the rule of prudence directs—"Cast not your pearls before swine." 'Avoid'—says the holy Leighton—'the mixture of an irreverent commonness of speaking of holy things indifferently in all companies.' Therefore—when we perceive not in the foolish man the lips of knowledge—go from his presence. Some may be called to dispute with him. But take care that the call is clear. It is at least the safest path to despatch your business with him as in a shower of rain, and not to loiter in his society.

Sweet indeed is the glow of the Saviour's name upon the young Christian's lips. Its warmth may put elder Christians to shame. But we must warn him—Harm may be got in an imprudent endeavor to do good. Confess your Master, wherever he may open your door and your mouth. But better retreat from cavillers. You may be foiled by specious reasonings. Beware of tampering with your simplicity by the hazardous experiment how much poison your constitution may bear.3 If our Lord exposed himself to moral danger—yet think of the impenetrable cover of his sanctity—his perfect self-government—his rules of godly prudence. Do we feel secure in the strength of our Christian habits? None are so confirmed as to be safe in relaxation of watchfulness, and wanton rushing into danger. There is a perpetual warfare with the old principles of corruption. No dependence can be placed upon any habits, that do not produce right conduct, and right apprehension of present duty. The path of sin is much more easily avoided than relinquished. We can far more readily keep out of the course of the stream, than stem the torrent. Walk closely with God; and under his cover and shield bear a protest against the ungodly. Commune much with his people. The very sight of a man of God is refreshing.5

8. The wisdom of the prudent is to understand his way: but the folly of fools is deceit.

This is not the wisdom of the learned, but of the prudent; not abstract and speculative, but sound and practical. It is self-knowledge and self-control looking upward for Divine guidance. And how much is this wisdom needed to understand our way! The restless professor eagerly follows his own impulse. His constitutional bias interprets Providences, and makes openings for himself. Every thing is out of place. He is so "fervent in spirit," that he becomes "slothful in business." He conceives himself to be doing good; the more so because it is different from his brethren. He pleads the constraint of zeal as an excuse for indiscretion; as if religion was meant to destroy, and not rather to rectify, his judgment.

But "God hath made every thing beautiful in his time." Religion is an orderly thing, as wise as it is warm. Whatever be the excitement to an irregular course, more good is done in steady consistency. To break the ranks in disorder; to "busy ourselves in other men's matters;" to be eager to understand our neighbor's way, obscures the light upon our own. The true wisdom is to understand what belongs to us personally and relatively. "As God hath distributed to every man, so let him walk, and abide with God."4 Let the eye do the work of the eye, and the hand of the hand. If Moses prayed on the Mount, and Joshua fought in the valley, it was not, because the one was deficient in courage, or the other in prayer; but because each had his appointed work, and understood his own way. Many steps of our way are different from our neighbors, and may often be difficult to discern; being rather involved in the principles, than expressed in the detail, of Scripture. But the wisdom of the prudent will enable us to understand what the will of the Lord is. "A single eye" and a sound heart will make our way plain.7 True greatness does not consist in doing extraordinary things, but in doing common things from a right motive.

But while the attention of a truly wise man is occupied in ascertaining the conduct which his duty calls him to pursue, the arts of deceit engross the polluted minds of the wicked. Their wisdom of deceit is really folly. Gehazi's overreaching wisdom proved folly in the end. Daniel's accusers "were taken in their own craftiness." Ananias and Sapphira vainly endeavored to hide their covetousness under the cover of liberality.11 Who can deceive a heart-searching God? The attempt to do so is fearful provocation—certain confusion.

9. Fools make a mock at sin: but with the righteous there is favor.

What! Are there such as will count sin a sport? They have never seen the sight—never felt the weight. Look into eternity. Is hell a matter of sport? Look deeper still. How does God feel it? How did Christ sink under the load? Shall we make a mock at that, which was a crushing burden to the Son of God? Go to Gethsemane. Go to Calvary. Learn there what sin is. Ask converted souls—awakened consciences—dying sinners—do they speak lightly of sin? How will the wretched mocker call himself in eternity what God calls him now—a fool! The mocking cannot be beyond the grave; except it be the sport of the cruel enemy at the unchangeably hopeless torments of his deluded victim. The damnation of souls is sport in hell. Is not then the poor mocker, rushing into the woe—the object of our pity and prayer? We warn—we weep—we would yearn over him.

The righteous—they cannot mock, like this hardened fool. While 'he makes himself merry with his sin, and scoffs at the reproof and judgment which pertains thereunto;' "they have the mark of those that sigh and cry for the abominations of the land"—the sure seal of the Lord's favor. Soon does the sport of the fool come to an end. But here is favor unchangeable—abundant. Our God looks over, pities, bears with, guides, loves, saves, eternally. What are crowns and kingdoms compared with such a portion!

10. The heart knoweth its own bitterness: and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy.

A graphical illustration of man's proper individuality! "What man knoweth the things of a man save the spirit of a man that is in him?" The history of the soul is unseen by human eyes; but it is fully known and felt by the conscious subject. Each knoweth his own bitterness—deep—interior. The most poignant sufferings often arise from causes, which cannot be told to our dearest friend.5 No two of us are framed alike; and this diversity of mind and character precludes a perfect reciprocity, even in the warmest glow of human sympathy. Each only knows where the heart is wrung. Each therefore must in a measure tread a solitary path, and in that path often submit to be misunderstood. Hannah—knowing her own bitterness—was rashly rebuked by him, who ought to have been her Comforter. Gehazi harshly repelled the Shunamite, through ignorance of her bitter sorrow.7 Job's friends, from misconception, proved to be "miserable comforters—physicians of no value."

But think of Him—who made himself "a man of sorrows," that he might be "touched with the feeling of our infirmities." Here is perfect sympathy. The heart's bitterness is experimentally known, and effectually relieved. Alive as he is to all our sorrows,11 none of his members are too low for his highest and most endearing thought. Into this bosom we may pour the tale of woe, which no ear beside can receive. My Saviour! Has my heart a bitterness, that thou dost not know, that thou dost not feel with me, and for which thou dost not provide a present cordial and support?

No less individual is the heart's joy. It lies deep within itself. A stranger doth not intermeddle with it. Michal could understand David's bravery—not his joy. She knew him as a man of war—not as a man of God. Indeed, joy is a plant in "a garden enclosed"—a stream from "a fountain sealed."2 It is "the secret of the Lord, which is with the righteous." It is the indwelling "Comforter, whom the world cannot receive."4 Yes! truly—that is the highest joy, that lies covered from observation—that the man hides in his own bosom. There is no noise or froth on the surface. But the waters flow deep from a Divine spring. Christ takes the believer apart from the crowd, feeds him on hidden manna, and makes him partaker of his own joy. Whatever cause there may be for mourning, there is infinitely more ground for joy; and mourning will soon be ended forever.6

11. The house of the wicked shall be overthrown: but the tabernacle of the upright shall flourish.

The feeblest state of the upright is more stable than the prosperity of the wicked. They build a house. The earth is their home, where they would settle, and take their rest. The upright—knowing the uncertainty of earth, and seeking a better house—only set up a tabernacle—weak and trembling. Yet the house is overthrown, and the tabernacle flourishes. The strongest support of man totters.9 The support of God to the weakest is Omnipotence. The eye of sense seems however to see the contrary—the flourishing of the wicked, and the overthrow of the upright. And a sore trial is it to the servant of God.11 But "we must walk by faith, not by sight." "The sanctuary"—the word of God—will explain.13 Wait awhile. The great day will set all in order before us, and show that "the Judge of all the earth doeth right." Meanwhile let us leave him to do his own work, and to fulfil his own word in his own time.

12. There is a way which seemeth right unto a man: but the end thereof are the ways of death.

The way of open ungodliness is manifestly wrong. And who can doubt the end?16 But other paths in the broad road—seemingly right—are not less certainly in their end, the ways of death. Thus does "the fool—right in his own eyes," mistake death for life. Indeed it is the fearful property of sin to hide its own character and tendency. The blindness increases in proportion to our familiarity with it. Its victim "feedeth on ashes; a deceived heart hath turned him aside, so that he cannot deliver his soul, nor say, Is there not a lie in my right hand?"18

'Take care then'—as the saintly Leigh ton warns us—'of sleeping unto death in carnal ease.' Look well to the foundation and soundness of thy faith. Search carefully both thy Bible and thine heart. Go to the Lord in prayer, and to his Ministers, to show you the true way.2 "Prove thine own work." If not a bold rebel against thy God—hast thou yielded freely thine heart to him? If thou be free from open wickedness, art thou not equally free from vital godliness? The most moral unrenewed professor is the slave of sin. Terrible indeed will it be to meet the bridegroom with a bright, but unfurnished lamp—to fall from high expectations of heaven into the depths of hell!4 The Lord keep our eye steadily on the end of our way, and make that end sure for heaven!

13. Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful: and the end of that mirth is heaviness.

Many a sigh is heaved amid the loud laughter of folly. As soon might true joy be found in hell, as in the carnal heart. As soon might we "gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles," as this "fruit of the Spirit"6 from 'nature's barren soil.' As soon might the tempest-tossed ocean be at rest, as the sinner's conscience. He may feast in his prison, or dance in his chains. He may drink away his trouble. But it is a vain show of happiness. Ask him what is in his bosom. Is not his smile a counterfeit to hide a reality of woe? The voice of conscience and experience will make itself heard—"It is mad—what doeth it?"8 If he has found a diversion from present trouble, has he found a cure from everlasting misery? It is far easier to drown conviction than to escape damnation. And to be merry for a day, and to be in torment for eternity—who would envy—who would not flee from—such a portion?

Nor do we speak only of the coarse mirth of the vulgar. Take the fullest cup of earth's best joys. What is this to satisfy desire, to allay trouble, to meet eternity? Even the present end of this short-lived mirth is heaviness—sometimes so intolerable, that death is fled to—as the cure of the anguish; and to avoid the fear of hell, the wretched sinner leaps into it.10 And at best eternity will change the face of this mirth, when that will remain, which would be the most desirable riddance—the sting of conscience, as enduring, as the pleasures of sin were momentary.

But the end of that mirth seems to imply another mirth with a different end. Contrast the prodigal's mirth in the far country, with his return to his father's house—"They began to be merry." The fruit of carnal mirth ends in heaviness. Penitential sorrow begets a mirth, that ends in everlasting joy. Lord! choose mine inheritance for me among thy weeping people.

14. The backslider in heart shall be filled with his own ways: and a good man shall be satisfied from himself.

Every spot is not the leprosy. Every mark of sin does not prove a backslider. "A man may be overtaken in a fault;" or it may be the sin of ignorance;2 or sin abhorred, resisted, yet still cleaving. Backsliding implies a wilful step; not always open; but the more dangerous, because hidden. Here was no open apostacy, perhaps no tangible inconsistency. Nay—the man may be looked up to as an eminent saint. But he is a backslider in heart. A secret canker of unwatchfulness, neglect, or indulgence, has insensibly "devoured his strength." The first step—instead of alarming, and bringing him to secret weeping5—hurried him onwards from one liberty to another, till he lost all power of resistance. His unsoundness was known to God long before it was manifested to the Church. Before the matter of Uriah, indolence and security had probably unhinged the man of God, and laid him open to the tempter. The backslider needs no other rod than his own ways. To be filled with them—thus to become the fountain of his own misery—is the most fearful of all Divine judgments.

The good man is also filled from himself; yet not—as the backslider—with misery, but with solid satisfaction. God has given him a fountain fed from a higher fountain; a living spring within himself; the witness of the Spirit;10 the life and joy of the Heavenly Comforter; the rejoicing testimony of his conscience;12 the assured hope of glory. This is not independent of God—the one source of self-sufficiency. But it is Himself dwelling in the heart, and filling it with his fulness. Let the sinner compare the satisfaction of sin and godliness—the curse and the blessing—and lift up his heart for the direction of a right choice.

15. The simple believeth every word: but the prudent man looketh well to his going.

To believe every word of God is faith. To believe every word of man is credulity. Faith is a principle of infinite moment. Eternal life and death hang upon it. But it must be grounded upon evidence, and it can only be exercised according to the character and measure of the evidence. An indiscriminate faith is therefore fraught with mischief. Was not the world ruined by this simplicity? Often since has it been the occasion of sin,16 and even of downfall.

Look at the fruit of this folly in the Church, when "our faith stands in the wisdom of men, not in the power of God." Men become loose in fundamental principles. They are "carried about with divers and strange doctrines," and never know "the good thing of a heart established with grace." The novelties of fancy, accredited by some favorite name, readily pass for the revelation of God. We do not thus sit down to our food blindfolded; not knowing whether we take food or poison. But how ready men are to drink of any cup that is presented to them, like children, who think every thing good that is sweet. Thus are "unstable souls beguiled" and corrupted from their simplicity.2 Errors—never solitary—are built upon some partial, insulated, or perverted truth. Excitement of feeling comes in the place of solid practical principle.

But the prudent looketh well to his going. Cautious consideration should mark our general conduct; trying before we trust; never trusting an uncertain profession. Specially in the Church—carefully ponder whom we follow. Sift the most plausible pretensions.4 Never set up great names against the Divine testimony. Admit only the one standard; like the noble Bereans, who would not believe even an apostle's word, except it was confirmed by the written testimony.6 Ask wisdom of God. Carefully regulate the energy of religion by the Divine rule. Enlist feelings on the side and under the direction of sound judgment. This prudent carefulness will exhibit a well-ordered Christian profession.

16. A wise man feareth, and departeth from evil: but the fool rageth, and is confident.

Fear is sometimes thought to be an unmanly principle. But look at the terrible extent of the evil dreaded. Without—it is vanity and disappointment. Within—it is the sting of guilt.8 Upward—we see the frown of God. Downward—everlasting burnings.10 Surely then, to depart from this evil—yea—to fear it worse than death—is true wisdom.

The fool however—stout and stubborn in his mind—never fears till he falls. The voice of God is unheard amid the uproar of passion, like a raving tempest. Bravely independent, he sits amid the threatenings of God, as unalarmed, as Solomon amid his brazen lions; 'carried by his rash will, and blind passion, without apprehending the end and issue of things.' His character is here drawn to life. He rageth and is confident. Such a fool was Rehoboam, when his self-willed confidence rejected the counsel of wisdom and experience. Such a fool teas the raging Assyrian, blindly confident in his own might, till the God whom he despised, turned him back to his destruction. And will not the child of God bless his Father's painful discipline, so needful to curb his raging will, and bring down his high confidence? "Thou hast chastised me, and I was chastised, as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke: turn thou me, and I shall be turned; for thou art the Lord my God."

17. He that is soon angry dealeth foolishly: and a man of wicked devises is hated.

Different gradations of sin are here opposed to each other—the sudden passion, and the deliberate purpose—the gust, and the continuance of the storm. An hasty temper convicts us of foolishness before our fellow-men. What frightful mischief may be the consequence of an angry word! How fearful did the "man after God's own heart" suffer the fire to burst out.4 Who then—with this example before us—will dare to let down the watch? But are these sins of temper matters of sorrow and humiliation? Does the remembrance of their cost to our crucified Friend exercise our constant watchfulness and prayerful resistance? Is not the rod of our loving Father sometimes needful to bring conviction of their guilty foolishness? Oh! for a rich vouchsafement of that "charity, that is not easily provoked!"6 'Let us give our hearts no rest, until we have purged their gall, and tempered and seasoned them with the sweetness and gentleness of our Lord and Saviour.'

But sin grows from weakness to wilfulness. 'The first makes a man contemptible—the second—abominable.' Wicked devices: cherished malice;10 one act preparing for another; always aiming at the uttermost—all this shows the true picture of man—"hateful, and hating one another." Such a man is hated of God, as "an abomination." Man holds him up to his righteous scorn.14 Absalom's pillar—the monument of his name—is to this day the object of universal contempt. The hatred of Haman's wicked devices is perpetuated from generation to generation. Why are these warnings, if we regard them not? Our dignity is our likeness to God! What shame and degradation must there be in this contrariety to him!

18. The simple inherit folly: but the prudent are crowned with knowledge.

The simple and prudent are again contrasted. The child of Adam is born to folly. That is his inheritance. He "received it by tradition from his fathers"—yea—from his first father.20 So long as he remains simple, he confirms his title. Unlike an earthly inheritance, he cannot relinquish it. He holds it in life, and when he "returns naked to the earth, from whence he came," he still holds it firm in death, and reaps its bitter fruits throughout eternity. Here is no injustice—no just cause of complaint. Sinner! is not wisdom freely offered to thee in asking for it? Dost not thou therefore continue simple only by thy wilful neglect? If knowledge is at hand, to be satisfied with ignorance, is to throw away a talent of inestimable price. 'I confess'—says Doctor South—'God has no need of any man's learning; but certainly then he has much less need of his ignorance.' The prudent—instructed in heavenly knowledge—are enabled to behold Divine objects in a Divine light. Is not this knowledge therefore their crown—not of laurel—not of perishing gold—but beautifying the man with all the light, holiness, joy, and glory of life eternal? This is not a religion of eccentric singularities—obscuring the glory of the Divine image. Steady consistency is stamped upon it, such as enthrones its possessor in the conviction and regard even of those, who are unfriendly to his principles. Thus "the wise" in this life, "inherit glory."4 What shall be their glory in eternity—sitting on the throne of God—crowned with the hand of God himself!

19. The evil bow before the good; and the wicked at the gates of the righteous.

This is not the general rule of the present dispensation. Righteous Lazarus bowed at the wicked man's gate. Thus faith is tried,6 and the foundation of our heavenly hopes more deeply grounded. And yet often has the very letter of the proverb been verified. The Egyptians and Joseph's brethren bowed before Joseph; the proud Pharaoh and his people before Moses;9 Saul to David; Jehoram and Naaman before Elisha;11 Haman before Esther; the magistrates before the Apostles.13 More often still is the spirit of this proverb illustrated in the constrained testimony of the wicked to the pre-eminence of the righteous. The millennial era will exhibit a more glorious fulfilment.15 The grand consummation will set all things right, and shed a Divine splendor over this profound aphorism. "The upright shall have dominion over the wicked in the morning. "The saints shall judge the world."17 They shall then appear in their suitable rank, exalted with their glorious Head over the whole creation. Oh! let the sunshine of this glory irradiate every clouded morn. If this be not enough to counterbalance the scorn of the ungodly, where is our faith? Had we a clear apprehension of this glory, should we have an eye for any thing else? Would not all besides—except as it had a reference to this day—be an utter impertinence?

20. The poor is hated even of his own neighbor: but the rich hath many friends.

An humbling—but how common an illustration of native selfishness! Sometimes however we hear of cheering exceptions. "Ruth clave to Naomi" in her poverty; Jonathan to David, when stripped of royal favor.2 But too generally the poor—instead of being pitied and comforted—is hated or neglected of his own neighbor. Yet the rich is not in a more enviable condition. He has many friends indeed to his money and favor, but few to his interest. Many would be the deserters, should a change of circumstance cut off the supplies for their appetites, pleasures, or covetousness. But Jesus—how endearing is his love! He was emphatically the Friend of the poor.7 He sought his many friends, among the wretched and forlorn; and still does his powerful compassion plead for those hated ones among their fellow-sinners! Shall not we then, like the tried saint of old, to look off from earthly destitution in a cleaving confidence in Him as the Rock of our salvation.10 The practical exercise of this confidence will be a vigorous and successful conflict against our selfish propensity; cultivating that tenderness, which—instead of shrinking from the sight of misery—hastens, though at the expense of personal sacrifice, to its sympathizing relief.

21. He that despiseth his neighbor sinneth: but he that hath mercy on the poor, happy is he.

The last proverb shewed the general standard of selfishness. Here we see its positive sinfulness. Some men are so high, that they cannot see their lower brother. Yet infinitely precious and honored may be this despised one, in the Saviour's eyes, as the purchase of his blood. And what a span is the distance between him and his most elevated fellow-creature, compared with the infinite space between him and his God! Yet doth he "that dwelleth on high"—instead of despising—write his name upon him, "raise him from the dust, and lift him out of the dunghill, that he may set him with the princes of his people." The plain command is—"Honor all men"14—not all with equal measure. But in all, honor our own nature—the remains—however defaced—of the image of God. To look therefore upon the meanest, as if he were made to be despised—to neglect to have mercy on him—this is reflecting on God's own Providence;16 overlooking his example; setting up our own judgment against, his; sinning against his law of love. And most fearfully will this sin be visited at the day of recompence.18

But oh! the felicities of him that hath mercy on the poor; "hoping for nothing again,"2 constrained by love to Christ and his fellow-sinners! 'He shall be happy beyond expression.' Does not every exercise of love enlarge our own happiness?4 Do we not ourselves richly feed on the bread with which we "feed the hungry?" And will not the great day declare and honor every act of love for our Divine Master?6

22. Do they not err that devise evil? but mercy and truth shall be to them that devise good.

Scripture traces actions to principles. Wicked as it is to do evil, it is far more hateful to devise it. Devising is the incipient working of the principle. Devising evil therefore—if it comes not to the act—shows the purpose. They may be men of consummate wisdom in other matters; but here at least do they not err? They miss either their object, or their anticipated happiness from it. Witness the shame of the Babel-builders; the confusion of Haman's device; the overruling of the wicked plot against our beloved Lord.11 How did the devisers thwart their own purpose to their fearful cost! How little did Judas estimate the result of his devising of evil—"a little matter kindling an unquenchable fire!"

Children of God! Do you exhibit the same diligence and determination in devising good? Even if your fruit be frustrated, your work will be accepted. Mercy and truth are the reward of grace—often set out as the cheering encouragement to practical godliness. What, can be more glowing than the glorious perfections of Jehovah pouring into the soul the quickening energy of Divine blessing—mercy the fountain-head—truth the pledge and fulfilment of unchangeable mercy!

23. In all labor there is profit; but the talk of the lips tendeth only to penury.

This is not universally true. What profit is in the labor of sin, or of ill-timed work? Fruitful also is the talk of teaching lips. But the contrast is intended between what is solid on the one hand and what is shadowy on the other—between lawful—well-directed labor, and empty talk. "Bread eaten in the sweat of the face" is the profit of bodily labor. But the idler is condemned to penury upon the talk of his lips. Enlargement of mind is also the profit of mental labor. But "the prating fool"3 'cuts himself off from all advantage, except that of being entertained by his own talk; his business in coming into company not being at all to be informed, to hear, to listen, but to display himself, and to talk without any design at all.' Clearly therefore, the talk of his lips tendeth only to penury. Rich beyond conception is the profit of spiritual labor. The Son of man gives to the laborer enduring meat. The violent take the kingdom of heaven by force. "The labor of love God is not unrighteous to forget." But the talk of the lips gives husks, not bread. It is 'all running out in noise.' There is no instruction, because there is no "good treasure" within.8 "What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another?"—is a searching question. Ministers, doctrines, the externals, circumstantials, disputations of religion—all may be the mere skirts and borders of the great subject,10 utterly remote from the heart and vitals. And indeed, the discussion of the substance of religion, without reverence, without a sense of the Divine presence, and a single eye to edification, will but alienate the precious truths from their true purpose. It will only be the deluding indulgence of a refined lust, tending only to penury. Mere religious talk is a waste of time, and an injury to the soul. Take care that religious conversation deserves the name. Let the stamp of the profession of the saints of God be visible. Let the burning theme of the Saviour's love flow from the heart.11 Let the beloved "name" be upon our lips "as ointment poured forth," so that "the whole house"—all that are living with us—"may be filled with the odor of the ointment."

24. The crown of the wise is their riches: but the foolishness of fools is folly.

The godly first are made wise and honorable by being "crowned with knowledge." Then the crown of the wise are their riches. For though as a fearful temptation, no wise man would desire them; yet as the gift of God (an inferior gift indeed—the gift of his left hand)16 they may become his crown. They enhance his reputation, and enlarge his usefulness as a consecrated talent for God. What a crown were they to David and his wise Son, as the materials for building the temple; and to Job, as employed for the good of his fellow-creatures!18 So that though wisdom "under all circumstances is a blessing, it is especially pronounced to be "good with an inheritance."

But if riches are the crown of the wise, they cannot disguise fools. They only serve to make their folly more conspicuous. Wasted on their selfish gratifications, they become—not their crown—but their foolishness. The foolish son of this wise father with all his riches, only exposed his folly more egregiously, and lost ten precious jewels from his royal crown. Whatever be our talents, let them be traded with for eternity, and they will be our everlasting crown.

25. A true witness delivereth souls: but a deceitful witness speaketh lies.

How weighty is the responsibility of testimony. Every Christian has in him a principle of conscientious faithfulness. As a true witness he would deliver the innocent from oppression or ruin. But an ungodly man would prove a deceitful witness, the agent of Satan, speaking lies for his neighbor's destruction. What need have we to "walk before God" in our words, ready to hazard all for the interests of truth;7 considering our obligations to one another; realizing our solemn appearing before the God of truth, when "by our words we shall be justified and condemned!"9 If the responsibility be so great to the witness in court, how much more to the witness in the pulpit! Oh! Is the Minister of God a true witness, by the declaration of his message, assured, that no other truth—no adulteration of his truth—will deliver souls! Or is he speaking lies—holding back or denying truth, to the ruin of the souls, whom he was charged to deliver? 'As they are the most profitable witnesses, which preach to us Jesus Christ; even so, the most exquisite deceivers are they, who under the shadow of religion do set forth men's traditions.'

