Chapter 31

Chapter 31

CHAPTER 28

1. The wicked flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous are bold as a lion.

The wicked may appear bold in facing danger, so long as they drown reflection, and stupify conscience. But when conscience is roused, guilt is the parent of fear. Adam knew no fear, till he became a guilty creature. Then, to the searching question—"Where art thou?"—he replied—"I was afraid, because I heard thy voice in the garden, and I hid myself." But the wicked flee—not only when their enemies pursue,—but when no man pursueth. Yet is not conscience an invisible pursuer, following close—the harbinger of the wrath of God? And there are times, when "the sound of a shaken leaf shall chase them;" when "the shadows upon the mountains" shall make their hearts melt away.5 Cain was terrified with the apprehension of murder, when there was no man, save his own father, living on the earth. Many a daring infidel has shown himself a coward in a moment of sudden danger. In unwelcome thoughts of judgment to come, conscience has turned pale at the question—"Where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?"7

But if guilt brings fear, the removal of guilt gives confidence. The wicked flee; the righteous are bold as a lion. Fearless as the King of the forest, they dare to do any thing but offend their God. The fear of him has drowned every other fear. "Though an host should encamp against me"—saith the man of God—"mine heart shall not fear."10 Moses "feared not the wrath of the king." Caleb and Joshua stood firm against the current of rebellion.12 Elijah dared Ahab's anger to his face. Nehemiah in a time of peril exclaimed—"Should such a man as I flee?"14 The three confessors stood undaunted before the furious autocrat of Babylon. The Apostles' boldness astonished their enemies. Paul before the Roman Governor,17 and even before Nero himself, "witnessed a good confession." Athanasius before the Imperial Council of Heresy; Luther at the Diet of Worms, firmly exemplifie the lion-like boldness. Nor is this the character of individuals only. The faithful and constant Christian will be bold to walk contrary to the course of this world; outfacing the scorn of men; valiant for despised truth; glorying in a persecuted name. Fearless is he of men. "For if God be for him, who can be against him?" Not less fearless is he of Satan. If he be a "roaring,"2 he is a chained, "lion." "Resist him," and cowardlike, "he will flee from you." If there be a want of boldness, is there not a wound of conscience, neglect of prayer, or want of faith? The boldness itself is the sense of weakness, and Divine strength made perfect in it." When God intends us to do great things, he makes us feel, that "without him we can do nothing."5 Thus pride receives its death-blow, and he receives all the glory to himself.

2. For the transgression of a land many are the princes thereof: but by a man of understanding and knowledge the state thereof shall be prolonged.

Is God concerned in the falling of a sparrow? Surely then much more in the control of kingdoms.8 Did we realize more deeply our national dependence, we should see the clouds of anarchy and confusion working his wise, mysterious, or gracious purposes. Rival princes desolate the land with the horrors of civil war. A quick succession of princes rises by treason, usurpation, or the natural course. Hence a change of laws, spoliation of privileges, imposition of new burdens, or wasteful expenditure of treasure or blood. Many will trace these evils to political causes. But God's voice speaks from the cloud—"This thing is from me."11 For the transgression of a land many are the princes thereof. Nor less must we acknowledge his hand in the prolongation of the state by men of understanding and knowledge. The long and prosperous reigns of the kings of Judah are strongly contrasted with the Records of Israel after the revolt. The bloody contentions in our early history, which swept away the flower of our nobility, and those of later date, which overturned for a time our long-established institutions—were they not the scourge of many princes for the transgression of the land? And may we not anticipate the bright contrast, in prayer for our beloved Sovereign, that by the choice of men of understanding and knowledge in her council, the state may be prolonged "in all godly quietness?"

3. A poor man that oppresseth the poor is like a sweeping rain which leaveth no food (without food, Marg.)

Unrestrained power is often an engine of oppression; never more so, than when in the grasp of the poor. Place an unprincipled spendthrift in power, and he is a destructive flood in his sphere; greedily seizing every advantage by oppression to redeem his substance. A poor man suddenly raised to power, instead of sympathizing with grievances familiar to his former recollections, is usually pre-eminently distinguished by selfishness. Esther, when raised to a throne from an obscure station, was well reminded to use her power for God; for that some great work was surely intended by the remarkable Providence.4 But a base mind becomes more corrupt from a hasty elevation. The man's necessities enflame his desires; and, being without a spark of generous humanity, he is only bent upon improving his uncertain opportunities for selfish aggrandizement. Some of the Rulers in the French Revolution were raised from the lowest ranks. And their oppression was indeed a sweeping rain, leaving no food in fertile districts.

Cheering is the contrast of Him—once poor himself by his voluntary abasement—now raised to honor and glory; yet pitying—"not ashamed of his poor brethren." Truly his administration is not the sweeping rain of desolation, but "the rain upon the mown grass," rich in mercy. "He shall deliver the needy when he crieth; the poor also, and him that hath no helper. He shall redeem their soul from deceit and violence; and precious shall their blood be in his sight."

4. They that forsake the law praise the wicked: but such as keep the law contend with them.

How responsible is the influence of our profession, acting upon all around for evil or for good! Congeniality of taste directs the choice of our companions. Those who love sin, naturally "have pleasure in them that do it." They praise the wicked, because, like themselves, they forsake the law, and "cast it behind them." "The world loveth its own."2 Each countenances his brother in sin. Each makes the other's conduct—not the forsaken law—the standard of action. The wicked may possess some praiseworthy qualities. But to praise them for their wickedness, identifies us with them. 'It is fearful to sin; more fearful to delight in sin; yet more to defend it.'

The servants of God maintain the same unity of spirit. They cannot call sin by smooth names, and gloss over an ungodly character. If they keep the law, they contend with them that forsake it. Noah thus contended with the ungodly in his day, condemning them not merely in word but in life; and though "a preacher of righteousness," preached more powerfully by his life than by his doctrine. But this contention must be aggressive. We must "reprove," as well as separate from, "the unfruitful works of darkness." Our Divine Master's open testimony was the grand offence.8 So let us plainly show that his enemies are ours; that we hold neutrality in his cause to be treason. For "he that is not with me is against me."10

Oh! the appalling recollection of our former influence for evil! the deadly—perhaps the eternal—injury, which all our subsequent labors have never been able to undo! the encouragement, which our praise of the wicked gave to sin, hardening our companions in their wickedness! What would Manasseh have given to have undone his sin in all its evil consequence upon his son and his kingdom! Intolerable would be the thought of the past, but for the blood which covers the guilt, while it deepens shame and self-abhorrence.12 But let it ever be present before us, as our constraining obligation to redeem what has been lost, as far as may be, by a holy contention against sin, and by the convincing protest of consistent godliness.

5. Evil men understand not judgment: but they that seek the Lord understand all things.

Ignorance and knowledge are here contrasted, and each traced to their proper source. The Apostle draws the same contrast. "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God. But he that is spiritual judgeth all things." This unity of statement is beautiful and instructive. 'The two Testaments, like our two eyes, mutually enlighten us, and assist each other.'15

Evil men understand not judgment. They know not the true standard of right and wrong, the true way to God, or the end of God's dealings with them. Their ignorance is wilful2—"Having the understanding darkened, because of the blindness of the heart. Men love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil. They call darkness light, and light darkness." The most distinguished scholar is a very fool in understanding judgment; and except he be humbled in the consciousness of his ignorance, and seek light from above—he will perish in gross darkness.

Nay—sometimes knowledge, no less than ignorance, hinders a right understanding. Where the knowledge of the truth goes before or beyond the power of it, the mind is often perplexed with difficulties, which the less intelligent, but more simple, escapes. When knowledge stands in the stead of faith; when the man reasons, instead of submitting to Divine teaching; knowledge abused becomes a positive hindrance to a correct understanding.

Pride is indeed a very general cause of ignorance. The source of light is despised. Hence "there is none that understandeth" because "there is none that seeketh after God." They that seek the Lord—babes though they may be in intellect, and ignorant in worldly things—shall have an accurate understanding of all things profitable, such as no "natural man" can attain. "The words are plain to him that understandeth, and right to them that find knowledge." Many things, dark to human reason, are simplified to humility.8 God's working is the spring of diligence, not of inertion. Man works, but under the Master-worker. He is free, but under the free-making Spirit, giving him a will for the service. Thus while active he is kept dependent. He works with deeper humility, and more assured confidence.10 This is a mystery to reason. But they that seek the Lord understand it. Practical experience shows it to them. Again—how dark are the Lord's ways to man's proud reason! Hard dispensations! a world of sorrow! But the child of God, seeking to know "the end," understands them "all to be mercy and truth." Is it not the sharp trial, to probe the wound; the bitterness, to wean from the creature comfort; the burden, to prove "the patience and faith of the saints;" the sifting, to separate the chaff from the wheat; the furnace, to purify the gold? Thus does seeking the Lord expound the mysteries of Providence and grace! We are neither stumbled by the stones, perplexed by the labyrinths, or "discouraged because of the length and weariness" of the way. Those who desire the light shall have it. To those who improve it, more shall be given.2

But—'I cannot seek—that is—I cannot pray.' Then do as you are taught. Let not inability be indolence, but faith. Carry it to the Lord. Remember the help provided for weakness and ignorance.4 If you cannot pray as you would, pray as you can. Desire—sincere and supreme—is the heart's real prayer—God's own work upon the soul. Is this manifest? Wait in the constant use of the means—Be found in the way.6 "Light is sown;" and the seed in God's best time will bring the harvest. No one fails to make progress who is really in earnest. It is a grand mistake to suppose that some impression must be felt as the warrant to seek. The only true warrant is the free invitation of the gospel. You must come—if at all—as a sinner, not as a saint; as you are, not as you would be; now, not waiting for some better time or preparation; seeking your fitness in Christ, not in yourself. If you think or feel that you cannot seek thus, do not reason or despond about it. Ask for Divine teaching to understand, and Divine grace to follow, the light vouchsafed. No depth of learning, no extraordinary inspiration, is needed. "Ye have an unction from the Holy One, and ye know all things." The heart is given as well as the mind. "The senses are exercised to discern between good and evil."9 All this light, because the creative word has been given anew—"Let there be light; and there was light." Are Christians then to be despised as fools? They are the most intelligent people in this world. Fixed at wisdom's gate, their religion is Divine wisdom, and "wisdom is justified of her children."11

6. Better is the poor that walketh in his uprightness, than he that is perverse in his ways, though he be rich.

This proverb is repeated for its valuable instruction. One part of the comparison, which before had been implied, is here expressed—though he be rich. Before he was described as perverse in his lips. A deeper trait of character is here given—perverse in his ways—or his principles. This is one of those paradoxes, that sometimes stumble the feet even of God's children. A man may walk in his uprightness, and yet be poor. He may be perverse in his ways and be rich. And yet the poor man, with all his external disadvantages, is really better—more honorable—more happy—more useful than the rich, with all his earthly splendor. And to come to a solid scriptural decision on this point is of great practical moment. For if we are dazzled with the glitter of this world's glory, we shall reverse the golden rule; and "seek" first the world as our grand object, and "the kingdom of God"—the interests of the soul—the stake of eternity—will occupy only the second place—that is—virtually will be thrust out.

Calculate—whether this is not a just balance—however counter it may be to common opinion. Dishonesty is the besetting temptation of the poor. Yet, in despite of this temptation, does he walk in his uprightness. Is there not a glory around his poverty infinitely beyond the vain show of this world? The rich man is perverse in his ways. He is "a double-minded man"—endeavoring to walk in two ways;—outwardly following godliness, inwardly deceit; pretending to one way, walking in another—Who can trust him?

So far then as concerns character, the comparison holds good, in favor of the poor. Now—as regards condition. Who would not prefer the lot of Elijah, subsisting upon his barrel of meal, to Ahab in all the pomp and glory of his throne? Who does not see a dignity in Paul standing at the bar, such as throws the worldly rank of his judges into utter insignificance?5

But the truth is of general application. Outward superiority only affects our state before God, as increasing our responsibility, in proportion to our advantages and talents. And how many will wish, that they had lived and died in, obscure poverty, with "a conscience void of offence toward God and toward man"7—rather than had riches committed to them—only in the perverseness of their ways to embolden them to sin with a high hand against God and their own souls!

7. Whoso keepeth the law is a wise son: but he that is a companion of riotous men shameth his father.

Keeping the law is national wisdom and honor. Invaluable is that training, which leads young persons, under the Lord's blessing, to this happy choice. Such are manifestly taught of God, and guided by his Spirit into true wisdom. For suppose a son of polished manners and intellectual endowments, yet without right principle; or one of moderate ability—in an humble walk of life, yet deeply imbued with practical godliness—could we hesitate which was the wise son10—bringing honor to his father's name? Yet how often is shame instead of honor, the father's bitter exercise! For how is his name blotted, when the depraved son—bent upon his own gratification—chooses the companionship of the ungodly, and shortly becomes one with them! Young man! in thy noisy mirth hast thou found solid enduring peace? Let the man of God direct you in the "cleansing thy way, by taking heed thereto according to the word."2 Let his choice be thine—"I am a companion"—not of riotous persons—but—"of all them that fear thee, and of them that keep thy precepts." Meet the enticements of thy former companions with his decided protest—"depart from me, ye evil doers; I will keep the commandments of my God." Here is honor to thy father—happiness to thyself—usefulness to the Church—meekness for heaven.

Parents! Do we shrink from this overwhelming shame? Let us more diligently—more prayerfully, cultivate that wise and holy training of our children, which is God's appointed ordinance; and which—however long or severely he may try our faith—he will not fail to honor in his own best time.

8. He that by usury and unjust gain increaseth his substance, he shall gather it for him that will pity the poor.

What a deadly curse is it to be under the spell of covetousness! Every thing that is "honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report," is sacrificed to this idolatrous principle. No laws can bind it. God had fenced in the rights of his poor people with solemn and plain obligations. And he will not suffer their rights to be lightly regarded. "I know"—saith the man of God—"that the Lord will maintain the cause of the afflicted, and the right of the poor."7 As a God of equity, often does he make selfishness to punish itself, and even to turn to the advantage of the oppressed. Ill-gotten gains are a dangerous and uncertain possession.9 A man labors for himself, and his harvest falls into better hands; 'not intending anything of himself; but it is so done through God's secret Providence.' In this, as in every view, godliness "has the promise of the life that now is."11 It brings "the great gain of contentment," and restrains those inordinate desires for wealth, which ruin all right principles, and "drown men in destruction and perdition."13 "A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth." Why should we seek to increase our substance by unjust gain, when we have our Father's promise—"All things shall be added to you"—yea when his Divine power hath given all things pertaining unto life and godliness?

9. He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be abomination.

Awful is it, that there should be such a rebel. Yet thus do the ungodly, while they take God's covenant into their mouth, "hate instruction, and cast his words behind them." Nay even in his church will "they come before him as the people come, and sit before him as his people; they hear his words but they will not do them." If the subject thus turneth away his ear from hearing the law of his Sovereign, every prayer that he may present in time of distress his Lord will regard as an abomination. 'Great reason that God shall refuse to hear him, who refuseth to hear God.'3 And what if his language now—"Depart from me"—should be taken out of his mouth at the great day, as the seal of his everlasting doom!

A strange contradiction, that this open rejection of God should be connected with any form or semblance of religion! And yet often would the self-deceiver compensate for the disobedience of a plain command by the performance of some external duty. Israel presented "the multitude of sacrifices" as a price for the neglect of practical obligations. "Vain oblations! Incense that was abomination!" Praying at home is made an excuse for turning away from hearing the law in God's own house. Such prayer is solemnly declared to be abomination. The law of charity and even of bounden duty is evaded, to maintain a profession of godliness, hateful in His eyes, who will bring to open shame every hypocritical service. Does God trifle with man? Assuredly he will not suffer man thus to trifle with him.

Be it ever remembered—that godliness is God's whole worship and service; that "the wisdom from above is without partiality, and without hypocrisy;" that to extol one ordinance at the expence of another—to decry preaching for the sake of commending prayer—is proof alike of a false judgment and an unsound heart. To reject any Divine ordinance is proud will-worship; a plain proof, that the privilege has never been enjoyed. For no beggar would slight the door where he had been used to receive his blessing. O my God! let me lie in thine own bosom, or at thy feet, that my will may be lost in thine, and my happiness found in a wholehearted devotedness to thyself!

10. Whoso causeth the righteous to go astray in an evil way, he shall fall himself into his own pit; but the upright shall have good things in possession.

To delight in the enticing of sinners in an evil way, is the very image and character of the tempter. But the chief delight—the main effort—is to cause the righteous to go astray. No rejoicing is so great, as when "a standard-bearer fainteth." Because, while it shows the seducer's enmity to the truth, it countenances him in his sin. Yet how transient is his joy! Success is his ruin. By the retributive justice of God, he often falls into his own pit. The snare of Balaam for the people of God ended in his own ruin.9

The malice of Satan and his emissaries, however, sets out the faithfulness of our Almighty Keeper—"Thou preparest a table for us in the presence of our enemies," who gnash their teeth at the sight. Even if they succeed for a while in leading the righteous astray, recovering mercy is in store for them; and the upright, brought out of the snare in deep humiliation—instead of the evil meditated against them—have good things in possession. What good things they are, "eye hath not seen, nor hath ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man." And if we have good things in possession, much more have we in reversion "an inheritance undefiled, unfading," of which none can spoil us. "Who shall separate us from our Father's love? Neither life, nor death; neither earth, nor hell."5

11. The rich man is wise in his own conceit; but the poor that hath understanding searcheth him out.

To be truly wise, and wise in our own conceit, are two things often confounded, but essentially opposite. Riches do not always bring wisdom; though the rich man often pretends to wisdom, and ascribes his success to his own sagacity. Obviously he has many advantages above the poor in leisure and opportunities of instruction. Yet on the other hand, worldly elevation operates unfavorably. He is shut out from many opportunities of Christian instruction. The atmosphere of flattery clouds that faculty of self-knowledge, which is the basis of true wisdom. And how natural is it to think himself as wise, as his flatterers represent him; as much above his neighbors in understanding, as in station! Hence he becomes dogmatical in over-weening conceit; fond every way of displaying his fancied superiority. Yet, as in the case of Naaman's servants, the intelligent good understanding of a poor man may search him out, and see through this false gloss. Specially, when endued with a measure of spiritual understanding, the poor man may expose his superior to just mortification. Indeed the universe possesses not a more dignified character than the poor wise man. Did not the Lord incarnate honor this station supremely, by taking it on himself? To walk in his footsteps—in his spirit—is wisdom, honor, and happiness, infinitely beyond what this poor world of vanity can afford.

12. When righteous men do rejoice, there is great glory: but when the wicked rise, a man is hidden.

"We are made"—said a righteous man "as the filth of the earth, and are the offscouring of all things unto this day." Yet these are the men who "bear up the pillars of the state."11 When therefore they rejoice—when they are raised to honor—there is great glory. The whole kingdom feels more or less the influence of this national blessing. Godliness is countenanced. Men are protected in the free exercise of their religion. "When Mordecai went out from the presence in the king's royal apparel, the city of Shushan rejoiced, and were glad. "The Jews had light, and gladness, and joy, and honor; in every province a feast, and a good day." The same result is seen in the experience of the Church. When the Churches had rest "from the fiery trial," they were edified, and walked in the fear of the Lord, and in the comfort of the Holy Ghost."2 And what glory so great, as this sunshine of the enjoyment of their God!

But when the wicked rise to honor, how is this glory eclipsed! The people of God are "drawn into corners," silenced, hidden. The light of upwards of an hundred prophets, and even of Elijah himself, was hidden for a while under the tyranny of Ahab. And in every age the power of the wicked, especially under a despotic rule, hides much valuable influence. Yet it is hidden only to the eye of sense. For of those who "wander about in sheep-skins and goat skins, in deserts, and caves of the earth"—what greater glory could we give than their Divine inscription—"Of whom the world was not worthy!"

13. He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy.

God and man each cover sin; God, in free unbounded grace; man, in shame and hypocrisy. The sinners here contrasted are chargeable with the same guilt. But how opposite are the remedies adopted, and their several results! The contrast is not between great sins and small, but between sins covered, and sins confessed and forsaken. Who covereth the smallest sin, shall not prosper. Who confesseth and forsaketh the greatest, shall find mercy. "Love covereth" our neighbor's sins; pride our own. The proud sinner naturally wishes to be thought better than he is. His sin must have some cover.8 He must at least give it a good name. He would cover it, if possible, from himself; putting it out of mind; banishing all serious thoughts; stifling conviction; and then trying to persuade himself that he is happy. To escape evil consequences, a lie is resorted to. Or if the facts are too plain to be denied; 'the worst part is unfounded. We were not in it so much as our neighbor.' Ignorance; good, or at least not bad, intentions; custom; necessity; strong temptation; sudden surprisal; the first offence; constitutional infirmity; even the decrees of God,11 one or more are pleaded in palliation. Or to save our honor—rather our pride—the blame must be shifted on another; it may be even upon God himself2—more commonly—on the devil. Or some compensation is a cover, paying for sin by some supposed good deeds; as if, by balancing good and evil respectively against each other, some preponderance in our favor might be brought out. But all these fig-leaf coverings5 for man's nakedness only show his determination to hold his sin, and his pride of heart, which would rather hide it from God himself, than submit to receive free mercy as a self-condemned sinner.