26. In the fear of the Lord is strong confidence: and his children shall have a place of refuge.

"Fear hath torment." It is the trembling of the slave15—the dread of wrath, not of sin. There is no confidence here. It is pure selfishness. It ends in self. There is no homage to God. But the true fear of God is a holy, happy, reverential, principle; not that which "love casts out,"17 but which love brings in. It is reverence tempered with love. We fear, because we love. We "fear his goodness" no less than his justice; not because we doubt his love, but because we are assured of it.19 We fear, yet we are not afraid. The holiest and humblest is the most fixed and trusting heart. The fear of man produces faintness.21 Here is the Christian paradox—confidence—strong confidence—issuing out of fear. Abraham sacrificed his son in the fear of God: yet fully confident "that God was able to raise him up from the dead." The fear of God led the Babylonish captives with unshaken confidence into the fiery furnace. And thus does the child of God, while walking in godly fear rejoice in confidence, even in the most frowning dispensation. His covenant privilege covers him,4 "and that wicked one toucheth him not."

And how happy is the change wrought on our profession! Before—we fled from God; now—as his children—we "flee to him—to hide us." The atonement, which has "made an end of sin;" the righteousness, which has brought in the sunshine of favor; the intercession, which maintains our standing of acceptance—this is our ground of confidence—strong as death, stronger than hell. Yes—if heaven and earth shake, God hath ordained and secured, that his children shall have a place of refuge, such as they need, and when they need; when the enemy is most strongly assaulting;9 at the last extremity, when every other refuge shall have been swept away. Oh! does not every act of faith strengthen our confidence, and realize more sensibly the peaceful security of our refuge? But remember—nothing short of a full application of the atonement can establish our confidence, and deliver us from slavish fear and uncertainty.

27. The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life, to depart from the snares of death.

How glowing is this Divine principle! refreshing like the springs of Canaan; full of life13—temporal—spiritual15—eternal. It is the influence of the heavenly Comforter, as a fountain "springing up into everlasting life." Its preserving tendency is invaluable. It is always connected with the fear of sin,18 as grieving our most beloved friend, and separating from our only happiness; though it keeps us from the snares of death—"the end and wages of sin."20 How complete then is its application! Not only is it a refuge from danger, but a fountain of life. Not only does Christain confidence open a cover from the guilt, but its holy influence roots out the power, of sin. For among the countless throng of the redeemed, not one finds a cover from condemnation, who is not renovated unto spiritual life. Thus does this invaluable grace flow with the full streams of gospel blessing. How much of that world liness that soils our profession, and of the restraint that contracts our spiritual joy—may be traced to the sparing or defective application of this Christian principle!

28. In the multitude of people is the king's honor; but in the want of people is the destruction of the prince.

The Bible is a book for all. Even the King is interested in it, and was commanded to treasure it. It describes him as a curse or a blessing to his people, as he is led by his own caprice,2 or directed by Divine wisdom. 'He is not appointed for luxury or for pleasure; but that as a Head he may preside over his members; as a Shepherd, he may care for his flock; as a tree, he may nourish those who dwell under his shadow.'4 In the multitude of people are his honor. They are the stay and strength of his kingdom. In the want of people is his destruction. His revenue fails. His strength is enfeebled. His enemies take advantage of his weakness. His interests and his people's are one. In promoting their happiness, the prince secures his own honor. If he be the father of his numerous family, he will always have "a quiver full of arrows to meet his enemies in the gate."8 How great then is the honor of our heavenly King in the countless multitude of his people! How overwhelmingly glorious will it appear, when the completed number shall stand before his throne; each the medium of reflecting his glory;10 each with a crown to cast at his feet, and a song of everlasting joy to tune to his praise!12

29. He that is slow to wrath is of great understanding: but he that is hasty (short, Marg.) of spirit exalteth folly.

The world judge very lightly of a hasty spirit, except when it touches themselves. 'It is a fit of passion, soon over and forgotten.' But does God judge thus? See how his word stamps the native rooted principle. It is "giving place to the devil; grieving the Holy Spirit;"14 contrary to the mind and example of Christ; inconsistent with the profession of the Gospel;16 degrading human nature; a work of the flesh, that shuts out from heaven,18 and condemns to hell. Surely thus to be slow to wrath—such a fruitful source of sin and misery—is a proof of great understanding. It is as if we felt our just dignity, and high obligations. A hasty spirit is the tinder, which lights into a flame the most trifling matters, such as in cooler moments we should be ashamed of having contended for. This is indeed exalting folly, placing it on an eminence, to be seen by all. Yet too often passion serves instead of law and reason, and this folly is deemed high-mindedness and proper passion. Oh! it is a mercy to be delivered from the standard of this world, and to live, act, and judge by the standard of God and his word.

But let the children of God remember, that an hasty spirit condemned the meekest of men. Never was folly more exalted than by the selfish fretfulness of a prophet of the Lord. The gentlest spirit needs to be cast into a deep mould of lowliness and love for communion with God.3 Who can plead inability to resist? Has not God given understanding to show the temper; reason to govern it; his Word and Spirit to crucify it? Realize our obligations to sovereign grace, as the effective discipline for this baneful propensity.

30. A sound heart is the life of the flesh: but envy is the rottenness of the bones.

Many will admit religion to be good for the soul. But they conceive its fancied gloom to be injurious to the body. The wise man however teaches, that it is the life of the flesh; and surely a sound heart, freed from corroding passions, and imbued with Christian habits—though it will not bring immortality—must be eminently conducive to health. The contrast, however, here distinguishes a sound heart by the absence of selfishness, and rejoicing in another's happiness or honor.8 Envy is wounded at the prosperity of another, like him who could not see the happiness of Paradise without destroying it. It is indeed the deadliest fruit of selfishness. Nothing flourishes under its shade.10 Often is it a fretting sickness—a pining despondency;12 a true figure of the moral disease—one entire mass of corruption, like the destruction of the bodily system by the rottenness of the bones. 'Truly'—as Bishop Hall observes—'this vice is executioner enough to itself!' Such a hell does the man carry in his own bosom! Alas! that this plant should be the growth of our own soil.14 So contrary is it to the mind of Christ, and to the spirit of his gospel.16 So surely will it exclude from heaven!

31. He that oppresseth the poor reproacheth his Maker: but he that honoreth him hath mercy on the poor.

Are not the poor, no less than the rich, "made in the image of God?" Both "meet together" before their Maker, without respect of persons.19 Both carry the same undying principle in their bosom. Both sink to the same humiliating level of death. Both rise to the same eminence of immortality. Besides—have not the poor a special interest in the Gospel? Was not the Gospel first spread by the poor?2 Has not the voluntary poverty of the Son of God for us put high honor upon the lowly condition? Then what ground is there to oppress the poor, as if they were of a lower grade than ourselves? This involves the guilt of reproaching our Maker. It is despising his own ordinance,5 and charging him with injustice, as if he had formed the poor to be the footstool of their oppressors. Would we honor God? We must not only refrain from oppressing; but we must have mercy on the poor. Sure and large is the interest of this mercy in the case of the Lord's poor; high indeed is the privilege, and everlasting the recompence, of honoring the Saviour in his own person.

32. The wicked is driven away in his wickedness: but the righteous hath hope in his death.

Eternity is here realized before us—the wicked and the righteous each "going to his own place." Let us ponder the sight with deep-toned solemnity—O my soul! "make thy calling sure!" The wicked is driven away. He is dragged out of life, like a criminal to execution; torn away from his only heaven here, with no joyous heaven beyond. Dreadful beyond imagination to be thus forced out of the body, to die a violent death. Fain would he stay. But he cannot. He cannot live. He dares not die. Sometimes he departs with a horror that no words can paint. Hell is manifestly begun on this side eternity.11 But even where he has "no bands in his death, but his strength is firm,"—when do we hear of "a desire to depart?"13 Though he may fall asleep as softly as a lamb, he will wake to live forever "with the devil and his angels." His few moments of peace are only the respite from hopeless, never-ending torments. His wickedness was his element in life. It will cleave to him still—the sting of the undying worm—the fuel of unquenchable fire.

But the righteous—is he driven away?—He dies by his own consent. It is a glad surrender—not a forcible separation. The tabernacle is not rent or torn away, but "put off."15 He can take death by his cold hand, and bid him welcome. 'I can smile on death'—said a dying saint—'because my Saviour smiles on me.' There is courage to face the "king of terrors," and delight in looking homeward to his God. There is loveliness and sunshine in his death—such as flashes conviction upon the most hardened conscience.17 The righteous hath hope in his death. His death is full of hope. Job pierced his dark cloud of sorrow with this joyous hope. David rested his way-worn spirit upon the Rock of salvation.2 Stephen anchored within the veil, undisturbed by the volley of stones without. Paul triumphed in the crown, as if it was already on his head.4 And hear we not daily "the voice from heaven," assuring to us the "blessedness of them that die in the Lord?" Praise to our Immanuel! 'When thou didst overcome the sharpness of death, thou didst open the kingdom of heaven unto all believers.'6 By thee as the way to the Kingdom we go freely, gladly, out of life. We go to what we love—to our native home—to our Saviour's bosom—to our rest—our crown—our home—our everlasting joy. "Now, Lord, what wait I for!—I have waited for thy Salvation, O Lord."

33. Wisdom resteth in the heart of him that hath understanding: but that which is in the midst of fools is made known.

Often does the wise man show the blessing of wisdom on the lips. Here we trace it to its home. It flows from the head, and rests in the heart. Thus did it rest without measure in the humanity of Jesus, and most glorious was its manifestation;10 and when it rests in our hearts, incalculable is its value, as a fixed principle. It preserves us from the tossing of "divers and strange doctrines," and gives us "the good thing of a heart established with grace"—We see now the vital difference between speculation and experience; between the convictions of the judgment and the movement of the will.

Widely does it differ from mere worldly disputation. This—as Bishop Taylor observes—'covers no vices, but kindles a great many. Though men esteem it learning, it is the most useless learning in the world.' True wisdom, while it fixes its rest, sets up its throne, in the heart. All is therefore Christian order and holiness.

But there is another fountain always bubbling up. The fool's multitude of words, selfish indulgence,2 uncontrolled passions, make manifest what is in the midst of him. Let him stand out as a warning beacon against display. Self-conceit is self-ignorance—Never—never let our prayers cease, until He, who is "The wisdom of God,"5 takes his rest in our hearts.—Have we received the precious gift? Then, let us realize our need of more; and seek the increase by a close union with him and an entire dependence upon him.

34. Righteousness exalteth a nation: but sin is a reproach to any people.

If it be not beneath statesmen to take lessons from the Bible, let this sound political maxim—the rule of God's national dispensation—be deeply pondered. The annals of the chosen people—as they were a righteous or sinful nation—are marked by corresponding exaltation or reproach. Not the wisdom of policy, extent of empire, splendid conquests, flourishing trade, abundant resources—but righteousness—exalteth a nation. Greece in her proud science—Rome in the zenith of her glory—both were sunk in the lowest depths of moral degradation.10 Their true greatness existed only in the visions of poesy, or the dreams of philosophy. Contrast the influence of righteousness, bringing out of the most debased barbarism a community impregnated with all the high principles that form a nation's well-being. Thus to Christianize, is to regenerate, the community—to elevate it to a more dignified position—to exalt the nation.12 But sin is a reproach to any people. No nation is so low as not to sink lower under it; while, to the mightiest people, it is a blot in their escutcheon, that no worldly glory can efface. What an enemy is an ungodly man to his country!—Loudly as he may talk of his patriotism, and even though God should make him an instrument of advancing her temporal interest: yet he contributes—so far as in him lies—to her deepest reproach.

Beloved Britain! nation highest in the profession of righteousness! For thee we "rejoice with trembling." The combined effort of a little band, to promote the honor of the Sabbath; to resist the encroachments of Popery; to enlarge the usefulness and efficiency of thy Church; to circulate the word and preaching of the gospel to the ends of the earth—this is thy national exaltation. But the evil example among the Heathen, the accredited influence of Romish heresy;2 the flood of infidelity, lawlessness, and ungodliness; the want of a full recognition of God in thy public acts—this is thy reproach. Let the little remnant in the midst of thee remember their high responsibility. Let them take care that their personal and relative profession, add to the righteousness—not to the sin of the nation. Let them plead for their country's true prosperity with humiliation, faith, and constancy. Let them labor for her exaltation with more entire union of heart.

35. The king's favor is towards a wise servant; but his wrath is against him that causeth shame.

The administration of the wise servant is often the working cause of national exaltation. The king's favor towards him6 is therefore the rule of sound policy. Not less so is his wrath against him that causeth shame to the office which he beareth, and to the Prince's choice.'8

Thus is it with the great King. All of us are his servants, bound to him by the highest obligations; animated by the most glowing encouragements.10 All of us have our responsibilities, our talents, our work, our account. Towards "the faithful and wise servant," who has traded with his talents, who has been diligent in his work, and who is ready for his account—his favor will be infinitely condescending and honorable. But against him that causeth shame—reflecting upon his Master, neglectful of his work, and unprepared for his account—his wrath will be tremendous and eternal. What will the solemn day of reckoning bring to me? May I—may we all—be found wise servants to the best of Kings! looking with confidence for his welcome!

CHAPTER 15

1. A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.

WHAT a mine of practical wisdom is this Book of God! Let us ponder this valuable rule for self-discipline, family peace, and Church unity. Scripture often illustrates the different effects of the tongue. The soft answer is the water to quench—Grievous words are the oil to stir up, the file. And this is, alas! man's natural propensity—to feed rather than to quench the angry flame. We yield to irritation; retort upon our neighbor; have recourse to self-justification; insist upon the last word; say all that we could say; and think we "do well to be angry." Neither party gives up an atom of the will. Pride and passion on both sides strike together like two flints; and "behold! how great a matter a little fire kindleth!"4 Thus there is the self-pleasing sarcasm; as if we had rather lose a friend, than miss a clever stroke. All this the world excuses as a sensitive and lively temper. But the gospel sets before us our Saviour's example; imbues with his spirit;6 and imparts that blessed "charity, that is not easily provoked;" and therefore is careful not to provoke a chafed or wounded spirit. If others begin, let us forbear from continuing, the strife.8 Soft and healing words gain a double victory—over ourselves,10 and over our brother.

2. The tongue of the wise useth knowledge aright: but the mouth of fools poureth forth foolishness.

Before we had the tongue of love. Here is the tongue of wisdom. The tongue shews the man. The wise commands his tongue. The fool—his tongue commands him. He may have a mass of knowledge in possession. But from the want of the right use it runs to waste. Wisdom is proved, not by the quantum of knowledge, but by its right application. Observe our Divine Master with "the spirit of knowledge resting upon him." In condescending to the ignorance of the people;13 in commanding their respect; in silencing the gainsayers;15 in alluring sinners to himself—how did this wise tongue use knowledge aright! Thus did his great Apostle give to all the same knowledge, but wisely—not the same form or gradation. Instead of exasperating his Heathen congregation by an open protest, he supplied their acknowledged defect, by bringing before them the true God, "whom they were ignorantly worshipping."18 He pointed an arrow to Agrippa's conscience, by the kindly admission of his candor and intelligence. This right use of knowledge distinguishes the "workman approved of God, and that needeth not to be ashamed." The want of it often gives out truth so loosely and unsuitably, as to open rather than to shut the mouth of the gainsayer; rather to bring discredit upon the truth, than conviction to the adversary. Specially will the tongue of the wise direct a right application of knowledge to those, who have newly entered the path of God. May we not sometimes, in our present stature, forget our own feeble infancy; and that, if now we "strike our roots as Lebanon," time was, when it was with us only, "the least of all seeds?" Let our considerate instruction pluck the thorn out of their tender feet, "lest that which is lamed be turned out of the way; but rather let be healed."4

But judge what must be the waters flowing from such a fool's fountain. Listen to Baal's worshippers;6 Rabshakeh's proud boasting: the fretting murmurings of the people of God8—all pouring out foolishness. Oh! for a large infusion of sound knowledge in the treasure-house within, that the tongue may be at once disciplined and consecrated!

3. The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.

Adored be this All-seeing God! His inspection of the universe, so minute, exact, unwearied!10 The first mark of the apostacy was a dread of his presence. The ungodly try to forget it,12 and often succeed in banishing him out of their thoughts. Yet in despite of all their efforts to hide, he does see them. His eyes are in every place. Heaven, hell—the secret places of the earth—are all open before him. He beholds the evil—whether the King on his throne, or in his palace;16 or the servant indulging his secret sin. Yes—he may shut out the sun from his retreat, but he cannot shut out the eye of God, "from whom the darkness hideth not."18 Reckless indeed is he to do or think what he would hide from God; and then—such is the secret root of atheism!—thinking he can do so.20

But his eyes also behold the good. He sees them in outward destitution, in secret retirement,22 in deep affliction. He pierces the prison walls.24 He "covers their heads in the day of battle." He is with them in the furnace,26 and in the tempest. His eye guides them as their journeying God, and will guide them safe home;2 full of blessing, protection,4 and support. 'He fills hell with his severity, heaven with his glory, his people with his grace.'6

But how shall I meet these eyes! As a rebel or as a child? Do they inspire me with terror, or with love? Do I walk carefully under their lively impression? Conscious corruption leads me to shrink from the eyes of man. But Oh! my God! I would lay myself naked and open to thee. Search me; try me; shew me to myself. Bring out my hidden iniquities, and slay them before me.8 How is the overwhelming thought of this piercing eye more than counterbalanced by the view of the great High Priest, who covers and cleanses all infirmities and defilements, and pleads and maintains my acceptance notwithstanding all discouragement!

4. A wholesome tongue (the healing of the tongue, Marg.) is a tree of life: but perverseness therein is a breach in the spirit.

Wisdom is finely portrayed as a tree of life: So is also the genial influence of the righteous11—here the fruitfulness of his little member. A high image of what it ought to be—not negative—not harmless, but wholesome. As the salt cast into the spring cleansed the bitter waters; so, when there is grace in the heart, there will be healing in the tongue. "The speech will be with grace, seasoned with salt."14 Large indeed is the sphere, and abundant the blessing. When employed in soothing the afflicted, calming the troubled waters with words of peace, it creates a paradise around. It is not like 'the thorny bush, pricking and hurting those that are about us, but a fruitful tree—a tree of life.'

But if the gracious tongue be healings, the evil tongue is wounding. The meekest of men felt its perverseness a breach in the spirit. The tongue of Job's friends broke "the bruised reed," which needed to be bound up.17 Even our beloved Lord, who never shrunk from external evil, keenly felt the piercing edge of this sword in his inmost soul. May it be with me, as with my Divine Master, that "grace may be poured upon my lips,"19 so that it may be a wholesome tongue, full of blessing and of good fruits!

5. A fool despiseth his father's instruction, but he that regardeth reproof is prudent.

Alas! We cannot wonder at this folly. Remember the birth of the fool—"as a wild ass's colt," despising discipline and restraint. Yet subjection to parents is the law of nature, recognized by the most uncivilized nations. Much more is it the law of God. The authority of parents is the authority of God. The wayward resistance of the ungodly will be fearfully scourged.2 And even the Christian penitent has felt the smart of the rod to the end of life. If example would put this folly to shame, do we not read of One child able to teach—yea to command—his parents, who yet exhibited the lovely pattern of filial subjection? But pride must be broken down, and the "clothing of humility worn,"5 before the child will see that his parents know better than himself; and that to count their word law—to "bear the yoke in the youth," and to regard counsel, and even reproof—as it is the path of honor—so it is the path of prudence. Solomon's wisdom, though the special gift of God, was doubtless connected with this filial regard to his wise father's instruction. Will those, who despise their earthly father's instruction, be ready to listen to their heavenly father? How surely therefore will this untractable spirit exclude from the Kingdom of God!

6. In the house of the righteous is much treasure: but in the revenues of the wicked is trouble.

The comparison between the righteous and the wicked always turns in favor of the righteous. Even in treasure12—the world's idol, he exceeds. For though his house may be destitute of money, yet is there much treasure; often unseen, yet such that the revenues of the wicked, compared with it, sink into nothing. 'Drop millions of gold, boundless revenues, ample territories, crowns and sceptres; and a poor contemptible worm lays his One God against all of them.' The treasures of the wicked are too much for their good, and too little for their lust. They cannot satisfy their senses—much less their souls.15 They may "take wings" at any moment; and while they continue,—unlike the treasures of the righteous17—they are burdened with trouble. But is it not the crown of the Christian's crown, and the glory of his glory, that his portion is so full, that he cannot desire more? All the excellences of the creation are only dark shadows of its more substantial excellence. What a mercy to be delivered from the idolatrous bait—so ruinous alike to our present peace and eternal welfare!19 But a greater mercy still, to be enriched with that treasure—beyond the reach of harm, that raises to heaven, a portion in God—his favor—his image—his everlasting joy.

7. The lips of the wise disperse knowledge: but the heart of the foolish doeth not so.

The "right use of knowledge" is—first to "lay it up" in a storehouse; then out of the store-house to disperse it. The sower scatters the seed in the furrow, and calculates upon a proportionate harvest. Thus the lips of the wise disperse the precious seed, "giving a portion to seven, and also to eight," not discouraged by trifling difficulties, but "sowing morning and evening," and committing the result to God. The Ministry of our Lord thus dispersed the heavenly knowledge of his gospel. He commanded his Apostles to scatter the seed through the vast field of the world.5 The persecution of the Church was overruled for this great end. The Reformers widely dispersed their treasures both by preaching and writing; and rich indeed was the fruit. Do we remember—that our gifts and talents are the riches of the Church, that we are blessed—like our father Abraham—not for our own sakes—but to "be a blessing."8 And does not conscience speak of the waste of many—of important—opportunities, when Christians meet, and not an atom of knowledge is dispersed? We contend for no eccentric irregularity. We wish for no passing of our proper boundary—no intrenchment upon paramount obligations. But be careful, lest in quenching unnatural fire, we inadvertently damp some genuine spark of holy flame. Be mindful of small opportunities. The careful cultivation of the smallest field ensures an abundant harvest. The acceptance is not to the number, but to the improvement of the talents; not necessarily "where much have been given," but where we "have been faithful in a few things."

The sin of the wicked is, not always that they "pour out foolishness;" but that they do not so. They neglect to disperse. They do not abuse their talent, but they omit to improve it. If not blots, they are blanks in the Church. They do no harm, but they do nothing. Indeed, they can disperse nothing from their empty store-house. They can only trade with the trash of the world, not with the commerce of substantial knowledge. The end of both is according to their works—"Unto every one that hath (actively improves) shall be given, and he shall have abundance; but from him that hath not (uses not) shall be taken away even that which he hath."

8. The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord: but the prayer of the upright is his delight. 9. The way of the wicked is an abomination unto the Lord: but he loveth him that followeth after righteousness.

Let the reader ponder this awful question. What am I—what is my service—when upon my knees before God? an abomination, or a delight? Man judges by acts; God by principles. The sacrifice of the wicked—though it be part of God's own service, yet 'will be found in his register in the catalogue of sins to be accounted for.' Instead of an acceptable offering, it is an insulting provocation.2 It is not only vain, but abominable—yea abomination itself. That is wanting, "without which it is impossible to please God;" the lack of which stamped the sacrifice of Cain as an abomination. It is a 'work, that doth not flow from a lively faith, and therefore hath in it the nature of sin.'6 Not that prayer itself is a sin. 'It is'—as Archbishop Usher expounds—'a good duty, but spoiled in the carriage.' And far indeed would we be from discouraging the wicked from prayer. We would only press the awaking conviction, that it must be done in God's order and way; else never can it find his acceptance.

But not only the sacrifice—but the way of the wicked; not only his religion, but his common course—natural as well as moral—is abomination. All is the course of a rebel against God. All his doings are the corrupt stream from a corrupt fountain. Awful indeed is the thought of every step of life as being hateful to God!

Is he then finally rejected? Far from it. His desire to seek the Lord would be the beginning of the prayer, that ensures acceptance. The prayer of the upright from its first feeblest utterance, is not only acceptable to the Lord, but his delight. The golden censer above,11 and the gracious intercession within, combine with fragrant odor before our God. Never could we faint in prayer, did we realize more habitually this pure ground of acceptance. Not less pleasing to him is the course of the upright. He has given him a measure of righteousness, and an effort for more. And though he fulfils it not, he follows after it, cheered with the smile of his father's gracious love.

10. Correction is grievous unto him that forsaketh the way: and he that hateth reproof shall die.

But is it not also "grievous, for the present" to the child of God? He knows his need of it, kisses the rod, bows his will, and reaps a fruitful blessing. But grievous indeed is it to him that forsaketh the way. He is humbled by force—not in spirit. He kicks at it, and, like an untractable child under the rod, only increases his own chastisement. There is no surer step to ruin, than this hatred of reproof. How do "the spots of God's children"16 here warn us—"Cease ye from man!"

But correction turns back him who had forsaken the way. Then it is grievous no more. Had not Manasseh more cause to bless God for his fetters than for his crown—for his dungeon than for his palace? "This man was born there." We would always look hopefully at a sinner under correction. For surely so long as the physician administers the medicine, there is no ground for despondency.

Child of God! Dost not thou still need the correction? Oh! when the thorn is in the flesh, pray for grace in the heart. Seek thy Father's favor, more than thine own ease. Desire the sanctifying, rather than the removal, of his rod. Mock him not by the empty ceremonial of repentance. But in true penitence look up to thy smiter to be thy healer3—yet not till his correction has fully accomplished his gracious work. Lord! let me know the smart of thy rod, rather than the eclipse of thy love. Shew me thy love—then do with me what thou wilt.

11. Hell and destruction are before the Lord: how much more then the hearts of the children of men?

Once more behold we the Omniscient—Omnipresent God. Hell and destruction—every recess of the vast Hades—the state of the dead and the place of the damned—are before the Lord—before his eye; open to his cognizance. How much more then the hearts of the children of men6—unsearchable though they be! No depth is there within, that he cannot fathom; no manner of deceit so complicated, that he cannot track them; and yet what a mass of practical unbelief is there in this plain demonstrative truth! For would men dare to indulge their vain thoughts, their light notions, their trifles, their impurities, did they really believe that the Lord searched their hearts? Would they attempt a forced concealment from his eye;8 as if outward service, lip-worship, would avail, while the heart was cherishing its unrepented sin? It is an awful moment in privacy to stand the test of this searching eye. Awful is the thought of the idolatrous sinner; to the lover of pleasure, distinction, or low ambition. Thine heart is open before thy God. Never will he condescend to occupy the second place there. Thy covering of deceit is swept away. The refuges of lies are pierced and laid bare.

The conscious sinner shrinks from this appalling view. The believer walks undismayed in the sight of this "consuming fire." His godly fear is the exercise of filial confidence. The sins that are opened to his Father's knowledge are covered from his justice.11 When he "cannot do the things that he would;" when he finds the law "that when he would do good, evil is present with him," he can look up—"All my desire is before thee." Thus does the Gospel clothe the Divine attributes with light and love.

And see we not here a testimony to the Divine Glory of Immanuel?—For are not hell and destruction before him, as his vast empire? May not we appeal to his omniscient eye, in despite of all accusing from the enemy—"Lord—thou knowest all things—thou knowest that I love thee?"3

12. A scorner loveth not, one that reproveth him: neither will he go unto the wise.

How different from David's spirit—thankful for the "kind smiting of the righteous," and from the lovely humility of an Apostle, who shewed before the Church his honor and love to his reprover! Yet we had need to be wise with "the wisdom that is from above" to give reproof aright. So cleaving is the mixture of our own spirit to every Christian exercise! Not less grace and wisdom does it require to receive reproof, and, instead of revolting from our reprover—to go unto him, and ask the continuance of his faithful offices. The scorner has been his own flatterer so long, that he cannot bear to be brought down to his proper level. He loveth not therefore—yea—he hateth—one that reproveth him, though before he might have reverenced him.7 "The Pharisees derided our beloved Lord with marks of external scorn, when he struck at their right eye, and reproved their hypocritical service. "Every one that doeth evil hateth the light; neither cometh he to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved."9

13. A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance: but by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken.

How close is the sympathy between the body and soul, though framed of such opposite elements! A man's countenance is the index of his spirit. In the sensation of joy 'the heart sits smiling in the face, and looks merrily out of the windows of the eyes.' Yet who has a right to a merry heart, but he that is walking in acceptance with God? It was this spring of joy, that lighted up Hannah's sorrowful countenance into godly cheerfulness.12 Stephen stood before his judge, with his heavenly prospects beaming in his "angel's face." Everywhere does the hearty reception of the gospel "give beauty for ashes"—sunshine for gloom.14

Sad indeed, is the contrast of a heart broken by worldly sorrow. Too often does a mischievous gloom worm itself into the vitals of the child of God.2 The melancholy victim drags on a weary—heavyladen existence, clouding a distinct feature of his character; despoiled of one of the most attractive ornaments of his profession.4 His hands slacken; his whole energies are paralyzed for the work of God; and he sinks into desponding apathy and indolence.6

In times of depression, let sense and feeling be kept within their bounds; and the Saviour's voice, encouraging confidence, will be practically regarded. Even our very "sighing and crying for the abominations of the land"8 must not issue in heartless complaints, but rather stimulate to the diligent improvement of present opportunities. Did we realize, as we ought, our present privileges, and grasp our eternal prospects; no sorrow of the heart would break our spirit. The gleam of sunshine would be to us the earnest of what it will be, when—as Rutherford beautifully observes—'we shall be on the sunny side of the Brae.' Meanwhile—the first step in religion is not only beginning to be serious, but to be happy. To maintain our Christian balance, even "godly sorrow" must be disciplined; lest it break the heart, which it was intended only to humble; lest it give advantage to the enemy, and bring hindrance to the Church.

14. The heart of him that hath understanding seeketh knowledge: but the mouth of fools feedeth on foolishness.

Observe the man of natural understanding. Every apprehension quickens the appetite to seek knowledge. He is ready to learn from any quarter, even from a child. He is all eye—all ear—all heart—for his object. Much more will spiritual understanding stimulate the desire. Beware of the lust to be "wise above what is written." But let every vigorous effort be made to be wise, up to what is written. David, with his high attainments, was ever crying for Divine teaching.12 His wise son sought knowledge upon his knees, and not less in the diligent habit of application.14 The Queen of Sheba, "coming from the utmost parts of the earth;" Nicodemus and Mary, sitting at the feet of Jesus;16 the Eunuch, journeying to Jerusalem; Cornelius and his company, drinking in the precious message of salvation;18 the Bereans, carefully "searching the Scriptures"—do not all these shew the understanding heart, seeking a larger interest in the blessing?

Invaluable indeed is the gift. Warm affections need the discipline of knowledge to form principle and consistency, Christian completeness and proportion: seeking for wholesome food, not intoxicating draughts; not deeming novelty the most desirable thing: but rather with the wise Sir M. Hale—'to be impressed and affected, and to have old and known truths reduced to experience and practice.'

But while the man of understanding is never satisfied with knowledge, the fool is fully satisfied with folly. So brutish is his taste, that his mouth feeds upon foolishness. It is his meat and his drink. His spirit "is of earth, earthy." Many such fools we find in religion, who prefer empty speculations and disputings on matters indifferent to the rich pasture of the children of God. Let us ponder the responsibility of "going on to perfection; that, being of full age, we may have our senses exercised to discern both good and evil."3

15. All the days of the afflicted are evil: but he that is of a merry heart hath a continual feast.

The abounding consolation of Christian affliction, does not blot out its penal character. As the fruit and chastening of sin, it is an evil; and therefore all the days of the afflicted are evil. Yet the child of God in affliction is not so miserable as he seems to be.5 The darkest of these evil days can never make "the consolations of God small with him." He can sing in the prison as in a palace.7 He can "take joyfully the spoiling of his goods." He can praise his God, when he hath stripped him naked.9 He can rejoice in him, as his portion in earthly destitution. 'Who is it'—said the heavenly Martyn in a moment of faintness—'that maketh my comforts to be a source of enjoyment? Cannot the same hand make cold, and hunger, and nakedness, and peril, to be a train of ministering angels conducting me to glory?'11 What real evil then can affliction bring? Or rather, what does it bring but many feast-days? A few days' feasting would soon weary the epicure. But here the merry heart hath a continual feast.—And 'all his trouble is but the rattling hail upon the tiles of his house,' not disturbing his enjoyment. Fed with this heavenly portion, shall I not thank my God, that he hath rooted me up from present satisfactions? "Let me not eat of this world's dainties. Thou hast put gladness into my heart, more than in the time that their corn and their wine increased."13

16. Better is little with the fear of the Lord, than great treasure and trouble therewith. 17. Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.

Here are the sources of the merry heart—the fear of the Lord, and love to man. And here also is the continual feast, so satisfying, that the saint's little is better than the worldling's all. It is his Father's gift;2 the fruit of his Saviour's love; enjoyed by special promise,4 and sweetened with the "great gain of godly contentment." If it be only little, it is not from lack of his Father's care and love; but because his wisdom knows what he really needs, and that all beyond would be a temptation and snare. Truly "a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth."7 The universe will not fill a worldly. while a little will suffice for an heavenly, heart. There must be trouble with great treasure, without the fear of the Lord. And far more destitute is its possessor in his unsubstantial happiness, than the man of God, who is eating his bread in the sweat of his brow. 'Jacob's ladder, which conveys to heaven, may have its foot in the smoking cottage.'11 And as to this world's comforts—the dinner of herbs—the homely meal of love, is better than the stalled ox, prepared for a sumptuous. but unbrotherly, feast.13 Love sweetens the meanest food. Hatred embitters the richest feast. How did the presence and converse of the Lord of angels dignify the humble fare!15 How much more refreshing were the social meals of the Pentecostal Christians, than the well-furnished tables of their enemies! When the Lord's ordinance is marred by man's selfishness—When wealth, rank, or adventitious accomplishments, govern the choice of life's companion, rather than the fear of the Lord; what wonder, if the stalled ox, and hatred therewith, be the order of the house? Mutual disappointment is too often the source of criminal indulgence abroad; always the bane of peace and unity at home. Few alas! practically believe this divine testimony. Parents!—Do you seek the solid happiness of your children? Then lead them to expect little from the world; every thing from God.

18. A wrathful man stirreth up strife: but he that is slow to anger appeaseth strife.

This Proverb requires no explanation. But observe the principles of hatred and love, contrasted in active exercise. Some persons make it their occupation to sit by the fire, to feed and fan the fiame, lest it be extinguished—An useful and friendly employment, were it a fire to warm. But when it is an injurious, consuming, and destructive element, it would seem difficult to discover the motive of these incendiaries, did we not read, that "out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, wickedness, an evil eye, pride, foolishness."

What then is the Christian's experience? Instead of stirring up—to appease strife; to bring water—not fuel—to the fire; by "a soft answer to turn away wrath;" by a yielding spirit to melt, subdue, and bring peace.3 Let me remember that I owe my very salvation to this attribute—slow to anger. And shall I not endeavor to imbue my profession with this lovely adorning, and to "be a follower of God, as his dear child, walking in love?"5 Will not this temper of the gospel secure my earthly enjoyment of godliness? Will it not also seal my title as a child of God?7

19. The way of the slothful man is as an hedge of thorns; but the way of the righteous is made plain, (raised up as a causey, Marg.)

Another picture of the slothful man drawn to life! He plants his own hedge, and then complains of its hindrance. Every effort to break through his difficulty, like a fresh thorn-bush in his way, tears his flesh. He is brought to a stand. Indecision, delay, reluctance, sluggishness, paralyze his exertions. He not only exaggerates his real,10 but pictures to his mind imaginary, difficulties; so that, after a feeble struggle of conscience, with much to do, but no heart to do any thing, he gives himself up to idleness or pleasure.12

This sloth is a ruinous evil in temporals. Young men! remember, that one or two hills of difficulty, vigorously climbed in youth, will make the way plain for future and successful progress. But to put half the soul to the work; to drag to it as an unavoidable task; to avoid present difficulties in order to find a smoother path, will make a hedge of thorns, harassing to the end of the journey.

Much more ruinous is this evil in the Christian life. The sluggard in religion is miserable—never at ease. He knows his need of a change. He makes an effort to pray. But all withers for want of purpose of heart. His way is a hedge of thorns. Exertion is absolutely impossible. He sees no hope of overcoming, and lies down in despair. Child of God! Beware of yielding to a sluggish spirit. Soon will nothing remain but the dead form of religion; the bare walls of the house, instead of the temple filled with the glory; the heartless externals of godliness, while the spirit that breathed life into them is gone.

After all—the difficulties are more in the mind than in the path. For while the slothful sits down by the side of his hedge in despondency; the righteous, in the habit of diligence, finds his way made plain. An honest desire and effort make the way easy. Faith brings him to the strong for strength. Hope, love, and joy are conquering principles. "The mountains are threshed" by the energy of faith. Religion, with all its crosses, is found to be a practicable thing.2 The victory over sloth opens a happy and prosperous way to heaven.

20. A wise son maketh glad father: but a foolish man despiseth his mother.

Do not the brightest joys, and the bitterest tears5 in this world of tears, flow from parents' hearts? Whatever be the delight to see a son prospering in life, the Christian father finds no rest, until a wise son maketh him glad. And here we need not any development of talent or superior attainment, but the true wisdom; humble and docile, marked (as the contrast suggests) by filial reverence, specially by the cleaving choice of that fear of the Lord which "is the beginning of wisdom." Such a son does indeed rejoice his father, as he watches with equal pleasure and thankfulness the daily growth and healthiness of his choice vine.

But what if folly, instead of gladdening, despise, a mother? She—whose tender love,8 and yearning faithfulness, is a faint picture of the heart of God—She is despised by "the son of her womb!" The law of God commands honor10 and reverence; and the transgression of the law will not be forgotten.12 But is not this neglect a chastening rebuke for capricious indulgence? What grace and wisdom is needed, so that parents may be a valuable blessing to their children for their highest interests!

21. Folly is joy to him that is destitute of wisdom: but a man of understanding walketh uprightly.

Let this Book of instruction probe our profession. What think we of folly? Not only does the ungodly practise it. But it is joy to him. He sins without temptation or motive. He cannot sleep without it. It is "the sweet morsel under his tongue."14 He "obeys it in the lusts thereof." He "works it with greediness."16 He hates the gospel, because it proposes to "save him from it." But hear the humbling confessions of a child of God—"I am carnal, sold under sin. O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me?" Verily would he sink under his hated burden, but for the confidence "I thank God—There is no condemnation."18

What greater proof can there be of being destitute of wisdom, than this appetite of sin? That which hath turned this fair and blooming world into a sepulchre—nay—that which hath kindled "everlasting burnings"—is his joy. And thus he goes on, intent upon the trifles of the day; and trifling with eternal concerns; preferring shadowy vanities to everlasting glory. Will he not open his eyes to the discovery; that "they that observe lying vanities, forsake their own mercy?" The Lord save him—ere it be toe late—from reaping the bitter fruits of his foolish choice!

But how know we the man of understanding? He gives his heart and mind to the word of God. He has joy in wisdom,—as the sinner in folly. Even his painful discoveries of indwelling corruption, ground him deeper in solid religion, than those who know only the surface. He is taught of God, and his upright walk is a bright "shining path." Give me, O my God, understanding, that my joy may be in thy wisdom—not in my own folly.

22. Without counsel purposes are disappointed: but in the multitude of counsellors they are established.

Consider how weak and ignorant we are. Were our judgment perfect, the first impressions would be infallibly right. But feeble and shaken as it is by the fall, every dictate needs pondering. How much evil has been done by acting upon impulse in a few hasty moments, or by a few warm words or lines without consideration! Our wisdom lies in self-distrust, at least leaning to the suspicion that we may be wrong. Yet, guard also, on the other side, against that indecision of judgment, which is carried about by every person's opinion. Upon the whole, Christian prudence suggests the expediency—especially in important matters—of experienced counsel. By the neglect of this advantage, many good purposes have been disappointed. God has ordained the commerce of wisdom for mutual benefit, and by the multitude of counsellors many valuable purposes have been established. But as the wisest of these are fallible, and often in error, is it not our only safe path, in the use of human means, to look up to the great "Counsellor"7 of his Church for guidance, and in reverential thankfulness, to take "his testimonies as the men of our counsel?" Blessed be God for this special privilege of counsel always at hand! In humility and confidence, we shall not materially err.

23. A man hath joy by the answer of his mouth: and a word spoken in due season, how good is it!

A word for our Divine Master to our fellow-sinners he will condescend to bless. The remembrance—"Who made man's mouth?"—puts away pride. But have we not joy by the answer of our mouth? The pain that every right-minded Christian feels in giving "open rebuke," is abundantly compensated by the joy of the happy issue. Even an unsuccessful effort brings the joy in "the testimony of our conscience." It must however be a word spoken in due season. "How forcible are right words;"2 well-timed, though from feeble lips! 'There are some happy seasons, when the most rugged natures are accessible.'4 Yet many a good word is lost by being given out of season. Would we bring true conviction? Then pass by the moment of irritation, and wait for the return of calmness and reason. Give reproof privately,6 not exasperating, except when the occasion calls for it, by public exposure. Never commence with an attack—an enemy's position, that naturally provokes resistance. Study a pointed application. A word spoken for every one, like a coat made for every one, has no individual fitness. When "the wise man's heart discerneth both time and judgment,"8 the word is doubly effective. Manoah's wife upheld her husband's faith. Abigail restrained David's murderous intent.10 Naaman's servants brought their Master to sober reason. Paul withheld the jailor's hand from self-destruction, and opened salvation to his soul.12 Sweet indeed also is the Minister's joy from the answer of his mouth, when his gifted tongue "speaks a word in season to him that is weary." And will it not be an element of his consummating joy "at that day," when he shall welcome those, instrumentally saved by the answer of his mouth, as his "glory and joy?"

24. The way of life is above to the wise, that he may depart from hell beneath.

The way of life—the way in which alone life is found—the way to God—the way to glory—is but one. That way is Christ. If therefore I come to him—renouncing all other hope, casting all my hope on Him, and every step of my way "looking unto Him"16—am not I in this way? And if I follow Him in "the obedience of faith," am not I advancing in that way? This way is above—of heavenly origin. Fools rise not high enough to discern it, much less to devise and walk in it. Their highest elevation is grovelling. God does not allow them even the name of life. Cleaving to the dust of earth, they sink into the hell beneath. But this is the way of the wise—born from above—taught from above—therefore walking above, while they are living upon earth—A most transcendent life! "partaker of the Divine nature!" the life of God himself—in humble sublimity, ascending above things under the sun—above the sun itself—The further we walk in this way above, the further we depart from hell beneath. Heaven and Hell are here before us—Soon will our state be fixed for eternity. What am I? Where am I? Those "who mind earthly things, their end is" the hell beneath. Those who walk in the way above—"their conversation is in heaven;" their hope is fixed on the Lord's coming from thence; their everlasting joy will be this complete transformation into his own image.

Children of God! walk like yourselves; with "your hearts lifted up in the ways of the Lord;" with a holy loftiness above the debasing pleasures of earth; "looking at the things that are unseen;"4 "having respect unto the recompence of the reward;" walking in the way above where your hope is—where your treasure7—where your home—above all—where your ascended Saviour is;9 and where one golden ray of his favor, one reflected beam of his glory—will outshine all the glare of a shadowy world. Grant, we beseech thee, that like as we do believe thy only-begotten Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, to have ascended into the heavens; so we may also in heart and mind thither ascend, and with him continually dwell.'

25. The Lord will destroy the house of the proud: but he will establish the border of the widow.

The administration of the Divine Government is to humble the proud, and to exalt the humble. The contrast seems to mark the proud oppressor—an usurper of God's rights. He deals with him therefore as a traitor, and destroys not only his person, but his house. And who can but acknowledge the retributive vengeance of the Judge of the earth!13

But the widow, whom many care not for, many are ready to trample on—what a Friend and Protector has she!—"Let thy widows trust in me."15 God condescends to link himself with them in a special relation, concentrating all his care and tenderness on their bereaved condition. Did not he provide for sorrowing Naomi, a staff in her faithful daughter; and ultimately establish her border in Israel? Did he not supply the pressing need of the Minister's widow18 (a cheering warrant of faith in similar affliction), and take up the Shunamite's oppression, and again establish her border? And shall we forget, how he teaches the returning penitent to plead the gracious manifestation—"In thee the fatherless findeth mercy?"20

26. The thoughts of the wicked are an abomination to the Lord: but the words of the pure are pleasant words, (words of pleasantness, Marg.)

How lightly do the mass of men think of the responsibility of their thoughts! as if they were their own, and they might indulge them without restraint or evil. But they are the seminal principles of sin. And as the cause virtually includes its effects; so do they contain, like the seed in its little body, all the after fruit. They are also the index of character. Watch their infinite variety—not so much those that are under the control of circumstances, or thrown up by the occasion, as the voluntary flow, following the habitual train of our associations. "For as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he."2 Let the Christian yield himself up to the clear radiance of "the word, as a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart;" and what a mass of vanity does only one day—one hour—bring to account! What then is the result with the wicked! "Evil thoughts" are the first bubbling of the corrupt fountain. The tide of evil rolls on unceasingly. Thoughts of iniquity"5—"vain thoughts lodging within"—all are an abomination.

Very different is his mind towards his own people. The words of the pure—the expressions of their thoughts—are pleasant words. How pleasant—is manifest from his inviting call to their intercourse with him; yet more from the open reward prepared for them before the assembled world—"They that spake often one to another—and thought upon his name—they shall be mine, saith the Lord, in that day, when I make up my jewels."

27. He that is greedy of gain troubleth his own house: but he that hateth gifts shall live.

What an awful stamp has God fixed upon covetousness! Idolatry; abomination,11 an evil eye, and the cause of poverty; "the root of all evil!"13 Not only is it a curse to the sinner, but often a trouble to his house. So did Lot, Achan,15 Saul, Ahab,17 Gehazi, Jehoiakim,19 and the Jews, find it. And often in our own day has greediness of gain plunged whole families into misery in ruinous speculations! For where the enriching blessing of God is not desired or sought, we cannot wonder that it be withheld!

Can the man of God do so? Not only would he refuse, but he hateth, gifts, not only in the corrupting influence of bribes, but in any case, that would bring dishonor upon his God. For this reason Abraham refused the gifts of the king of Sodom,2 and Peter the enticement of Simon. The man who thus walks in integrity, does not he live on high in the special favor of his God? Does not he, who hateth this world's gifts for the affliction of the cross, "receive an hundred-fold recompence in this life, and, in the world to come, everlasting life?" 'Let their money perish with them' (was the noble confession of the Marquis of Vico, nephew to Paul V.) 'that prefer all the world's wealth before one day's communion with Jesus Christ and his despised people.'6

28. The heart of the righteous studieth to answer: but the mouth of the wicked poureth out evil things.

Consideration is an important part of the Christian character; nowhere more important than in the discipline of the tongue. Think twice before we speak once. "The wise man's heart is in his right hand," that he may weigh his words, and study how to answer, and be ready "always to give an answer to him that asketh a reason of the hope that is in him."9 Though there may be "good treasure" within, yet we must carefully ponder to draw from it "a word in due season." Often may we reflect upon ourselves, for speaking hastily.11 And indeed, when that comes out which is uppermost, nothing but the dross of evil can be looked for? Many stumblings have been made by speaking from the hasty feeling of the moment, rather than from a well-balanced and considerate judgment. In this haste, Joshua was beguiled by the Gibeonites; David indulged a burst of murderous revenge;13 Peter would fain have dissuaded his master from the work, which he came down from heaven to do, and without which we should have been a world eternally lost. Cultivate a pondering mind. If ever asked to open an important subject, throw it not off hastily; nor give an answer, till it has been obtained from God. For the heart's study to answer, necessarily implies prayer—the only medium of receiving the "wisdom that is profitable to direct." Nehemiah darted up his prayer for the answer for the moment, and now graciously was it vouchsafed! This is more especially a Ministerial responsibility for the many cases of conscience, that require "the tongue of the learned"—a word of wisdom, conviction, or consolation. How can "the priest's lips keep knowledge,"17 unless the heart, under his Master's teaching, studieth to answer?

The wicked have no such restraint. He cares not what he says. It is of little consequence to him, whether it be true, or well-timed, or whom it wounds. His poisoned fountain poureth out poisonous waters. Yet fearful is it to think, how every light word brings its account,2 and will be found a 'hot coal to make the fire of hell burn more fiercely.' Such a plague often infests the Church.4 "From such withdraw thyself." Separation is the keeping of the soul.

29. The Lord is far from the wicked: but he heareth the prayer of the righteous.

Such is the Lord's difference between these two classes. He is equally near to them both in his essence. But in his favor he is far from the wicked, and rejects their prayer.8 He is near to the righteous, and heareth them. His distance from the wicked is to their hearts' desire. Yet does he sometimes make them groan,11 as they will sink hereafter, under its final and everlasting curse. But who can estimate the grace that calls these "stouthearted, that are afar off, to hearken, and brings near righteousness and salvation to them?"13 Inexpressible must be the guilt of despising such free, abounding, mercy!

But to the righteous, he is most graciously near. He heareth their breath, when there is no voice; their desire and weeping, when there are no words;17 their stammering, when there is no gift. Wonderful indeed is it, that he should hear such prayers, polluted as they are in their very breath. Yet does our compassionate High Priest wait for these vile offerings at the door of the oracle; and in his golden censer they appear spotless before the throne. For his sake we are not only borne with, but accepted. Add to which—our prayers his own Spirit has dictated.20 How then can he turn away from them?