These attempts, however, to cover sin shall not prosper. The voice of an offended God summoned Adam from his hiding-place to receive his sentence. "The voice of Abel's blood cried from the ground;" and the murderer became "a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth."7 Conscience lashed Joseph's brethren with the sin of bye-gone days. Saul's covering his sin cost him his kingdom. "The leprosy of Naaman clave to Gehazi and his seed for ever."10 The proud accusers of their fellow-sinner were "convicted by their own conscience. "There is no darkness, nor shadow of death, where the workers of iniquity may hide themselves."12 Their darkest deed is wrought in the open face of an all-seeing God, and "set in the light of his countenance," to "be proclaimed upon the house-tops" before the assembled world.14

This unsuccessful attempt to cover sin, while it adds to the guilt, is fraught with misery.16 The love of sin struggles with the power of conscience. The door of access to God is barred. Christian confidence is clouded;18 and, unless Sovereign mercy interpose, it must end in the sting of "the never-dying worm." The covering of the disease precludes the possibility of the cure. Only the penitent confessor can be the pardoned sinner.

Long indeed is the struggle, ere every false cover is cut off; ere the heartless general confession—'We are all sinners,'—is exchanged for the deep-felt personal acknowledgment, "giving glory to God. Thus and thus have I done. Behold! I am vile, What shall I answer thee? I will lay mine hand upon my mouth." But glorious is the Divine victory over pride and sullenness, when this first act of repentance—this first step of return20 is heartily accomplished. God needs not confession for his own information. But he demands it for our good. It brings no claim on his mercy. But it is a meetness for the reception of it. Christ has fully satisfied the claims of justice. But the claims must be acknowledged in the humble acceptance of the benefit. The mercy is ready; but the sinner must sue it out—"Only acknowledge thine iniquity." Our yearning Father is "waiting" for this moment. "that he may be gracious."2 There is no further keeping of anger—he shall have mercy—instant reconciliation. Words may be few, while the heart is full. With David it was but a single sentence; but the closest workings of his heart witnessed to the enlargement and ingenuousness of his sorrow.4 Thus man confesses the debt; God crosses it out from his book; and sweet is the penitent's song—"Blessed is he, whose sin is covered."

But we must not overlook the distinctive feature of this confession. It is not that of Pharaoh, extorted on the rack; or of Saul and Judas,7 the stinging of remorse; or of the Pharisees and Sadducees, mere formal profession; or of the harlots,9 a cover for sin. Penitent faith confesses in the act of laying the hand upon the great sacrifice; and hence draws strength of purpose to forsake all, that has been here confessed. For while the hypocrite confesses without forsaking, the hearty forsaking is here the best proof of the sincere confessing.

And this first act of the penitent is matured into the daily habit of the saint. The further we advance, the deeper will be the tone of confession. The moment sin is seen to be sin, let it be laid on the Surety's Head. Every moment of unconfessed sin adds to its burden and guilt. The thought of a nature estranged from God; a heart full of corruption; sins of youth and age; before and after conversion; against light and conviction, knowledge and love; the sins of our very confessions—their defilement, coldness, and too often self-righteous tendency—all supplies abundant material for abasing acknowledgment. Plead the greatness—not the smallness—of our sin.13 Never deem any sin so trifling, as not to need the immediate application of the blood of atonement. Genuine conviction will give us no rest, until by the believing apprehension of this remedy the peace of God is firmly fixed in the conscience. As Bunyan so accurately pictured—not at the wicketgate, but at the sight of the cross—did the Christian find the grave of sin.

This evangelical humiliation lays the only solid ground for practical godliness. It is a sorrow full of joy, and not less full of holiness. No Achan will be reserved; no Agag spared;15 no right hand or right eye favored. It will not be "the unclean spirit going out, and returning to his house with sevenfold influence;" or the man who leaves his home, but forsakes it not—all his heart and joy being still there. Here the forsaking will be without the thought of returning; yea, with the fixed determination never to return. It will not be the exchange of one path in the broad road for another more attractive; but the relinquishment of the whole road with all its bye-paths. The inner principles as well as the outer walk—"the unrighteous thoughts," no less than "the wicked ways" will he forsake3 heartily and for ever.

14. Happy is the man that feareth alway: but he that hardeneth his heart shall fall into mischief.

This Proverb fitly follows the last. Confession precedes, godly fear follows, the reception of mercy, as the end for which it is given, and the proof of its reception. It implies no uncertainty of our safety; but, by guarding us against fresh wounds of conscience, it more firmly maintains our confidence. We may believe and rejoice in the Lord as "our Sun;" and yet we would fear him alway as "a consuming fire." And this fear is our security.6

We may here profitably glance at some Christian paradoxes. How is happiness to be found in constant fear? Is fear to be the atmosphere or the spirit of a child of God? The "fear which hath torment is cast out by love." For where "love makes perfect," there can be no unquiet rollings or doublings of heart. But godly fear preserves the sunshine, and seals our special acceptance.8 We walk with our Father in holy watchfulness and peace. Again—We readily receive of the happiness of trust. How do we link with it the happiness of fear? So far from being contrary to faith, it is a component part of it, or at least its inseparable adjunct; the discipline, that preserves it from presumption. Faith without fear is self-confidence and self-delusion. Nay—the assurance of our "standing by faith" is balanced by an instant and most needful exercise of fear. Who grasped a more triumphant confidence than Paul? Yet, without presuming upon a long and consistent profession, self-distrust, watchfulness and diligence established his confidence.12 'If there is truth in his assurance, not sin itself can disappoint him, it is true. But it is no less true, that if he do not fear to sin, there is no truth in his assurance.' Instead of being afraid to mix faith and fear, dread their separation. Again—the righteous is bold as a lion;14 yet he feareth alway. But Christian courage, though opposed to slavish, forms the very essence of godly, fear. The three confessors, bold before the Babylonish autocrat, yet so feared to offend against God, that "the burning fiery furnace" was the better alternative in their eyes.

Thus is holy fear every way identified with happiness. It is a fear of reverence, not of bondage; of caution, not of distrust; of diligence, not of despondency. In proportion as we are raised above tormenting fear, we cherish a deep reverence of the majesty and holiness of God, a child-like fear of displeasure, a jealousy over our motives, desires, and the risings of our evil propensities, and an abhorrence and shrinking, not only from sin, but from the temptations and occasions of sin. Well does the Christian know the value of this conservative principle—as far removed from legality, as from presumption. One, whose mournful experience gives additional weight to his words, warns us, as "sojourners" in a world of evil, and with hearts so often betraying our steps, to "pass our time in fear." If we be surely, we are "scarcely, saved."3 Though there be no uncertainty in the end, there is appalling difficulty in the way—"Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall." The man who stands in his own security, requires the caution more than any. Suspect a snake in every path—a snare in every creature. "Feed with fear."5 "Rejoice with trembling." Yea, "work out your whole salvation with fear and trembling." Live in constant dread of yourself.

This godly fear proves self-knowledge, preserves from self-confidence, produces self-distrust. In wariness against a fall we are most likely to stand. If weakness be our frailty, the consciousness of it is our strength. "When I am weak, then am I strong."

The importance of this principle will be seen by the contrast with its opposite. Fear keeps the heart tender, and the soul safe. Security and presumption harden the sinner, and he falls into mischief. Pharaoh's hardness of heart and its consequence, were but the bravery and ruin of the devil. When David's self-indulgence and carelessness had swept away his tenderness, fearfully did he fall into mischief. The latter history of his wise son reads the same awful warning.10 Peter's fearlessness—though the fruit of ignorance, rather than of wilfulness—brought him to the very brink of destruction.

A deep sensibility of sin is a special mercy. To think what it is—what it may be—that—indulged only in thought—if the Lord restrain not—it will end in apostacy—Oh! dare we trifle with it? The man, who presumes upon it, as too harmless for eternal punishment, and promises himself peace in the way of his own heart—a voice from heaven could scarcely describe the tremendous horrors of his case! Every word of God is a thunderbolt levelled at him. Scarcely less pitiable is the man, who makes light of his eternal state; living without prayer; so much better in his own eyes than his more ungodly neighbors; and fully satisfied with a mere external preparation for eternity. Forget not—Christian Professor—we may be strong in confidence, only because we are sleeping in delusion, or hardened in insensibility. 'From' all the mischief of self-ignorance and 'hardness of heart, Good Lord, deliver us!'

15. As a roaring lion, and a ranging bear; so is a wicked ruler over the poor people. 16. The prince that wanteth understanding is also a great oppressor; but he that hateth covetousness shall prolong his days.

A godly ruler is to a land the clear sunshine of an unclouded morning; the fruitfulness of the springing grass after the rain. But such a curse is a wicked ruler, that we might as well live among the savage wild beasts of the forest. The lion roaring for the prey, and the bear ranging in hunger—the terror of their weaker race—are apt emblems of this tyrant over the poor people. 'No sentiment of pity softens his bosom. No principle of justice regulates his conduct; complaint only provokes further exactions. Resistance kindles his unfeeling heart into savage fury. Poor and miserable indeed are the people, whom Divine anger has placed under his misrule.'

His oppression shows a want of understanding. His foolish choice of wicked ministers alienates the affections of the people, probably to the shortening of his rule.7 A considerate ruler—hating covetousness, and living only for the good of his people—shall usually prolong his days. 'He may hope to reign long and happily, having his throne erected in the hearts of his subjects.'

What need then have rulers to seek for understanding, that they may rule as the fathers of their people! And what cause have we to bless God for our mild and happy government, preserved as we are from wicked despots, who would not stop at any tyranny that would subserve their selfish purposes!12

17. A man that doeth violence to the blood of any person shall flee to the pit; let no man stay him.

The first law against the murderer must not be broken down. Like the law of the Sabbath—though confirmed by the Levitical code—it was in force from the beginning. The reason given for it proves its universal obligation. It is therefore miscalled philanthropy, that protests against all capital punishments. Shall man pretend to be more pitiful than God? Pity is misplaced here. The heathen judged this awful transgressor to be under the Divine vengeance.3 God himself deemed the land to be defiled by this guilt. The murderer therefore of his brother is his own murderer. He shall flee to the pit, hurried thither by his own horror of conscience, by the sword of justice,6 or by the certain judgment of God. Let no man stay him. Let God's Law take its course.

Yet we must not cast off his soul. Visiting the condemned cell is a special exercise of mercy. While we bow to the stern justice of the great law-giver; joyous indeed it is to bring to the sinner under the sentence of the law, the free forgiveness of the Gospel; not as annulling his sin, but showing the over-abounding of grace beyond the abounding of sin.

18. Whoso walketh uprightly shall be saved: but he that is perverse in his ways shall fall at once.

This contrast has been lately drawn. Indeed the Proverb itself in substance has been already given. The "security of the upright," before marked, is here included in his salvation. The hypocrite's "known" ruin is here set out as complete—at once.

This upright walk is Christian perfection—"walking before God." There is no need for Jacob's vision13 to realize his presence. "Faith seeth him that is invisible." This life may seem to miss much temporal advantage. But what—if the upright be not rich, honorable, esteemed? He is saved. This one blessing includes all. It is the substance of time and of eternity. All besides is shadow and vanity. To dwell in the presence of God; in the sunshine of his countenance;16 in the light and gladness of his joy; and at length in his unclouded glory18—such is the hope—the salvation of the upright. Christian! would you part with this portion—this hope—for kingdoms? What earthly comforts can be a substitute for it? This supplies the place of all. Any want of uprightness will bring the child of God under the rod. But he that is perverse in his way will fall at once. None of his many shifts shall prosper. His double ways, his vain attempt to "serve two masters,"21 only bring him to shame—What need have I, in the highest walk of conscious integrity, still to cry—"Redeem me, and be merciful unto me."

19. He that tilleth his land shall have plenty of bread: but he that followeth after vain persons shall have poverty enough.

This Proverb also has been given before. Such memories and hearts as ours need "line upon line"2 in the enforcement of practical obligation. If labor be a penal ordinance, such a blessing is included in it, that its removal would diminish our most substantial source of happiness. Man was not born to be a stone, without energy; or a machine, to be moved by mere passive force. Our true happiness is active dependence. Habits of diligence are the means of working it out fruitfully. The earth "bringeth forth of itself only thorns and thistles." But he that tilleth his land shall have plenty of bread. The blessing comes—not by miracle, to encourage sloth; but in the use of means, to stimulate exertion.

The contrast to this plenty of bread is poverty enough. The prodigal is a warning beacon. "In his father's house"—doubtless engaged in active exercise—"there was bread enough, and to spare." When in his waywardness he left his plenty, and followed after vain persons—soon he found poverty enough—"I perish with hunger." Idleness is a sin against God, against our neighbor, against ourselves. "Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord"6—is the rule of prosperity in this world's concerns; much more in the momentous concerns of eternity.

20. A faithful man shall abound with blessings: but he that maketh haste to be rich shall not be innocent (unpunished, Marg.)

The study of the contrast shows the definite meaning of the terms. A faithful man is opposed—not to the rich, but—mark the careful accuracy—to him that hasteth to be rich. A man may be rich by the blessing of God. He hasteth to be rich by his own covetousness. He may be rich, and yet faithful. He hasteth to be rich at the expense of faithfulness. The faithful man makes no loud profession. But he bears to be looked at, even in the veriest trifles. He is true to his ward. He fulfils his engagements. He has only one principle—"unto the Lord;" under his eye; in his presence; "to his glory."11 Try his principle by a worldly bait. He will prefer his conscience to his interest. He would rather be poor by Providence, than rich by sin. This is the man of faithfulness. "Who shall find him."13 But when you have found him, mark his abounding blessings; blessings covering his head; blessings for both worlds.15 Is there not infinitely more promise in the ways of God, than in the ways of sin? Be the path ever so tried and perplexed, only let it be a strait path, and sunshine will cheer it. But the man who has no faith, can only walk in a crooked path. He leaps over every bound of principle. He hasteth to be rich. He cannot wait for God in the path of Christian diligence. The promise does not run fast enough for him. He becomes rich too soon; he scarcely knows or cares by what means; by any means, rather than lose his grasp. Yet all this haste is only to his own ruin. Instead of abounding with blessings, he shall not be innocent. Jacob, as a faithful man, was paid with full wages for his work. Though his master dealt hardly, God dealt bountifully, with him. He abounded with blessings; while Laban, hasting to be rich, was impoverished. Hard indeed—if not impossible—is it to hold fast innocency in such a path of temptation. Even if no criminal means be resorted to, yet the immoderate desire—the perseverance in every track of Mammon—the laboring night and day for the grand object—the delight in the acquisition4—all proves the idolatrous heart, and will not go unpunished. "They that will be rich—that haste to be rich—fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, that drown men in destruction and perdition. But thou, O man of God, flee these things."

21. To have respect of persons is not good: for, for a piece of bread that man will transgress.

This Proverb has been more than once repeated. The act itself is not good. It is positive transgression. The principle is worse—sordid selfishness. He is here a man—not of slavish or naturally degraded mind—but—such is the debasing influence of lust!—a man of weight and influence; and yet abusing his power for his own ends. It is a rich man, or a relation, or he is under some obligation, and therefore he has respect of judgment. Now what is right to the rich, is right to the poor. Thus to trample the poor under foot, the Judge of All counts rebellion against his own just standard. Principle once overpowered seldom regains its ascendancy. Each successive trial proves its weakness; till he who once thought himself able to resist a large bribe, for the veriest trifle will break with God and his conscience. For a piece of bread that man will transgress.

Is not this, alas! a pulpit sin? Is the minister never drawn away from godly simplicity by some interested motive?—to transgress his broadly-marked obligation for a piece of bread? In olden times this was a besetting temptation of the sacred office. Let the beacon be solemnly regarded.

In ordinary life, a man's bread hanging upon favor, is a strong temptation to transgress upright principles. Cowardice and unbelief shelter themselves under the cover of prudence. Christian reproof is neglected from fear of losing custom or advantage. Our interest is preferred to God's. And a plain scriptural obligation is put away for a piece of bread. Are Christians wholly guiltless in this matter? Is not conduct sometimes ruled by the fear of man, rather than by "trust in God?" Let the temptation be resisted at the first step—manfully—prayerfully—in the Lord's strength, and the victory is gained.

22. He that hasteth to be rich hath an evil eye (He that hath an evil eye hasteth to be rich, Marg.) and considereth not that poverty shall come upon him.

Another warning word—"Take heed, and beware of covetousness." "The lust of the eye"5 is a deadly blast upon the soul. Abraham was rich without haste, with God's blessing. Little did Lot consider, that his haste to be rich was the high road to poverty. But, step by step, he "entered into temptation." Every worldly prospect was blasted; and he ends his days, a poor, forlorn, degraded tenant of the desolate cave of Zoar.8 Thus he who sought the world, lost it; he who was ready to lose it, found it. When Ahab's evil eye envied Naboth the enjoyment of his vineyard; when Jehoiakim was grasping by unjust means all that came into his reach; little did they consider, how this haste to be rich would end in disgrace. But many and loud are the warnings against covetousness, ending in shame, and filled with the curse of an avenging God.10

Man of God! Remember—Not he who knows but who loves, most the things of heaven, will be most deadened to the riches of earth. The evil eye fixed on earth, can never look above. So much as thou lovest earth, thou losest of heaven. Is it not thy shame, that if heaven be thy possession, thou shouldst have so much interest there, and yet so few thoughts, so little love? Keep down most carefully thine anxiety to rise in the world. For in its highest glory there is nothing worthy of thine heart. Keep the things of earth as thy outer garment, which thou canst "lay aside," when it entangles thee in the heavenly race. But keep heaven next to thine heart—thy treasure—thy love—thy rest—thy crown. Happy to be of the mind of the holy Bishop, who, when he heard of the ruin of all his property by the inroads of the Goths—looked up—'Thou knowest where my treasure has long been.'12

23. He that rebuketh a man, afterwards shall find more favor, than he that flattereth with the tongue.

Too often the flatterer finds more favor than the reprover.

'Few people have the wisdom to like reproofs that would do them good, better than praises that do them hurt.' And yet a candid man, notwithstanding the momentary struggle of wounded pride, will afterwards appreciate the purity of the motive, and the value of the discovery. 'He that cries out against his surgeon for hurting him, when he is searching his wound, will yet pay him well, and thank him too, when he has cured it.'

Unbelief, however, palsies Christian rebuke. Actual displeasure, or the chilling of friendship, is intolerable. But Paul's public rebuke of his brother apostle produced no disruption between them. Many years afterward Peter memorialized his "beloved brother Paul" with most affectionate regard. The Apostle's painful rebuke of his Corinthian converts eventually increased his favor with them, as the friend of their best interests. The flatterer is viewed with disgust; the reprover—afterwards at least—with acceptance. A less favorable result may often be traced to an unseasonable time,7 a harsh manner, a neglect of prayer for needful wisdom, or a want of due "consideration" of our own liability to fall. Let us study the spirit of our gracious Master, whose gentleness ever poured balm into the wound, which his faithful love had opened. Such a spirit is more like the support of a friend, than the chastening of a rod.

24. Whoso robbeth his father or his mother, and saith. It is no transgression; the same is the companion of a destroyer.

The aggravation of sin is proportioned to the obligation of duty. A murderer is a heinous transgressor; how much more a parricide. To rob a stranger, a neighbor, a friend is evil; how much more a father and mother. The filial obligation of cherishing care is broken. Ingratitude is added to injustice. What length of wickedness will such an hardened sinner stop at! Could we wonder to see him the companion of a destroyer? This sin is however often committed without sensibility; as if the children might dispose of their parents' property at their own will. These robbers would ill brook the name of thieves. But God, who sees men as they are, and judges of them in sure balances, ranks them among the wicked, "and will deal with them accordingly."

Nor is this guilt confined to the grosser outrage. Surely it is no better, when the young spendthrift wastes his father's property, and counts it no transgression to incur debts on his account without his knowledge or consent. Our Lord adverts to another species of robbery—the denial of the absolute duty of providing for parents; and this under the pretence of devotedness to God! But the gospel admits of no compounding of one duty for another.3 The upright Christian will place all duties upon the same ground of Christian obedience.