Yet the enemy will suggest the doubt. Does he hear? Well he knows, what a shelter prayer is from his assault; and gladly would he drive us from it. 'Am I righteous?' Be it so, that thou art not. But is not thine advocate so? Then put thy prayers in his hands. Thou canst not doubt his access to God; or that the ear, that may be shut to thee, is open to him. "Wouldst thou be spoken for to the king?"22 Stammer out the prayer to thy Friend—"O Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me."

'But I see no answer.' Correct the errors of sense by faith in his word, which declares—whatever appearances may be—He heareth. Judge not by thy feelings or conceptions, but by his own unchangeable word—by the manifestation of his name; that he will refuse thee nothing that is really good; that thou dost obtain, if not what thou desirest, yet what upon the whole is best and fittest for thee. Have patience with God. Dictate nothing. Commit thy will to him. Say not—"I will that thou give me by and by."2 Leave time and all to him. If he does not answer in thy time, he will in his own far better season.

Study the character of God. It is not the Judge on his seat; or the King on his throne of state; but the Father in the full flowing of his love. Is not this attraction? In the sharpest trial—not all the world—not all the power of hell—can bar thine access to him. No child runs to his Father with such a confidence as thine. Never will he chill the heart, that throws itself upon his love.

Then honor him in this confidence. Shew that you really mean what you say. Bring to him no general petitions (the signs of an heartless frame) but definite objects. Tell him what you want, and all that you want. Prize his presence supremely—the pleasures of the closet above all privileges. No creature—not even the company of Apostles—can compensate for the loss of Him. Wrestle in prayer, but sit still in faith. He has bound himself by his own promises. And the fulfilment of them in answer to prayer will quicken confidenee and praise.

30. The light of the eyes rejoiceth the heart; and a good report maketh the bones fat.

The eye is the medium of the most rational enjoyment. Most elevating is the sight of the wonders of the creation! The Psalmist's Hymns of praise finely portray his delight. Glowing was the joy, which burst from the wise man's heart in the sight of the morning glory—"Truly light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun."5 Look also at gracious and unexpected providences—How did the light of the aged Patriarch's eyes rejoice his heart, when he embraced his long-lost son! A sunbeam truly was it in the cloud of despondency! And when the eye fastens upon the one object of attraction, does not one look clothed with light, cast a glory on the soul, and fill it with life and joy?7 "They looked unto him and were lightened." And what will it be, when the whole soul, animated with Divine Power, shall centre in the eye, when the light of the eyes shall present him to unclouded view, whom all heaven adores with everlasting praise!

But let us look at the joy of hearing. See how the Patriarch's heart bounded at the good report of his beloved Joseph. The absent Minister seems to live again in the good tidings of his thriving people. 'How delightful must it be to the humbled sinner to hear the good report of salvation, and to have his eyes enlightened to behold the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ!' The animating delight with which the Shepherds saw the good report realized before their eyes, can scarcely be conceived. So joyful is it still to the humbled sinner, that the very "feet of its messengers are beautiful" in his eyes.3 "Blessed are the people, that know the joyful sound."

31. The ear that heareth the reproof of life abideth among the wise. 32. He that refuseth instruction despiseth his own soul: but he that heareth reproof getteth understanding—(possesseth an heart, Marg.)

What a contrast to the "scorner," lately described, who "goeth not unto the wise." The circumcised ear heareth the reproof that tends to life, and welcomes it as a probing medicine, needful for the soul's health.7 It is indeed the absolute law of social life, a component part of the love of our neighbor, the bounden obligation to be "our brother's keeper" to the utmost of our power.9 And yet for its discharge there should be a special office or relation, or concurrent providential circumstances. So wisely has God fenced its exercise from needless or wilful provocations. No wise man would incur the reproach of a tale-bearer, by thrusting himself into this ungracious work. But beautiful indeed is the sight of "a wise reprover upon an obedient ear."11 The man of God abode with the wise. He took his meek reprover to his wife. He honored the faithful messenger of his Father's rod with his highest confidence.13 The Apostle's affectionate testimony to his reproving brother showed, that he had heard the reproof of life. This considerate and humble temper always gets understanding. Nothing teaches like experience, and no experience is more useful, because none so abasing, as rebuke.16

But he that refuseth instruction, despiseth his own soul. He will not indeed own the charge. But does he not underrate its high value and imminent danger, when he despises God's warning and provision for its salvation?18 "Be thou instructed, O Jerusalem, lest my soul depart from thee."

33. The fear of the Lord is the instruction of wisdom: and before honor is humility.

The fear of the Lord is described as the substance—the beginning or principal part21—here the instruction—of wisdom. For is it not the medium of the deepest—most heavenly—wisdom? Though given under the law, it is linked with the full privileges of the Gospel. The fear of terror melts away. The fear of reverence fills the soul. God rejoices in his mercy—the child of God in his confidence. But as it realizes the presence of a holy God, it must always be connected with humility. Indeed what Christian grace of the Gospel can exist without this conservating principle? Every dispensation of God strikes at the root of self exaltation, and tends to that real absence of self-esteem and self-sufficiency, which most of us rather long after than attain.

Most wise therefore is our Father's discipline. Before honor, humility. Indeed, without humility, honor would be our temptation, rather than our glory. Had not the Apostle been kept down by a most humbling trial, his honor would have been his ruin. The exaltation of the Lord's people in providence, is therefore often conducted through the valley of Humiliation. Joseph was raised from the prison to the throne. Moses and David were taken from the Shepherd's fold to feed the Lord's inheritance. Gideon acknowledged himself to be of "the least of the families of Israel."3 Ruth was humbled by adversity, ere she was raised to the high honor of a Mother in Israel, and progenitor of the Saviour. Abigail confessed herself unworthy to wash the feet of her Lord's servants, before she was honored to be his wife.5 And in the daily walk of life, the lowest place is the pathway to honor.

The same principle obtains in the dispensations of grace. "He that humbleth himself shall be exalted in due time." Not that in the forgetfulness of our high privileges and confidence, we are to be weighed down in a sense of degradation. The true humility, which realizes our vileness, casts us most simply upon the full resources of the gospel, so that the most humble is the most triumphant believer. 'The lower, then, any descend in humiliation, the higher they shall ascend in exaltation. The lower this foundation of humility is laid, the higher shall the roof of honor be overlaid.'

And was not this the track of our beloved Lord—before honor, humility—the cross before the crown? How deep was that descent, by which he, who was infinitely more than man—became "a worm and no man!" And yet the honor which rewarded this humility, what tongue can tell! 'We must not disdain to follow Jesus Christ.'11 Is it a light privilege to follow in the pathway consecrated by his steps—irradiated by his smile?

CHAPTER 16

1. The preparations (disposings, Marg.) of the heart in man, and the answer of the tongue, is from the Lord.

The grand question is here decided—Who is the first mover in the work of conversion? Can man prepare his own heart for the grace of God? The preparations of the heart in man are from the Lord. He takes the stone out of the heart, that it may feel;2 draws it, that it may follow; quickens it, that it may live. He opens the heart, that he may imprint his own law, and mould it into his image. He works, not merely by moral suasion, or by the bare proposal of means of uncertain power; but by invisible Almighty agency. The work then begins with God. It is not, that we first come, and then are taught. But first we learn; then we come.4 His grace both prevents and co-operates.

Shall we then indolently wait, until he works? Far from it. We must work, but in dependence upon him. He works not without us, but with us, through us, in us, by us; and we work in him. Ours is the duty; his is the strength. Ours the agency; his the quickening life. His commands do not imply our power to obey, but our dependence upon him for the grace of obedience. He gives what he commands, and 'his promises are the ground of our performances.'7 Our works are not the cause, but the effect of his grace; and never could they come out of us, until God had first put them in us.

The fruit also as well as the root—the answer of the tongue, no less than the preparation of the heart—is from the Lord. The tongue of the ungodly is under Divine restraint. And when the Christian's thoughts are marshalled in due order, does not he depend upon the Lord for utterance?9 Often in prayer, the more we speak, the more we leave unspoken, till the answer of the tongue is fully given, "crying, Abba, Father." But the fluency of the tongue without the preparation of the heart—when prayer is without special business, when we read the precious promises, and carry not a word to plead before the throne—this is man's dead formality—not from the Lord—an abomination in his sight.

This habit of dependence must continue to the end. We can no more prepare ourselves after grace received, than before it. He who "is the author," must be "the Finisher, of faith."12 He is "Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end," in this Almighty work. Our happiness and prosperity is in the humbling praising acknowledgment—"By the grace of God I am what I am:"2 Dependence is not the excuse for indolence, but the spring of active energy.

And if man's reason disputes—'If God does not give me grace, how can I come?'—we ask—Did you ever desire—did you ever ask for grace?—If not—how can you complain that you have never received it? If helplessness is really felt—if it brings conviction, grace is ready to be vouchsafed. Ask, and have.

2. All the ways of a man are clear in his own eyes: but the Lord weigheth the spirits.

If man were his own judge, who would be condemned? But man judges by acts; God by principles. His eye therefore beholds a mass of corruption; while all the ways of a man are clean in his own eyes. He confesses himself indeed to be a sinner. But what his sins are he knows not; probably only venial, and abundantly compensated by his fancied virtues. "Ye are they,"—said our Lord to men of this stamp—"that justify yourselves before men: but God knoweth your hearts, for that which is highly esteemed among men is abomination in the sight of God."5 Sometimes we see this delusion under the most shadowy cover. Pilate washed his hands, and was clean in his own eyes, from the blood of his condemned victim. The murderers of Christ were clean, by refraining from the defilement of the judgment-hall, and by eating the passover. The persecution of the Church blinded their consciences in the sincerity of unbelief.8 Often has the self-deceiver passed into eternity under a credible profession. But how does he stand before God? He never acted from principle: He had the form and shape of a Christian, so drawn to life as to pass for a living man. But the eyes that are as a flame of fire bare witness—"Thou hast a name that thou livest, but thou art dead." External forms without a sanctified heart is a baseless religion. The Lord "weighs" not "the actions" only but the spirit. His eye discerns if 'but one' grain too light, and pronounces the sentence. Saul was thus "weighed in the balances, and found wanting." And "if thou, Lord, shouldst mark iniquities"—the shortcomings of thy full and righteous demands, "O Lord, who shall stand?"12—Must we not fly from Omniscience to satisfied justice, and there find, that "there is forgiveness with God?" Joyous indeed is it to mark the even balances of our Judge;—in one scale his own perfect law; in the other—his Son's perfect obedience. Here, O my God, is my peace, my security. "Thou, most upright, dost weigh the path of the just." But oh! place the blood of thy beloved Son ever in the scale of thy justice, and we will render to thee the glory of thy wondrous work of grace.

3. Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established.

No moral rules can effectively discipline an unsettled mind—that canker to Christian peace. Faith is the only principle of solid establishment. Here was our original happiness and security. Independence was the destruction of our well-being.4 The return to this humble simplicity was the blessing of the gospel. "In all thy ways acknowledge him"—is the rule of peace. Eliezer found his way prospered, and his thoughts established, in committing his work to the Lord. This confidence was the stay of our beloved Lord in his great work.7 Prayer was the exercise of his faith. Establishment was the issue. Has the fretting spirit ever tried this true remedy? Actively were the two hands of faith and prayer engaged in making over our burdens to our Father. To have a sanctuary to flee to—a God, on whom to roll our cares;9 to lean to his wisdom, and rest on his faithfulness—Here is a chamber of quietness in the most distracting anxieties—"So he giveth his beloved sleep." Commit then all thy works to him. Seek to him for strength and guidance in all—Look to him for success in all. Roll on him the great work of thy soul's salvation. Be satisfied with his management of thy concerns. The active energy of faith at the throne of grace will establish thy thoughts in the peace of God, and keep thy soul in fortified security. Thy burden is now cast upon one, who is better able to bear it.12 The mind is now easy; the thoughts composed; quietly waiting the issue of things; knowing that all, that is for thy good, and the glory of thy God, shall be brought to pass. Thus "we which have believed do enter into rest."14 "But if ye will not believe,"—so speaks the solemn warning—"surely ye shall not be established."

4. The Lord hath made all things for himself: yea, even the wicked for the day of evil.

Every workman has some end for his work. God has the highest end. It is his exclusive prerogative to be his own end in all his works. The Lord hath made all things—all the events of nations—all the dispensations of Providence—for himself; not to fill up a vacuum (for what vacuum could there be to the fountain of sufficiency?)—but for the manifestation of his glory to the intelligent creation. Even the wicked—though their existence might seem scarcely reconcileable to the divine perfections—are included in this grand purpose. 'It is the greatest praise of his wisdom, that he can turn the evil of men to his own glory!' He hath made even the wicked for the day of evil.—Wicked they are of themselves. He made them not so. He compels them not to be so.4 He abhors their wickedness. But he foresaw their evil. He permitted it, and though "he hath no pleasure in their death," he will be glorified in them in the day of evil, as the monuments of his power, his justice, and his long-suffering.7

Clearly therefore God is not the Author of sin. He cannot impart what he has not—what is contrary to his nature. Infinite perfection cannot impart imperfection. Absolute holiness cannot be the cause of sin, though (like the law) it may be the innocent occasion or excitement of it. If he foreknows—'infinite foreknowledge'—as Edwards profoundly observes—'proves the necessity of the event foreknown; yet it may not be the thing which causes the necessity.'9 He can decree nothing but good. If he permits evil, so far as not to hinder it, he hates it as evil, and permits it only for the greater good—the greatest of all good—the more full manifestation of his own glory in it, and out of it. He will be glorified in, or on all his creatures. "All thy works shall praise thee; O Lord." His retributive justice, no less than the riches of his glory.11 The flames of hell exalt the reverential praises of heaven.—"And again they said—Alleluia. And her smoke rose up for ever and ever."

5. Every one that is proud in heart is an abomination to the Lord: though hand join in hand, he shall not be unpunished—(held innocent, Marg.)

The hatefulness of a proud look has been mentioned. But the Searcher of hearts marks pride in heart under a humble look. Men see no abomination in this secret spirit. It brings no disgrace. Nay, it is often thought to be high-minded. But it keeps back the heart from God. It lifts up the heart against him. It speaks, as if contending the supremacy with him. When it thus strikes at God, what wonder that God strikes at it2—that he stamps it as an abomination to him?.

How unseemly moreover is this sin! Such a creature—so utterly dependent—so fearfully guilty—yet proud in heart! This is indeed a true child of a fallen parent, who, in dreaming himself to be as God, made himself like the devil. Many are the forms of this hateful spirit. Some are proud of their beauty; some of their talents; some of their rank; some of their goodness—all forgetting, that they "have nothing which they have not received;" all unconscious, that they are an abomination to the Lord.

Perhaps, however, this declaration applies more distinctly to proud combinations against God—hand joining in hand. What is all this force, but the worm "striving with his Maker?6 "Who is the Lord?"—was the boast of haughty Pharaoh.—Let him and his people go to the Red Sea, and learn. Hand joining in hand shall not be held innocent—shall not be unpunished. The Babel combination was blasted with confusion. The "associations" against the holy child Jesus were "broken in pieces."9 The infidel conspiracies of Voltaire and his school have been overthrown. And thus in our own day, will all Social and Chartist banding together for wickedness, only manifest more gloriously—"There is no wisdom, nor understanding, nor counsel against the Lord."

6. By mercy and truth iniquity is purged: and by the fear of the Lord men depart from evil.

The purging of iniquity directs us at once to expiation. Therefore, to connect it with man's mercy and truth, is to overturn the foundation of the Gospel. These are duties to be performed; not atonement for sin. And often are they performed by men destitute of the grace of God, whose iniquities therefore are not purged. It is then God's mercy and truth—shadowed forth in the daily sacrifices—that here irradiates the system of practical godliness. Man would purge iniquity by repentance; God by sacrifice—not by a simple deed of mercy, nullifying the sanction of the law; but by the combined manifestation of truth, fulfilling these sanctions upon the Surety, which mercy provided. So gloriously do these two attributes harmonize! We enquire not to which we owe most. Both, like the two pillars of the temple13—combine to support the Christian confidence; so that, though there may be, and is, material for condemnation, even in the holiest saint; actual condemnation there is not—there cannot be.15

Yet iniquity is not purged, that we should wallow again in the mire. God shows the deepest abhorrence of sin in the very act of its expiation. And do not you, Christian, know his "forgiveness, that he may be feared?" Do you not learn to depart from evil, "perfecting holiness in the fear of God?" Not that we are held to our duty by a legal fear. The slave is changed into a child. Filial confidence, like a sevenfold shield, covers him from sin. Its very touch is hateful, and all its ways are abhorred and forsaken.

7. When a man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him.

Often is the favor of God and man combined to the man of God. He will always have his enemies—if from no other source—from "his own household." To seek peace with them by compromise of principle, would be to forfeit his character at a dreadful cost. Let him hold fast his principles in the face of his enemies. 'Though they mean him no good, they shall do him no harm.'

How then do we explain the persecution of the saints—of him especially, whose ways always pleased the Lord? Each statement limits the other. The one shows the native enmity of the heart: the other its Divine control. It shall be let loose, so far as is for the glory of God. Beyond this, it shall be restrained.9 His Church shall have her season of rest. He hath all tongues, all hands, all hearts, under his power. Who needs to fear man, that walks in the fear of God?11 'The best way for our enemies to be reconciled to us, is for us to be reconciled to God.' All our danger lies in his wrath, not in their anger. No creature can touch us without his permission.13 Laban followed Jacob as an enemy, but was constrained to be at peace with him. Esau, when about to execute his long-brooded threat, was melted down to brotherly endearment.15 Israel's lands were preserved from invasion, while they were engaged in the service of God. The enemies of the godly kings were manacled, and bowed before them.17 Often have the Lord's people exhibited a majesty of the brow of holiness, that commanded the reverence, and bound up the hands of the ungodly. And such will be the ultimate victory of the Church over all opposition.19

But even if the enemies be let loose; yet if their harm be overruled to larger good, is not the promise substantially fulfilled? 'No wise man will tax him with breach of promise, who, having promised a pound of silver, giveth a talent of gold. Or who can truly say, that that man is not so good as his word, that is apparently much better than his word?' Student of holiness! Thy God will take care of thee. Peace or war shall turn to thy everlasting good.2

8. Better is a little with righteousness, than great revenues without right.

We have before had this proverb in substance. It seems almost too plain to need illustration. Yet so blind is the love of gain, that it looks only at its own selfish end, and the present moment; and fancies—what never can be—enjoyment4 and security. Retributive justice is at hand.6 Far better is the little with righteousness. Was not the widow of Zarephath richer with her scanty fare, than Jezebel in her royal attire; the poor prophet, sharing her pittance, than the King, with his revenues without right; Zaccheus, when reduced to his comparative little with righteousness, than with his former abundance of the unrighteous Mammon. This is the present manifestation. Much more clearly will the day declare it. The little righteously employed will then open the door of heaven. The treasures of wickedness will be found treasures of wrath eternal.11

Few however of us amass great revenues. But the most trifling acquisitions without right will canker a large possession. Beware of the hair-breadth deviation from the straight principle. "Mortify that member of the earth," which "is idolatry" against God, and "the root of all evil" to ourselves.13 Godliness is great riches in this life; what will it be in eternity!

9. A man's heart deviseth his way: but the Lord direcleth his steps.

A fine description of the Sovereign government of God! Inscrutable indeed is the mystery, how he accomplishes his fixed purpose by free-willed agents. Man without his free will is a machine. God without his unchangeable purpose ceases to be God. As rational agents we think, consult, act, freely. As dependent agents, the Lord exercises his own power in permitting, overruling, or furthering our acts.16 Thus man proposes; God disposes. Man devises; the Lord directeth. He orders our will without infringing our liberty.

We observe this supremacy, in directing—not only an important end—but every step towards it; not only the great events, but every turn; not only in his own people,2 but in every child of man. How little did Joseph's brethren contemplate the overruling direction to their evil devisings! When Saul's heart was devising "slaughter against the disciples of the Lord;" when the renegade slave was running in his own path6—little did they think of that gracious direction of their steps, to the salvation of their souls. Often also has the path of the Lord's people been encouraged by the counteracting of their enemies' devising, and the backward direction of their steps, at the moment when they were ready to grasp their prey!

Most interesting also is it to mark the minutiæ of circumstances, as parts and pieces of Divine Providence. A matter of common business; the indulgence of curiosity;9 the supply of necessary want; a journey from home11—all are connected with infinitely important consequences. And often has the way of our own devising been blocked up, and an opposite way marked out, with the ultimate acknowledgment—"He led me forth in the right way." The Divine control of the Apostles' movements—apparently thwarting their present usefulness—turned out to the greater furtherance of the gospel in the planting of flourishing churches.13 After all however we need much discipline to wean us from our own devices, that we may seek the Lord's direction in the first place. The fruit of this discipline will be a dread of being left to our own devices, as before we were eager to follow them. So truly do we find our happiness and security in yielding up our will to heavenly guidance!

10. A divine sentence (Divination, Marg.) is in the lips of the king; his mouth transgresseth not in judgment. 11. A just weight and balance are the Lord's; all the weights of the bag are his work. 12. It is an abomination to kings to commit wickedness; for the throne is established by righteousness. 13. Righteous lips are the delight of kings; and they love him that speaketh right.

Here is a manual for kings; shewing, not what they are, but what God requires them to be, that they may be a blessing to their people, and benefactors to the world. If this standard be neglected, the wisely-arranged ordinance fails of its end. "One man ruleth over another to his own hurt;"17 and ruler and people—may each become a curse to the other.

The king is not indeed wiser by birth than his subjects; but he is under stronger obligations to seek wisdom. And when God's law is his law, a divine sentence is in his lips. Such was the wisdom of Solomon, when in a delicate and difficult cause his mouth transgressed not in judgment.

Such a King (and this is the glory of royalty) will have no interest of his own, apart from the public good. The remembrance, that the balances and weights are the Lord's—his work—made by his appointment—dictates an even-handed justice. Not only will he refrain from wickedness; but it will be abomination to him to commit it. Not only will he be careful to remove evil from his person; but he will surround himself with faithful counsellors. Righteous lips will be his delight. Admirable was Eli's regard to Samuel's lips, even when they spoke daggers to his heart.

Nothing is wanting to such a reign but stability. And thus speaks the word—unnoticed indeed by worldly statesmen, but wellwarranted by experience—The throne is established by righteousness. Godliness is the foundation of national prosperity.7 The righteous are the pillars of the earth—"the lions around the King's throne—his glory and defence.9

And shall not we make intercession for our beloved Queen, that she may embody this royal standard in her personal character and high responsibilities? And may we not see here some faint delineation of the glorious King of Zion? What divine sentences of discriminating judgment dropped from his lips! How even are the balances of his perfect standard! How fully is his throne established by righteousness!—himself "loving righteousness, and hating iniquity!"14 And what and who are his delight?—righteous lips—He that speaketh right.

14. The wrath of a king is as messengers of death; but a wise man will pacify it. 15. In the light of the king's countenance is life; and his favor is as a cloud of the latter rain.

The King's vast power is now developed in a graphic picture of Eastern despotism. Life and death are in his hands. His will is his law. Every sign of his wrath—even the frown on his face, or the word out of his mouth, is a messenger of death. The despot issues his order, and the executioner performs his warrant without delay or resistance.3 No common wisdom was needed to pacify this wrath. Jonathan appeased his father's wrath. Daniel pacified the outrageous autocrat of Babylon. What a blessing—in contrast with this tyranny—is our own constitution! Such an admirable counterpoise between the power of the people and the caprice of the Sovereign! The just authority of the crown is preserved, without invading the due liberty of the subject.

The King's favor marks the same absolute power. The restoration of Pharaoh's butler to his place was as life from the dead. The captive monarch found renewed life in the light of his Master's countenance. Nehemiah's depression was cheered by his Sovereign's kind manners, and still kinder indulgence.8 And was not the golden sceptre held out to Esther, as the reviving cloud of the latter rain—the security of "the joy of harvest?"

But think of the King of kings, before whom the mightiest Monarch is as dust. How much more is his wrath to be dreaded as messengers of death!12 The Kings themselves will fly to the rocks in vain for a shelter from its fury. Wise indeed is the man who pacifies it. What owe we to that blood, which speaks our peace? Sinner—ere it be too late—listen to the pleading call—"Be ye reconciled unto God."15

And if in the light of the earthly King's countenance—much more "in His favor is life"—"gladness" infinitely more than all the treasures of earth;17 refreshing as the latter rain. 'Christ liveth,' said the noble Luther—'else I would not desire to live one moment.' Yea—Christian!—bitter and deep as thy sorrow may be, dread above all thy troubles the clouding of thy Lord's countenance. Watch every interval to obtain a glimpse of it. Seize every leisure to exchange a word or a look. Count every moment of separation irksome to thee. Above all—look and hasten to that time, when thou shalt walk up and down in the unclouded light. Oh my Lord! 'let the splendor of that day irradiate my soul, even at this distance from it, and leave no space void of its light and comfort. Yea—let it eclipse all other joys, and by its glistening beauty cause the small contentments of this world to be as so many glow-worms, which shine only in the night. Impress on my heart such a lively sense of thee, and of thy glory, that I may sooner forget myself, than thee and thine appearing.'

16. How much better is it to get wisdom than gold! and to get understanding rather to be chosen than silver!

This—apart from inspiration—must be considered to be a competent judgment. It was formed by one, who had the largest portion of both blessings, that ever fell to the lot of man. Calculate in the balances of the sanctuary, the overwhelming interests of heaven above earth, of the soul above the body, of eternity above time; and who will dispute this verdict? One, who had made the choice, counted all things but loss and dung in the comparison. It is more valuable,4 more abiding, more fruitful,6 more satisfying. It is inexpressibly better. It is a question of admiration and delight. How much better to get wisdom than gold! understanding than silver!

The security of the possession heightens its value. Multitudes labor night and day for gold; yet miss the treasure. But who was ever disappointed in the effort to get wisdom? When has earnestness and prayer failed of success?9 "wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom; and with all thy getting, get understanding." Nothing less than "salvation" is the great end.11 How rich must be that blessing, of which the Son of God is the store-house! "In him are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge." And none shall spoil us of our portion.

17. The highway of the upright is to depart from evil: he that keepeth his way preserveth his soul.

The highway is the plain beaten path. The highway of the upright—his ordinary course of profession—is the way of holiness"—departing from evil. Here let him be seen, peculiar in his practice, as in his principles. Each of us have our own world of evil—an inner circle, where the conflict is far more sharp—where the need of divine discipline is far more sensibly felt, than in the grosser forms of sin. Show great forbearance to others, but none to ourselves. Admit no foibles or infirmities. Count nothing small, that hinders the completeness or consistency of profession. The real injury is not from our living in he world, but from the world living in us. So delicate is the vital principle, that it never can emit its glowing influence, except in the atmosphere of heaven.

To keep therefore this way, is to preserve our soul. Thus Joseph was saved;16 while David, forsaking the path, fell into grievous sin. The quick perception of evil—the sensibility of danger from lawful things—at once tests our heavenly birth, and covers us from many subtle devices.2 The unclean shall not pass over this highway; "but the redeemed shall walk there."

18. Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. 19. Better is it to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud.

What more vivid exposition of these Proverbs is needed, than our own ruined condition? Our father's pride—desiring to "be as God"—hurried his whole race to destruction. 'O Adam'—was the exclamation of a man of God,—'what hast thou done?'5 The most awful strength of Divine eloquence seems to be concentrated to delineate the character and ruin of pride. Example abounds throughout the Scripture7—each sounding this solemn admonition—"Be not high-minded, but fear" Fearful indeed is our danger, if the caution be not welcomed, if the need for it be not deeply felt!

The haughty spirit carries the head high. The man looks upward, instead of to his steps. What wonder therefore, if, not seeing what is before him, he falls? He loves to climb. The enemy is always at hand to assist him; and the greater the height, the more dreadful the fall. Yet is the state of heart, that prepared him for the fall, the worst part of his condition. Have we been preserved from open disgrace? Examine secret faults. Trace them to their source—a subtle confidence in gifts, attainments, or privileges. And then praise thy God for his painful discipline—the preserving mercy from ruinous self-exaltation.11 Truly the way down to the valley of humiliation is deep and rugged. Humility therefore is the grand preserving grace. The contrite publican was safe when the boasting Pharisee was confounded. Better then—more happy, more honorable, more acceptable to God and man—is a humble spirit companying with the lowly, than the spoil of the haughty conqueror, ministering only to his destruction. May my Lord's example keep me low! 'When majesty'—said pious Bernard—'humbled himself, shall the worm swell with pride?'

20. He that handleth a matter wisely shall find good: and whoso trusteth in the Lord, happy is he.

Two things are needed for the success of a matter—wisdom and faith. One teaches us what to do for ourselves; the other what to expect from God. "Wisdom is profitable to direct"—specially in important matters. Joseph's wise management in a great emergency found good. The Apostles wisely handled the matter of the ministration of the widows; relieving themselves from the secular work, and, for the greater satisfaction, choosing the officers (as seems probable from the original of the names) from the complaining party. And great good did they find from the arrangement. Let the young Christian earnestly study this wisdom. His first glowing impulse would cast away every relic of his former course, and stamp his religion with needless singularity. But he may learn, that true self-denial is more an internal exercise than an external badge of difference;—that there may be a martyred singularity without the genuine love; that the distinction between enthusiasm and zeal, is not the energy, but the direction, of the principle. This wisdom will be profitable for Christian humility and consistency.

After all, however, the most profound human wisdom may be outwitted. Prudence without faith will come to naught.6 True wisdom handles the matter in self-distrusting dependence. Eliezer's discreet handling was in the spirit of faith. In the same spirit did Jacob conduct his prudential defence against his brother.9 Esther wisely handled her delicate matter; using 'a fast to call upon God, and a feast to obtain favor with the King.' This is in all cases true wisdom—to make man the exercise of diligence; God the object of trust.

And where—as in this practical trust—shall we find so Divine—so simple—a recipe of happiness? Never did God intend to create our happiness out of our own resources. To feel that we know nothing—that we can do nothing—contrive nothing; then to look up to him as our supreme good, and to trust him as our only friend—when was such reliance and expectation ever disappointed? We feel that we are in his hands. We have nothing more to do with ourselves. A thousand perplexing thoughts are scattered to the winds. God now takes the place once filled by most unquiet agitations. We can fearlessly look an extremity in the face. The soul is fixed on God. He reigns over all with an all-seeing eye and an all-moving hand. All the world cannot rob us of one word of God. Providence may seem to oppose his promises. But there is more reality in the least promise of God, than in the greatest performance of man. 'I will therefore ever trust him on his bare word; with hope, besides hope, above hope, against hope; for small matters of this life. For how shall I hope to trust him in impossibilities, if I may not in likelihoods?'

21. The wise in heart shall be called prudent: and the sweetness of the lips increaseth learning.

The heart is the proper seat of wisdom. There "it dwells with prudence."3 Their combined exercise is essential to the completeness of a Christian profession. Intellectual wisdom without a prudential application tends to ho practical end. The pervading want of prudence gives needless offence to the gospel, and destroys influential weight of character. Often also do spiritual affections run to waste for want of prudent direction or discipline. Moral habits from this defect become either morbid or hardened. There is either a superstitious scrupulousness, or a reckless indifference; sometimes a conscience about every thing, sometimes about nothing. Prudent wisdom gives establishment to the whole system. The eye directs the foot, and we walk safely upon firm ground.

These internal qualities gain increasing acceptance from external gifts. "When we are enriched with all utterance, as well as with all knowledge;" when we are enabled to clothe our thoughts in a flowing style, and clear expression—this doubtless gives a great advantage in communicating knowledge.5 The sweetness of the lips increaseth learning. Ambrose's mellifluous eloquence arrested and gradually brought conviction to Augustine's mind. Yet we would not confine this advantage to natural eloquence. Wisdom is in the heart as in a treasury, and "of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaketh." When therefore "the heart is inditing a good matter, speaking of the things touching the King; the tongue"—like the Apostle's8—without any adventitious attractiveness, "is the pen of a ready writer." And when without measure "grace was poured upon the lips"10 of the King himself, what wonder, that he should have constrained the admiration, and fixed the attention,12 of his hearers! How inestimable the privilege of his true disciples to sit at his feet, increasing learning from the sweetness of his lips!

22. Understanding is a well-spring of life unto him that hath it: but the instruction of fools is folly.

A religion of notions—what is it? All is death. There is no pulse in the affections—no motion in the heart. But when the understanding is enlightened, to apprehend spiritual things in their spiritual glory, notions become principles; feelings flow from light, and are filled with life. This is indeed a well-spring of life to him that hath it, refreshing to himself, and a blessing to all around him. The well-spring shews that the work is not on the surface—not a mere forced impulse. It is not the summer stream, but a deep, overflowing fountain. If it be not always bubbling,3 there is always a supply at the bottom spring.

But the stream must be as the fountain. What therefore but folly can be the instruction of fools? Justly did our Lord stamp with this rebuke the senseless instruction of the Scribes and Pharisees. What else could their teaching be, but "the blind leading the blind, both falling into the ditch?"6

Christian professor! ponder—unless thy understanding be filled with heavenly light, it will be a poisoned fountain—not a well-spring of life. What if thy understanding be clear, and thy heart be dark; if thou be learned in the truth of Christ, yet not "taught by him, as the truth is in Jesus;" if like Balaam, thou be sound in theology, yet damned in sin!8 'Let us not think much of ourselves,' says the excellent Bishop Reynolds—'though God should have adorned us with the most splendid natural gifts—with quickness of understanding, almost like that of angels; unless at the same time he adds to all, the gift of his spiritual grace, by which we may attain to a knowledge and delight in the heavenly mystery.'

23. The heart of the wise teacheth his mouth, and addeth learning to his lips.

The well-spring of life, however silently it may flow, cannot be concealed. The weighty instruction, pouring out from a Divinely-instructed heart, shews the heavenly source, from whence the well-spring is supplied. While the "talk of the lips impoverishes," the teaching of the heart addeth learning. Who does not know the difference between one who speaks of what he has read or heard, and one who speaks of what he has felt and tasted? The one has the knowledge of the gospel—dry and spiritless. The other has "the savour of this knowledge"—fragrant and invigorating. The theorist may exceed in the quantum (for Satan, as an angel of light, is a fearful proof, how much knowledge may be consistent with ungodliness;) but the real difference applies—not to the extent, but to the character, of knowledge; not to the matter known, but to the mode of knowing it. 'Unbelievers'—as Dr. Owen admirably observers—'may know more of God, than many believers; but they know nothing as they ought; nothing in a right manner; nothing with an holy and heavenly light. The excellency of a believer is, not that he hath a large apprehension of things; but that what he doth apprehend (which perhaps may be very little) he sees it in the light of the Spirit of God, in a saving, soul-transforming light. And this is that which gives us communion with God.' These apprehensions therefore are manifestly of God. The object has a real existence. The unlearned Christian, without any theological aid, comes to the enjoyment of "all the riches of the full assurance of understanding;"2 to a clearer certainty of the truth, than by the most demonstrable theorems. And this experimental theology gives a rich unction to his communications. Divinity is not said by rote. The heart teacheth the mouth.

Take as an illustration the doctrine of the Trinity—that mystery, of which every letter is mysterious. The disputant of the school, in attempting to expound it, only "darkens counsel by words without knowledge." The heart of the wise—heaventaught—realizes the indwelling of the three sacred persons in undivided essence; and every act of prayer is through God—by God—to God. Conscious weakness needs Divine breath. Conscious guilt trusts in Divine advocacy. The heart, thus taught in the school of experience, expounds the doctrine in simplicity, and super-addeth learning to the lips. How much better is faith understood in the practical exercise, than in the accurate definition! He who lives most simply "a life of faith on the Son of God" will explain most clearly its office and influence. Contrast also proud reasoning man replying to the Sovereignty of God, with the humbled heart, teaching the mouth the adoration of wonder and praise.

This heart-teaching gives the Minister the tongue of the learned for the refreshment of the weary soul, when he "declares" not only "what he has seen and heard," but "what his hands have handled of the Word of life."9 He then speaks, not only the message of God, but from the mouth of God; and his "gospel comes not in word only, but in power, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance."

In fine—man's religion begins with the head; God's with the heart. "Out of the heart are the issues of life." Let my heart be Divinely taught. Then let it teach my mouth, and add learning to my lips, for the praise of my God, and the edifying of his Church.

24. Pleasant words are as honeycomb: sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.

The sweets of pleasure are not always health. The honeycomb combines both. Description may give a fancied notion of it. But the taste affords the only true apprehension. The professor may enjoy a passing sweetness in the words of God. But it is only "the drinking in of them" that realizes their solid pleasure14 "sweeter than honey or the honeycomb." We go on our way like Samson—eating our honeycomb; like Jonathan, revived.3 We take the Lord's words to the throne of grace; and, pleading them humbly and thankfully—most pleasant are they to our taste. Yea, so overwhelming often is their richness, that we can only ask, as concerning the manna—"What is it?" Not less healthful are they than pleasant; invigorating to our inner principles,—those bones—so to speak—the strength of our spiritual system.

The like pleasure and health flow from the words of man in the things of God. How did "David and Jonathan in the wood, strengthen each other's hands in God!"7 How was the Eunuch cheered by Philip's exposition of the precious Scripture! What health did Paul's most pleasant words pour into the heart of the desponding jailer! And how was his own spirit revived by the meeting at Appii Forum;10 as the diciples had been refreshed by the converse of their Divine Master on the walk to Emmaus! When he is the subject and his spirit the teacher, pleasant indeed will be the words of Christian communion beyond any earthly enjoyment.

25. There is a way that seemeth right unto man: but the end thereof are the ways of death.

Again we have this solemn, searching, caution. For so fearful is the danger of self-delusion, that we are only safe by warning upon Warning.13 Not defect of understanding, but love of sin, is the cause. The judgment is perverted, because the heart is blinded.15 It is no proof that a way is right, because it seemeth right. "All the ways of a man are right in his own eyes;"17 yet the end thereof are the ways of death. The way of disobedience seems to be necessary; or it is only a small deviation; yet was it punished as "witchcraft and idolatry." The way of deceit seems to be right—an easy way of escaping difficulty; or obtaining some present advantage.20 "But a lying tongue is but for a moment;" and the unrepenting liar finds his "part in the lake, that burneth with fire and brimstone."22 The Pharisee is dazzled with his own goodness. All his religion is in externals. He has compounded for the internal work, to add to the pomp of the heartless ceremonial. He brings to God the formal duty, which he abhors,24 and he refuses the spiritual service, which he demands. Yet this way seems to be right. But his countenance is hated, his prayer is cast out;2 his goodness is an abomination. The orthodox professor takes up his opinion, and puts on appearances—only to keep the Spirit out of the heart, and to quiet his conscience without coming to the true point. Yet his way—with so much doing in religion—seemeth right unto him. Onward he goes to the grave; yea—even to the presence of his God, when heaven shut, and hell opened, shews him the truth too late. Madness indeed is it to dream of heaven, when every step is the way of hell. The end tests the safety of the path. Hence it is the enemy's grand design to shut it out of view, that he may make his way seem to be right. The ways of death are many. The way of life is but One—"I am the way; no man cometh to the Father, but by me." Oh! the transcendent mercy of the eyes opened to see the awful danger of our own way, and our ears opened to hear the voice behind us, saying—"This is the way; walk ye in it!"6

26. He that laboreth, laboreth for himself; for his mouth craveth it of him.

A state of labor is the penal appointment of God. It is the law of God in his Church, so that those who are no workers, are counted "disorderly walkers."8 Yet is mercy mingled with this curse. What if there were no obligation to labor? Every imagination of the heart"—unmingled, unceasing "evil"—would, for want of other occupation, be left to its own undisturbed energy. Wise, then, and gracious is the decree—Rest in heaven—labor on earth. This is the necessary condition of the great mass of mankind. Their mouth craveth it of them, bowing as a suppliant to receive the needful food. This is laboring for ourselves. The harvest is our rich recompence. Only take care that we labor not for vanity, or for "evil covetousness."12 This is working our own ruin. Ponder the satisfying object of labor—"not the meat which perisheth, but that which endureth unto everlasting life. Ponder the certain harvest—"The Son of man will give it." Look over the field of labor—the gospel of his grace—where every promise is there to meet thee, to wait on thee, to "perform all things for thee;" and yet of what avail, if thou dost not ponder, and take it to thyself? Happy indeed for us, when the spiritual appetite is created; and our mouth craveth this labor of us for satisfaction. All other objects find their place, when the primary object is rightly determined. Our hands and our time are given to the world; our hearts to God. Our activity is in our calling; our affections above it. This is in the highest sense laboring for ourselves—for our best—most enduring good—when all is centered in God. And our heart responds to Augustine's confession, 'All other plenty besides my God is mere beggary to me.'

27. An ungodly man (a man of Belial, Marg.) diggeth up evil: and in his lips there is as a burning fire. 28. A froward man soweth strife; and a whisperer separateth chief friends. 29. A violent man enticeth his neighbor, and leadeth him into the way that is not good. 30. He shutteth his eyes to devise froward things: moving his lips, he bringeth evil to pass.

A vivid picture indeed of the energy of sin! The man of Belial has broken away every yoke of restraint. Every member of his body—every power of his mind—is "a servant of iniquity unto iniquity." May we not learn in humiliation the true standard of concentration of mind—singleness of object, diligence, delight, perseverance? Instead of "covering all sins," his pleasure is to dig up evil; as if he was "searching for hid treasure;" to revive what had been long buried and forgotten, and lay it open with exaggerating circumstances. The tongue is usually the chief instrument of mischief. In what black color has the Divine pen set out this vile criminal—a burning fire—"a world of iniquity, set on fire of hell!" And as he diggeth so he soweth, evil—seed that comes up only with a blast. Strife he soweth in every furrow; jealousies among nations,6 war between the Sovereign and his people, divisions among Churches,8 coldness between Ministers and their flocks—ill will among friends10—a spirit eminently hateful to God. Where open contentions might not work, whisperings,—"evil surmisings"—idle and slanderous reports, are employed to separate even chief friends. Again we find him in his father's native work—a tempter—a violent man indeed; but combining with loud and overbearing speech enticements for his neighbor, to lead the unwary into the way that is not good. His whole soul is filled with this Satanic object. Observe him sometimes shutting his eyes from outward distractions; moving his lips, as if engaged in deep thought to bring evil to pass; all 'expressing the profound study, with which he contrives his neighbor's ruin!'16

Such is the heavy service of the most cruel Master! He wears out both the minds and bodies of his slaves, and gives them at the end only the fearful wages of eternal death. If the way to heaven be narrow, is not "the way of transgressors hard?" Is there not more toil in the way to hell—and that—without one beaming hope of the cheering home—one staff of the heavenly promise, that upholds the servants of God in all their weariness and trial? "Gather not my soul with sinners, in whose hands are mischief," and where "destruction and misery are in their paths."2

31. The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness.

The hoary head is the old man's glory, and claim for reverence.4 God solemnly links the honor of it with his own fear. "The ancient" are numbered with "the honorable."6 The sin of despising them is marked, and, when shown towards his own prophet, awfully punished.8—Wisdom and experience may justly be supposed to belong to them, and the contempt of this wisdom was the destruction of a kingdom.10

But the diamond in the crown is, when it is found in the way of righteousness. Even an Heathen monarch did homage to it; and an ungodly nation and king paid to it the deepest respect.12 The Fathers of the Old and New Testament reflected its glory; the one dying in waiting faith for the Lord's salvation—the other ready to "depart in peace" in the joyous sight of it. "Zacharias and Elizabeth, walking in all the ordinances of the Lord blameless;"14 Anna—"a widow indeed" in the faith and hope of the Gospel; Polycarp with his eighty and six years in his Master's service.16—Crowns of glory were their hoary heads shining with all the splendor of royalty. Earnestly does the holy Psalmist plead this crown for the usefulness to the Church—the Apostle, for the cause of his converted slave.18 And who more honorable than those, who, having been "planted" in youth within the courts of the Lord, grow up to "bring forth fruit in old age," manifesting the glory of the Lord's faithfulness and love? Truly is an old man's 'diadem that, which, not the art of man—but the finger of God—hath fashioned and set on his head.20 And is not the earthly glory brightened by its nearness to the unfading, everlasting crown?

But separate the heavenly virtues from the hoary head. "The crown is fallen." It lays dishonored in the dust. For what is a more lamentable spectacle, than a graceless old man, only gaining by his score of years a proportionate score of guilt? Time is no empty duration. It is fitted up with talents for eternity, a field for their exercise, helps for their improvement, and account for their neglect or abuse. The white hairs therefore of ungodliness be-speak ripeness for wrath—"wrath treasured up" with every day's uninterrupted increase "against the day of wrath." "The sinner being an hundred years old shall be accursed."2

32. He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty: and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city.

A great conflict and a glorious victory are here set out—a conflict not in notion, but in action: hidden from the mighty ones of the earth: known only to those, who, having enlisted under the baptismal banner, are 'manfully fighting,' against their spiritual enemies. The heart is the field of battle. All its evil and powerful passions are deadly foes. They must be met and triumphed over in the strength of God. Those who are ignorant of God and of themselves make light of them. They scarcely acknowledge them as such. Instead of being slow to anger, under provocation, they think, that they "do well to be angry." It is a disgrace to put up with wrong. An hasty temper is an infirmity. They are hardly responsible for it, nay—the indulgence is a relief, and they hope to cool down in time, utterly unconscious of any sin against God. Thus—instead of having rule over their spirit—they are captives—not conquerors.

But can a Christian do so?—he who hath "yielded himself unto God, as one that is alive from the dead?" "How shall we that are dead to sin live any longer therein?"6 Must we not vigorously "keep under the body and bring it into subjection"—specially that "little member," which is such a mighty instrument of evil? To bridle the tongue, so as to check the expression of passion, or "speaking unadvisedly with our lips"—is a victory,8 that can only be achieved by Almighty strength.

The glory of this victory is far above the mighty. The taking of a city is child's play, compared with this "wrestling with flesh and blood." That is only the battle of a day. This, the weary unceasing conflict of a life. There, the enemy may be mastered by a single blow. Here, he is to be chained up, and kept down with unremitting perseverance. The magnifying of the conflict exalts the glory of the triumph. Gideon's rule over his spirit was better than his victory over the Midianites. David's similar conquest was better, than could have been Nabal's spoils. The renowned conqueror of the East lived and died a miserable slave. He lost more honor at home, than he gained by his conquests abroad; the Lord of nations, but the vassal to his own lust; famous in war, but degraded by a brutish foe.11 Though valor is commendable, as a natural gift of God; yet 'to be our own masters, is far more glorious for us, than if we were the masters of the world.'2 'Among all my conquests'—said the dying emperor Valentinian—'there is but one, that now comforts me—I have overcome my worst enemy—my own haughty heart.'—This then is to subdue an enemy, that has vanquished conquerors. This surely is to be "more than conquerors." Christian! Never forget the, source of victory—"Through him that loved us."

This recollection brings us to the true point. Keep close to this glorious standard of an almighty, most loving, Saviour: Never is victory severed from it. Trials may be appointed, yet only to discipline for triumph—to draw us from our fancied, to his real, strength.

Often does the Christian soldier win the day, even when he has been wounded in the fight. Yet think not the war is ended, because a battle is won. The enemy may have been stabbed at the heart; yet will he get up, and renew the fight. Thou must walk—yea—sleep in thine armor. It must be worn—not laid up. There is no discharge from this work, till thy body of sin and death is laid in the grave. Meanwhile victory is declared, before the conflict begins. Let every day then be a day of triumph. The promises are to present victory. With such stirring stimulating hopes, thou shalt surely have rule, if thou wilt but dare to have it. And if thou hast not courage enough to be a Christian, thou must be a slave for life to the hardest of task-masters.

This bloodless victory—so contrary to the turmoil of war—is the crown of Christian grace.6 No other grace of the gospel can be exercised without its influence. Yet does not the daily conquest anticipate the final victory, the spoils of which will be reaped throughout eternity?"

33. The lot is cast into the lap: but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord.

The lot cast into the lap, or into the bottom of an urn, often determined important matters. Officers were thus chosen2—work determined—dwellings fixed4—discoveries made—"contentions caused to cease."6 Yet the Lord's disposal was manifestly shown. Canaan was thus divided, so as to accord fully with Jacob's prophecies. The offender was brought to justice. What could be more beyond human direction? Yet what more entirely under the Divine disposal?8 Man could not govern beyond his knowledge. It must have been therefore the hand of God—as steady, as his eye is clear. Even when the lot was cast profanely or superstitiously—the same Sovereignty overruled. Haman's lot was so disposed, as wholly to overthrow his exterminating project; giving full time for the deliverance of his victims. The soldier's lot was the direct fulfilment of a prophecy, that could not otherwise have been accomplished.10 The heathen sailors cast it in ignorance; yet was it the Divine discovery of the guilty criminal. Heathen divinations were controlled by the same absolute power.12

The lot is however a solemn matter, not to be lightly cast. It is an acknowledgment of absolute Sovereignty—giving up our personal responsibility, and virtually appealing to an Omniscient, Omnipresent, Omnipotent God. It teaches us that things that we conceive to be accident are really under Providence. 'What is chance to man, is the appointment of God.'14 The lot cast 'at peradventure—carrying a show of casualty'—is under a certain disposal. Yet admitting it to be a Scriptural ordinance, its expediency under our more full light is more than doubtful. We have at least a more sure word of prophecy—"a lamp to our feet, and a light to our path." The rule is more clear in itself, and linked with a most encouraging promise—"In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."17 It is far better to exercise faith, than indolently to tamper with personal responsibility.