Young people! As you value your soul, your conscience, your happiness—ponder the wide extent of filial obligation; the honor, deference, and consideration included in it; the clear stamp of God's authority upon it; the mark of his reprobation in despising it; the certain seal of his blessing upon its practical and self-denying acknowledgment.

25. He that is of a proud heart stirreth up strife: but he that putteth his trust in the Lord shall be made fat.

The contrast between the proud, and him that trusteth in the Lord is very remarkable. It shows that pride is the root of unbelief. The man, having cast off God, expects nothing—fears nothing, from him. He lives as if there was no God. His proud heart is large; not like the wise man's, in fulness of capacity, but in ambitious grasp, and insatiable appetite.7 Never is he content within his own bounds. In the world he would be a Haman; in the church a Diotrephes—one "loving to have the pre-eminence."9 It is his nature to stir up strife. Every one that does not accord with his own opinion of himself, is supposed to be wanting in respect. Thus "by pride cometh contention." And always will there be some thorn of mortified ambition,11 or some fresh craving of unsatisfied desire, wasting him, so that he "fadeth away in his ways."13 What an empty shadow of fugitive happiness! So contrary to the fatness of him, that putteth his trust in the Lord! 'He shall be filled with good and solid things.'15

Christian! Dread the occasion of stirring up strife—the canker of vital godliness. Keep near to thy Lord. It was, when the disciples were talking together by the way, instead of walking in immediate communion with their Master, that strife was stirred up. Does not this point to the grand preservative? Let secret prayer be thine element and thy joy. Here alone we cherish the life of faith. And truly—as Luther says—'Faith is a precious thing.'17 It rolls away all disquieting care. Our cause is with him, and we are at rest.19 How much more, when the great burden is removed! 'Smite, Lord, smite; for thou hast pardoned.' "Healed with the beams of the Sun of Righteousness, we shall be made fat, as the calves of the stall."

26. He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool: but whoso walketh wisely, he shall be delivered.

Contrast the sound and fruitful confidence just mentioned, with man's natural trust. Our confidence determines our state. To trust an impostor, who has deceived us an hundred times, or a traitor, who has proved himself false to our most important interests, is surely to deserve the name of fool. This name therefore, the Scripture—"using great plainness of speech"—gives to him, that trusteth in his own heart. Bishop Hall calls it—'The great Impostor.' Has it not been practising a system of deceit upon us from the first moment of consciousness? Yes, verily, the traitor finds his home in our own bosom, prompting, in concert with our deadly enemy, the most elaborate efforts for our destruction.

The wise man awfully illustrates his own Proverb. It must have been some bitter root of self-confidence, that prostrated his wondrous wisdom in the lowest degradation. Peter also—how did he befool himself in his trust! Presuming upon "the willingness of the spirit," and forgetting his Lord's most needful caution against "the weakness of the flesh,"—though named as a Rock, he fell as a reed before the first breath of temptation. Had not the everlasting arms been underneath, it would have been the fall of Judas into the depths of hell. An instructive lesson to show us, that all dependence upon feelings, impulse, native strength, sincere, purpose or conviction—is vain confidence. Sad experience has convinced us of this. Yet in the blindness of our folly, we are ever ready to trust again—if the Lord prevent not—to our ruin.

Truly, as good Bishop Wilson remarks—'there is no sin, which a man ought not to fear, or to think himself capable of committing, since we have in our corrupt will the seeds of every sin.' None of us can safely presume that his heart may not hurry him into abominations, which he cannot now contemplate without horror. If Eve in a state of innocence could believe a serpent before her maker;8 if "the saint of the Lord" could worship the golden calf; if "the man after God's own heart" could wallow in adultery, murder, and deceit;10 if the wisest of men, and the warmhearted disciple just referred to, could sink so low—what may not we do? Surely "all men are liars,"—the best of men, when left to themselves, are mournful spectacles of weakness and instability.

Blessed be our God! our standing is not on the uncertainty of man's best purpose; but upon the faithful promise, the unchangeable will, the free grace, and Almighty power of God; not therefore on ourselves, but on the Rock, on which the Church is immoveably built. We value then a deep knowledge of our indwelling weakness and corruption. Painful and humbling as it is; it establishes our faith, and grounds us in the gospel far better, than walking over the mere surface. This study of the heart strengthens the principle of that holy fear, which enables us to walk wisely, and thus delivers us from the evils of a self-confident state. Indeed, in a path, where every step is strewed with snares, and beset with enemies, what need of the caution—"Walk circumspectly,"—looking on all sides—"not as fools, but as wise!" A sound confidence is a proof of wisdom. Let it then be a standing maxim in religion to cultivate self-distrust: never to trust ourselves with our own keeping. We are too weak thus needlessly to expose ourselves to danger. We cannot pray—"Lead us not into temptation"—when we are rushing headlong into it—"Deliver us from evil"—when we seem to invite its approach.2

27. He that giveth unto the poor shall not lack: but he that hideth his eyes shall have many a curse.

'There is none that desireth want, nor that wisheth to be poor. And therefore the carnally-minded, for to save themselves from it, carefully gather together, and enclose so much wealth as they can by any means possible, and they think that by such means they shall avoid lack. And indeed, after man's judgment, it is the best way that a man can take. But the Holy Ghost doth teach us another means—clear contrary to natural reason. He that giveth unto the poor shall not lack. This is against reason, which saith, that we must gather and hold fast to avoid poverty. She looketh not to what God can and will do. She is blind in the works of the Lord, and chiefly in those that he worketh according to his free promise.' Here also covetousness combines with reason to contradict the word of God. The promise is given by him, who hath full power to make it good4—who has a thousand ways of repaying what is done or sacrificed at his command. The fruit is absolutely certain, 'as the best preventive against poverty, putting money into the bank of heaven, which can never forfeit credit. The best securities on earth will not hinder "riches from making to them wings, and flying away." But when have the securities of heaven ever been falsified?6 Yet after all, with the carnal mind covetousness prevails above faith, and a "trust in uncertain riches makes the living God a liar."

Do we—the professed followers of Christ—lay these truths really to heart—testing our own principles and practice by them—and honestly intending to take them—instead of selfish prudence and expediency—as our rule and measure of conduct. Again and again does God ratify his engagement. Yet many who are "earnest in contending for the faith" of the Gospel, and who would resist at any cost the invasion of heresy—we fear would be ashamed to expose the scanty limits of their liberality.

Did we really believe the promise annexed to this duty, we should not so often hide our eyes from a case of distress. Yet not only do we neglect to look out for objects of compassion, but actually we turn away from them, as the servant of God would turn away from sin; and then justify ourselves on the ground of frequent imposition, and the many worthy objects, which may or may not come before us. Many a curse is entailed upon this grudging spirit, both from God and man. And is there no danger here of the everlasting curse? Ponder it well—lest prudence and discrimination check the glow of charity, prove a cloak of selfishness, and obscure that light of Christian benevolence and love, which ought to shine before men in the profession of the true servants of God.

28. When the wicked rise, men hide themselves: but when they perish, the righteous increase.

This Proverb has in substance been given before. The rise of the wicked to power is indeed a national judgment—greatly to be deprecated—as the engine of cruel malice against the Church of God. Thus has it been in all the Pagan and Papal persecutions. And thus it always will be, while she is "in the wilderness." But what a tremendous weight of guilt and punishment is involved in thus fighting against God.6 Little do the wicked know the preciousness of the saints in his sight; their perfect security under his cover;8 the sovereign restraint which he has placed upon her enemies; and the triumphant issue of all opposition against her.10

But the power of the wicked even here is but for a moment; and when they perish—as perish they will—the righteous shall increase. A great increase was there to the Church in the days of godly Hezekiah, when the doors of his temple, which his wicked father had shut up, were open for a national profession and consecration to God. Thus also after the death of persecuting Herod, "the word of God grew and multiplied."12 And in our own annals, at the removal of Mary from her ill-used power, the Christian exiles returned from their continental hiding-places, bringing with them a large increase of blessing both to the Church and nation. Thus "out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness." The cross is the enriching blessing to the Church, and to every individual member of it.

CHAPTER 29

1. He, that being often reproved (a man of reproof, Marg.) hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy.

THIS is indeed an awful word. The intractable ox, hardening his neck against the yoke, is but too apt a picture of the stubborn sinner, casting off the restraints of God. This was the uniform complaint against Israel,3 a true picture of the mass of the ungodly before our eyes. Conviction follows upon conviction, chastening upon chastening. Still the rebel hardens his neck, stops his ears against the voice of God, and invites his threatened judgments.

Awfully frequent are these instances among the children of godly parents, or the hearers of a faithful minister. Every means of grace is a solemn but despised reproof. Aggravated sin makes the judgment of a righteous God more manifest. The more enlightened the conscience, the more hardened the neck. Every beating pulse is rebellion against a God of love.

Sometimes it is the more immediate voice of God. An alarming illness, a dangerous accident, or the death of a companion in wickedness, is "the rod and reproof" intended to "give wisdom." But if the "fool" continue to despise all God's reproof, his destruction will be sudden and without remedy.

Such was the destruction of the old world, and of the cities of the plain, long hardened against the forbearance of God. Pharaoh grew more stubborn under the rod, and rushed madly upon his sudden ruin. Eli's sons "hearkened not unto the voice of their father, and in one day died both of them."10 Ahab, often reproved by the godly prophet, hardened his neck; and "the bow, drawn at a venture," received its commission. How must Judas have steeled his heart against his Master's reproof! Onward he rushes, "that he might go to his own place."13 Truly Divine patience has its end. And this fearful moment once arrived, "the vessels of wrath—endured with much long-suffering"—are now shown more manifestly, as "fitted for destruction." No remedy—not even the Gospel—can remedy the case. As they lived, so they die, so they stand before God—without remedy. No blood—no advocate pleads for them. As they sink into the burning lake, every billow of fire, as it rolls over them—seems to sound—without remedy!

Sinner! wouldst thou but be wise to consider thy guilt, thy state, thy prospect, while yet "thy judgment and damnation linger!" Is not "the Spirit of grace" pleading with thine heart? Would he not now save thee, wouldst but thou obey his call? Thou art standing upon mercy's ground, betwixt heaven and hell. O thou God of Almighty Sovereign grace, show "the pattern of thy long-suffering." Let the sinner sing thy everlasting praise, as "a brand plucked out of the fire,"3 a monument of thine over-abounding grace.

2. When the righteous are in authority, the people rejoice: but when the wicked beareth rule, the people mourn.

'The robes of honor to the righteous are the garments of gladness to the people. The sceptre of authority to the godly is the staff of comfort to the people. On the other hand the vestments of dignity to the wicked are the weeds of mourning to the people. The throne of command to the one is the dungeon of misery to the other. The titles of honor given to the one are sighs of sorrow wrung from the other.' The contrast of the government of Mordecai and Haman illustrates this joy and mourning. The special rejoicings at the accession of Solomon might probably be connected with the confidence, that he would "walk in the ways of David his father."6 The reigns of the righteous kings of Judah were preeminently distinguished by national happiness. The glorious era yet in store for the world, is, when "the Lord shall bless" his own kingdom, as "the habitation of justice and mountain of holiness."8 For what but righteousness can truly bless either an individual, a family, or a nation?

When therefore the wicked bear rule—the people—not the godly—mourn. According to the depth of the mourning will be the joy at the removal of the scourge. Meanwhile it is borne by "the faithful in the land" as a national scourge. And 'if tears be their drink, patience will be their bread, till God have mercy on them.'2 What need have we to thank God, that our guilty country, with so much to humble us in shame—should have been so long spared from the curse of wicked rulers! The tyrant rules for his own sinful ends; the Christian Sovereign for the good of the people.

3. Whoso loveth wisdom rejoiceth his father: but he that keepeth company with harlots spendeth his substance.

These Proverbs in substance have been given before. Yet the variations are instructive. The wisdom is here more distinctly described as loving wisdom. For 'he is wise, not only, who hath arrived at a complete habit of wisdom, but who doth as yet but love it or desire it, and listen to it.' Do not we hang off too loosely from its heavenly influence? Let it be manifestly our great object, not as a good thing, but the best—"the principal thing.'5 The awakened sinner loves it from the sense of want; the Christian from its satisfying delight. The taste gives a keen edge to the appetite. What we have grasped of the blessing bears no comparison to what remains.

Young man! consider Wisdom's pleasantness and peace, her light and security,7 her durable riches, and glorious inheritance9—and "wilt thou not from this time cry" to the God of wisdom—"My Father, thou art the guide of my youth?" No worldly honor—no success of talent—will rejoice a godly father, as will this choice for eternity.

Folly brings its own shame and sorrow. "The companion of the riotous and vain persons" is readily found in fellowship with harlots, saddening his father by spending his substance. One course of vanity leads to another. All end alike in ruin.13 He may possess the external endowment. But the love of wisdom is the only preservative from besetting snares.

Deep indeed is the anxiety—the joy or the sorrow—connected with children. May it give a deeper tone of simplicity and pleading in dedicating them to God,16 and training up for his service! Let us early present them as "the children, whom the Lord hath given us;" but as his more than our own—his property—his inheritance. Here are our springs of diligence—of hope—of ultimate reward.

4. The king by judgment establisheth the land: but he that receiveth gifts (a man of oblations, Marg.) overthroweth it.

Of what avail are the best laws, if they be badly administered? Partiality and injustice absolutely make them null and void. And yet it requires great integrity and moral courage to withstand the temptations of worldly policy and self-interest. God's own throne is built and established by judgment. This then can be the only establishment of the land. The compromise of it to some private ends provokes the anger of God to the chastisement, if not the overthrow, of the land. The article in our Magna Charta—'We will sell justice to none'—is but too plain evidence of the recklessness of all social principles, ere the great standard was erected among us.

Under the godly government of Samuel the land was established by judgment. "But his sons walked not in his ways." They were men of oblations. They received gifts; and the Theocracy—the great Palladium of the land—was overthrown. The righteous administration of David "bore up the pillars" of the land, at a time of great national weakness.5 The same principles in his godly successor were the source of strength and prosperity. The want of uprightness in Saul, shook the kingdom from his grasp;7 and the covetousness of Jehoiakim destroyed its foundations, and buried him in its ruins. Let the same consistency pervade every grade of official responsibility. Dignity—temporal or spiritual—can convey no solid influence, except it be established with judgment. Let men of God be in our high places; and "righteousness will exalt our nation," and our Church will be "the joy and praise of the whole earth."

5. A man that flattereth his neighbor spreadeth a net for his feet.

Most wisely were Bunyan's pilgrims warned—'Beware of the flatterer.' Yet 'forgetting to read the note of directions about the way,' they fell into his net, and, even though delivered, were justly punished for their folly. The doctrine of man's goodness, strength, or freedom; a general gospel, without close application; its promises and privileges, without the counter-balance of its trials and obligations—All this shows 'the black man clothed in white'—"Satan himself transformed into an angel of light, and his Ministers transformed as Ministers of righteousness." Unwary souls are misled. Even unwatchful Christians fall into the net. And while they have to thank their faithful God for deliverance, they cannot forget his sharp and needful chastening of their folly. Where "the root of the matter" is not, heresy, or apostacy,12 is the baneful fruit of the flatterer.

But let us guard against this net in our daily path. Too readily do the flatterer's words pass current. What else is much of the language of smooth courtesy, or lively interest and affection? Who would venture to act with confidence on this heartless profession? Always is the net spread to allure into some devious path; often into the grossest wickedness. Thus the flattering woman beguiled her prey. The parasites of Darius deified him for a month, to make him the tool of their malicious plot.2 The enemies of Christ spread the flatterer's net for his feet. But here the wisdom of God was infinitely above them, and "took the wise in their own craftiness."

The feet of many strong men have been entangled in this net. Indeed seldom has the frailty of the man of God been more painfully exposed. David honored his God in the endurance of Shimei's curse. But Ziba's smooth words drew him into an act of gross injustice. Usually some want of integrity has predisposed the mind for this poison. David was struggling to discover a plea for leniency to his murderous son, when the woman of Tekoah plied him with her flattering lips. The bribery of passion was far more powerful than her arguments. But bitterly did the misguided parent reap the fruit of thus entering into the net spread for his feet. Wilful infatuation fully prepared Ahab, by listening to the flattery of his lying prophets, to his own ruin.

Does a man thus load us with immoderate commendation? It is the flatterer's net. "Ponder the path of thy feet." Exchange confidence for suspicion.9 Fearful is the snare to those, whose rank or influence dispose them to walk rather before men, than before God. Too often it is spread for the feet of the Minister of Christ, whether to gain his good opinions, or from the genuine but imprudent warmth of affection. But oh!—think—"He is a man as thou art"—beset with temptation—perhaps even "besides those that are common to men." His heart, like thine, is fully susceptible of self-exalting imaginations. And to know that he has a reputation for holiness; that he is a man of influence; that his character is looked up to; that his opinion is valued—this is indeed "a fiery trial," that brings out to view much base dross of vanity. Far better would it be that our Christian intercourse with each other should be moulded by the wise resolution to refrain from "flattering titles," as hurtful to the creature, and provoking to God.

6. In the transgression of an evil man there is a snare: but the righteous doth sing and rejoice.

There is always a snare in the ways of sin; always a song in the ways of God. Which then are "the ways of pleasantness and peace?" The light-hearted sinner goes on in his flowery path. Soon he is "taken captive in the snare of the devil;" often in a snare of his own toil. Transgression is in fact the snare of the soul. Sin and ruin are bound together, and who can put them asunder?

The righteous may be in the same outward lot with the evil man. But wide indeed is the gulf between their respective states. Joseph's brethren in prison, under the sting of conscience, sank in despondency. Paul and Silas in prison did sing and rejoice. Little, however, can be judged by their external state. The ungodly are in prosperity, and the children of God "chastened every morning;"6 yet rising triumphant in the deepest exercise—"Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; though I fall, I shall rise again; though I sit in darkness"—my cause apparently forgotten, my light obscured, my character defamed—"the Lord shall be a light unto me." What is it to be possessor of all the promises of God! The wealth of this golden mine no tongue of man can express; no mind of angel comprehend. And how abundant is the solid ground and material of this rejoicing! The completeness of the Saviour's work; his constant love; the fulness of his Spirit; the sufficiency of his grace; his faithful promise; his watchful eye; his ready help; his perpetual intercession; and all this joy—not, like that of the world, flowing and ebbing—but heightening and overflowing through all eternity.

But the righteous also sing—and only they—Often they have no skill for the song. "Their harp is upon the willows," as if they could not "sing the Lord's song in a strange land." Yet whatever cause of complaint they have, weighing down their spirits, let them not forget to magnify that grace unbounded, which hath been given to them and for them.9 Why can they not always sing? The heart is cold, dead, unbelieving. Oh! for the power from above to quicken it.—'Praised be God,' we are hastening to a world, where the harp will never be unstrung, and the heart never out of tune, and the song will be ever new.

7. The righteous considereth the cause of the poor: but the wicked regardeth not to know it.

The original gives to the Proverb a judicial aspect. To "respect the person of the poor" is no less unjust, than to "honor the person of the mighty." But the righteous judge or advocate will consider his cause, judge it as for God, investigate it thoroughly, and take care that it be not lost from his own inability to defend it. This was the considerate administration of the great King of righteousness. The man of God will walk after this Divine exemplar.4 'Let him have the conscience first'—(says Bishop Sanderson) 'and then the patience too (and yet if he have the conscience, certainly he will have the patience) to make search into the truth of things, and not be dainty of his pains herein, though matters be intricate, and the labor like to be long and irksome.'

Selfishness however—not truth, justice, or mercy, is the standard of the wicked. He considers—first the poor man's person, then his cause. "The unjust judge" would not have "avenged the widow of her adversary," but to save trouble to himself. Felix regarded not to know the Apostle's cause, but that he might indulge his own covetousness. But fearful is it to sit in the place of God8 as his representatives, only to pervert his judgment for their own selfish aggrandizement.

The maxim however obviously applies more generally to the considerate regard of the righteous—and the cruel disregard of the wicked—towards the poor. The ordinance that "the poor shall never cease out of the land"—and the inequality of rank that prevails throughout the œconomy of Providence, were doubtless intended as an incitement to Christian sympathy and enlargement. Consideration of the poor is the true spirit of Christian sympathy—putting ourselves as far as may be in their place. Oh! how different is this from the impatient—ungracious temper, in which the suit of a poor client is sometimes despatched, as if the advocate grudged his time and pains! Our beloved Lord—not only "went about doing good,"12 but he did it so tenderly—considerately. Always was he ready to yield his own convenience and even necessary comfort to the call of need. The same considerate regard for the poor marked the Apostolic administration. Sympathy with the poor is the practical acknowledgment of our own undeserved mercies; specially remembering the Lord's poor—as the representatives of Him,15—who is First and Last, and All to us; and who, "though he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, that we through his poverty might be made rich."