The instructive lesson to learn, is, that there is no blank in the most minute circumstances. Every thing is a wheel of Providence. Who directed the Ishmaelites on their journey to Egypt, at the very moment that Joseph was cast into the pit? Who guided Pharaoh's daughter to the stream, just when the ark, with its precious deposit, was committed to the water? What gave Ahasuerus a sleepless night, that he might be amused with the records of his kingdom?2 Who prepared the fish, at the very time and place that Jonah's lot was cast? Who can fail to see the hand of God—most wonderful in the most apparently casual contingencies? 'When kingdoms are tossed up and down like a Tennis-ball;4 not one event can fly out of the bounds of his Providence. The smallest are not below it. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without it. Not a hair, but it is numbered by it.'

CHAPTER 17

1. Better is a dry morsel and quietness therewith, than a house full of sacrifices with strife.

THE allusion is to the Jewish ordinance of feasting at home upon the remains of the sacrifices. A house full of sacrifices was therefore a house of plentiful provision. Yet, when the spirit of love does not rule, self predominates—the fruitful source of strife and confusion. Well may the Christian be content with his dry and quiet morsel, to be delivered from such jarrings. 'Holy love found in a cottage,' is better than the most luxurious feast in the palaces of strife. True happiness is not adding to our condition, but straitening our desires, and proportioning them to our condition. The secret dew of the Lord's blessing brings the rich gain of godly quietness9 and contentment, and provides a sanctified meal, and a well-furnished house in the poorest dwelling.

Was not the marriage feast—comparatively a dry morsel—yet a feast of love, better than the Pharisee's house, full of sacrifices with strife? Would we then enjoy our temporal mercies? Welcome the Saviour to them. Cherish his spirit—eye his glory in their enjoyment. The scanty fare or the more abundant store will be alike blessed with the token of his presence, and the seal of his everlasting love.

2. A wise servant shall have rule over a son that causeth shame: and shall have part of the inheritance among the brethren.

Folly naturally tends to shame; wisdom to honor. The son—the heir of the family—may degrade himself by misconduct, and instead of being the glory of the house, cause shame. A wise servant—though having only a temporary interest in the house, may be promoted to rule over him. The Scripture hath recorded no literal instances of this interchange of place. But retributive providence has ordained, that "the foolish shall be servant to the wise in heart." The prodigal in conscious shame was ready to take his place among the "hired servants." The wise servant has however sometimes shared the inheritance among the brethren. Jacob, by marrying Laban's daughter, was portioned with the inheritance. Solomon's own servant probably thus verified this proverb. Abraham also would have made his wise servant his heir, but for the interposing mercy of God.

Yet this promotion is a dangerous eminence. No one can bear elevation safely without special grace and painful discipline. Great wisdom—much prayer—continued watchfulness—is needed to promote humility and Christian consistency; as well as to silence the envy and jealousy, which unexpected prosperity naturally excites.8 Honor from man calls for abasement before God, and careful holiness in adorning our profession.

3. The fining-pot is for silver, and the furnace for gold: but the Lord trieth the hearts.

The refiner's fining-pot and furnace try his metals. But Jehovah claims to himself the prerogative of trying the hearts. "His eyes are as a flame of fire."10 Nothing deceives—nothing escapes his probing search. The gold must be put into the furnace. So mixed is it with dross, that the workman's eye can scarcely discover it. No burnishing is of any avail. Till it has undergone the fire, it is unfit for use. And must there not be a furnace for the child of God? None of us know ourselves, until "the fire has tried every man's work, of what sort it is."12 The hidden evil is thus brought out for humiliation; the hidden good for honor.14 Deep personal or relative affliction; "the knowledge of the plague of our own hearts;" the discovery of secret sins; circumstances of daily trial in trifles, known perhaps only to the heart that feels them16—all or any of these are a searching, piercing furnace. Painful indeed is the purifying process. The flesh trembles at the fire. Yet shall we not let the refiner do his work, though it be by Nebuchadnezzar's furnace? Shall we not commit ourselves with well grounded confidence to his wisdom, tenderness and love.—"O Lord, correct me; but with judgment?"18 Is not any furnace, that "purges away our dross" of earthliness, that brings us to know ourselves, our God, and his dispensations with us—a mighty blessing? If the process be slow, its results are sure. Nothing but dross will perish. The vilest earth will be turned into the finest gold. No refiner ever watched the furnace with such exactness and care. Strange as it may seem to see the gold left in the fire, 'he that put it there would be loth to lose it. Not one grain—not one drachm shall be lost.' He "sits" in patient watchfulness,2 moderating the heat, and carefully marking the moment, when it "shall be brought through the fire," and set out in all the shining of the purifying trial. Here then in the furnace—Child of God—see the seal of thine election;4 the ground and establishment of thy confidence; thy joyous anticipation, that thy 'faith, that is here in the furnace, shall, when thy Lord shall appear, be then made up into a crown 'of pure gold—be found unto praise, and honor, and glory.'6

4. A wicked doer giveth heed to false lips; and a liar giveth ear to a naughty tongue.

Here is a black, but true picture of human nature. The wicked doer, not content with the stirring impulse of his native lust, seeks foreign stimulants to give it increasing activity. Amnon thus stimulated his own lust, by giving heed to the false lips of his friend. Ahab, to secure his desired object, eagerly listened to the counsels of his murderous wife.9 The Jews gave delighted ears to the flattering prophets in their wickedness. Active and intense was the malice of the ungodly, in suborning false witness for our Lord's condemnation.11 Yet there would not be so many open mouths, if there were not as many willing ears to entertain them.' But be it remembered, that the listening ears share the responsibility of the naughty tongue; as all are involved in the treason, that are directly or indirectly acquainted with the plot.

Gladly does the liar give ear to that, which countenances his own wickedness. If he did not "love a lie," he would not listen to it. But thus he shrinks from the condemning light of truth, into his own atmosphere of darkness.14 How unlike is this spirit to the true "charity" of the Gospel, which "rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth!" 'If then'—said good Bishop Hall16—'I cannot stop other men's mouths from speaking ill, I will either open my mouth to reprove it, or else I will stop mine ears from hearing it, and let him see in my face, that he hath no room in my heart.' Let the guilty talker ponder—how certainly will this "reproach taken up against his neighbor" exclude from the heaven of light and love! Oh! my God, fill my heart and tongue with thine own gracious spirit!

5. Whoso mocketh the poor reproacheth his Maker: and he that is glad at calamities shall not be unpunished, (held innocent, Marg.)

The sin against our Maker of "oppressing the poor," has before been noticed. In this mocking probably there might be no power to oppress. The poor is so, not by fortune, but by Providence. The reproach therefore falls—not on the poor, but on His Maker—on Him who made him, and made him poor. "Woe unto him that" thus "striveth with his Maker!"

Specially when poverty is brought on by calamity—when the hand of God is therefore more manifest—then to be glad at calamities is a fearful provocation. This was the sin of Shimei, scorning his fallen Sovereign. This sin brought the enemies of God's people under his severest punishment. Very different is the spirit of the Bible: teaching us, even where calamity is the fruit of misconduct—instead of being glad—to sympathize; instead of crushing, to raise, a fallen brother, or even a fallen enemy.

All slight of the poor, is evidently here rebuked. And who, that knows himself, and his obligations, could ever disdain? 'Why should I'—asks Bishop Reynolds—'for a little difference in this one particular—of worldly wealth, despise my poor brother? When so many and great things unite us, shall wealth only disunite us? One sun shines on both; one blood bought us both; one heaven will receive us both; only he hath not so much of earth as I, and possibly much more of Christ. And why should I disdain him on earth, whom happily the Lord will advance above me in heaven?

6. Children's children are the crown of old men; and the glory of children are their fathers.

This Proverb has its limit. What a crown of thorns to each other are an ungodly progeny and graceless parents! Little glory indeed did Rehoboam and his son add to their fathers. As little was the godly Hezekiah dignified by his reprobate parent.8 But in the ordinary course gracious children and parents reflect honor upon each other. Such parents rejoice in the number and growth of their children. Such children regard their father's name as their glory. Joseph was indeed a crown to his aged father; as was Jacob himself the glory of his child, even in a Heathen nation. 'A good root maketh the branches to flourish, by virtue of the lively sap that it sendeth up. And flourishing branches win praise to the root, for the pleasant fruit which they bring forth.'

The Old Testament promise—"length of days"—was enhanced, when accompanied with the blessing of children;3 yet more—when crowned with the increase of children's children. The true blessing however could only be known, when children, early brought up into God's covenant, were trained in his ways, and "declared them to their children, that they might set their hope in God."5 "Happy was the man, who had his quiver full of such children!" Happy the children, thus crowned with the example of such fathers! Abraham was the honorable, though delusive, boast of of his seed.7 David was the glory of his children, preserving to them the throne of Judah for seventeen generations. And may not godly parents, under a larger dispensation of grace, educating their children by example, no less than by precept—may they not look for "a godly seed"—the children of the covenant9—who shall acknowledge infinite, eternal obligations to parental faith and godliness?

7. Excellent speech (a lip of excellency, Marg.) becometh not a fool; much less do lying lips a prince.

Men naturally speak as they are. The lip is the organ of the heart. The lip of excellency—to speak suitably of high and lofty things—evidently becometh not a fool. A grave discourse on godliness becometh not an ungodly man. It carries no weight, and, so far from doing good, it often brings contempt.13 Christ would not accept even a sound confession from the lips of Satan, lest it should bring an occasion of stumbling. So unseemly was excellent speech from so corrupt a source!

Much less do lying lips become a Prince—the Minister and Guardian of truth. Yet in a world, where self reigns supreme, such inconsistencies are but too prevalent.16 The pure doctrine of our Divine Master alone secures Christian consistency in heart, lip and life. Never let us forget, that, if excellent speech becometh not a fool, it does become the gospel of Christ—the "saints of God." And Oh! let it be fully manifested in all its gracious unction and power, for "the edifying" of the Church,18 and for the conviction of gainsayers."

8. A gift is as a precious stone in the eyes of him that hath it; whithersoever it turneth it prospereth.

'A gift is so tempting, that it can no more be refused than a lovely jewel, by him to whom it is presented; and such is its power, it commonly prevails over all men, dispatches all business, carries all causes, and—in a word—effects whatever a man desires.' Such is the sympathy between a lusting eye and a glittering gift. The covetous prophet2—nay even an Apostle—was wilfully beguiled by its fascination. The heathen soldiers sold themselves to its slavery.4 A King's Minister was won over by its allurement. Even a King—and such as the man after God's own heart—was sinfully perverted in the snare.6 Seldom does it fail to prosper whithersoever it turneth. But who would envy a prosperity for evil? All Ministers of law were wisely directed (like fabled Justice) to give their decisions blindfolded; not looking at this precious stone, lest they should be dazzled by its sparkling attraction. Unfaithfulness was always visited with the heavy displeasure of the Great Judge.8

And is not the child of God often pressed with this temptation? Does the influence of a gift—the sense of obligation, never repress the bold consistency of godliness? Does no bias of friendship—no plausible le advantage entice into a crooked path? Oh! be resolute in a better strength than thine own in the resistance of the sin. The conflict is not with violent temptation, or with open sin, but with subtle, and apparently harmless, deviations from the strait path. Exercise thy "integrity and uprightness," in the spirit of faith, and doubt not that they will "keep thee." The man of God, thus walking with God will look down upon this corruption with indignant abhorrence—"Let thy gifts be to thyself—Thy money perish with thee."10

9. He that covereth a transgression seeketh love: but he that repeateth a matter separateth very friends.

Seeketh love! A beautiful expression—much to be kept in mind! It shows a delight in the atmosphere of love—man's highest elevation in communion with his God. It implies not the mere exercise of love, where it is presented, but the searching—making opportunity for it. A forbearing spirit is a fine manifestation of it. Our motives are often misconstrued. We meet in a world of selfishness cold reserve, instead of glowing confidence. Prejudice builds a wall against Christian intercourse. Wounded pride would return unkindness with contempt. Resentment stirs up recrimination. Disappointment kindles morbid suspicion. Here is the noble field for Christian victory; instead of resenting, to cover the transgression with a mantle of love—with that act of amnesty, by which we are saved—the most aggravated transgression—the most unprovoked injuries—covered in eternal forgetfulness.

The repeating a matter has often separated friends by uncovering a forgotten quarrel. Mischief might not be intended. But to amuse ourselves with the follies or weakness of our brethren, is sinful trifling, fraught with injury. Justly are "tattlers and busy-bodies" described, as "speaking things which they ought not."5 A disciplined tongue is a restraining mercy to the Church.

10. A reproof entereth more into a wise man, than an hundred stripes into a fool.

If we should cover transgression, we should not forbear reproof. Reproof distinguishes the wise man from the fool. A word is enough for the wise. The discipline of stripes is needful for the fool. Parents and tutors should specially study the character of children, that they may temper reproof wisely. Many a fine spirit has been spoiled by unsuitable treatment.

If this be true of man's reproof, much more of God's. A word was enough for David. A look8 entered more into Peter's heart than an hundred stripes into Pharaoh—Ahaz10—Israel. Stripes only scourge the fool's back. They never reach his heart. He is therefore a fool still. "Though thou shouldest bray him in a mortar among wheat with a pestle, yet shall not his foolishness depart from him."

What then makes the difference as the effect of reproof? "The stony heart is taken away, and an heart of flesh is given?" A needle pierces deeper into flesh, than a sword into stone. A wakeful ear, a tender conscience, a softened heart, a teachable spirit—these are the practical exercises, by which a wise and loving father disciplines his children for his service—for his cross—for his crown.

11. An evil man seeketh only rebellion: therefore a cruel messenger shall be sent against him. 12. Let a bear robbed of her whelps meet a man, rather than a fool in his folly. 13. Whoso rewardeth evil for good, evil shall not depart from his house.

Some awful pictures of man are here set out. Look at his way-wardness—seeking only rebellion—resisting all authority of God and man. This is no light sin. Therefore a cruel messenger—one that will not be turned from his work—shall be sent against him. The disobedient son in the family; Korah in the Church;3 Absalom, Shebna,5 and Pekah, in the kingdom—all stand out as monuments of retributive justice. Not that rebellion is the only sin, but that it is the grand outbreaking of the stubborn will. It may be hidden under a peaceful and amiable cover. But it "is not dead, but sleepeth." Let God remove the restraint; let Satan bring the occasion of temptation; and when before all appeared love and unity; "hateful, and hating one another"8—will be the broad features.

Look again at man in his folly. The graphical accuracy of the figure can scarcely be surpassed. The savage beast under the strongest excitement—a bear robbed of her whelps—is less dangerous to meet. Witness Jacob's sons putting a whole city to fire and sword for the folly of one man; Saul slaying a large company of innocent priests;11 Nebuchadnezzar aggravating the heat of the furnace; Herod murdering the children in Rama;13 "Saul breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord"—was not all this the rage of a beast, not the reason of a man? Humbling indeed is this picture of man, once "created in the image of God."15 More humbling is it to see this folly in a child of God—to see David binding himself with an oath to massacre a whole family, some of whom had taken up his cause against the sottish offender. Yet the melting away of his fury under wise remonstrance showed the man of God covered with the shame of his folly, not the fool living in it, as his nature, habit, and delight.

But to turn nearer home—are there no households, where uncontrolled anger governs all at pleasure? Does the self-willed victim remember, that 'nothing is said or done in a passion, but may be better said or done afterwards?' Do we never see the Christian, whom his Master's discipline and example ought to have transformed to a lamb, still like the bear robbed of her whelps? Man—the holiest—left of God to try him, that he might know all that was in his heart—"man"—so left to himself—"verily at his best estate is altogether vanity."19

Look again at man in his ingratitude. God forbids to reward evil for evil; much more evil for good. This sin even the Heathen deemed to include every other. And so hateful is it to God, that he visits the evil, not only on the sinner himself, but on his house. Israel was punished for the ill return to Gideon. The traitor's house was doomed to a curse. And how fearful the evil to the ungrateful nation,—who does not know?

And surely evil rewarded for good was the stamp of our father's sin. And ever since has the curse been fearfully verified—Evil shall not depart from his house. Nor is this unjust severity. What say we to a child, nourished with the tenderest care, yet casting off all filial regard, and rewarding evil for good? Could any other appearances of virtue atone for this unnatural abomination—this awful deformity? And yet is not this sin—the astonishment of heaven and earth—the mark of every child of fallen Adam? "I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me." But for the transfer of this mighty mass of guilt upon the great sacrifice, how could we stand before God?—And who of us still in the consciousness of this guilt, will not seek for a deeper interest in that no less perfect work, by which the rebel spirit is tamed, and humbled into the meekness and love of the Gospel?

14. The beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water: therefore leave off contention, before it be meddled with.

Both the destructive elements—fire and water—illustrate the danger of the beginning of strife. To neither element can we say—"Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further!"8 As well might we command the raging storm, as the uncontrolled passion—"Peace! be still." The dam may restrain a large body of waters. But cut the sluices, and the letting out of water may be a sweeping inundation. Thus fearfully has the beginning of strife issued in the murder of thousands; in the desolation of kingdoms.12

No less destructive is it in ordinary life. One provoking word brings on another. Every retort widens the breach. Seldom, when we have heard the first word, do we hear the last. An inundation of evil is poured in, that lays desolate peace, comfort, and conscience. Does not grace teach us the rule over our own spirit; to keep down the expression of resentment; and rather to bear provocation than to break the bond of unity?

Truly is it wise to stop the evil at the beginning. The bank is much more easily preserved than repaired. The breach once made, if it only let out a drop of water, is the beginning of an evil, the fruit of which cannot be calculated. As one strongly observed—'Man knows the beginning of sin; but who bounds the issues thereof?' Abraham nobly yielded in the contention with Lot, and the evil was stayed. Paul and Barnabas—neither would yield; "and the contention was so sharp between them—that—'sad record!'—they departed asunder one from the other." Moses restrained himself in the rising provocation with his wife.3 Israel prudently refrained from contention with Edom in the churlish refusal of water. David answered gently to his brother's irritating suspicion5—He was as a deaf man to his enemies, who were seeking contention with him. The time to leave off contention is not, when we see its worst, but its beginning—yea—before it be meddled with; restraining the first rising in ourselves; mortifying our own proud tempers, and cultivating our Master's meek and self-denying spirit.

15. He that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they both are an abomination to the Lord.

Judicial iniquity is an awful abuse of God's authority. The judge or magistrate "is a minister of God for good."8 The appeal is to him for justice, as the Representative of God. If the great Judge "loveth righteousness, and hateth iniquity,"10 this unrighteous justifying of the wicked must be abomination to him. This guilt of Samuel's sons—so contrary to his own integrity—was the immediate cause of the abolition of the Theocracy.12 The judges in David's time seem to have been guilty of both these branches of injustice. Ahab's house was ruined by his condemnation of the just. "Not this man, but Barabbas"15—combined the double sin—the perfection of injustice—the most aggravated abomination.

Not however to confine the application to official iniquity—Do we not all need great watchfulness, that we may "judge righteous judgment;" that no corrupt bias may prejudice the exercise of our private judgment, either in favor of the wicked, or in the condemnation of the just?

But let us place ourselves before the "Judge of all" accused by Satan—conscience—law—and convicted of every charge—yet justified. Does God then in thus "justifying the ungodly" contravene this rule?—Far from it. If he justifies the wicked, it is on account of righteousness. If he condemn the just, it is on the imputation of unrighteousness. Nowhere throughout the universe do the moral perfections of the Governor of the world shine so gloriously, as at the cross of Calvary. The satisfaction of the holy law, and the manifestation of righteous mercy, harmonize with the justification of the condemned sinner.2 And this combined glory tunes the song of everlasting praise.'

16. Wherefore is there a price in the hand of a fool to get wisdom, seeing he hath no heart to it?

A question of wonder and indignation! Why a fool so blessed, if he have no heart to improve his blessing? Birth, religious privileges, talents, time, influence, opportunity—all are a price to get wisdom. If the fool throws it away, the account of unprofitableness seals his sentence. The grand price is in our hand5—of in-estimable value. Yet how many thousand fools have no heart to buy, would rather lose it, than labor for it; rather go sleeping to hell, than toiling to heaven! The Gadarenes threw away the pearl. Herod eyed it with curiosity;7 Pilate with indifference; the Jews with scorn.9 The rich man preferred his own "goodly pearls" to it. Felix hoped to turn it to his own selfish purpose.11 Agrippa dared not purchase it. Were not all these, pictures of the every-day fool, that meets our eye?—'That which "is more precious than rubies" is to him more worthless than a pebble. That which is more sweet than honey is tasteless as the white of an egg.'14 As if the world could be a God to us—could fill up God's vacant place in our heart! Yet thus the realities of eternity—the mighty things of the Gospel—things that should drink up our spirits, are like "a tale that is told." Enough that they should have a place in our creed, though never in our hearts. The world is preferred to heaven, time to eternity; and the immortal soul—for which such a cost has been paid, and such prospects prepared—perishes in folly. But will it not be a sword in the awakened conscience—'I might have been enriched, had I not wasted the golden opportunities of salvation, and fooled away the glorious days of the Son of man?' Yea—will not this be the sting of the never-dying worm—'Had I come to Christ when I might, I should not have been in this place of torment. I would not come then. I cannot come now.'16 'Lord save me'—cries the pious Howe—'from trifling with the things of eternity.'

17. A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.

This beautiful picture of friendship has been drawn by moralists, sentimentalists, and poets. But the reality is only found, where Divine grace has melted away natural selfishness into disinterested love. If virtue is the best ground of friendship, then is this most heavenly virtue the firmest ground of all. What passes under the name is too often, as Bishop Hall describes it, 'brittle stuff.' This fickle excitement cools by distance, or by the coldness of our friend. Worldly degradation of circumstances, converts it into indifference;2 or even hatred. The friend, who had left the right path, is forsaken, instead of being followed, watched over, and every opportunity improved for reclaiming him. "But the true friend loveth at all times, through evil, as well as good, report." He is not ashamed of poverty or of a prison.5 In any jarrings of the flesh, adversity cements love. The loving friend becomes now a brother born for adversity. Such was the love of Joseph to his brethren; unshaken by vicissitudes—unabated by ingratitude.8 Such was the firm cleaving of Ruth to her desolate mother; the identity of heart between David and Jonathan;10 the affectionate sympathy of the beloved disciple to the mother of his Lord.

We must not indeed look for perfection. Can we doubt the sincerity of the disciples, while we are humbled, instructed, and warned by their frailty? For frailty it was; not wilfulness—nor hypocrisy. "Ye are they, that have continued with me in my temptations"—was their Master's kindly acknowledgment at the very moment of infirmity, when "they all forsook him and fled."13

But—Ah! it is to him that we must look as the perfect exemplar—To see the Son of God in our nature, that he might be our friend and brother; to hear him "not ashamed to call us brethren"—this is a mystery of friendship—unsearchable. Truly is this Friend—he alone—worthy of our unlimited confidence. Such is the constancy of his love—at all times—even unto death;17 unaltered by the most undutiful returns; "turning and looking upon" the disciple (such a look of tenderness and power!) whom we should have excommunicated. Such the sympathy of his love—born for adversity; So united to us—the friend and the brother we need; never nearer to us than when in our lowest depths of trouble; and, though now our glorified Brother in heaven, yet still "touched with the feeling of our infirmities;" still "afflicted in all our afflictions."2 'Here is sympathy—here is indeed a Brother born to adversity. Trust him, O ye trembling believers, at all times, and in all places. You will then be possessed of the happy art of living beyond the reach of all disappointment.'

18. A man void of understanding (heart, Marg.) striketh hands, and becometh surety in the presence of his friend.

Though we are to feel ourselves born for adversity, ever ready to "bear one another's burdens:" yet we must not befriend our brother at the risk or expence of injustice to our family. We have therefore another warning against imprudent suretyship. Beware of striking hands in agreement, without ascertaining, whether we can fulfil our engagement, or whether our friend is not equally able to fulfil it himself. This shews a man void of understanding; specially to do this in the presence of his friend. For why is not his word taken, but from the suspicion of insolvency or dishonesty? A prodigal, thoughtless kindness may gain us a popular name. But the principle, closely examined, will be found to be another form of selfishness. There is no true benevolence in rash engagements, which may involve our name and family in disgrace or ruin. True indeed—had not those hands that were nailed to the cross, been stricken in suretyship, the hand writing that was against us could never have been cancelled. Yet the eternal counsel is no pattern for our simple folly. Nor is infinite love, combined with perfect wisdom, a plea for our rash generosity. Religion, though it warns its professors against imprudences, yet too often unjustly bears the blame of them. To adorn the Christian profession, and to avoid occasion of stumbling to the ungodly—"provide for honest things, not only in the sight of the Lord, but also in the sight of man."8

19. He loveth transgression that loveth strife; and he that exalteth his gate seeketh destruction.

We may indeed fall into strife, without loving it. But let us always look at it as a branch from the root of sin2—the prolific source of sin. The love of it is therefore the love of transgression. Yet who will own the charge? The man engaged in strife protests, that he loves peace; only his neighbor's perverseness drives him into strife. And yet if we are frequently in it; if we take no pains, make no sacrifice of self-will or interest, to avoid the occasion of strife—does not conscience bring home the charge? Ah! the love of transgression lies deeper than we often see. It shows itself in forms, that the world may overlook, but which prove its nature to be "carnal."

Very generally it proceeds from the root of pride. The man exalts his gate6 above his neighbor, and affects a style beyond his rank. Or his ambition would tread his neighbor under his feet. Nay he will sometimes rise against his Sovereign, or even stand in defiance of his God.8 The sluggard sees his ruin before him, and indolently waits for it, without making any effort to avert it. But the proud man seeketh destruction. He puts himself in the road, and sooner or later his day comes; and his name, glory, and honor are swept away. Watch over me, O my God, to preserve me from the first rising of my proud heart. Or if my frailty yield to it, O keep me from the prevalence of this presumptuous sin, that hurries me as a rival against thy throne into the pit of destruction.

20. He that hath a froward heart findeth no good; and he that hath a perverse tongue falleth into mischief.

Such is the history of God's ancient people—a picture of frowardness with all its barren results. Let their long-suffering God do what he would to them and for them, they found no satisfying good. Self-will—even in its fullest indulgence—instead of bringing the desired good, always ends in disappointment—and when the perverse tongue breaks out—in frightful mischief. The best of us are too often governed by this waywardness. Even when we seek to walk with God, how does the froward heart struggle to walk by its own inclination! The good Lord give us a mortified spirit, to restrain us from the guidance of our corrupt fancies! Many an erratic course in the Church we trace to some unhappy bias, not disciplined by the Divine Spirit, not moulded to reverential faith. Most graciously therefore does our God assert his own right to supremacy; promising us—not freedom from restraint, but a yoke, a binding law, a strict obligation, and—above all—the heart to love and obey.2 Here is now self-control—stability; not impulse and feeling, but fixed and steady principle. Shall not we then cry with filial simplicity—'Not my will—O Lord—let me have any thing but my own way. Leave me not to my perverse heart?' In proportion as the froward heart is thus subdued, the perverse tongue is bridled; and we have the "perfect man" in Christian consistency, humility and love.

21. He that begetteth a fool doeth it to his sorrow: and the father of a fool hath no joy.

Among the "vanities, to which the creature is made subject," Solomon elsewhere enumerates one, of which he probably had a feeling experience—leaving the labor of his hand—he knoweth not to whom—whether he shall be a wise man or a fool. The latter prospect is here realized. The weeping parent not only finds no joy in the fondly-cherished object of his expectation; but a cankering grief embitters all his joys, and often brings him "down with sorrow to the grave." And how is this sorrow aggravated, should there be an unhappy humbling consciousness, that undue indulgence or severity, injudicious treatment, and more than all—neglect of prayer for the child, and of the diligent improvement of God's appointed means, virtually suffered the evil propensities to grow to a direful harvest of ruin!

Yet let the godly parent expect every thing from prayer—provided it be not palsied by despondency. In the deepest distress never lose hold of the covenant of grace.6 Let the determined faith of a praying mother encourage perseverance. God exercises faith; but he never fails to honor it. He delays to answer prayer; but every word—every sigh—is registered for acceptance in his best time. Let Solomon's word be a quickening—not a fainting—word—"profitable" indeed "for reproof, and for correction;" but not less so "for instruction in righteousness."

22. A merry heart doeth good like a medicine; but a broken spirit drieth the bones.

This is not true of all merriment. The wise man justly describes the loud and noisy mirth of fools—to be—not medicine—but "madness." Our Lord made a merry heart by his message of Divine forgiveness; and this doubtless was a more healing medicine to the paralytic than the restoration of his limbs. If I be a pardoned sinner—an accepted child of God, what earthly trouble can sink me? "Paul and Silas sang praises to God in the inner prison with their feet made fast in the stocks." The martyrs "glorified God in the fire."2 They were "tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better resurrection." All earthly enjoyments are now doubly blest with heavenly sunshine.4

There is also the Christian flow of natural spirits. For when consecrated to the Lord, they become a means of enjoyment—not only to ourselves, but to those around us. Often has the mourning saint been encouraged—often also has the worldling been convicted—by a brother's cheerful words or looks.6 To the former it has been a medicine. To the latter a lesson.

Most watchful therefore should we be against the withering influence of a broken spirit. Allow not the imagination to dwell needlessly in gloom. Constitutional temperament will have its influence. External things act upon the body, and, through the body, upon the mind. We are some of us—creatures even of weather; not the same on a misty as on a bright day. There is much in our physical economy rather within the province of the physician than the Minister; much perhaps that we may be inclined too hastily to censure in a brother, when a better knowledge would open our sympathy. When outward and inward troubles unite, what wonder if the vessel, like Paul's ship "where two seas met," give way?8 Yet—let it be remembered, that every indulgence increases the evil. Allowed prevalence will produce a fixed melancholy. Where spiritual causes operate, it is a spurious humility and brokenness, centering in self. The gospel encourages humiliation—not despondency. It deals in the realities—not of woe and despair, but of hope, peace, and joy. Its life and glory is he, that "bindeth up the broken bones," who "will not break the bruised reed,"10 or crush under his feet "the prisoners of hope."

Christian! Show that you really find God's ways to be "ways of pleasantness and peace;" that you believe their joys, not because you have read and heard of them, but because you have tasted them. If they are happy, be happy in them. Joy is a forbidden fruit to the ungodly.13 But let it be the adorning of thy profession. It is a sin against thy God to be without it.15 It is disparaging his heavenly comfort to lay too much to heart his counterbalancing afflictions. "Let the Lord be magnified, which hath pleasure"—not in the misery—but "in the prosperity of his servants." He giveth liberty to be cheerful—ground to be cheerful—and he will give thee an heart to be cheerful.

After all however—let each be careful to cultivate a just and even balance. Liveliness needs a guard, lest it should degenerate into levity; a grave temperament—lest it should sink into morbid depression. Christian discipline on both sides is the principle of enlarged happiness, and steady consistency.

23. A wicked man taketh a gift out of the bosom, to pervert the ways of judgment.

Again we are warned of the corruption of gifts. No sin has a deeper stamp of wickedness, none a more awful mark of Divine visitation.2 The temptation is the test of principle. Sir M. Hale (as his Biographer writes) 'had learned from Solomon, that a gift perverteth the ways of judgment.' He always therefore rejected it with courteous integrity. Not even a good cause will justify the evil practice. The Apostle, though restrained in bondage from his great and blessed work, would not gratify his covetous judge by purchasing his release.4 The rules of the gospel are clear and decisive. Let us not "do evil, that good may come. Let not your good be evil spoken of. Abstain from all appearance of evil."

Even a corrupt world is ashamed of this sin. The gift is in the bosom, concealed from the eye of man. But how fearfully unveiled is it to the eye of God, who will not wink at the endeavor to pervert his ways of judgment. How will he one day 'vindicate his Omniscience from all the insults put upon it in the world by those foolish men, who were not ashamed to do those things in the face of God himself, in which they would not have wished the meanest of his creatures to detect them."

Let every child of Abraham hear the command given to his Father—"Walk before me, and be thou perfect." "He that walketh righteously, and speaketh uprightly—he that shaketh his hands from holding of bribes—he shall dwell on high."9

24. Wisdom is before him that hath understanding; but the eyes of a fool are in the ends of the earth.

Let us trace our interest in wisdom from the beginning. It first "enters into the heart." There it "rests in him that hath understanding," as his principle of conduct. Now it is before his eyes in the Book of Wisdom as his rule of faith and life. It is the centre, to which all his thoughts, motives, and pursuits tend. All is now order. Every faculty, desire, and affection, finds its proper place. 'He that hath understanding fixeth his eyes upon wisdom, and contenteth himself with that object; whereas the eyes of a fool are constantly wandering everywhere; and his thoughts settle upon nothing that may avail to his good.' His eyes are in the ends of the earth, rolling and wandering from one object to another. His thoughts are scattered. He has no definite object, no settled principle, no certain rule. Talent, cultivation of mind, improvement of opportunity—all are fritted away.

This diversion is a great engine of the enemy. His great object is to turn the mind aside from what is immediate to what is indefinite, from plain and important matters to what is unsearchable; from what is personal to what is irrelevant.2 Many trifles take the place of the "One thing needful." And is not this waste and loss of time often a temptation to the Christian? Where are his eyes—his thoughts—at prayer? Alas! too often—instead of "looking unto Jesus"—his great object—the life of prayer—the only way to God—are they not in the ends of the earth, as if there was no nearer, no better object of attraction? Oh! do not we want simplicity of spiritual understanding to keep Him—the great uncreated wisdom—constantly before our eyes? Lord! I am ashamed of my base inconstancy. But it is thou alone canst heal it. "Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity." Fix them—O fix them—on Him, on whom all heaven—all the redeemed—delight to gaze forever.

25. A foolish son is a grief to his father, and bitterness to her that bare him.

Surely the Divine Spirit did not repeat the Proverb for naught. Was it not to deepen our sense of parental responsibility and filial obligation? Can parents be insensible to the prospect of this grief? Can children be hardened into the uunatural selfishness of piercing a parent's heart with such bitterness? The mother's anguish is here added to the father's grief. "As a sword in her bones," is the apprehension of having "brought forth children to the murderer."8 How uncertain are the dearest comforts of earth! Our fallen mother anticipated the joy of "having gotten a man"—perhaps the promised seed—"from the Lord." Yet to the bitterness of her soul "he was of that wicked one, and slew his brother." Her daughter naturally "remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world."11 Already she grasps the delightful vision of infant training, and ripening maturity. And yet too often he proves in the end a foolish son—the bitterness of her that bare him.

Absalom was named 'His Father's peace.' Yet was he the source of his most poignant grief. This is not the "weeping of a night," succeeded by a "joyous morning," but the "heaviness that maketh the heart stoop"13—perhaps for years—perhaps to the end of days. Its connection with eternity gives to the trial the keenest edge. To see a foolish son hurried irrevocably into his fixed destiny—Oh! this to the godly parent is an awful conflict. Strong indeed must be that faith (yet such faith has been vouchsafed,) which bows reverentially to the Divine Sovereignty, and maintains the serenity of peaceful submission.

But parental anxieties and sorrows must stimulate the enquiry—How may this piercing thorn be spared—this bitter grief—this bitterest that ever a parent's heart can know—averted? The primary root of this sorrow is the indulgence of the will. The vast power of parental influence must be used wisely—at once—at any cost. We must not instruct—or entreat only—but command:3 We must allow no appeal from our authority, no reversal of our decision. This discipline, in the spirit of love, and enforced by example, is God's honored ordinance. Would we look for rest in our beloved children? Hold them loose for ourselves—fast for God. Connect them early with his Church. Train their first years in his yoke. Plead with them and for them before our God. Instead of a sinking grief to us, they will be "the restorers of our life, and the nourishers of our age." Instead of being our bitterness, as rebels against God, He will own and seal them as "a seed to serve him—to declare his righteousness," to set forth his praise.

26. Also to punish the just is not good: nor to strike princes for equity.

Often is the wise man's meaning much beyond his words. To punish the just not only is not good, but it is a gross "abomination"8—an evident token of perdition. If rulers are "a terror to good works," they are ministers of God in authority, but ministers of Satan in administration.10 And how will such injustice "abide the day of his coming," when he shall "lay judgment to the line, and righteousness to the plummet!"

Not less wicked is the sin of the people. To strike princes is high treason against God. The Apostle confessed the unwitting sin of his smiting words.13 Much more guilty is it to strike them for equity. A godly king—ruling in equity, "scattering away all evil with his eyes,"—will raise to himself many and powerful enemies. The evil-minded will undermine his influence,15 or resist his authority. If they dare not strike him openly, they will "curse him in their thoughts." To strike—even in word—is our sin. To pray is our duty.—And who knoweth, but a prayer-hearing God would send a righteous administration—a covert and blessing to the land?19

27. He that hath knowledge spareth his words: and a man of understanding, is of an excellent (cool, Marg.) spirit. Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise; and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.

The wisdom of these Proverbs will be acknowledged by those, who know the sins of the tongue, and the immense difficulty of restraining the unruly member. A man of knowledge will spare his words, when the probable prospect is harm rather than good. The good treasure is far too valuable to be unprofitably spent. Silence is often the best proof of wisdom.2 Our Lord in his Divine knowledge, careful as he was to improve every opportunity for instruction—sometimes spared his words.

This restraint is most important under provocation. Passion demands immediate judgment. A cool well-tempered understanding asks further time for consideration. The fiery ebullition of the Apostles, their master judged to be the want of an excellent understanding. Nehemiah, by repressing the first vent of his righteous anger, gave a reasonable and convincing answer for the occasion.6 The prophet wisely refrained even a message from God to a king in the moment of passion. 'A little spark blows up one of a sulphureous temper, and many coals, greater injuries, and reproaches are quenched, and lose their force, being thrown at another of a cool spirit.'8 Indeed a fool may purchase to himself the reputation of wisdom—let him only shut his mouth, instead of exposing his folly to common observation. 'He cannot be known for a fool, that says nothing. He is a fool—not who hath unwise thoughts—but who utters them. Even concealed folly is wisdom.'10

How infinitely momentous is the account, which God takes of the tongue! "Death and life are in the power of it." Our eternal acceptance or condemnation will hang on it.12 How could we endure the judgment for "every idle," no less than for every wicked, "word," if there were not for the self-abased penitent, a covering from this condemnation—a cleansing from this guilt—a seal of acceptance!14

CHAPTER 18

1. Through desire a man, having separated himself, seeketh and intermeddleth with all wisdom. 2. A fool hath no delight in understanding, but that his heart may discover itself.

DESIRE is the chariot-wheel of the soul, the spring of energy and delight. The man of business or science is filled with his great object, and through desire he separates himself from all lets and hindrances, that he may intermeddle with its whole range. "This one tiling"—saith the man of God—"I do." This one thing is every thing with him. Through desire he separates himself from the entanglements of vain company, trifling amusements or studies, needless engagements, that he may seek and intermeddle with all wisdom. John separated himself in the wilderness; Paul in Arabia,3 our blessed Lord in frequent abstraction, in order to greater concentration in their momentous work. Deeply does the Christian Minister feel the responsibility of this holy separation, that he may "give himself wholly to" his office. And without it—Christian—thy soul can never prosper. How canst thou intermeddle with the great wisdom of knowing thyself, if thy whole mind be full of this world's chaff and vanity? There must be a withdrawal, to "commune with thine own heart"—to ask the question—"Where art thou? What doest thou here?" Much is there to be enquired into and pondered. Every thing here calls for our deepest, closest thoughts. We must walk with God in secret, or the enemy will walk with us, and our souls will die. "Arise, go forth into the plain, and I will there talk with thee." "When thou wast under the fig tree, I saw thee."7 Deal much in secrecy, if thou wouldst know "the secret of the Lord." Like thy Divine Master—thou wilt never be less alone than when alone. There is much to be wrought, gained, and enjoyed. Thy most spiritual knowledge, thy richest experience, will be found here. Look around thee—what a world of heavenly wisdom to intermeddle with! The sight overwhelmed the Apostle with adoring astonishment. Even "the angels desire to look into it."10 The redeemed will be employed throughout eternity in this delighted searching, exploring "the breadth, and length, and depth, and height," until they "be filled with all the fulness of God."

Yet the fool hath no delight in this understanding. All his desire is to pour out his own frivolity, to come abroad for public observation—that his heart may discover itself—an humiliating discovery indeed—at once of the scantiness of his knowledge, and the vanity of his mind.

3. When the wicked cometh, then cometh also contempt, and with ignominy reproach.

Selfishness is the character of the wicked—'Wheresoever he cometh, he is apt to cast contempt and reproach upon every man's face.' His neighbor's circumstances or infirmities furnish materials to hold him up to scorn. The word of God has no favor in his eyes. His people are the objects of his reproach. Their seriousness he calls gloom, their cheerfulness levity. If "none occasion or fault can be found,"3 invention forges it with unwearied ingenuity. "As saith the proverb of the ancients, wickedness proceedeth from the wicked." We must calculate upon this furnace, though the fires of martyrdom are extinguished.—Our blessed Lord bore all the evils of the world without flinching. But contempt and reproach pierced his soul more keenly, than the "nails his hands and his feet." "Reproach," saith he—"hath broken my heart." And must not the servant expect to be as his Master?6 Often however does retributive justice overwhelm the wicked themselves with ignominy and reproach. A scornful spirit against the godly is never forgotten. Every bitter word is registered against the great day.8 And what a sight will it then be, when the reviled shall stand forth, clothed with all the glory of "the King of saints," and the faces of their persecutors shall be covered with "everlasting shame and contempt!" The sight of that day will never be blotted out. "The rebuke of his people shall be taken away from off all the earth, for the Lord hath spoken it."10

4. The words of a man's mouth are as deep waters, and the well-spring of wisdom as a flowing brook.

The first clause is limited by the second to the words of a wise man. When "a man has intermeddled with all wisdom," his words are in themselves deep waters, and in their communication fruitful as a flowing brook. His wisdom is a well-spring, 'which sends up full brooks, that are ready to overflow their banks. So plentiful is he in good discourse and wholesome counsel!' So deep were the waters from the wise man's spring, that his words nearly overwhelmed the capacity of his royal hearer. One "greater than Solomon" "astonished the people" by the clearness, no less than by the depth, of the waters. No blessing is more valuable than a "rich indwelling of the word," ready to be brought out on all suitable occasions of instruction.15 If the wise man sometimes "spares his words," it is not for want of matter, but for greater edification. The stream is ready to flow, and sometimes can scarcely be restrained. The cold-hearted speculative professor has his flow—sometimes a torrent of words, yet without a drop of profitable matter; chilling, even when doctrinally correct; without life, unction, or love. Good Lord! deliver us from this barren "talk of the lips!" May our waters be deep, flowing from thine own inner sanctuary, refreshing, fertilizing the church of God!

This well-spring is specially invigorating, when, as in Chrysostom, it gives an heavenly glow to outward eloquence. Consecrated mind and talent are the gifts of God. Oh! let them be improved in simplicity, not for the creature's honor, but for the glory of the Great Giver.

5. It is not good to accept the person of the wicked, to overthrow the righteous in judgment.

Were not "the foundations of the earth out of course," should we hear of so gross a violation of the rule of right? But in a world, of which Satan is the God and the Prince, injustice is a natural principle of administration. The godly king of Judah pointed his Judges to the Divine example. Look—and be like Him.4 Every thing revolting is connected with wickedness. There is no one so noble, that it does not degrade; so lovely, that it does not deform; so learned, that it does not befool. To accept therefore his person, is indeed not good. "Abomination" is its true name—the stamp of God.6 'Whatever excuses man may make for this course, it is an offence to God, an affront to justice, a wrong to mankind, and a real service done to the kingdom of sin and Satan.' In judgment let the cause be heard, not the person. Let the person be punished for his wickedness, not the wickedness be covered for the person's sake. When this is done to overthrow the righteous in judgment; it overthrows the throne of judgment in the land. The Shechemites were sharply punished for their sin—accepting Abimelech to the overthrow of the righteous claims of Gideon's house. No wonder. The rights of God are despised; the claims of his justice are cast off. "He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling in the fear of God."9 Such was our Divine pattern in the flesh; "of quick understanding in the fear of the Lord," and therefore "judging in righteousness." Such will be his judgment, when "he shall judge the world in righteousness."11 His decision will be exact—his sentence unchangeable.

6. A fool's lips enter into contention, and his mouth calleth for strokes. 7. A fool's mouth is his destruction, and his lips are the snare of his soul.

It is not a little remarkable, that the Apostle, when giving the anatomy of man's depravity, should dwell chiefly upon "the little member" with all its accompaniments—the throat—the tongue—the lips—the mouth. Such "a world of iniquity is it, defiling the whole body!2 We often see its mischief to others; here its mischief to itself. The fool's lips enter into contention. This is folly indeed. The wise man may be drawn into it by infirmity of temper, or the force of circumstances.4 But "as much as in him lies, he will live peaceably with all men," quenching even the first rising of contention. The fool enters into it, by intermeddling needlessly with strife, or wilfully stirring it up,8 'like the alarum of war, and drums beating up to the battle.' And thus he makes a rod for himself.10 He puts a weapon into the hands of Satan, with which to beat his own head. His "burning coals" are the forge, where he hammers him with fearful strokes. The wilful contention of the men of Succoth and Penuel with Gideon called for strokes. The scoffing mouth of the little children was their merited destruction. The slanderous lips of Daniel's persecutors were the snare of their soul. There is no need to dig a pit for the fool. He digs it for himself. The mouths of wild beasts devour each other. The fool's mouth is his own destruction. The fowler's snare is not wanted; for "he is snared by the transgression of his lips."17 He is not only the cause, but the agent, of his own destruction.

And shall not the child of God watch in godly fear, lest his folly should call for his Father's stroke? Sharply may he "hew" by the sword, as if he would seem to kill, in order to make alive. Yet always is it wise and gracious love; as one of the Fathers says—'threatening that he may not strike: and striking, that he may not destroy.' If shewing the rod will effect the purpose, gladly will he forbear to strike. But if our folly—as Leighton speaks—'pulls punishment out of his hands,'19 whom but ourselves have we to thank for the smart?

8. The words of a talebearer are as wounds, and they go down into the innermost parts of the belly.

Do men deny, question, or soften down, the depravity of our nature? Mark again how the virulent poison of only one member destroys practical godliness, social orders and mutual friendship. The talebearer was expressly forbidden by the law, and not less is he opposed to the spirit of the gospel.21 No character indeed is more despicable; no influence more detestable. It is right indeed to "bring an evil report" for the prevention of sin. Eli was thus enabled, though without effect, to remonstrate with his sons.23 The life of an Apostle was preserved. Serious evils in the church were restrained or corrected.2 But this can never be done rightly by the talebearer, because he does it with levity and pleasure. With him it is pure selfishness, without a principle beyond the love of sin for its own sake. He lives upon the scandal of the place, and makes it his hateful business to carry about tales, or slanders of his neighbor's faults.4 Such reports are eagerly devoured, and the mischiefmaker feeds with greedy appetite upon the fruit of his cruel indulgence. To him this may appear harmless play. But, if it draws no blood, and no outward hurt is shown, an internal, and often incurable, wound is inflicted. We may seem to make light of the tale brought to our ears, and wholly to despise it. But the subtle poison has worked. 'Suppose it should be true. Perhaps, though it may be exaggerated, there may be some ground for it.' The thought, indulged only for a moment, brings suspicion, distrust, coldness; and often it ends in the separation of chief friends. So dangerous a member in the frame is the tongue without stern determined control! The tale of an unguarded moment may be a tremendous irreparable injury. We may find the evil humor in good society. It may meet with a welcome audience. But no favor can alter its real character, as an abomination both with God and man. Ah! what but the power of holy love, opening freely the channels of kindness and forbearance, can overcome this mischievous propensity? And what will bring this spirit of love, but a true interest in Christian privileges, and a corresponding sense of Christian obligations?

9. He also that is slothful in his work is brother to him that is a great waster.

Observe the affinity of the different principles and workings of corruption. The sluggard and the prodigal belong to the same family. The man who "hid the Lord's talent," was equally unfaithful with him who "wasted his goods." The slothful has no heart for his work. Important opportunities slip by. His stock, instead of increasing by trade, gradually dwindles into penury. 'God hath a bountiful "hand, and filleth all things living with plenteousness." But unless we have a diligent hand, wherewith to receive it, we may starve. He that by the sloth of his hand disfurnisheth himself of the means of getting, he is as near of kin to a waster as may be.' He is the brother of a great waster—the lord of a large estate, who—instead of husbanding, improving and enjoying it, wastes it away in extravagance and folly. It is the same in religion. The one is content with heartless orthodoxy. His secret prayer brings no after-remembrance. His family worship is a routine of formality, not the influential ordinance of the day. "Communing with his heart" is mere barren generality, bringing no accurate humbling knowledge of himself. And wherein does he differ from the careless waster of his privileges? Where is the important distinction between him, who prays—reads—works formally, and him, who utterly casts these high privileges away? Both take the same course, though by a somewhat different track. The one folds his arms in sloth. The other opens his hands in wastefulness. The one gets nothing. The other spends what he gets. The one sits still, and waits the arrival of beggary. The other rushes into it. The one dies by a slow, subtle, sure consumption. The other by a rapid and violent disease. Yet fearful is the guilt, solemn is the account, certain is the ruin—of both. God gives talents, not only to enrich, but to employ. And whether they be selfishly neglected, or carelessly thrown away—"Thou wicked servant"—will be the condemnation. "Outer darkness" will be the just and eternal doom.2 Servant of Christ! let thy Master's life be thy pattern and thy standard. Not a moment with him was slothfully neglected—not a moment unprofitably wasted. Equally fervent was he in daily work, as in nightly prayer. Follow him in his work, and thou wilt be honored with his reward.

10. The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe (set aloft, Marg.) 11. The rich man's wealth is his strong city, and as an high wall in his own conceit.