Well do those, who regard not to know, deserve their name—the wicked. Like Cain—they acknowledge no interest in their brother. Like Nabal—"It is no concern of mine."2 If the poor must be fed rather than starve—it is casting food to a dog, rather than holding out an helping hand to a fellow-sinner. This total absence of the image of a God of Love4—this utter casting off his royal law—surely he will require it.6

8. Scornful men bring a city into a snare; (set the city on fire, Marg.) but wise men turn away wrath.

The comparison is here between a "proud and haughty scorner, and a wise man." The one is a public injury; the other a public blessing. The one raises a tumult;8 the other quells it. The man, who scorns to be bound by common restraints, will bring the city into a snare by his presumption, or set it on fire 'by blowing the fire of Divine wrath upon it.' Happily wise men are scattered through the land: their energy and prudence turn away wrath. 'Proud and foolish men kindle the fire, which wise and good men must extinguish.'12

Another instructive illustration of the Proverb suggests itself. Not the tyrant over his fellow-creatures, but the scorner against his God, is the public trouble. Many of the kings of Judah and Israel thus brought the city into a snare. Their provocations of Divine wrath did more to further its ruin, than the most powerful foreign enemies. Their influence led the people into deeper aggravations of sin, and ripened them for judgment.

But wise men stand in the gap, and turn away wrath. Surely it was wisdom in the King and people of Nineveh, instead of bringing their city into a snare by scornful rebellion, to avert by timely humiliation the impending destruction. Let the people—let the Ministers of the Lord, gird themselves to their work of weeping and accepted pleaders for the land.16 Surely "except the Lord of Hosts had left us a very small remnant" of these powerful intercessors, "we should have been as Sodom, and we should have been like unto Gomorrah." Praised be God! The voice is yet heard—"Destroy it not, for a blessing is in it."18 The salt of the earth preserves it from corruption. Shall not we then honor these wise men with reverential gratitude—"My father—my father! the chariots of Israel, and the horsemen thereof!"

9. If a wise man contendeth with a foolish man, whether he rage or laugh, there is no rest.

It would generally be far better not to meddle with such a fool as is here described. We can only deal with him on very disadvantageous terms, and with little prospect of good. If a wise man contend with the wise, he can make himself understood; and there is some hope of bringing the debate to a good issue. But to contend with a fool, there is no rest, no peace or quiet. It will go on without end. He will neither listen to reason, nor yield to argument. So intractable is he, that he will either rage or laugh—either vent upon us the fury of an ungoverned temper, or laugh us to scorn. This contention was a point of the poignant trial to our Divine Master. What could be more revolting than sometimes their murderous rage—sometimes their scornful laugh;—in both "rejecting his counsel against themselves?"5 And what if a contention with such fools should be appointed for me? Let me remember my days of perversity and folly. And while this vivid impression brings me back to their level—can I return their unreasonable provocation, save with tenderness and compassion? Yea—when, as the most effectual means for their benefit, I would commend them to the Almighty Sovereign grace of God—can I forget, that, if this grace has healed my deep-rooted stubbornness, it is not less rich—not less free—not less sufficient, for them?

10. The bloodthirsty hale the upright: but the just seek his soul.

This bloody hatred is the fulfilment of the first prophecy from the mouth of God. The first history of the fallen world puts the seal to the prophecy—"Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him."8 Ever since has the same testimony been given. "Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted?" (was the indignant remonstrance of Stephen to his countrymen) until they "filled up the measure of their fathers" by being "the betrayers and murderers" of the Son of God.10 The noble army of martyrs stand before us. Such intensity of malice in the contrivance of the variety of their torture! The bloodthirsty hate the upright. Their innocency was the only ground of hatred; and on the threatened apprehension of any outbreak of evil—the swelling cry of the bloodthirsty multitude was—'The Christians to the lions!' The next picture downward in the annals of the Church is not less illustrative—"I saw the woman"—awful sight!—"drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus." We cannot doubt but the fierce elements of the cruelty still lie in slumbering concealment. Nothing but the gospel can kill the principle. Every thing short of this only chains down the violence. In a softer mould it still retains all its substance and power, and waits only for the removal of present restraints to develope the same bloodthirsty hatred as ever.

Scripture explains this murderous vindictiveness. "Wherefore slew Cain his brother? Because his own works were evil, and his brother's righteous." Darkness cannot endure the light.3 The condemning light of godliness excites the enmity of the ungodly. They cannot bear the picture. Thus the bloodthirsty Ahab hated his upright prophets, and the Jews the holy Saviour.6 Conformity to him is the great offence still. Such precise fools—contrary to every one beside—"turning the world upside down"—how can they be endured? Their removal would be a rejoicing riddance from the earth.

And yet their God is not unmindful of their threatening troubles. The bloodthirsty hate the upright: but the just seek his soul. Saul sought to murder David; Jonathan covered him. Jezebel was thirsting to destroy the prophets of the Lord; Obadiah "hid them in a cave, and fed them with bread and water."9 The enemies of Jeremiah plotted against him; Ebedmelech saved his life. Herod was proceeding against Peter's life; the Church shielded him with their prayers.11 The bloodthirsty Jews bound themselves to murder Paul; "Priscilla and Aquila" were ready to "lay down their own necks for his life."

What a life of conflict is this world of sin! Need we be dissuaded from loving it? Need we not rather patience to endure it? But while we are in it, let us be found decidedly on the Lord's side, "partakers"—if needs be—"of the afflictions of the gospel."14 Never let us stand aloof from our brethren's cause. To help them is to be fellow-workers with God Himself. If union is so effective against the Church, surely its influence would not be of less moment on the Church's side—"strengthening her stakes," establishing her foundations, and enlarging her usefulness.

11. A fool uttereth all his mind: but a wise man keepeth it in till afterwards.

"There is a time for every thing"—the wise man elsewhere writes—"a time to keep silence, and a time to speak." It is a mark of true wisdom to discern these times.17 Indeed the discipline—or the want of discipline—upon the "little member" is a sound test of character. The man, who speaks hastily and with conceit, will be put to shame in his folly. He might have been "counted wise in his silence."2 But silence is beyond his power—He uttereth all his mind—tells all he knows, thinks, or intends—runs on, until he has "poured out all his foolishness." It is sometimes thought a proof of honesty to utter all our mind. But it is rather a proof of folly. For how many things it would be far better never to speak—indeed to suppress in the very thought! Much of "foolish talking and jesting"5—how many angry—detracting—uncharitable words—do we utter, because we have neglected to watch—or rather to entreat "the Lord to set a watch upon—our lips," as the door of our hearts! And what wrong judgments we often pass upon men's actions, because we utter all our mind as it were in one breath—without pondering; or perhaps without materials to form a correct judgment!

Indeed the words of the fool—as an old expositor remarks—'are at the very door—so to speak—of his mind, which being always open—they readily fly abroad. But the words of the wise are buried in the inner recess of his mind, whence the coming out is more difficult.' This is the wisdom to be valued and cultivated. Many things we may keep in till afterward, which will then be far better spoken than at the present moment. We may find reason afterward to suspect what at the time we were fully persuaded of. There is often a lightness of faith—the fruit of sudden impulse—breaking out in sudden profession. Beware of a loose foundation. Men under the present excitement run through all the sects and parties of the Church—everywhere uttering their whole mind—"tossed to and fro, and carried about by every wind of doctrine"—"seeking rest, and finding none." How much better to take time for second thoughts—to weigh and weigh again! Should we not then—instead of exhibiting a changing and doubtful face—seek to gain that "good thing—a heart established with grace?"10

This godly prudence holds in common life. Samson fell a victim to the folly of uttering all his mind. Samuel was restrained by God from this imprudence, from a regard to his own safety. Never speak against our mind. But it is not necessary to utter our whole mind. Take care that we speak nothing but the truth. But the whole truth (as in the instance of Samuel) may sometimes be legitimately restrained. The Apostle was two years at Ephesus, without uttering all his mind against the worship of Diana. But was this cowardice shrinking from the truth? His weeping ministry and unceasing efforts proved his faithfulness. His open protest kept in till afterwards was self-discipline, consistent with Christian courage and decisiveness.

12. If a ruler hearken to lies, all his servants are wicked.

The influence of the ruler's personal character upon his people involves a fearful responsibility. A wicked prince makes a wicked people.2 In his more immediate sphere, if he hearken to lies—contrary to the laws of God and of charity—he will never want those about him ready to minister to his folly. 'Lies will be told to those, that are ready to hearken to them.' Envy—ambition—malice—self-interest will always be at hand for prejudice and scandal. The credulous ruler becomes the tool of all manner of wickedness. His corruption pushes away the godly from his presence—and all his servants are wicked. Exceptions there are to this maxim (as Obadiah in the court of Ahab—Ebedmelech in the service of Zedekiah6—Daniel in Nebuchadnezzar's court). But this is the natural tendency—the general result—to his own disgrace and ruin. If he would therefore rule in uprightness, and in the fear of God; instead of lending himself to detraction or flattery, he must carefully close his ears against doubtful characters, lest he should countenance wicked servants; and discourage those that will boldly speak the truth.

How wise was David's determination—both as the sovereign of his people, and the ruler of his house—to discountenance lies, and uphold the cause of faithful men! Contrast Ahab surrounded with his wicked prophets—all combining in one lie to please their weak and ungodly master. We see how ready he was to hearken to lies, and how well the flattery worked; when he punished the only man who was "valiant for the truth," and who persisted in declaring it—"not fearing the wrath of the king."

But all in authority may learn a lesson of responsibility. Let Ministers especially—not only hold the truth in its full integrity, and take heed that their character will bear the strictest scrutiny; but let them turn away from the fawning flattery of those, of whose uprightness there is at best but doubtful proof.

13. The poor and the deceitful man (usurer, Marg.) meet together: the Lord lighteneth both their eyes.

The doctrine of this proverb—as of one similar to it—seems to be the real equality of the Divine dispensations under apparent inequalities. The rich seem to be intended by the deceitful—so called from the deceitfulness of riches, and of the means, by which they are too often obtained.12 The usurer appears to point to the same purport—implying the oppression too often connected with riches. Both these classes—so distinct in their relative condition—meet together on the same level before God. Men may differ. One may oppress and despise, and the other envy or hate. The poor may be tempted to murmur, because of the oppressions of his richer neighbor. The rich by usury or unjust gain may take advantage of the necessities of the poor. But the Lord enlighteneth both their eyes. "He is no respecter of persons." Both are partakers of his providential blessings3—both are the subjects of his Sovereign grace. The poor Lazarus and the usurer Zaccheus have long met together in one common home—both alike the undeserved monuments of wondrous everlasting mercy—the eyes of both enlightened—spiritually—eternally.

Is it not presumption to judge hastily the ways of God; or to judge them at all—by the plummet of our own reason? Let us wait the appointed time, and all will be clear, as all is right. How far beyond our narrow conceptions is every exercise and display of this manifold wisdom, grace, and love!

14. The king that faithfully judgeth the poor, his throne shall be established for ever.

This maxim has often been repeated in substance. The writer of this book was a king. He was naturally led to write for his own benefit, while the Divine Spirit guided his pen for the use of rulers to the end of time. May every king—specially may our own beloved Sovereign—place this picture of a godly ruler constantly before her eyes! It is natural for the king to desire the establishment of his throne; but not natural for him to seek it in God's own way. Jeroboam sought it by wickedness—Rehoboam by worldly policy8—Ahaz by worldly alliances. The far more sure mode is the faithful administration of justice; not neglecting the rich; but specially protecting the poor, whose weakness the more needs a covering.10 David appears to have been a poor man's king. The lowest of his people had familiar access to him for judgment. Solomon12 and many of his godly successors ordered their kingdom in the same principles of justice, and were abundantly honored of their God. The mal-administration of faithful principle never failed to bring a curse upon the government.14 "Them that honor me I will honor; and they that despise me shall be lightly esteemed."

When our great Saviour King walked upon earth—his enemies bore testimony—whether in flattery or conviction—to his righteous character. Not less beautiful than accurate is this description, as applied to the principles of his government, and connected with the promise of the establishment of his throne.

15. The rod and reproof give wisdom: but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame.

Discipline is the order of God's government. Parents are his dispensers of it to their children. The child must be broken in to "bear the yoke in his youth." Let reproof be first tried; and if it succeed, let the rod be spared. If not, let it do its work. Eli gave the reproof "but spared the rod." Some give the rod without reproof—without any effort to produce sensibility of conscience. From this tyranny or caprice nothing can be expected. The combined influence not only "drives foolishness far away," but—as a positive blessing—gives wisdom. God's own children grow wiser under correction. They see their folly, and in genuine shame turn from it, blessing him for his rod of faithfulness and love.

But look at the child left to himself—without restraint. A more perfect picture of misery and ruin cannot be conceived. His evil tempers are thought to be the accident of childhood. 'They will pass away, as his reason improves. Time only can mend them.' But in fact time of itself mends nothing. It only strengthens and matures the growth of native principles. The poison however does not appear at first. No special anxiety is excited. The child is not nurtured in wickedness, or under the influence of bad example. He is only left to himself. Left! The restive horse, with his rein loosened, full of his own spirit, plunges headlong down the precipice. The child, without government, rushes on under the impetuous impulse of his own will; and what but almighty sovereign grace can save him from destruction? Many a hardened villain on the gallows was once perhaps the pleasing, susceptible child—only left to himself—to his own appetite, pride, self-willed obstinacy.

The sound discipline of heavenly guidance is our Father's best blessing. His most fearful curse is, to be given up to our own ways—"to walk in our own counsels." A child thus left is at the furthest point from salvation—in the very jaws of the devouring lion.

Turn we now from the ruined child to the disgraced, broken-hearted parent. The mother only is mentioned, as the chief superintendent of the early discipline; perhaps also as the most susceptible of the grievous error. For if the father's stronger character induces him to "provoke his children to wrath;" to rule rather by command than by persuasion; does not the mother's softer mould tend to the opposite evil? And so far as she yields to mistaken indulgence, she bears the greater share of the punishment. It is not, that she is brought to trouble, or even to poverty; but to that, which is the most keenly-felt of all distress—to shame. Nowhere is God's retributive justice more strongly marked. The mother's sin is visited in the proportioned punishment. What greater neglect of obligation, than a child left to himself? What greater affliction, than the shame, to which he brings her? Parental influence is lost. The reverence of authority is forgotten, as a bye-gone name. The child rules, instead of being, as a corrected child,3 in subjection. The parent fears, instead of the child, and thus virtually owns her own degradation. Instead of "the wise son, that maketh a glad father;" it is "the foolish son, that is the heaviness of his mother" The sunshine of bright prospects is clouded. The cup of joy is filled with wormwood. The father's mouth is dumb with the confusion of grief. The dearest object of the mother's tenderness, instead of being the staff and comfort of her age, bringeth her to shame.

This is not a trial, which, like many others, she might cover in her own bosom. Alas! the shame is too public to be concealed. What must have been the open dishonor upon Eli's name, when "the sins of his children made men abhor the offering of the Lord!" When the treason of David's sons brought him to shame in the sight of all Israel; surely his own conscience must have brought his own perverted fondness to mind, as the cause of their ruin; both left to themselves—one palliated in the most aggravated sin; the other having been not even corrected by a word.7 And if the shame before men be so bitter, what will be the overwhelming confusion at the great consummation; when the evil propensities, cherished with such cruel fondness in the parental bosom, shall produce their harvest "in the day of grief and of desperate sorrow!"

Oh! as our children's happiness or misery, both for time and eternity, is linked with our own responsibilities; shall not we "watch and pray," resisting "the weakness of the flesh," in self-denying firmness? 'Take this for certain,'—says Bishop Hopkins—'that as many deserved stripes as you spare from your children, you do but lay upon your own backs. And those whom you refuse to chastise, God will make severer scourges to chastise you.' At whatever cost, then, establish your authority. Let there be but one will in the house. And let it be felt, that this will is to be the law. The child will readily discover, whether the parent is disposed to yield, or resolved to rule. But however trifling the requirement, let obedience be in small as in great matters, the indispensable point. The awe of parental authority is perfectly consistent with the utmost freedom of childlike confidence; while it operates as a valuable safeguard against a thousand follies of uncontrolled waywardness. But ever let us put the awful alternative vividly before us. Either the child's will, or the parent's heart, must be broken. Without a wise and firm control, the parent is miserable; the child is ruined.

16. When the wicked are multiplied, transgression increaseth: but the righteous shall see their fall.

The increase of transgression is obviously proportioned to the increase of transgressors. Nor is it merely a numerical increase, but also in power and daring of sin. "The men, who began to multiply upon the face of the old earth were giants" in wickedness, as in strength; until "the striving of the Spirit of God" could endure no longer.2 The same was with the Babel-builders, and the cities of the plain.4 Combination emboldens in sin. Each particle of the mass is corrupt. The mass therefore itself ferments with evil. Hence the prevalence of infidelity in our densely-crowded districts above the more thinly-populated villages. There is the same evil in individual hearts; but not the same fermentation of evil.

But for the prospects of faith, the Christian eye could not bear the sight. But the righteous shall see their fall. Noah saw the destruction of the old world.7 Abraham witnessed the ruin of the devoted cities; "Israel saw the Egyptians dead upon the sea-shore."9 'Let not the righteous'—said good Bishop Patrick—'be discouraged; for the wickeder men are, the shorter is their reign.' The faithful minister, conscious of his inability to stem the overflowing torrent of iniquity, would sink in despair, but for the assured confidence, that he is on the conquering side; that his cause, as the cause of his Lord, must eventually prevail. Yes—though now sin seems to triumph, and Satan boasts of his victories; yet "the kingdoms of this world," with all their vast population, shall "become the kingdoms of our Lord and his Christ, and he shall reign for ever and ever." This is indeed the supporting joy of faith; to realize the glory of this day, when the righteous shall see the fall of the now triumphing wicked; and one universal shout shall swell throughout the earth—"Alleluia, salvation and glory, and honor, and power, unto the Lord our God; for true and righteous are his judgments—Alleluia; for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth."

17. Correct thy son, and he shall give thee rest; yea, he shall give delight unto thy soul.

Once more the wise man returns to the subject of discipline. These repeated inculcations strongly show its importance. The command is positive—Correct thy son. How can an upright judgment evade or explain away a plain, literal rule? To try more self-pleasing rules, is to set up our will in opposition to God's; reason or feeling in the stead of faith.

The measure and mode of correction must depend upon the age, sex, temper of the child, the character, the aggravation, or the mitigated circumstances, of the fault. Yet let it be, like our gracious Father's discipline, never more than can be borne. Make due allowance for any marks of ingenuous confession. Yet with a wise application of the principle, there must be no exception to the rule. Different tempers, like different soils, require corresponding difference of treatment. But discipline there must be; not relaxed in fondness, not pushed on in harshness; but authority tempered with love.3 If a gentle hand cannot control, a stronger hand must be applied.

We may take rest without correction; but such rest will bring trouble in the end. The true rest is that, which our child will give; and that he may give it, the rule is—Correct. We may be assured, that God would not have so insisted upon it, if a blessing was not with it. If Eli was rejected, it was, because in this matter, he "honored his sons above God."5 Those then "that honor him" above their sons "he will honor." Pain is the present exercise both to parent and child; but the after blessing is secured. Ground well tilled, trees carefully pruned, "bring forth more fruit."

Observe how the objection of parental weakness is anticipated. 'If I put my son to pain, will he not hate me?' No—when "left to himself," he was a deep and anxious trouble. Now he shall give thee rest. Before—he "brought thee to shame." Now he shall give delight to thy soul. The momentary feelings of the child under correction will give way to the conviction of the parent's wisdom and regard for his profit.

Yet the rule against discouragement would not have been repeated, had there not been some parental evil to be corrected. "Provocation" revolts, transfers confidence to most unworthy associates, and brings into ruinous temptations. Children claim a considerate treatment. They must not be driven by brute force. Authority must be tempered with love. The grounds of extraordinary commands should be explained to them. What is good should be liberally commended. The best construction should be put upon defective efforts. The distinction should be carefully drawn between weakness and wilfulness, between heedlessness and obstinacy. Home should be gladdened with the invigorating joy of spring, and replete with every wholesome indulgence. Every attempt should be made to gain confidence, so that the child, instead of a cold trembling reserve, should run into our arms. But in this glowing atmosphere forget not God's rule. The completeness of discipline is the father's firmness combined with the mother's tenderness; each infusing into the other the quality of each. A wise parent will put his seal to the testimony, that this well-disciplined education is the surest means of securing the children's affection, gratitude and reverence.

18. Where there is no vision, the people perish; (is made naked, Marg.) but he that keepeth the law, happy is he.

The vision—as appear from the contrast—is Divine instruction. The Ministry is the appointed ordinance to communicate this blessing,3 and therefore the main instrumentality of conversion, and subsequent Christian perfection.5 No greater calamity therefore can there be than the removal of the vision. The temporal famine—affecting only the body—is a light judgment, scarcely to be mentioned, compared with that, by which the people perish—"the famine of hearing the words of the Lord." For 'when there is none that can edify, and exhort, and comfort the people by the word of God, they must needs perish. They become thrall and captives unto Satan. Their heart is bound up. Their eyes are shut up; they can see nothing. Their ears are stopped up; they can hear nothing. They are carried away as a prey into hell, because they have not the knowledge of God.'

Often did Israel provoke this most fearful judgment—the removal of the open vision. "The candlestick" of the Apocalyptic Churches has from the same cause been long since "removed out of its place;" and for the most part little more remains than the ceremonial of bye-gone days.9 From the Apostate Church of Rome, the vision is well nigh withdrawn, and the people perish in ignorance and delusion. And in other bodies—"having a name to live"—the complaint is as real as in days of old—"My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge." The sun shines not on more wretched objects, than on the awful masses of our fellow-sinners, growing up in habitual estrangement from God.

Take the most awful illustration of this Proverb that can be imagined. If to be without vision be the mark of a perishing state, what ray of Scriptural hope dawns upon the Heathen world? Being "without Christ," they are described by infallible testimony as "having no hope." Salvation is indeed free to all, "whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord." But how shall they call without faith; believe without hearing; "hear without a preacher?"3 If therefore there be no vision, how can they but perish? "They perish indeed without law" (not condemned under the law of revelation, which they have never known); but still they perish "without excuse," alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, "because of the blindness of their hearts."6 Proud reasoning man revolts, and presumes to be more merciful than God. But this false charity is only the cover for selfishness. Men deny the danger, because they are too indolent, too self-indulgent, to stretch out the helping hand, or to make one sacrifice for the rescue. True charity is the fruit of reverential faith. And, while it realizes the tremendous peril, it concentrates all the energy of compassionate tenderness, believing prayer, and self-denying effort upon their salvation.

But the contrast is not between those who have not the vision, and those who have it, but between the destitution and the improvement of the blessing. The mere profession of the Gospel may be a nullity. Of what use is light, if we open not our eyes to see it? So far from a blessing, it will only issue in deeper condemnation. If some are enlightened, multitudes are struck blind.8 But practical godliness—keeping the law—brings real abiding happiness—no less a privilege than communion with our God and Saviour here and for eternity.10 Who then can justly cast a cloud of gloom over the ways of God? Let the Pentecostal Christians witness to their gladness. Let every servant of his Lord invite his fellow-sinners to the enjoyment of his privileges, by the manifestation of their holiness and joy.

19. A servant will not be corrected by words: for though he understand he will not answer.

Discipline must be carried, not only into the family, but throughout the whole household, in order to preserve God's authority and order. An important hint is here given relative to the management of servants. Though it does not apply to all,13 it shows a very common temptation to self-will. There is a proud as well as an humble silence; as plain a proof of an unsubdued spirit, as a pert and flippant answer. The patience of Job was sorely exercised by this trial, and that under circumstances which made the treatment more aggravated. We must guard against harshness in our spirit.2 But with servants, as with children, authority must be maintained at any cost. And therefore, if a servant understand the command and will not answer—if he will not be corrected by words, it were better to dismiss him, than to lower our authority, and countenance evil by yielding to his waywardness.

The Scripture fully sets out the duties of servants—"Not answering again. With good-will doing service, as to the Lord, and not to man." Sullen resistance to reproof is most inconsistent with the profession of a Christian; and, if the offender escapes the correction of an earthly master, he will be visited with the rod of his angry Lord, as a self deceiver, or backslider from his high obligation.4

20. Seest thou a man that is hasty in his words? there is more hope of a fool than of him.

We have just been warned against sullen silence; here against hasty words. When a man flows on in his words, evidently without time for consideration; when he gives his opinion, as if it were a loss of time to take counsel, or regard the judgment of others; when you find him forward in pronouncing judgment before men of acknowledged wisdom and experience; this is the "fool uttering all his mind;"6 the man lately marked out for our warning, as an hopeless fool, "wise in his own conceit."

It is very difficult to deal effectively with him until the strong hold of his own conceit be shaken. Argument and instruction are lost upon him. The man who is conscious of his weakness, who distrusts himself, and is ready to ask and receive counsel, is more likely to be led right, than he, who thinks himself to be right already.

It is a special mercy to be preserved from hasty judgments, or expression of judgments. The first stamp upon a perfect mind is infallibly correct. On an imperfect mind it must be subjected to a careful scrutiny. It is sound wisdom to admit, that our judgment may be mistaken. Self-control and self-diffidence give solid consistency. This character of mind is most important in religious disputations. Be careful to defend or contravene nothing, till you have tested it by the true standard. Moses deferred judgment on the sin before his eyes, till he had brought the matter to God. "Be swift to hear; slow to speak."9

21. He that delicately bringeth up his servant from a child shall have him become his son at the length.

We have another valuable rule for domestic discipline, directing masters to a wise treatment of their servants. It is a grievous error to step ourselves, or to induce another to step, out of the path, which a God of order has marked for us. Divine Wisdom has framed the constitution of society, assigning to each their station and their duties. If a servant aspire to be in the house any thing but a servant, his character loses its value. A master acts—to say the least—most unseemly, when he forgets his own place and authority, and delicately bringeth up his servant by the allowance of undue freedom. It is a great exercise to preserve the true medium between distance and familiarity. An haughty menacing demeanor towards our servants forgets the respect justly due to them. An inconsiderate fondness takes them out of their place, greatly to their own injury. Our Lord's distinction shows, that friends—not servants—should be admitted to our familiar intercourse, and entrusted to our confidence. To promote a servant therefore to the rank of a confidant, unfits him for his own condition, and defeats our own end by the natural results of this unnatural treatment. True kindness keeps him in his place. 'Good usage does by no means imply that indulgence, that would ruin a child.'4 A servant delicately brought up—often from a child—soon relaxes in respect and attention. Instead of this false kindness stimulating to diligence, and inducing gratitude; he becomes idle, insolent, and ungovernable; assumes the young master—becomes a son at the length. This unseemly usurpation is an evil "that the earth cannot bear—a servant, when he reigneth." Ishbosheth must have allowed Abner undue liberty, when he so far forgot the respect due to his sovereign, as to insult him before his face.7 David also must have loosened the reins of proper authority, when Joab murdered the commander in chief at the head of his army, without being instantly subjected to the penalty of the law. Even the wise man appears to have forgotten his own prudent caution, when he delicately brought up Jeroboam in authority; promoted him too suddenly; and lived to regret his error, when with the pretension of a son he combined the pride of a rebel. The confusion and anarchy of after years in the kingdom originated in the same false step.10 The greatest kindness to servants is to "give to them that which is just and equal,"—but no more. Any defect in this rule will be sure to bring (as in the case referred to) future trouble, as the unjust chastening for present folly. What need have we of the daily supply of Divine grace, to rule our house well in due subjection. The resolution to "behave ourselves wisely in a perfect way" can only be accomplished in the habitual prayer—"O when wilt thou come unto me?" Then indeed "I will walk within my house with a perfect heart."

22. An angry man stirreth up strife, and a furious man aboundeth in transgression.

Anger is not necessarily a sinful passion. Even furiousness—the overflowing of the torrent—is a property in God. We can readily conceive of its energy in the unfallen nature of man. Had Satan appeared to Eve in his own hatefulness, her anger against him would have been a holy principle. But in a fallen nature—to preserve its purity is a rare and most difficult matter. It must be confined to points, where God's honor is concerned;3 and even on these points the rule must be observed—"Let not the sun go down upon your wrath." The short period of the day is abundantly sufficient to express right motives, and to accomplish holy purposes.

The general tendency of anger is however here graphically described. Its active energy stirreth up strife—quarrelling even upon trifles,6 or matters which a forbearing consideration might have satisfactorily explained. And when suppressed, but not laboriously mortified, how often does it become more intense, and break out more furiously—abounding in transgression! Indeed it is difficult to take a full view of the mighty power of this mass of sin. It gives the impetus to every besetting propensity. It may be blasphemy! It stops at nothing. How many murders do we owe to this paroxysm of the moment!9 But for the Divine restraints the very foundations of society would be torn up.

Parents! Do we feel the responsibility of early checking this ebullition in our children? And do we diligently watch against the first rising in ourselves, incessantly praying for its subjugation? How beautiful are the instances of Almighty grace—such as Henry Martyn—transforming the furious man into the likeness of his meek and holy Master!

But let us not be satisfied with the outward restraint upon passion. God condemns the deep-rooted principle that gives it birth. Wretched heart! filled with soul-destroying corruption! Every—even the least—indulgence operates fearfully. So much time spent in excitement! So much more in the unquiet waiting for the desired opportunity! And all given to the Great Murderer! Oh! for the mystery and doctrine of the cross, to mould our temper into its genuine spirit and influence!

23. A man's pride shall bring him low: but honor shall uphold the humble in spirit.

This Proverb—Bishop Hall remarks in his own style—'is like unto Shushan: in the streets whereof honor is proclaimed to the humble Mordecai; in the palace whereof is erected an engine of death to a proud Haman.' It exhibits the spirit of our Lord's oft-repeated declaration expounded by his daily Providences. "Whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased; and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted."2 The real value of man in himself is so small, that the Psalmist is at a loss where to find it. His undue value of himself is utter delusion—having lost all; stripped of all; yet proud, as if he were the possessor of all. He raises himself to heaven in his airy visions; but soon does he meet with his own punishment. A man's pride shall bring him low. We see this in the world. The proud conceit of rank, talent, or any superiority, subjects to continual mortification;5 while on the other hand, humility—at first considered a mean and servile spirit—ultimately comes to its just estimation.

The world counts nothing great without display. But mark the substantial "honor that cometh from God only." "Heaven is my throne, and earth my footstool; yet to this man will I look—to him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit." Yea—"I dwell—saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity—with him that is of a contrite and humble spirit."7 Humility is indeed true greatness—'the crown'—as Mr. Howel finely remarks—'of finite beings, made and jewelled by the hand of God himself. Supremacy is the glory of God; humility is the ornament of his child.' "I am but dust and ashes. I am less than the least of all thy mercies. I abhor myself. Sinners—of whom I am chief"9—such are the self-abasing confessions of men great in Jehovah's eyes. They shine with the reflection of his glory; but they turn away with genuine humility from their own shining.

Men of this stamp "the king delighteth to honor." Their dignity begins on earth, and is crowned in heaven. "Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Poor they may be in station. But they shine forth as mightier conquerors than Alexander. Their real glory eclipses the glare of the pomp and "pride of life."

The elevation of the proud is often the step to their downfall. But God's honor put upon his own people upholds them; as Joseph and Daniel—in their high eminence, as witnesses for his name. And all his chastening discipline is for the great purpose, to "hide pride from man," and to bring us low in our own eyes, that his honor may "lift us in due time." It is with us as with our Lord—honor comes out of humiliation. 'Thou meanest to be not our Saviour only, but our pattern too. If we can go down the steps of thine humiliation, we shall rise up the stairs of thy glory.'

24. 'Whoso is a partner with a thief hateth his own soul: he heareth cursing and bewrayeth it not.

This is a warning under the eighth commandment. Do we realize the same solemnity of obligation as under the first? Many professors attach a degree of secularity to a detailed application of the duties of the second table. But both stand on the same authority. The transgressions of both are registered in the same book. The place of the decalogue cannot be of moment, if the word be but there with the imprimatur—"I am the Lord thy God." The law acknowledges no difference between the thief and his partner. Consenting to sin—receiving the stolen goods—involves us in the guilt and punishment. The accomplice may be less practised in sin. He may be only commencing his course. But the first step is the way of death—acting as if he hated his own soul. One step naturally leads on to another. Supposing him to be called to give evidence upon oath concerning his knowledge or privity of the deed. Would not this be a temptation to perjury, rather than to discover his fellow? Under the perverted obligation of his bond of secrecy he heareth cursing—the solemn adjuration to declare the truth on pain of the curse of God—and he bewrayeth it not. 'He keeps his wicked counsel, and will not betray.'

Oh! how frightful is the history of thousands, whose fellowship with sinners has drawn them into fellowship with sin, and ultimately to take the lead in sin!—Whose entrance into the path has led them step by step into the very depths of depravity! And of these thousands, how few—it is to be feared—retrace their steps, and become, like Onesimus, true followers of Christ, and faithful servants to man!

25. The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe. (Marg. set on high.)

A snare brings a man into straits. He is not master of himself. Here Satan spreads the snare, and the fear of man drives into it. And a fearful snare it is, and ever hath been to thousands. Many, once entangled, have never escaped. It besets every step of the pathway to heaven, every sphere of obligation. The King turns aside from the strict integrity. The judge wilfully pronounces an unrighteous sentence.7 The minister faints under the cross; and to avoid it, compromises the simplicity of the Gospel.9 There is a timidity in acting out an unpopular doctrine. The people cannot bear the full light. The Sun of righteousness is therefore exhibited under a mist; but dimly visible; shorn of his glowing beams. But the strictness of the precepts is unpalatable. It must therefore be softened down, modified, or explained away. Or the same inconstancy of profession must be quietly dealt with, lest the good opinion of some influential man be forfeited. This time-serving shows a man-pleaser, not a true "servant of God,"2 and brings a blast alike to his work and to his soul.

The same deadly influence operates in families. Sometimes even parents shrink from the open protection of their child. They dare not avow a supreme regard to his primary interests, or profess in opposition to many around them, the Patriarch's godly determination—"As for me and my house"—however evil it may seem to others—"we will serve the Lord."5

Every class of society exhibits this corrupt principle. Perhaps the highest are bound in the most abject and hopeless chains. They will set at naught all religion without fear; but, slaves as they are to the omnipotency of fashion, they would "tremble very exceedingly," at the suspicion of godliness attached to them. Many would be bold to front danger, who would shrink from shame. They would fearlessly face the cannon's mouth, and yet be panic-struck at the ridicule of a puny worm. Or even if some public excitement should have roused an impulse of boldness for religion, in the more quiet atmosphere there is a heart's timidity of silence. They shrink from the bold consistency of a living witness. They are afraid of the stamp of singularity. They are satisfied with a meagre external decorum, with no spiritual character or privilege. All is heartless delusion. What—again, makes so many—specially among the young—ashamed to be found upon their knees—to be known readers of their Bibles—to cast in their lot decidedly among the saints of God? They know the Christian to be on the right side; and oft is there a whisper of conscience—'Would that my soul were in his place.'7 But they have only half a mind to religion. The fear of man bringeth a snare. 'And therefore they ask—not what I ought to do, but what will my friends think of me.' They cannot brave the finger of scorn. And if they seem for a while to be in earnest, 'their slavish fears' (as Bunyan well describes the case) 'overmaster them. They betake themselves to second thoughts—namely—that it is good to be wise, and not to run, for they know not what, the hazard of losing all, or at least bringing themselves into unavoidable and unnecessary troubles.' They would rather writhe under their conviction, till they have worn themselves away, than welcome what Moses "esteemed greater riches than the treasures of Egypt—the reproach of Christ."

But how painful to see the children of God entangled in the snare! The father of the faithful twice denied his wife. His son, following his weak example, "fashions the golden calf."2 "The man after God's own heart" sinks himself into the lowest degradadation. Hezekiah—distinguished for his trust—gives way to his fear.4 The ardent disciple, even after the most solemn pledges to his Saviour, and after an act of great boldness in his defence, yields up his courage to a servant girl, and solemnly abjures his Lord. Oh! do we not hear the warning voice against "entrance into temptation—against the weakness of the flesh?"6 Let us run into our hiding-place, and cry—"Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe."

How different is this servile principle from the godly fear of sin, which the wise man had lately marked as the substance of happiness! That is an holy principle; this an inlet to sin. That is our keeping grace; this wounds our conscience, and seduces us from our allegiance. ' "By the fear of the Lord men depart from evil;"12 by the fear of man they run themselves into evil.' That one is the pathway to heaven.14 The other involving the denial of the Saviour—plunges its wretched slave into the lake of fire.

But even apart from this tremendous end—observe its weighty hindrance to Christian integrity. Indeed—as Mr. Scott most truly observes—'it is'—often at least—'the last victory the Christian gains. He will master, by that grace which is given of God, his own lusts and passions, and all manner of inward and outward temptations. He will be dead to the pleasures of the world, long before he has mastered this fear of man. "This kind of spirit goeth not out" but by a very spiritual and devout course of life.' The hindrance meets us at every turn, like a chain upon our wheels; so that, like the Egyptian chariots, they "drive heavily." Oh! for a free deliverance from this principle of bondage;17 not however to be expected, till we have been made to feel its power.

Thank God—there is a way of deliverance. Faith unbinds the soul from fear. If fear makes the giant tremble before the worm, trust in the Lord makes the worm stronger than the giant. The fire, or the den of lions, daunts and hurts not him that "believeth in his God." 'He that fears to flinch, shall never flinch from fear.'19 Faith gives power to prayer. The strength from prayer makes us cheerful in obedience, and resolute in trial. Here is safety, strength, courage, peace. Nothing but faith gives the victory; but the victory of faith is complete. He only, who putteth his trust in the Lord, is prepared, when God and man are at contraries—to "obey God rather than man."—A secret union with God is implanted in the soul by this faith—an union as mighty as it is secret—a sacred spring of life, the energy of God himself, triumphant therefore in the mightiest conflict with the flesh. The man dependent on the world for happiness is in bondage. The servant of God is in liberty. It matters not to him whether the world smile or frown. He is safe—beyond its reach—set on high. Faith brings him to his strong tower.3 There he is "kept by the power of God unto salvation." Fear brings us to the snare. Faith brings liberty, safety, exultation. Oh! thou God of power and grace, may my soul praise thee for this mighty deliverance—this joyous freedom! May I never be ashamed of my Master! May I be bound to his people, and glory in his cross!

26. Many seek the ruler's favor; but every man's judgment cometh from the Lord.

Therefore seek God to be your friend. "In his favor is life." Confidence in man is no less sinful7 and dangerous than the fear of man. Yet with what diligence will men seek earthly advantage! Many seek the ruler's favor more than God's, and sacrifice their consciences, and hazard their souls, to obtain it. But when they have bought it at such a price, what is it?—as easily lost, as it was hardly gained. The caprice of an hour may destroy the hard-earned object.10 And then what have they to live upon? All this is forgetting that every man's judgment cometh from the Lord. Here then is the solid ground of faith. First, begin with God. All judgment is in his hands. "Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass." Let him choose and dispose our lot.12 Ponder every thing that passes as coming from him. In every thing, great and small, deal with him. His favor—unlike the changing favor of the ruler—is "without variableness or shadow of turning." And when through the fickleness of man earthly prospects are fading—then rest in quiet—"Surely my judgment is with the Lord." 'As thou wilt—what thou wilt—when thou wilt.'14 This is the shortest—the surest—way of peace. "Only believe," and doubt nothing.

27. An unjust man is an abomination to the just: and he that is upright in the way is abomination to the wicked.

Here is the oldest, the most rooted, the most universal quarrel in the world. It was the first curse of the fall. It has continued ever since, and will last to the end of the world. It is always kept up at the highest point. Each party is an abomination to the other. It is not only that they are as contrary in character as light is to darkness; but there is a mutual antipathy, that can never be softened down.

Let us look at each of the parties in that open opposition to each other. An unjust man is an abomination to the just. Is it then his sin to be at such contraries with his fellow-sinner? No rather—it is the very holiness of his character, and profession. If he have any apprehensions of the holiness of God—if through grace he is delivered from the love and dominion of sin—is not the sight hateful to him? And while he abhors it most of all in himself, yet does not the watching of the evil in his own heart deepen his abhorrence and detestation in those around him; not sparing it in those most dear to him—but appealing to his God in the burst of holy indignation.—"Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee?—and am not I grieved with those that rise up against thee? I hate them with a perfect hatred: I count them mine enemies."

Looking at the other party—the wicked hold the upright in equal abomination. "The carnal mind is enmity against God,"3 and cannot therefore bear his image in his children—Gladly would the wicked—were not their enmity restrained—"root them out of the face of the earth," as they never rested, till they had nailed the Son of God to the tree. Here however is the main difference—The enmity of the just is against the sins—not the person—of the wicked; or against their persons, yet on account of their sins—How do they with all this principle love their souls—'pray for them'6—how gladly would they win to Christ and salvation! The enmity of the wicked is against the persons—the ways of the upright—all that belongs to them. This is 'that strong poison in the serpent's seed'—the murderous spirit of their father the devil!