Consciousness of danger induces even the animal creation to seek for refuge. To man, a strong tower offers such a covert. But man as a sinner—does he realize his imminent peril—his threatening ruin? Oh! let him believe and embrace the testimony of the gospel. This glorious manifestation of the name of the Lord shews to him a strong tower. The full "declaration of this name" sets out most powerfully the extent and completeness of the refuge. Every letter adds confirmation to our faith. Every renewed manifestation brings a fresh sunbeam of light and blessing.7 Sense of danger—knowledge of the way—confidence in the strength of the tower—all give a spring of life and earnestness to run into it. We fear not here the sharpest or swiftest dart that may be shot against us. We realize our security from external trouble,9 and in trying exercises of faith! We are safe from his avenging justice, from the curse of his law, from sin, from condemnation, from the second death. We joy in our safety—yea—in our exaltation. Our best interests are beyond the reach of harm;3 and the righteous nation takes up the song of triumph—"We have a strong city: Salvation will God appoint for walls and bulwarks." But only the righteous are found here. What know the ungodly of this refuge? 'Our God's mercy is holy mercy. He knows how to pardon sin, not to protect it. He is a sanctuary to the penitent, not to the presumptuous." What joy is it, that the gates of this city are always open. No time is unseasonable. No distance, no feebleness, hinders the entrance. The cripple may run, like "Asahel, swift of foot." All that enter are garrisoned to salvation. 'Satan is raising batteries against the fort, using all means to take it, by strength or stratagem, unwearied in his assaults, and very skilful to know his advantages.'7 But notwithstanding all his disturbing power, "the peace of God" daily fortifies our hearts from fear of evil. Such is our strong tower! What owe we to our gracious Saviour, who has made our way to it so free, so bright? We repose in the bosom of God, and are at peace.

But the rich man has his strong city—yea—and his high walls? Well does the wise man add—in his own conceit. Little does he think, that in a moment they may crumble to the dust, and leave him in the fearful ruin of an unsheltered state. 'Trouble will find an entrance into his castle. Death will storm and take it. And judgment will sweep both him and it into perdition.'

An affecting contrast truly between a real and an imaginary refuge. Every man is as his trust. A trust in God communicates a Divine and lofty spirit. We feel that we are surrounded with God, and dwelling on high with him. O the sweet calm of a soul thus shut up in an impregnable fortress! A vain trust brings a vain and proud heart—the immediate forerunner of ruin.

12. Before destruction the heart of man is haughty, and before honor is humility.

We have had both these Proverbs separately. Surely this repetition, like our Lord's often repeated parallel,14 was intended to deepen our sense of their importance. It is hard to persuade a man that he is proud. Every one protests against this sin. Yet who does not cherish the viper in his own bosom? Man so little understands, that dependence upon his God constitutes the creature's happiness, and that the principle of independence is madness, and its end—destruction. The haughty walk on the brink of a fearful precipice, only a miracle preserves them from instant ruin. The security of the child of God is, when he lies prostrate in the dust. If he soar high, the danger is imminent, though he be on the verge of heaven.

The danger to a young Christian lies in an over-forward profession. The glow of the first love; the awakened sensibility to the condition of his perishing fellow-sinners; ignorance of the subtle working of inbred vanity; the mistaken zeal of injudicious friends—all tends to foster self-pleasing. Oh! let him know, that before honor is humility. In the low valley of humiliation special manifestations are realized. Enlarged gifts, and apparently extending usefulness, without growing more deeply into the humility of Christ, will be the decline, not the advancing, of grace. That undoubtedly is the most humbled spirit, that has most the spirit of Christ. The rule of entry into his school—the first step of admission to his kingdom is—"Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart."3 Yet this humility is not in words, meltings, or tears. Its fruit is lowliness of mind, meekness of temper, thankfulness in receiving reproof, forgetfulness of injury, readiness to be lightly regarded. This is the humility, "which the King delighteth to honor." "Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, that he may set him with princes, even with the princes of his people."

13. He that answereth a matter (returneth a word, Marg.) before he heareth it, it is folly and shame unto him.

Too often is this Proverb verified in common life. Men will scarcely hear out what is unacceptable to them. They will break in upon a speaker, before they have fully heard him; and therefore answer a matter, which they have little weighed, and but imperfectly understood. The eager disputant prides himself on his acute judgment. He interrupts his opponent, and confutes arguments, or contradicts statements, before he has fairly heard them. Job's friends seem to have erred here.6 Elihu, on the other hand, considerately restrained himself, till he had thoroughly heard the matter. Job himself prudently "searched out the cause that he knew not."8 This impatient spirit tells little for candor or humility, and only stamps a man's character with folly and shame. It is fraught with injustice in the court of law. Here at least the judge must carefully hear and weigh both sides for a satisfactory verdict. The wise man thoroughly heard his difficult case, before he gave judgment.10 Job was scrupulously exact in thus "contending with his servant." Potiphar, from the want of this upright considerateness, was guilty of the most flagrant wrong. The Eastern autocrats seldom cared to sift accusations. Even "the man after God's heart," grievously sinned in this matter. But their hasty decisions brought shame upon them, being either covered over, or virtually retracted. Our Lord's matter was answered, before it was heard. The Apostle met with similar treatment,4 though at other times he found a more impartial judgment.

This folly was directly forbidden by God's law. It was no less contrary to his own procedure. He examined Adam, before he pronounced judgment.7 He came down to see Babel and Sodom, previous to their destruction, for the clear demonstration of his justice. While on earth, patient investigation marked his decisions.9 "All his ways are judgment; a God of truth, and without iniquity; just and right is he."

14. The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity: but a wounded spirit who can bear?

Man is born in a world of trouble, with considerable power of endurance. Natural courage and vivacity of spirits will bear us up even under the pressure of ponderous evils, poverty, pain, sickness, want. Instances of Heathen fortitude abound in the records of history. Christian principle strengthens the natural strength. David, in the most fearful extremity, "encouraged himself in the Lord his God."12 The Apostle "took pleasure in infirmities." The martyrs "were more than conquerors" under the most cruel tortures.14 Outward troubles are tolerable—yea—more than tolerable, if there be peace within. The spirit of a man may sustain his infirmity. But if the spirit be wounded—if the prop itself be broken—all sinks. The wound of the spirit is so much the more piercing, as the spirit itself is more vital than the body. When he who made it, wounds, or permits Satan to wound, we might challenge the whole creation—Who can bear it? The suffering of the soul is the soul of suffering. Spiritual wounds, like the balm that heals them, can never be known, till they are felt. It is sometimes, as if the arrows of the Almighty were dipped in the lake of fire, and shot flaming into the very midst of the soul, more sensitive than the apple of the eye. The best joys of earth can never soothe the envenomed sting. Mirth is madness16 and vexation.

There is a hell for the wicked on this side eternity. Cain's "punishment was greater than he could bear." Saul was given up to the blackness of despair.2 Zimri in rebellious madness threw himself into the flames. Pashur was made a terror to himself.4 Ahithophel and Judas "chose strangling rather than life." Such is the foretaste of hell—only a few drops of wrath—for a few moments! What will be the reality—the substance—for eternity!

Observe the poignancy of the wounded spirit in the children of God. Job, delivered "for a small moment" into the enemy's power, "cursed the day of his birth." David "roared for the disquietness of his heart. The arrows of the Almighty stuck in him, and his hand pressed him sore."7 The martyrs, in a moment of temporary apostacy, could not endure the anguish of the wounded spirit, and chose the flames, as the less bitter alternative. Such is the sharpness of the Lord's sword, and the weight of his hand, that every stroke is deadly. Conscience is the seat of guilt, and its vivid power turns—so to speak—"the sun into darkness, and the moon into blood,"—the precious promises of free forgiveness into arguments of hopeless despondency. And but for the gracious restraint of the Lord's power and love, hardened despair would be the successful "advantage of Satan's devices."10

But look at Gethsemane—the wounded spirit there—the fainting humanity of the Son of God—"his strong crying and tears"—his prostrating sorrow—his "exceeding great and bitter cry," under the darkness of desertion. If all the support of the indwelling Godhead was demanded for his upholding—with trembling astonishment we cry—A wounded spirit who can bear?

Yet is not this wounded spirit the Christian's first seal of mercy—the preparation for all future and eternal mercy? Bitter indeed is the anguish, when the mass of sin is raised from the grave of oblivion, and "set in order before our eyes."13 But is not this the sight that makes Jesus and his free salvation inexpressibly precious? And does not this spirit place us within the sphere of his healing commission?15 We ask now—not—who can bear,—but who can heal—it? Well did Luther say—and there is no better judge on such matters—'it is as easy to make a world as to quiet a troubled conscience.' Both are Creation-work—the Almightiness of God. To him that "wounded must we return for healing."17 His remedy is the sight of Himself wounded for us. And that sight—so healing—so reviving—how does it tune the heart to everlasting praise!

15. The heart of the prudent getteth knowledge; and the ear of the wise seeketh knowledge.

Knowledge is gathering its rays on every side But all that is intrinsically valuable centres in Divine knowledge. 'All arts'—as Bishop Hall teaches—'are maids to Divinity. Therefore they both vail to her, and do her service.' Yet the value of knowledge in the Divine sphere is estimated according to its character. When it is speculative, not experimental; general, without practical influence, it is worse than valueless. It is power for fearful evil. Lamentable is it to think of the mass of triflers in Divine knowledge; hearing without retaining; retaining withont intelligence, or without personal application. So often "is the price in the hands of a fool, who hath no heart for it." But here is the prudent. He has pondered, and formed a just estimate of the blessing. His heart has fastened upon it, and, as the means are free, and the success sure,4 he has gotten it. As the proof of his possession, he seeks for more. For who that has a treasure, will be satisfied with his store, content with a lesser measure, while a larger is within his reach?—His ear is now wakened to seek the ministry of the word, and the conversation of experienced Christians. Every avenue of instruction is diligently improved.

A word to the young—Think how much important knowledge is to be gotten. Be up early in its pursuit. Let it have your most—your first—your best time. Begin, before your minds are corrupted with false principles; before you have learned too much that must be unlearned as disciples of Christ. What is the tone of your prayers? Does it show the concentration of the soul, filled with one desire, and carrying it where it will be accepted and satisfied? The only saving knowledge cometh down from heaven, and is fetched thence upon our knees. What is the pulse of your exertion? Does it prove the heart to be delighted in the object? Or is it only a start for a moment, and then a sinking back to the slumber of the sluggard? Knowledge from heaven leads thitherward. Clearer knowledge sweeps away many clouds. We see our work better, and it is more easy to us. We see our road, and walk more pleasantly. We can not only guide ourselves; but we are "able also to admonish one another." Hasten onwards then, "grow in knowledge."7 Happiness and usefulness, light and glory, are before us.

16. A man's gift maketh room for him, and bringeth him before great men.

We have before spoken of the corrupting influence of gifts. But we may justly apply this proverb to their legitimate use. Eliezer's gifts made room for him in Rebekah's family. Jacob's gifts made room for him in his brother's heart. Nor was it inconsistent with his integrity, by sending his present to the governor of Egypt, to bring his sons with acceptance before the great man. Ehud's gifts made room for his errand; Abigail's, for the preservation of her house.2 Often indeed were they presented simply as a tribute of respect, as now in some parts of the East; so that without them an inferior would scarcely feel, that he had any claim upon his superior for favor or protection.4 The minister of the Gospel recognizes their value, making room for him—perhaps also for his message. Sympathy gives weight to his instruction, when after the example of his Divine master, he combines kindness to the body with love for the soul. Great wisdom and discrimination is however obviously required, to prevent the serious evil of a well-intentioned charity. A wise consideration may also make room for us with great men for the advancement of the Christian cause. But in this most delicate exercise, let our own principles be fully acknowledged; else even in the service of God, we shall be "carnal, and walk as men"—not as the dignified servants of a heavenly Master.

Blessed be God! We want no gifts to bring us before him. Our welcome is free—our door of access ever open. Our treasure of grace in his unchanging favor, unsearchable.

17. He that is first in his own cause seemeth just; but his neighbor cometh and searcheth him.

We have lately had a rule against judging others. Here we are warned against justifying ourselves. Self flattery is our cherished nature,—highly valuing our fancied excellences, very blind to our real imperfections. So ready are we to place our own cause in a strong light; and sometimes, almost unconsciously, to cast a shade over, or even omit, what might seem to balance on the opposite side. It is so difficult to state facts and circumstances with perfect accuracy, where our own name or credit is concerned. Hence, our cause coming first, seemeth just. But our neighbor, acquainted with the real case, cometh and searcheth us, exposes our fallacy, and puts us to shame. Saul made himself appear just in his own cause. The necessity of the case seemed to warrant the deviation from the command. But Samuel searched him, and laid open his rebellion. Ziba's cause seemed just in David's eyes, until Mephibosheth's explanation searched him to his confession.

Job's incautious self-defence was laid open by Elihu's probing application. An eloquent advocate may easily make a bad cause coming first seem just. But, according to the Proverb, 'the first tale is good, till the second is heard.' The plaintiff is always right, till the defendant's case has been opened. Yet the true rule of justice would be, to judge neither to be right, till both sides have been heard. Let the whole evidence be sifted; and often the plausible cover is swept away by a more searching investigation. Judges are therefore bound to "consider, take advice, and speak;"2 carefully guarding against prejudging the cause, till the whole has been fully before them; else he that is last in the cause may come with disadvantage, though it may be the cause of right. In our own cause, always be alive to conviction. Watch against a self-justifying spirit. Cultivate the spirit of self-distrust. Balance our enemy's statement against our own prejudices. Judge as under the eye of God, and with the sincere anxious prayer to lay ourselves open to his searching disclosure of hidden evil. Deceit in any form never answers its end. "A conscience void of offence both towards God and man" must be our great exercise.

18. The lot causeth contentions to cease, and parteth between the mighty.

The general use of the lot has been before explained. It is here adverted to, as an ordinance of peaceful settlement. Whether from the evenness of the balance, or from want of confidence in the judgment a legal appeal might be of doubtful authority. Contending parties therefore agree to abide by the decision of the lot. Important matters of order under the Divine Theocracy were thus determined.5 How many contentions would there have been between the mighty, in settling the respective boundaries of the tribes, had not this means been adopted to make them cease! When Saul was thus chosen to the kingdom,7 and Matthias "numbered among the Apostles," the election was acquiesced in, as the voice of God. There seems, therefore, no scriptural prohibition to the use of this ordinance, provided it be exercised in a reverential dependence upon God,9 and not profaned for common purposes or worldly ends.

At the same time—as we have before observed—the word of God appears to be more fully recognized as the arbiter of the Divine will. All contentions cease in a simple, child-like, unreserved readiness to be guided by this "more sure rule." The extent of forgiveness, is here clearly defined, and the principle and motive for its exercise effectively supplied.11 Perhaps it was more easy to abide by the decision of the lot than of the word. The last requires more self-denial, humility and patience, and therefore is more practically useful.

19. A brother offended is harder to be won than a strong city: and their contentions are like the bars of a castle.

Adverting to the ceasing of contentions, how affecting is this case of special difficulty! A brother—not an enemy—is harder to be won than a strong city; as if the nearer the relation, the wider the breach. The thread once snapped, is not easily joined. 'What a view does it give us of our corruption, that the natural love implanted in us should degenerate into Satanic hatred.' Such was the contention of Cain with Abel; of Joseph's brethren with himself;3 of Absalom and Amnon; the civil wars between Benjamin and his brethren;5 in later times between Judah and Israel; in our own country, the long continued and ruinous contentions between the Houses of York and Lancaster. Cities in olden times were strongly fortified with bars of iron against a siege. What a long siege did Esau's strong city stand, before it was won by the power of love, and the bars of his castle opened their avenues for conciliation!

No where is concord so important as in the Church. Never can she prosper—except she maintain the form of Jerusalem—"a city compact together." Begotten as we are by the same word, living on the same food, animated by the same life, ought we not, with all our lesser differences—to hold "the unity of the Spirit?"10 If ties so close cannot unite us, at least let our common welfare, and common danger, quench this unholy fire; just as the fear of the enemy without, might allay mutual misunderstanding within. But how painfully did the contentions between Luther and Calvin (not to mention others of more recent date in the Church) show the fearful difficulty of winning a brother offended!

Yet the extreme difficulty does not diminish the obligation. Let it not therefore paralyze the effort. Nothing can be more plain and decisive than the gospel rule. Yet so repugnant is it to flesh and blood, to all nature's pride, feelings, and high notions, that we cry with the disciples of old—"Lord, increase our faith!" Call in this only principle, that can constrain the heart, and the Christian victory is ensured. Grace reigns triumphant.

20. A man's belly shall be satisfied with the fruit of his mouth: and with the increase of his lips shall he be filled. 21. Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.

Who would not be careful what seed he puts into a fruitful field, when he knows that his harvest will be according to his seed? Here is not a field—but "a world"13 to be cultivated, so that we may be satisfied with the fruit, and filled with the increase. What this fruit and increase may be, is a fearful alternative. The fruit of our lips—the power of our tongue—will be poisonous or wholesome—death or life. Evil words tend to death, good words to life.2

This is clearly manifested in public responsibilities. The testimony of witnesses; the legal decision of the judge; the doctrine of false or true teachers; all show that death or life is in the power of the tongue. In the common intercourse of life, it is "the fountain both of bitter waters and sweet;" as powerful to destroy as to edify; the poison or the antidote, as it may be used. 'A man by using his tongue aright, in talking, exhorting, witnessing, counselling, may save; and, by abusing it in any of these ways, or any other, may destroy.' Either way he will be filled with the fruit. The curse of destroying others will return upon himself. In administering a blessing to his neighbor, his whole soul will be fed.5 They that love it shall eat the fruit of it. It is however, the habitual, not the occasional, use of this formidable little member, that determines its fruit. A saint may "speak unadvisedly"—a sinner acceptably—"with his lips." Neither would thus determine his true character.

Are not then the sins of the tongue an overwhelming manifestation of the long-suffering of God? "Woe is me! for I am a man of unclean lips." When I think of its power even for eternal death or life, shall I not—as Chrysostom warns—'guard it more than the pupil of the eye?' Shall I not cry to my God, that he would restrain it;9 yea—cry more earnestly, that he would consecrate it; that it might be my glory, not my shame; my organ of praise; my exercise of joy?11 In the inner man the heart is the main thing to be kept—in the outer man the tongue.13 O my God, take them both into thine own keeping, under thine own discipline, as instruments for thy service and glory.

22. Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the Lord.

This is obviously to be taken with limitation. Manoah found a good thing in his wife. So did not Job.16 Some find "a crown to their head;" others "rottenness to their bones." That which alone deserves the name is indeed a good thing. If in a state of innocence "it was not good for man to be alone;" much more in a world of care and trouble "two are better than one," for mutual support, helpfulness and sympathy. The good thing implies godliness, and suitable fitness. Godliness is found, when the man marries "only in the Lord," and only one who is the Lord's. The "unequal yoke with unbelievers"3—the union for life of a child of God with a child of Satan—is a most awful anomaly. 'I wish'—said pious Bishop Hall,—'that Manoah could speak so loud, that all our Israelites might hear him. Is there never a woman among the daughters of thy brethren, or among all God's people, that thou goest to take a wife of the uncircumcised Philistines? If religion be any other than a cipher, how dare we not regard it in our most important choice? Is she a fair Philistine? Why is not the deformity of the soul more powerful to dissuade us, than the beauty of the face to allure us?' The destruction of the world grew out of this self-pleasing delusion.5 And many a flood of iniquity has come into a godly man's family from the same source.

There may however be godliness on both sides, without that mutual fitness, which makes the wife "a help-meet for the man." The good thing is, when he honors her—not as the wisest or the holiest, but as the person, whom God saw to be the best and fittest for himself in the whole world—a comfort for life—an help for heaven. Such a communion spiritualizes his affections, and elevates him from earth to heaven.

But how is this good thing found? Isaac found it, where every Christian looks for his blessing—as an answer to prayer. A man's choice for his own indulgence will bring a curse upon himself and his family.10 "Choose thou mine inheritance for me"—is the cry and confidence of the child of God. Then truly will he obtain the gift, not as the result of fortune, or as the proof of his own good discernment—but—as Adam received his wife—"from the Lord"—a token of his special favor.

23. The poor useth entreaties: but the rich answereth roughly.

It is natural to the poor—sensible of their dependence—to use entreaties. And very natural is this humiliation, as the discipline for that poverty of spirit, which the Lord seals with his first blessing. Yet shame is it to the rich, that he should often answer these entreaties roughly. Instead of the kindly feelings flowing out, he seems to be bound against them with iron chains. He hears with indifference the tale of woe, and, having never himself tasted the bitter bread, he has no heart of sympathy and helpfulness. Often we find the well-bred man of the world, who is all courtesy and refinement in his own circle, to those under his feet insufferably rude and unfeeling. His good breeding indeed is only the polish of selfishness. So little does he make the true use of his power, that the exercise of it only transforms him into a tyrant. Instead of scattering his blessings around, he only makes himself feared and hated by his misused responsibility. Would he but study the character of his Divine Master, he would see the exercise of power combine with true greatness. Was he not as considerate to blind Bartimeus, as to the nobleman of Capernaum?2 All ranks alike shared in his tenderest sympathy.

And yet as the rich in their conscious superiority may be overbearing, so the poor, in using their entreaties, may show a servile, crouching spirit, shrinking from that bold integrity of character, which gives dignity alike to the lowest as to the highest of men. To all of us our Providential circumstances bring their besetting temptations. Close walking with God is our only safeguard.

But surely the rich in their rough answering of the poor would do well to consider, how much more dependent is he upon his God, than his meanest brother is upon himself! And when he comes before his God, must he not then wear the garb of poverty—though he be a king—using entreaties—not advancing claims? Yes—all of us alike are poor before the throne of grace. All of us must use entreaties there. Yet when does our gracious Father answer his poor suppliant child roughly, except as he wisely disciplines his faith, while his own heart is full of yearning, parental love, towards him?

24. A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend, that sticketh closer than a brother.

A true friend is no common acquisition. There are many pretensions—many professions—of friendship. But the jewel itself is as rare, as it is precious. Yet what is life without this cheering, enriching blessing? Kings have left awhile their royalties for its enjoyment.7 To Alexander the conquered world without his Hephæstion would have been a wilderness. But if a man hath friends, and would keep them, he must show himself friendly. To throw them away by neglect, caprice, unreasonable disgust, or needless offence, is to show himself utterly unworthy of the blessing. Observe Ruth and Naomi—each with warm reciprocity of interest laying herself out for the other; David acknowledging the kindness of his friends in distress;9 the Apostle's delicate dealing with his friend's wounded sensibility; and his considerate care for the comforts of his companions.11 It is by such kind offices that the bond is mutually cemented. A man having friends shows himself friendly. Love begets love, and is accompanied with love.

But let us take care to base our friendships upon the true foundation Otherwise they may be snapped asunder by the veriest trifle, or they may become idolatrous love, usurping God's place in the heart. Sanguine and affectionate dispositions are much exposed to sudden fancies and mistaken impressions. But the charm is broken by the cold return, or empty professions, of the misplaced love; and the illusion is swept away in humbling disappointment.

The bond of real friendship is often closer than the natural tie. "The friend is as one's own soul." Such was Jonathan unto David—a friend that sticketh closer than a brother2—tender and sympathizing, while his brother was fraught with unkind suspicion. He dared the deadly displeasure of his father by open adherence, while his wife showed her love at the expense of his name.4 Job's friends, notwithstanding their harsh misconceptions, abode fast with the afflicted sufferer, when his wife and family were "strange to him." And do we not remember, that, when the brethren of Jesus shrunk from the near position to his cross "there stood by the cross the disciple, whom Jesus loved," gladly receiving from his lips the sacred deposit of his bereaved mother? Even natural minds, of a high tone of feeling, may exhibit this strength of friendship. But its surest bond is, that which unites the whole family of God. The identity of sanctified taste; sympathy of experience; holy consecration for mutual helpfulness; above all—union as Members of one body to one Head—hence flows magnetic attraction—heavenly—Divine friendship.

But where shall we find the complete filling-up of this exqusite picture, except in Him, who became our Brother, that he might cleave to us closer than a brother in tenderness and help? Truly he "loveth at all times"8—a present Friend; in temptation opening, when needed, "a way of escape;" in affliction cheering with the Divine Comforter;10 "in sickness making our bed;" in death sustaining us by "his rod and staff;12 in eternity "receiving us to himself." What brother sticketh so close as he?

And then, when we think of the objects of his love—its freeness15—its costliness—its perseverance notwithstanding all the discouragements of our perverseness and folly17—"loving us to the end" as parts and members of himself—how can we duly honor this our faithful, tender, unchanging unchangeable friend? Are there none, who boast of their faithfulness to the creature, who yet have no heart for this Divine friendship—no reciprocal affection to this surpassing friend? Will not our very sensibilities condemn our indifference? For what stronger proof can there be of their depravity and disorder, than that they should flow so fully to the creature-object, yet be cold and dead to the Divine Friend Oh! let Him be the first choice of youth—the tried and chosen Friend of maturing age—the Friend for eternity!

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