How is the soul wearied with the unceasing struggles with the enemies of truth! How can one forbear the wish for the "wings of a dove, to fly away, and be at rest!" And how could we hold on the contest, but for the blessed hope—O Lord! hasten it in thy time—When the woman's conquering "seed shall bruise the Serpent's Head," the head of all9 his seed—finally and forever—and he shall reign King and Saviour over his redeemed people.

CHAPTER 30

1. The words of Agur the son of Jakeh, even the prophecy: the man spake unto Ithiel, even unto Ithiel and Ucal: 2. Surely I am more brutish than any man, and have not the understanding of a man. 3. I neither learned wisdom, nor have (gathered together, Marg.) the knowledge of the holy.

The two concluding chapters of this Book are an appendix to the Proverbs of Solomon. Nothing certain is known of the writers; and it is vain to speculate, where God is silent. Far better is it to give our full interest—mind and heart—to the matter of instruction, than to indulge the unprofitable curiosity respecting the writers. Our ignorance of the writers of many of the Psalms in no degree hinders their profit to us. We know their author, when the penmen are hid. It is enough for us to be assured, that they were "holy men of God," who wrote, "as they were moved by the Holy Ghost."

Agur was doubtless one of the wise men found in many ages of the Old Testament Church—His words were a prophecy—Divine instruction given unto Ithiel and Ucal (Ithiel especially) probably two of his scholars, whose names are equally unknown to us. Perhaps they came to him for instruction, and he was led to express himself in the most humbling sense of his own ignorance. You come to me for instruction. But surely I am more brutish than any man, not having the advantages of learning wisdom, or the knowledge of the holy God, and of the holy revelation of his name.

His language is indeed strong. Stronger could scarcely have been used. He confesses himself to be—not only brutish—as man is by nature, but, though enlightened by heavenly teaching, more brutish than any man. Were these the words of truth? Or were they the affectation of modesty? Or was it false humility, dishonorably denying the work of God? But he was now speaking from the mouth of God. And how could he dissemble in his name? He spake the truth as it really is—as consciousness could not but speak—as self-knowledge under Divine teaching dictated. Now let a man take "the candle of the Lord"—given him to "search all the inward parts of the belly"—and what a mass of vanity will he find there! Such folly mixed with his wisdom—such ignorance with his knowledge; that, instead of pluming himself upon his elevation above his fellow-men, he can but cry out in shame—Surely I am more brutish than any man! Whoever knows his own heart, knows that of himself, that he can hardly conceive of any one else so low—so degraded as himself.

Add to which—it is the child of God comparing himself with his perfect standard. And in the perception of his own short-comings the most discerning clear-sighted penitent feels that he can never abase himself as he ought before his God—He would lie low—lower still—infinitely lower—in the dust. Holy Paul, comparing himself with the spirituality of the perfect law—exclaims, "I am carnal, sold under sin." Isaiah in the presence of a holy God—cries out—"Woe is me, for I am undone, because I am a man of unclean lips."2 Job, in the manifestation of the power of God, sinks into his absolute nothingness and unworthiness—David in the full view of the wisdom of God, is made to see the perverseness of his own folly, and take up the very confession of Agur—"So foolish was I, and ignorant; I was as a beast before thee!"4 The nearer our contemplation of God—the closer our communion with him—the deeper will be our self-abasement before him—like those "before the throne, who with twain cover their faces, and with twain cover their feet." Well, therefore, may the wisest and holiest of men—though "renewed in knowledge, after the image of him that created him"6—take up the humiliating confession—Surely I am more brutish than any man. Genuine humility is the only path of wisdom. Unless he stoops, he can never enter the door. He must "become a fool, that he may be wise." And when he is humbled in his shame—then let him measure the house of his God in its breadth and length,8 enjoying clearer, and panting still for clearer manifestations of the incomprehensible God.

But how reverently should we approach this Divine presence! With what holy hands should we open his revelation, dreading a careless, light, and presumptuous spirit; yet withal cherishing those nobly ambitious desires for deeper and higher knowledge; yea, reiterating them before our God with that repetition, which to a carnal mind would be nauseating tautology; but which he who knows our hearts loves to hear, and will beyond our desires abundantly fulfil.

4. Who hath ascended up into heaven, or descended? who hath gathered the wind in his fists? who hath bound the waters in a garment? who hath established all the ends of the earth? what is his name, and what is his son's name, if thou canst tell?

Can we wonder that Agur should have acknowledged his brutishness—now that he was contemplating the majesty of God—so wondrous in his work—so incomprehensible in his nature? The eye was blinded by the dazzling blaze of the sun. To behold Jehovah ascending and descending in his own glorious person—afterward in the person of his dear Son10—(for in his great work was not his Father's name in him?)—to see him holding the loose winds as firmly as a man might hold in his fists2—to see his almighty control of the waters—and his establishment of the ends of the earth4—this is a sight that might make the highest and wisest of men sink into nothingness before him. Who hath done this, none can doubt. The challenge is thrown out as a demonstration, that it was God alone. 'Show me the man, that can or dare arrogate this power to himself.'

But when we pass from the works to their great Maker—truly it is an overwhelming view—What is his name, if thou canst tell? "Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? He dwelleth in the light, which no man can approach unto; whom no man hath seen, nor can see." How can we express him in words, or conceive of him in thought? Child of God! "Be still, and know that he is God."7 Restrain thy reason. Humble thy faith. "Lay thine hand upon thy mouth." Lie in the dust before him. "O the depth!" open only to him, whose "understanding is infinite."9

But how does the mystery increase! What is his Son's name, if thou canst tell? And who can tell? "No one knoweth the Son, but the Father." Yet there is a Son in the Eternal Godhead—a Son not begotten in time, but from eternity11—his name therefore—not as some would have it—a component part of his humiliation—but the manifestation of his Godhead—co-existent with his father in the same ineffable nature—yet personally distinct. What is his name? and what is his Son's name? Sovereignty—Omnipresence—Omnipotence is his. He too controls the winds and waters, and establishes the earth14 as one, who is the visible "form of God, and thinketh it not robbery to be equal with God."

What is his name? The word even of the secret name is easily spelt. But the mystery is hid. We must not search too curiously;17 lest we "intrude into those things which we have not seen, vainly puffed up by our fleshly mind." Many, however, think it easy to understand this name. They think far more of their wisdom than Agur did, and are at no loss at all to explain what in their proud ignorance they conceive to be the full meaning of the inscrutable subject. But the genuine disciple acknowledges the nature of the Son to be alike incomprehensible with that of the Father—a mystery to be adored—not understood.

Yet what Revelation hath brought up to us from these untraceable depths are pearls of great price. Let us reverently gather them for the enriching of our souls. So far as our Divine Teacher leads us by the hand, let us diligently follow him. The wholesome dread of being "wise above that which is written," must not damp the holy ardor to be wise and wiser continually in that which is written. 'Curiously to inquire is rashness; to believe is piety; to know indeed is life eternal.' Unsearchable as he is in his greatness; yet so near is he to us, that we can rest in his bosom. Yours—Christian—is the unspeakable privilege to be one with him, who is One with God. And therefore—if you tell his name—as you are bound to tell what is revealed—is it not all that is infinitely great, combined with the endearing relations—Husband—Brother—Saviour—King?

5. Every word of God is pure (purified, Marg.): he is a shield unto them that put their trust in him. 6. Add thou not unto his words, lest he reprove thee, and thou be found a liar.

Nothing is learned solidly by abstract speculation. Go to the book. Here all is light and purity. Though "secret things belong to the Lord our God; yet the things that are revealed" are our holy directory. Every thing is intended to influence the heart and conduct. How unlike the sacred books of the heathen, or the sensual religion of Mahomet! Here is no license—no encouragement to sin—no connivance at it. All lurking sins cherished in the dark cavern of pollution, are brought to light, and reproved. Every word of God is pure. Of what other book in the world can this be said? Where else is the gold found without alloy? The word is tried. It has stood the trial, and no dross has been found in it. 'Having God for its Author, it has truth without any mixture of error for its matter.'4 "The words of the Lord are pure words, as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times."

But if every word of God is pure, take care that no word is slighted. How few range over the whole Revelation of God! To take a whole view of the universe, we should embrace not only its fruitful gardens, but its barren deserts, coming equally from the hand of God, and none of them made for nought. To take a similarly comprehensive view of the sacred field, we must study the apparently barren, as well as the more manifestly fruitful portions. Food will be gathered from the detailed code of laws, from the historical annals of the kings, and from the "wars and fightings"—the prolific results of "the lusts of men." The whole Scripture is Scripture, and "all Scripture is profitable."7

Favoritism, however, is a besetting snare in the sacred study. A part is too often taken instead of the whole, or as if it were the whole. One is absorbed in the doctrinal, a second in the practical, a third in the prophetical, a fourth in the experimental, Scriptures; each seeming to forget, that every word of God is pure. This want of completeness will show itself in a corresponding defect in the Christian profession. The doctrinist becomes loose in practice; the practical professor self-righteous in principle. The prophetic disciple, absorbed in his imaginative atmosphere, neglects present obligations. The experimental religionist mistakes a religion of feeling, excitement, or fancy, for the sobriety and substantial fruitfulness of the gospel. All remind us of our Lord's rebuke—"Ye do err, not knowing the Scriptures."

The great exercise therefore is—to bring out the whole mass of solid truth in all its bearings and glory. So wisely has God linked together the several parts of his system, that we can receive no portion soundly, except in connection with the whole. The accuracy of any view is more than suspicious, that serves to put a forced construction upon Scripture, to dislocate its connexion, or to throw important truths into the shade. Apparently contradictory statements are in fact only balancing truths; each correcting its opposite, and, like the antagonal muscles, contributing to the strength and completeness of the frame. Every heresy probably stands upon some insulated text, or some exaggerated truth, pressed beyond "the proportion of faith." But none can stand upon the combined view and testimony of Scripture. Nor let it be sufficient, that our system includes no positive error, if some great truths be lacking. Let it be carefully grounded upon the acknowledgment—every word of God is pure. Some of us may err in presumptuous familiarity with Scripture; others in unworthy reserve. But if the heart be right, self-knowledge will develope the error, and self-discipline will correct it.

Christian simplicity will teach us to receive every Divine Truth upon this formal ground—that it is the word of God. Though it is not all of equal importance, it will be regarded with equal reverence. We acknowledge implicitly God as the Author of every particle of Scripture, and that every word of God is pure. To reject therefore one 'jot or tittle is a sufficient demonstration,'—as Dr. Owen admirably observes—'that no one jot or tittle of it is received as it ought. Upon whatsoever this title and inscription is—'The Word of Jehovah'—there must we stoop, and bow down our souls before it, and captivate our understandings unto the obedience of faith.'

This holy reverence is combined with trust in God. Blessed trust, which brings a shield of special favor over his trembling child! Sometimes indeed is Satan permitted to envelope him in darkness, and to picture—as it were—frightful transparencies upon his prison-wall. What would he do in this time of terror, did he not find a shield—a covert—in the bosom of his God? Yes—if the word of God be pure, it must be a sure ground of trust. We may take its dictum with undoubting confidence, that he is a shield—as to Abraham of old—so to Abraham's children, that put their trust in him. In all consequences from within and from without—when I quake under the terrors of the law—in the hour of death—in the day of judgment—"Thou art my shield." Nothing honors God, like this turning to him in every time of need. If there be rest, peaceful confidence, safe keeping—here it is.—And where is it found beside? Despondency meets the poor deluded sinner, who looks for some other stay. And even the child of God traces his frequent want of protection to his feeble uncertain use of his Divine shield.

But the word of God is not only pure, and cannot deceive. It is also sufficient; and therefore, like tried gold, it needs no addition for its perfection. Therefore to add to his words, stamped as they are with his Divine authority, will expose us to his tremendous reproof, and cover us with shame. The Jewish Church virtually added their oral law and written traditions. The Church of Rome is not less guilty, and as a church has been found a liar; adding to the inspired canon a mass of unwritten Tradition, and Apocryphal Writings, with all their gross errors, and in despite of the clearest proof of their human origin. And is there no approach to this sinful presumption in the attempt in our own day to bring tradition to a near—if not to an equal—level with the Sacred Testimony? A new rule of faith is thus introduced—an addition to the Divine rule—of co-ordinate authority. Never was it so important to clear from all question the momentous controversy—what is—what is not—the Word of God. The Lord has most carefully guarded his pure word from all human admixture. May he preserve his ministers from "teaching for doctrines the commandments of men;" "saying, the Lord hath said it, when he hath not spoken!" What a reverential awe—what godly jealousy—should they exercise—to add not to the pure word by the glosses of false interpretation; not to expound their own minds in the stead of the mind of God!

7. Two things have I required of thee; deny me them not before I die: 8. Remove far from me vanity and lies: give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient (of my allowance, Marg.) for me: 9. Lest I be full, and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.

Though Agur had confessed his brutishness before his God; yet his prayers (the most accurate test of a man of God) prove him to have been possessed of deep spiritual understanding. "We ask, and receive not, because we ask amiss, that we may consume it upon our lusts." How wisely gracious therefore is the teaching of the Divine Comforter, "helping our infirmities" in prayer, and, by moulding our petitions "according to the will of God," ensuring their acceptance!2 Agur's heart must have been under this heavenly teaching; dictating his prayers by a primary regard to his best interests, and by a spiritual discernment of what would probably be beneficial, and what injurious to them.

Two things he especially required—not as though he had nothing else to ask—but as being the pressing burden of the present moment. And these he asks—as if he would take no denial—with all the intense earnestness of a dying sinner—Deny me them not before I die.

His prayers are short, but comprehensive. Though little is said, yet that little is fraught with matter; framed in its proper order. Spiritual blessings occupy the first place; temporal blessings are secondary, and in subserviency to them.

Remove from me vanity and lies. Is not this the atmosphere of the world? vanity its character—lies its delusion; promising happiness, only to disappoint its weary and restless victims? How can the heaven-born soul breathe in such a world? Every thing deadens the heart, and eclipses the glory of the Saviour. "The soul cleaveth to the dust." "All that is in the world—the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—is not of the Father, but is of the world."4 And therefore "they that observe lying vanities forsake their own mercy." A soul that knows its dangers and its besetting temptations, will live in the spirit of this prayer of the godly Agur—Remove from me—far from me—as far as possible—vanity and lies. "Turn away mine eyes"—prayed a Saint of God in the same watchful jealousy—"from beholding vanity. Remove from me the way of lying."

But how singular—yet how fraught with instruction—is Agur's second prayer! All are ready to pray against poverty. But to deprecate riches—'Oh! deliver me from this muck-rake'—'that prayer'—as Interpreter remarked to Christiana—'has lain by, till it is almost rusty. 'Give me not riches'—is scarce the prayer of one of ten thousand.' Agur, as a wise man, desired the safest and happiest lot—not—as Israel of old—"meat for his lust,"8 but food convenient for him, measured out in daily allowance—suitable to his need. This is obviously not a fixed measure. It implies—not a bare sufficiency for natural life, but a provision varying according to the call, in which God has placed us. 'If Agur be the master of a family, then that is his competency, which is sufficient to maintain his wife, children, and household. If Agur be a public person, a Prince or a Ruler of the people, then that is Agur's sufficiency which will conveniently maintain him in that condition.'10 Jacob, when "he had become two bands," evidently required more, than when in his earlier life "with his staff he had passed over Jordan." What was sufficient for himself alone, would not have been sufficient for the many, that were then dependent upon him. The immense provisions for Solomon's table—considering the vast multitude of his dependents2—might be only a competency for the demand. The distribution of the manna was food convenient—nothing too much, but no deficiency. "He that gathered much had nothing over; and he that gathered little had no lack." And thus, in the daily dispensation of Providence, a little may be a sufficiency to one; while an overflowing plenty is no superfluity to another. Only let Christian self-denial—not depraved appetite—be the standard of competency. Proud nature never stoops so low.4 The Apostle distinctly traces to the influence of Divine teaching his Christian moderation in his diversified conditions of abundance and of want. Philosophy may have inculcated the lesson. But Almighty grace alone can command the practice of it.

'It is a question'—says Dr. South—'whether the piety or the prudence of this prayer be greater.' Agur was well persuaded of the temptations incident to these two opposite conditions—the vanity and lies belonging to riches, the discontent and occasion of sin, which are the snares of poverty. Yet he does not pray absolutely against these states—only submissively. It is the prayer of his choice—the desire of his heart. God would graciously exempt him from both, and bless him with a middle condition. Nor does he ask this for the indulgence of the flesh. He deprecates not the trouble, anxieties, and responsibilities of riches, which might betoken an indolent self-pleasing spirit; nor the miseries and sufferings of poverty. But he cries for deliverance from the snares of each condition—Let me not be rich, lest I be full and deny thee. Let me not be poor, lest I steal, and take the name of my God in vain.

And alas! the danger of these results is but too evident. Both extremes are the borders of fearful temptation. Strange and irrational as it may appear—such is the depravity of our nature, that mercies induce neglect, and often casting-off, of God. Lust is too strong for conscience. Rarely does "the daughter of Tyre come with her gift, or the rich among the people entreat the favor" of their God.9 Too often—the more we receive from God, the less he receives from us. The twining thorns choke the heavenly plant.11 And as we prosper in the flesh, we are impoverished in the spirit. But not less imminent are the dangers of pinching poverty. And it is not every Christian, that can honorably grapple with them. Dishonesty is a besetting temptation—followed up by perjury to escape punishment.2 Thus two commandments are broken, and the sinner is in "the snare of the devil, taken captive by him at his will."

The 'golden mean' (for so even a Heathen could describe it) is recommended by patriarchs,5 prophets, and apostles.7 Nay, our Lord teaches us to pray for it in terms identical with this petition. For what else is our "daily bread" but food convenient for us?

We must however be careful that we use Agur's prayer in his spirit. Perhaps the Gospel rather teaches us to leave the matter entirely with God. Both riches and poverty are his appointment. It may please him to place us in a high condition, to entrust us with much riches, or to exercise us with the trials of poverty. Many of his children are in both these conditions. And shall they wish it otherwise? Let them rather seek for grace to glorify him in either state. Or if it seem lawful to pray for a change of condition, let them not forget to pray for a single eye to his glory—that his will—not ours—may be done in us. 'Whithersoever God gives'—said the pious Bishop Hall—'I am both thankful and indifferent; so as, while I am rich in estate, I may be poor in spirit, and while I am poor in estate, I may be rich in grace.'11

10. Accuse not (hurt not with thy tongue, Marg.) a servant unto his master, lest he curse thee, and thou be found guilty.

Let not this Proverb be a shelter for unfaithfulness. How much evil goes on in a family, because those that are privy to it, and ought to inform, shrink from accusing a servant to his master! 'They must not make mischief in the house, or bring themselves into trouble.' But we owe it alike to master and to servant13 not to wink at sin. We may owe it to ourselves to accuse a servant to his master for injury to ourselves. Yet let a fellow servant first observe our Lord's rule of privacy.15 Let every exercise of faithfulness be in the spirit of love. Beware of the busy wantonness of the talebearer. Never make trouble for trifles; or accuse the servant, when he may not have the full liberty and power to defend himself. When conscience does not constrain us to speak—the law of love always supplies a reason for silence. The Jewish servants were ordinarily slaves, for the most part crushed by their Master's oppression. Cruel therefore would it be without strong cause to heap degradation upon a sinking fellow-creature; for whom the Mosaic law prescribed kindness and protection.

The rule however may be more generally applied. David suffered severely from unkind accusations to his royal Master. Those who take the most eager pleasure in finding fault are usually those, who can least bear the retort upon themselves. Take heed, lest while thou art exposing "the mote in thy brother's eye," thou be reminded to thy deeper disgrace of "the beam that is in thine own eye."3 A curse from thy injured brother may not "come causeless to thee." The motive, which plainly actuated the accusation of the adulteress, only retorted shame upon the accusers. "The conviction of their own consciences"5 brought their own guilt to mind. Should not this remembrance constrain us needlessly to "speak evil of no man?" Should not the covering of our own infinitely provoking offences, induce us gladly to cast a covering over our offending brother, where the honor of God did not forbid concealment!7

11. There is a generation that curseth their father, and doth not bless their mother. 12. There is a generation that are pure in their own eyes, and yet is not washed from their filthiness. 13. There is a generation, O how lofty are their eyes! and their eyelids are lifted up. 14. There is a generation, whose teeth are as swords, and their jaw teeth as knives, to devour the poor from off the earth, and the needy from among men.

Agur here gives in artificial order (as in some of the Psalms) his observations, probably in answer to his disciples' inquiries. He describes four different masses that came under his eyes—not a few individuals—but generations—a race of men—like a large stock—descending from father to son. Truly "the thing that hath been, is that which shall be; and that which is done, is that which shall be done; and there is no new thing under the sun." For these four generations belong to every age. They always have been, and always will be, to the end of time.

Take the first generation. What a disgrace to human nature! cursing their parents! Solon, when asked why he had made no law against parricides, replied, that he could not conceive of any one so impious and cruel. The Divine Law-giver knew his creature better—that his heart was capable of wickedness beyond conception—of this wickedness beyond the imagination of the heathen sage. He has marked it with his most tremendous judgment,10 The cursing of a parent was visited with the same punishment as the blaspheming of God—so near does the one in sin approach the other. The rebel against his parent is ready to "stretch out his hand against God" himself, and to "run upon the thick bosses of his buckler."2 Many are the forms, in which this proud abomination shows itself—resistance of a parent's authority—contempt of his reproof4—shamelessly defiling his name—needlessly exposing sin6—coveting his substance—denying his obligation.8 Most fearful is the increase of this generation among ourselves. Every village bears sad testimony to this crying sin, that brings down many a parent's grey hairs with sorrow to the grave, and spreads anarchy throughout the whole land. No plea of extenuation can be allowed to justify the sin. The authority of parents, even in the lowest degradation, must be respected, even when we dare not—must not, follow their example. But what can be done to stay the threatened invasion of this devastating flood? Once and again let us remember, ere it be too late—discipline—wise—tender—early discipline, prayer—pleading—patient—believing prayer; diligence—active—direct—prudently applied. Will not our God in the use of his own means give us yet to praise him? Trust and doubt not.

In what Church do we not find the next generation? The Pharisee of the Gospel was the living picture—pure in his own eyes, yet not washed from his filthiness. The Laodicean Church was full of such professors. Indeed everywhere it is the great work of Satan to delude the sinner into a good opinion of himself. He estimates himself by some plausible qualities, or some course of external decorum,11 while a blind infidel as to that depravity of his nature, which—not the gross acts of sin—gives the stamp to the whole character. Sometimes partial obedience maintains this delusion; while he hides from himself the genuine hypocrisy of secret reserves, which mars all. He was once impure; but he has gone through a course of purifying observances. He has washed himself from his filthiness.

We often see this self-deceiver in the spiritual Church, exhibiting a full and clean profession to his fellow-men; while himself—awful thought!—living at an infinite distance from God. Salvation by free grace is his creed, and he will contend earnestly for the purest simplicity of the Gospel. He can distinguish accurately between sound and unscriptural doctrine. Yet his conscience is sleeping in the "form of godliness," while his heart is wholly uninfluenced by "its power!"14 There is no mourning for his innate guilt and pollution, no sensibility of sin in his thoughts, objects, motives, or prayers; no perceptible change from a proud, self-willed, or worldly spirit. He is pure in his own eyes—in his own imaginary view, and perverted judgment! Yet until he be disturbed in his complacency, how hopeless his condition!

The want of all cheering influence is a plain proof of self-delusion. Vital religion is the sugar in the liquid, which impregnates the whole contents of the cup. The path may be thorny, and our light darkness. But sweetness will be mingled in our sorrow, even till the last drop in the cup of life shall be spent. The formalist's religion is a piece of polished marble in the cup, externally beautiful; but cold and dead; impregnating nothing with an atom of sweetness.

The power of this self-delusion is—that man has no natural conception of the deep stain of sin, such as nothing but the blood of sprinkling can fetch out. The man of God, bathed in the tears of penitence, cries out for this sprinkling alone to "purge him." The tears of the purest repentance in themselves are impure and abominable.3 It is not the exercise of a day to know the full extent of our corruption. As the Lord leads us into the light of our own hearts, we behold "greater and yet greater abominations." The conscience purged from sin becomes more clear for the discovery of remaining pollution. Those who are most purified will have the deepest sensibility of impurity,5 and will most deeply value "the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness," with its free invitation—"Wash, and be clean."

Sinner! if thou be found unwashed from thy filthiness, must it not be certain exclusion from that "place, into which shall not in any wise enter any thing that defileth?" Awful indeed will be the final sentence—"He that is filthy, let him be filthy still!"8

The next generation provokes our sorrowful amazement—O how lofty are their eyes! and their eyelids lifted up. Such intolerable arrogance! What greater anomaly does the conscience afford than that of a proud sinner! his eyelids lifted up, instead of being cast to the ground. Such is his self-confidence even in the presence of his God! And before men—all must keep their distance, from these swelling worms! We may see this pride embodied in a system—"the Man of Sin sitting in the temple of God, showing himself that he is God!"10 We may see it in worldly greatness—in the pride of Moab, and the prince of Tyre;12 the boasting Antiochus; Haman in all his glory;14 "Herod arrayed in his royal apparel;" Nebuchadnezzar in his self-pleasing contemplation, before the severe chastening of his God had taught him the wholesome lesson—"Those that walk in pride he is able to abase."16 In a lower level, it is the pride of birth, rank, wisdom, riches, or accomplishments. In every circumstance is this high look specially hateful to God;" and the day is appointed in his own purpose for its prostrate humiliation.2 Meanwhile little is it conceived, how really contemptible this pride makes its deluded votaries appear before their fellow-creatures. One beam of the Divine glory4 and one sight of the cross of Calvary—must at once dispel their vain splendid illusion.

The last generation appears before us as a monster of iniquity. We can scarcely draw the picture in its full colors. Conceive of brutes with iron teeth—a wild beast opening his mouth, and displaying—instead of truth—swords and knives, sharpened ready for their murderous work. Yet withal, these cruel oppressors are marked by pitiful cowardice. They vent their wantonness only, where there is little or no power of resistance; not the wolf with the wolf, but with the defenceless lamb; devouring the poor and needy from off the earth; "eating-up my people"—not like an occasional indulgence, but "as they eat bread"8—their daily appetite—without intermission. Such cruel oppressors appear from time to time as a chastening curse to the land. Nay, they were found among the rulers of God's own people, even among the teachers of religion,10 cloaking their covetousness under the garb of special holiness. God thus shows us a picture of man left to himself. When the reins are loosened or given up, is there any length of wickedness, to which he may not proceed?

Indeed the four generations teach us this same lesson—most valuable, yet most humbling, thoroughly to know. Yet so depraved is man, that nothing is so much hidden from him as himself. He keeps a good opinion of himself, by keeping the light out of the heart and conscience. His imagination fancies good, where there is nothing but hateful deformity. Under this self-delusion—we deal so gently and tenderly with sin, that no conflict is maintained with it, no sorrow or burden felt concerning it. How deeply do we need the searching light and convincing power of the Spirit of God, to show us our abominations; to make us tremble at the sight of them; and to let us see, that our remedy must come from God every moment; that no partial change, no external polish—nothing less than the creating power of God—can reach the case for a cure.12

Adored indeed be the grace of God, if we be not in one or other of these generations! But let us remember "such were some of us"—either disobedient to our parents, or self-righteous in the church, proud and contemptuous, or cruel and oppressive. But we are washed from our filthiness. Therefore—"who maketh thee to differ?14 is the grand balancing question, when we are disposed to forget from whence we were raised, and to whom we owe all that we have and are for his service.

15. The horse-leach hath two daughters, crying, Give, give. There are three things that are never satisfied, yea, four things say not, It is enough, (wealth, Marg.) 16. The grave; and the barren womb; the earth that is not filled with water: and the fire that saith not, It is enough.

Agur describes in an artificial mode of expression, but with forcible imagery, the cravings of human lust. If viewed in reference to the last generation, they form an admirably finished picture of the merciless and avaricious tyrant. They are like the horse-leach, which hath two daughters, crying, Give, give. They are like the three and four things, the grave—the womb—the earth, and the fire. But with a more general reference, the figures are graphically instructive. The horse-leach with its two-forked-tongue like two daughters, sucked the blood with an insatiable appetite. The grave opens the mouth for fresh victims. The barren womb eagerly covets the blessing. The parched earth, after large supplies, still thirsts for more. The fire—when the spark first kindles a coal, or lights upon combustible matter—never ceases to burn, as long as fuel is supplied; and in many a disastrous conflagration, leaves us to cry out in fearful wonder, "Behold! how great a matter a little fire kindleth!" And yet these are scarcely adequate representations of that insatiable thirst within, that never says—It is enough. The greater the portion, the greater the lust. Every indulgence provokes the appetite. How blessed is that state, to which the gospel brings us. "Having food and raiment, let us be therewith content!" What a merciful deliverance from that "destruction and perdition"—the certain end of lawless lust!8 Happy child of God! weaned from his own indulgence! disciplined under his Father's yoke! satisfied abundantly with his Father's love. Whether "he abound or suffer need"—he can say—"It is wealth—I am full, and abound." Has he not found that, which answers every demand, supplies every need, and satisfies every desire? What but God can fill the soul, which God hath made, and made for himself?

17. The eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it.

Agur here returns to the first generation—the unnatural despisers of their parents. He had before described their character. Now he links it with the punishment. Observe the guilt only of a scornful look—the mocking eye, when perhaps not a word is spoke. Certainly if the fifth commandment is "the first with promise," it is also the first with judgment. No commandment in the breach of it is visited with more tremendous threatenings. What a picture is here given of infamy? Perhaps the case of Absalom furnishes the most striking illustration—a self-willed youth and rebel against his father and his sovereign—made a spectacle of shame before his people! the vengeance of God inflicting the punishment, which was due at the bar of human justice! But we may observe a more general illustration of the frightful picture. How many confessions on the scaffold have borne testimony, that the first step towards that untimely end was contempt of parental authority and restraint! The bodies of such criminals were deprived of the rites of burial—exposed either on the gallows, or cast out into the valley, as meat for the fowls of the air.2 Thus the eye, that had scornfully mocked his father, became the choice morsel of the eagle or the raven of the valley.

But even where there is no such literal fulfilment, the curse is not the less sure. Seldom do we see the disobedient rebels prospering, and blessed in their own children. Retributive justice visits them late,—but certain; and the poignant anguish of many a disappointed hope, and many an arrow shot from their own bow, may bear to them the message of their chastising Father—"Thine own iniquities shall correct thee, and thy backslidings shall reprove thee."

18. There be three things which are too wonderful for me; yea, four which I know not. 19. The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock: the way of a ship in the midst (heart, Marg.) of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid. 20. Such is the way of an adulterous woman; she eateth and wipeth her mouth, and saith, I have done no wickedness.

The kingdom of nature is full of wonders, and these wonders are full of instruction. Where the philosopher cannot give a reason, the humble disciple may learn a lesson. The depths of nature are the figure of the depths of sin—of the unsearchable deceitful heart. The eagle soars in the air with so lofty and rapid a flight, that the eye cannot follow her way. It leaves no scent nor footsteps, by which we might trace it, as the beast on the ground. The serpent on the sand would leave its mark. But the serpent on the rock, it leaves no slime like the worm—no feathers like the birds—who then can mark its way? The ship—like the great monster of the deep—"maketh a path to shine after her." But while she ploughs in the midst (in the heart) of the sea, her furrows are quickly closed up, and her way is untraceable. Not less mysterious is the way of a man with a maid. Eminently practised is the seducer in "the depths of Satan," and a thousand arts does he practise to allure the affections of his unwary victim. And it is often as difficult to penetrate his designs, and to escape his snares, as to trace the way of the eagle, the serpent, or the ship. Let this be a warning to young and inexperienced females, not to trust to their own purity, or to the strength of their own resolutions, or to place themselves in unprotected situations.

Equally unfathomable are the devices of the adulterous woman to entangle her prey, and to deceive her unsuspecting husband. Solomon has described the picture with graphical and minute accuracy. Such a course of abomination, wickedness, and hypocrisy, as is scarcely to be conceived! indulging her sin as the sweet morsel under her tongue; feasting greedily upon her "stolen water and secret bread,"3 yet keeping up the semblance of innocence and purity; wiping her mouth, to prevent all suspicion, suffering no sign of the action to remain. A woman must be advanced very far in the way of sin, before she can present so unblushing a front. Yet every fresh indulgence of lust gives rise to new artifices, "hardening" the heart more fully in "the deceitfulness of sin." Its fascinations blind it to its real character. Let then the first step be shunned—the most distant path, that may lead to temptation. Where shame ceases to accompany it, the ruin of the victim is accomplished. Abundant warning is given—solemn instruction—many beacons in the path—to show the certain end of this flowery road.6

21. For three things the earth is disquieted, and for four things it cannot bear 22. For a servant, when he reigneth; and a fool, when he is filled with meat 23. For an odious woman, when she is married: and an handmaid, that is heir to her mistress.

Next to things which were unsearchable, Agur now mentions some things that were intolerable—things for which the earth is disquieted—bringing confusion wherever they are found. Who does not naturally condemn things out of place, as unsuitable and unseemly? Order is the law of the works of God in the world, no less than in the Church; and any breach of order is to be deprecated. Four such evils are here mentioned—two connected with men—two with women—the one in the community—the other in the family.

The first evil mentioned is—a servant when he reigneth. This is a serious evil in the family, whether it arises from the mismanagement of the master, or from his own intrigue.3 He is obviously out of place, and ruling, where he ought to serve, must bring disorder. The evil is far greater in a kingdom. Men of low birth may indeed rise honorably by their own merit to a high station. God may call them, as he did Joseph,5 to reign. The evil is the advancement to power of ignorant unprincipled minions. Men of a mean spirit cannot bear to be raised. Intoxicated by the sudden elevation, these upstarts show themselves not only fools but tyrants;7 swelling with all the insolence of their unseemly honor. Such was the enmity of Tobiah the Ammonite, and the misrule of Haman.9 What national evils resulted from the elevation of Jeroboam! What anarchy from the successful usurpation of Zimri!11 Well therefore might the reign of servants be deplored as a component part of the calamity of disconsolate Zion! In the ordinary course it can only be viewed as a chastening dispensation.13 Let us acknowledge with thankfulness our deliverance from it.

Then look at the fool (not an idiot, but a wilful sinner) when he is filled with meat. Can we wonder that he should be a trouble—a curse; giving the reins to his appetite, and becoming yet more devoid of understanding than before? The history of Nabal, sunk into brutishness by his own sensual lust—Elah murdered by his servant, whilst "drinking himself drunk in his steward's house"15—Belshazzar giving himself over to the lust of ungodliness—all these were evils, for which the earth was disquieted, and which it could not bear. Filled with meat—with "surfeiting and drunkenness"—they were set forth as an example in the just punishment of their wicked folly.

Look again into the inner room of the family. What is the origin of discord and palpable misery? An odious woman is in rule. She quarrels with all around her. Her ungoverned tongue and temper are an unceasing source of agitation. Had she known herself, much better for her never to have entered into the marriage bond, than to become the inseparable tormentor of her husband and family. Woman is to man either his greatest curse or blessing. If love be not the cement of the sacred union, truly will it be a bond of misery, from which only the special mercy of God can deliver. Let the worldly portion of the wife be the last consideration. Take heed, lest worldly glitter open a door for remediless misery.

The odious woman, when she is married, if she be in authority, becomes a national evil. Jezebel was a scourge to Israel—the spring of all Ahab's wickedness—that brought the heavy judgment of God upon the land. The earth was disquieted for her, and at the last cast her out. Herodias brought upon her husband and his nation the guilt of the blood of the murdered prophet "crying from the ground."4 If marriage be the ordinance of lust—not of godliness; what wonder, if an odious woman should be the result—a canker to every domestic comfort?

The last evil noticed is a frequent source of family trouble—an handmaid that is heir to her mistress. Want of discipline, simplicity, or integrity leads to waywardness and self-indulgence; and the house, instead of being under wholesome rule—becomes a prey to envy and strife. The ill-regulated connection between Abraham and Hagar, when the servant became heir to her mistress—occupying her mistress's place with her husband—became the source of most baneful contention. Our own history presents sad illustration of this intolerable evil. Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour were handmaids, and unhappily heirs to their respective mistresses, while living in the affections of the sovereign. The royal example of selfishness and lust was a national grievance, in which the handmaids were not wholly guiltless.

Nor are such cases unknown in modern society. An handmaid treated with that tender familiarity, which breaks down the Divine barriers between the several ranks—has sometimes offensively become heir to her mistress. Either she has succeeded to her property—perhaps to the exclusion of more rightful claimants; or risen to her place by marriage with her master—an ill assorted union—like that above-mentioned—usually productive of much family dissension.

How needful is it to preserve consistency in every part of our profession! Oh! let us look carefully to it, that no want of wisdom, godly contentment, or self denial, brings reproach upon that worthy name, by which we are called; that there be no spots, that mar that adorning beauty, which might attract those around us to the ways of God.

24. There be four things, which are little upon the earth, but they are exceeding wise: (wise, made wise, Marg.) 25. The ants are a people not strong; yet they prepare their meat in the summer: 26. The conies are but a feeble folk; yet make they their houses in the rocks; 27. The locusts have no king; yet go they forth all of them by bands; 28. The spider taketh hold with her hands, and is in king's palaces.

God teaches us by his works as well as by his word,—by his works, small as well as great. He instructed Job by Leviathan and Behemoth.2 Here he instructs us by the ants and the conies. And yet in the minute creation his splendor shines as gloriously as in the more majestic. Agur had before mentioned four things that seemed great, but were really despicable. Here he produces four things little upon the earth, but exceeding wise. Therefore despise them not for their littleness: but admire the wonder-working hand, which hath furnished these little creatures with such sufficient means of provision, defence, and safety. As has been beautifully remarked—'God reigns in a community of ants and ichneumons as visibly, as among living men or mighty seraphim.' Truly nothing was made for nought. The world of insects shows that, which will put to blush our higher world of reason. Yes—these four remarkable instances of Almighty skill—the natures and habits of these four little animals—teach many useful and important lessons; and "he that hath ears to hear may hear" words of suitable wisdom, rebuke, direction, and encouragement for himself.

'Industry is commended to us by all sorts of examples, deserving our regard and imitation. All nature is a copy thereof, and the whole world a glass, wherein we may behold this duty represented to us. Every creature about us is incessantly working toward the ends for which it was designed; indefatigably exercising the powers with which it is endued; diligently observing the laws of its creation.' The ants have already been our teachers—a people not strong; indeed so weak, that thousands are crushed by one tread of the foot; yet wise in preparing their meat in the summer. A quickening sermon do these little insects preach to us! They make preparation for the coming winter. What must be the thoughtlessness of making no provision for the coming eternity! whiling away life in inactivity, as if there was no work for God—for the soul—for eternity! Shall not we learn to be wise betimes; to improve the present moment of salvation; not to wait for the winter—the verge of life, when that grace—offered now—shall be offered no more? Sinner! if all be lost by thy indolence, wilt not thou be the great loser? What else hast thou to do, but to prepare for eternity? What hope canst thou have of heaven at the last, if thou hast never seriously thought of heaven before? Oh!—ere it be too late—throw thyself at his feet, whose heart overflows with love. If thou art ready, "all things are ready." Exclusion is with thyself, not with thy Saviour.

The ants are a people not strong. Yet what people—beside their wisdom—more diligent—more persevering—more effective? Indeed 'the union of so many noble qualities in so small a corpuscle is one of the most remarkable phenomena in the works of nature.' Weakness, then, is no excuse for indolence—no occasion of despondency. Is it not rather the cheering exercise of faith?3 "The worm shall thresh the mountains." To the diligent "laborer shall be given the meat, that endureth to everlasting life."5 In helpless dependence "working out his salvation," his "labor shall not be in vain in the Lord."

As the ants prepare their meat, so the conies their refuge. Feeble folk as they are, they secure themselves from impending danger, by making their houses in the holes of inaccessible rocks. Thus what they want in strength they make up in wisdom. Not less feeble are we—not less exposed to assault. And is not our refuge—like theirs—"the munition of rocks?" Are we then—like them—making our house—our home—there? abiding in our shelter in conscious security?

Observe again the instinct of the locusts. Some insects—like the bee—are under monarchical government. But the locusts have no king. Yet how wonderful is their order—going forth all of them by bands—like an army with unbroken ranks, and under the strictest discipline! Jerome mentions what he had lately seen—'When the swarms of locusts came, and filled the lower region of the air, they flew in such order, by the Divine appointment, and kept their places as exactly, as when several tiles or party-colored stones are skilfully placed in a pavement, so as not to be an hair's breadth out of their several ranks.' Do not these little insects read to us a lesson on the importance of unity and unanimous movement? Here is not an ungoverned disorderly multitude flying in different directions. But all go forth by bands. All keep their ranks. Many professors—instead of going by bands—prefer an individual course. They belong to no cohort. They are under no discipline. This unsettled principle can never issue in a Christian steadfastness. Unity—not diversity—brings "the good thing of the heart established with God." The strength of the Church is—not as an army of irregular soldiers, regiments in loose disorder, unconnected with each other; but when she goeth forth by bands—united; concentrated; well disciplined; every officer at his post; every soldier in his ranks; each under rule—helpful to each other and to their great cause! "When shall it once be?" Lord, heal our unhappy divisions. Unite our energies 'in one holy bond of Truth and Peace, of Faith and Charity.'4

And what lessons does the spider teach of ingenuity, patience, and untiring labor and perseverance! 'Its claws or spinning-organs serve both as hands and eyes to the animal.' She forms her web against the walls, as if she took hold of them with her hands. She frames her fine-spun house with such exactness of proportion, as if conversant with mathematical rule. She steals her way alike into the cottage of the poor, and the king's palaces; as if God would instruct even the great ones of the earth by this pattern of diligence. Such assiduity—such "diligence" in the work of our high calling—if it shall not bring us into the king's palaces, will ensure the full reward of the man, whom the Great "King delighteth to honor."8

How many of us stand condemned by the sermons of these little insects! Are we too proud to learn, or too careless to attend to, the humbling but most valuable lessons taught in the school of instruction? "A wise man will hear, and will increase learning."

29. There be three things which go well, yea, four are comely in going; 30. A lion, which is strongest among beasts, and turneth not away for any; 31. A greyhound: (a horse—girt in the loins, Marg.) an he-goat also; and a king, against whom there is no rising up.

Agur naturally lingers upon this vast field of natural wonders, such a splendid exhibition of the Divine perfections! the source of so much light to the world, before the Book of Revelation was fully opened. After having mentioned some striking instances of wisdom, he now singles out a few objects, which appeared to him remarkable for their comeliness in going—the firm and stately walk of the lion—fearless and proud—not turning away for any; the graceful form and the elegant and swift movements of the grey-hound; the he-goat at the head of the flock, their guide and protector; and the majesty of the king, inspiring all who approach him with reverence for his authority, and not suffering any rising up against the exercise of his power. From all these many practical lessons may be learned by the man. "who will be wise and observe these things."

Let us have regard—not only to the various duties of the Christian life, but also to the manner and spirit of their performance. Cultivate not only the integrity, but the comeliness of the Christian character—"the beauty" and uniformity of "holiness;" that there be nothing mishapen or distorted; that there be just proportion in all the parts and features. Christians should be attractive and engaging by the courtesy of their general demeanor. It is not enough to observe "whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure."—But "whatsoever things are lovely—whatsoever things are of good report—think on these things." Any manifest want of comeliness in our going repels the world from the gospel of Christ. 'If we desire to reign in heaven, we must present ourselves there with this beautiful crown, from whence radiate all kinds of virtue and praise.'

Nor let us forget to imitate the features of this comeliness here portrayed; to be fearless as the lion, when pursuing the path of duty, not turning away for any; to desire the eager spring of the greyhound in our heavenly course; to be useful as the he-goat, as the leader of a godly band; and to maintain our proper authority in any place of trust—as parents or guardians of families, and not to allow any rising up against it.

32. If thou hast done foolishly in lifting up thyself, or if thou hast thought evil, lay thine hand upon thy mouth. 33. Surely the churning of milk bringeth forth butter, and the wringing of the nose bringeth forth blood; so the forcing of wrath bringeth forth strife.

This evidently applies to the preceding illustration—a king against whom there is no rising. But if thou hast lifted up thyself in despising his authority; or even if thou hast but thought evil—lay thine hand upon thy mouth, restraining the ebullition in silent and humble submission. As a general rule, however, we may be thankful for the caution. If we have done foolishly by provoking irritation, in lifting up ourselves, at least in some evil thought, against a brother; quench the rising spark, ere it kindle into a flame. "The thought of foolishness is sin." Yet it is more sinful, when it forces its passage to the mouth. Words increase the sin, show more of its power, and are more hurtful to others. Obviously it is wise to lay our hand upon our mouth, and to restrain the expression, when we cannot prevent the thought. Better to keep in the infirmity, than to give it vent. But when, instead of the hand laid upon the mouth, there is no discipline, guard, or restraint, "the mouth of the fool poureth out foolishness;" overflowing at the lips, and bringing a flood of trouble upon the soul.6 How much more, when the proud worm lifts up itself against the Great King! The foolishness even of an evil thought against him is such, as no tongue can express. The Lord humble us with a tender sensibility of this sin! "Behold! I am vile: what shall I answer thee? I will lay mine hand upon my mouth."

Towards man however it is often the forcing of wrath—not natural irritation. A peaceable man may be goaded to anger; as the violent shaking of the milk in the churn bringeth forth butter; or the wringing of the nose bringeth forth blood. The action of force works what would not otherwise have been done. But fearful is the strife of this forced wrath. Sihon thus provoked his own ruin—the Ephraimites stirred up a murderous strife10—Asahel sharpened Abner's spear by his wilful waywardness—Amaziah plunged into destruction by the strife of the forced wrath of Joash, who was disposed to peace and quietness. How multiplied are the sources of misery—the fruit of ungovernable temper and self-will! "Only by pride cometh contention;"13 and where that contention may end, who can say? 'I am, and profess to be'—said the godly Bishop Hall—'as the terms stand, on neither, and yet on both parts; for the peace of both; for the humor of neither.'

An humble heart would repress the sparks of this unholy fire. A sorrowful spirit for the sins of our thoughts, would be a component part of the cure. We should not readily indulge the sin, for which we had been truly humbled before our God. Whereas in the want of this genuine spirit, how reluctant we are to acknowledge our offence towards each other! We can always find some good reason for lifting up ourselves, or for thinking evil. And how hard it goes with our proud tempers to be the first to lay our hands upon our mouths! How much more ready are we to open our mouths in self-justification, than in self abasement! Thus instead of quenching, we force, wrath. Instead of the "meekness of wisdom," there "is envy and strife, confusion, and every evil work;" enmity between nominal professors of the gospel, and distance even between those, who believe themselves to be members of the same body, heirs of the same inheritance,3 and bound by the same obligation to love one another. Oh! hasten the blessed time, when the Church shall be fully transformed into the image of the Divine Lord!—when it shall be a Church of perfect love in a world of love!

CHAPTER 31

1. The words of King Lemuel, the prophecy that his mother taught him. 2. What, my son? and what, the son of my womb? and what, the son of my vows?

OF King Lemuel we know no more than of the prophet Agur in the last chapter. All that we know is, that he was endowed like many of God's people,6 with the invaluable blessing of a godly mother; who, like Deborah of old, was honored of God, to be the author of a chapter of the Sacred Volume.

What an animating burst from the yearning of a mother's heart! What! my son—the son of my womb—of my vows! Happy mother—when the son of her womb is the son of her vows!—like Samuel—a dedicated child—a child of many prayers—"asked of the Lord—lent into his service." If there were more Hannahs, would there not be more Samuels? If thou wouldst have, Christian Mother, thy child a Samuel or an Augustine, be thyself a Hannah or a Monica! The child of thy prayers—of thy vows—of thy tears—will be in the Lord's best time the child of thy praises, thy rejoicings, thy richest consolation. Yet thy faith will not end with the dedication of thy child. Lemuel—the son of her vows—his mother taught him. And such is the practical habit of godliness! Faith in vowing quickens diligence in teaching. The child truly consecrated will be "brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."

3. Give not thy strength unto women, nor thy ways to that which destroyeth kings. 4. It is not for kings, O Lemuel, it is not for kings to drink wine: nor for princes strong drink: 5. Lest they drink and forget the law, and pervert (alter, Marg.) the judgment of any of the afflicted, (all the sons of affliction, Marg.) 6. Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts. (bitter of soul, Marg.) 7. Let him drink, and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more.

Solomon has given us his Father's wise counsels. Lemuel gives us his mother's. Both have an equal claim to reverence.4 Filled with deep anxiety, the impassioned tenderness bursts out in this godly mother; as if some besetting enticements were imminent—perhaps working poison in her beloved son. What! my son—the son of my womb—of my vows! My heart is full. I must give it vent. Have I endured all this travail in vain? Beware—Give not thy strength unto women. What a beacon had Solomon set up! What a beacon had he himself become!6 These forbidden gratifications were ways that destroyed kings. Such was the judgment upon David. His kingly authority was shaken. Solomon's sin destroyed his kingdom. The fruit of this sin is shame. The end of it—without repentance—is death.

The anxious mother next warns against another cognate sin—of intemperance. The vice that degrades a man into a beast, is shameful to all—specially unseemly for kings.—They are "the city set upon a hill." Men look, or ought to look, to them for guidance and example. What a sight for kings to drink wine and strong drink—to be given to it! Witness Elah—Benhadad11—Belshazzar—"the princes of Israel made sick with bottles of wine!"13 How was their high office and glory covered with shame! Sometimes it is pleaded as an excuse for sin. But if the drunken king forgets the law, and perverts the judgment; will he not be held responsible? Ahasuerus was doubtless responsible for his unseemly conduct to Vashti. Herod murdered the Baptist at an ungodly feast.2 Priest and prophet "err through strong drink." A wise veto therefore is set for the rulers of the Church—"Not given to wine."4

And yet the abuse of God's blessings does not destroy their use. "Wine is the gift of God. It maketh glad the heart of man." Yea—by a bold figure of its refreshment—it is said to "cheer God"6 also. Yet it is not for kings—for their indulgences and sinful excitement—but for those that need it. As restoratives and refreshments—cordials are seasonable in the hour of need. Give strong drink to him that is ready to perish; as the Samaritan gave it to the wounded traveller; as Paul prescribed it for "the infirmities" of his beloved son in the faith.8 Many a sinking spirit may be revived, and forget his misery under a well-timed restorative. The rule therefore of love and self-denial is—Instead of wasting that upon thyself, in the indulgence of appetite, which will only debase thy nature; see that thou dispense thy luxuries among those, who really require them. Seek out cases of penury and wasting misery. Let it be an honor to thee to bring in the poor that is cast out into thine house, that he may forget his poverty and remember his misery no more. May not this remind us of the Messenger of love, dealing with those that are ready to perish? Their conscience is loaded with guilt. Their hearts are heavy with a burden, which they can neither bear nor be rid of. He tells them of God's love to sinners; the ransom found for them; the welcome assured to them. This is a cordial of strong drink, and wine such as they need. The heavy heart becomes "no more sad." The former poverty is forgotten, and his misery is remembered no more. Happy minister, gifted, like his Divine Master, with "the tongue of the learned, that he should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary!"

8. Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointed to destruction. 9. Open thy mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and needy.

Very soundly does the mother inculcate mercy upon her royal son. This is one of the pillars of the King's throne. He must be the Father of his people—employing all his authority to protect those who cannot protect themselves. No case of distress, when coming to his knowledge, should be below his attention. Thus our law makes the judge the counsel for the prisoner, who is unable to plead for himself—opening his mouth for the dumb. Thus should magistrates most carefully consider, that no one should lose his just right from want of ability to defend it. Those who are, or appear to be, appointed to destruction, should have their fair and open course to plead and save their lives.

This it was, that made the difference between the prosperity of godly Josiah, and the ruin of his wicked son. How repeatedly did Jonathan open his mouth for his friend appointed for destruction! How effectively did Esther plead the cause of her helpless and devoted people!6 To descend into lower ranks (for why should we restrict these wise injunctions within the narrow limits of royalty?) what a complete pattern of this mercy does Job exhibit? "Eyes as he was to the blind, and feet to the lame," doubtless he perfected his character as "a father to the poor" by being a mouth to the dumb. How was Ebed-melech honored for this merciful advocacy of the condemned!8 How awful is the threatened vengeance for the neglect of his mercies! Alas! Jesus, though he had found an advocate in earlier times,10 yet stood as a sheep before his shearers—dumb, appointed for destruction. None was found to open his mouth for the Divine afflicted victim. And yet how does he reverse this picture of pitiless neglect, in his powerful effectual pleading in the cause of those, whom the voice of justice so loudly—so justly—appoints for destruction! Let his representatives on earth study the character of their King in heaven, and be conformed more fully to his image of forgiveness and love.

10. Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is above rubies.

We now come to the principal part of the chapter. The wise mother of Lemuel had warned her royal son against the seduction of evil women, and its attendant temptations, and given him wholesome rules for government. She now sets before him the fulllength portrait of a virtuous woman—that choicest gift, which is emphatically said to be "from the Lord." It is an elegant Poem of twenty-two verses—like the hundred and nineteenth Psalm, artificially constructed; each verse beginning with one of the successive letters of the Hebrew Alphabet.13 It describes a wife, a mistress, and a mother. 'All mothers and mistresses should teach the female pupils under their care to read and learn it by heart.'

So rare is this treasure, that the challenge is given—"Who can find a virtuous woman?" Abraham sent to a distant land for this inestimable blessing for his beloved son. Perhaps one reason of the rarity of the gift is—that it is so seldom sought. Too often is the search made for accomplishments—not for virtues; for external and adventitious recommendations, rather than for internal godly worth.

The enquiry also implies the value of the gift when found. Even Adam's portion in innocence was not complete, till his bountiful father "made him an helpmate for him." Truly her price is above rubies. No treasure is comparable to her. It is not too much to say with the prince of Heathen philosophy—'If women be good, the half of the commonwealth may be happy where they are.'4

11. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. 12. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.

The price of the virtuous woman has been told. Her different features will now be given. The first lines of the portrait describe her character as a wife. Her fidelity—oneness of heart—affectionate dutifulness—make the heart of her husband safely to trust in her. A faithful wife, and a confiding husband mutually bless each other. With such a jewel for his wife, the husband has no misgivings—he feels that his interests are safe in her keeping. There is no need to look into the matters entrusted to her with suspicious eye. He has no reserve—no jealousies. Ruling in his sphere without, he encourages her to rule in her sphere within. All is conducted with such prudence and œconomy, that he has no need of spoil—no temptation to unjust gain—no need to leave his happy home, in order to enrich himself with the soldier's spoils. The attachment of such a wife is as lasting as the time of their union—constant—consistent. Instead of abusing confidence, she only seeks to make herself daily more worthy of it—not fretful—and precarious; caring "how she may please her husband"—doing him good and not evil, all the days of her life. Would that it were always so! But look at Eve—the help-meet becoming a tempter: Solomon's wives drawing away his heart8—Jezebel stirring up her husband to abominable wickedness—Job's wife calling upon her husband to "curse God and die"10—the painful cross of "the brawling woman upon the house-top"—this is a fearful contrast—evil—not good. Often again is it a mixture of evil with the good. Rebekah caring for her husband in the art of opposition to God; yet wickedly deceiving him—Rachel loving Jacob; yet bringing idolatry into his family2—Michal doing good to David at first in preserving his life—evil afterwards in despising him as a servant of God. Often we hear of prudent management, but not in the fear of God—connected with a teazing temper. But in this picture it is good, and not evil. Her husband's character is her interest—her rest. To live for him is her highest happiness. Such a course of conduct upon Christian principles—how does it commend the holy and honorable estate of matrimony! How does it illustrate "the great mystery—Christ and his Church"—the identity of interest between them—her trials his5—his cause hers!

13. She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands. 14. She is like the merchants' ships: she bringeth her food from afar. 15. She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens. 16. She considereth a field, and buyeth it; with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard. 17. She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms. 18. She perceiveth (tasteth, Marg.) that her merchandize is good: her candle goeth not out by night. 19. She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff. 20. She stretcheth out (spreadeth, Marg.) her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy. 21. She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet (double garments, Marg.) 22. She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple. 23. Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land. 24. She maketh fine linen, and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant. 25. Strength and honor are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come. 26. She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. 27. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.

This lovely character is drawn according to the usage of ancient times; though the general principles are of universal application. It describes not only the wife of a man of rank, but a wise, useful, and goodly matron in her domestic responsibilities. It is "a woman professing godliness," adorned "with good works"—a Mary no less than a Martha. 'It may be necessary to retouch the lines of the picture, that have been obscured by length of years; in plain terms—to explain some parts of the description, which relate to ancient manners and customs, and to show how they may be usefully applied to those of our own age and country.'8

One thing however is most remarkable. The standard of godliness here exhibited is not that of a religious recluse, shut up from active obligations under the pretence of greater sanctity and consecration to God. Here are none of those habits of monastic ascetism, that are now extolled as the highest point of Christian perfection. One half at least of the picture of the virtuous woman is occupied with her personal and domestic industry. What a rebuke also does this convey to a self-indulgent inactivity! Her several employments admirably illustrate genuine simplicity of manners, and practical—yet liberal œconomy. Her personal habits are full of energy. Manual labor—even menial service—in olden times was the employment of females in the highest ranks. The virtuous woman went before her servants in diligence no less than in dignity. She sought out her materials for work. She set the pattern of working willingly with her hands. Instead of loitering herself, while they were laboring; she counted it no shame to be employed at the spindle and distaff. She was early and late at her work, rising in the night. The fruit of her work she turned to good account. She exchanged it in commerce for food brought from far. Her merchandize was good in quality—tapestry—fine linen—and girdles delivered to the merchant. Her whole soul was in her work—girding her loins with strength, and strengthening her arms; ready for any work befitting her sex and station. The land had also her due share of attention. Ever careful for her husband's interests, she considered the value of a field; and, if it were a good purchase, she bought it, and planted the vineyard for the best produce.

Observe also her conduct as a mistress. And here also her praise is not, that she spends her time in devotional exercises (though these as "a woman that feareth the Lord" she duly prizes); but that according to the Scriptural canon, "she guides her house,"6 watching carefully over her charge, distributing both her meat and her work in due proportion, and "in due season." This is her responsibility. If "man goeth forth to his work, and to his labor till the evening, the woman finds her work as "a keeper at home."8 And beautiful indeed is it to see, how her industry, self-denial, and heartiness "buildeth her house." It is not for the sake of being admired and talked of, that she rises, while it is yet night; it is to give meat to her household. The delicacy also, with which she preserves her own sphere, is remarkable. For while she provides food for the whole household, she giveth the portion—that is—of work—not to the man-servants (these with great propriety she leaves to her husband), but to her maidens. Their clothing is also provided with every regard to their comfort. While her own clothing is silk and purple, suitable to her station, every member of the household is cared for. She is not afraid of snow for them. They are clothed with scarlet, or rather with double garments—well clad for a severe winter. So well does she look to the ways of her household—such untiring energy does she show in every department—that none can accuse her of eating the bread of idleness. Nothing is neglected, that belongs to order, sobriety, œconomy, or general management.

Need we here advert to the wide exercise of discipline and self-denial involved in this care of our household? It implies looking well to their moral habits—their religious instruction—attendance on the means of grace—giving them time for secret prayer, and reading the word of God—the daily ordinance of family worship—the careful observance of the Sabbath—anxious watchfulness over their manners, habits, and connexions; in short—considering servants—not as beasts of burden—not as mere mercenaries—but as a solemn and responsible trust for God and for eternity. Who can have the claim to a virtuous woman who does not feel this weight of family responsibility?

Nor is her provident care limited to her own dependents. Her spindle and distaff are worked—not for herself only, or for her household, but for the poor and needy. And, having first "drawn out her soul," she stretcheth out her hands, to embrace as it were those at a distance from her with the flow of her love; and thus "the blessing of those that were ready to perish cometh upon her."6 Her spirit and manner also are of the same character—all in full accordance with her professions. Clever, brisk, and managing minds are often deficient in the softer graces. Their tongues are unrestricted, lawless under provocation. Children, servants, and neighbors, suffer from this revolting hardness, and find "it better to dwell in a corner of the house-top, than with a brawling woman in a wide house." But the godly matron has not only the law of love in her heart, but wisdom in her mouth, and in her tongue the law of kindness. The same love that binds her heart, governs her tongue, not with the caprice, but with the law, of kindness—a law, which she receives from wisdom, and which gives the mould to her whole spirit, so that 'she says nothing that is foolish, nothing that is ill-natured.' Richly endued with "the wisdom that is from above," she is "gentle, and easy to be entreated; pitiful, courteous."

Thus indeed "a virtuous woman is a crown to her husband." He is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land; as blessed with no common treasures of happiness; 'as indebted perhaps for his promotion to the wealth acquired by her management at home, and, it may be, for the preservation and establishment of his virtue to the encouragement furnished by her example and conversation.'

For herself—manifest—manifold blessings rest upon her Strength is the clothing of her inner man. Christian courage and resolution lift her up above appalling difficulties. The clothing of honor stamps her with the Lord's acceptance, as his faithful servant, the child of his grace, and the heir of his glory. She rejoices, not only in her present happiness, but in time to come. Having been so wisely provident for the morrow, she is not overburdened with its cares. Having lived in the fear of God, and honored her God with the fruits of righteousness; there is sunshine in her hour of trial, "in the valley of the shadow of death," in the unclouded day of eternity. She shall rejoice in time to come, when the ministering angels, and with them the blessed recipients of her bounty, shall welcome this daughter of Jerusalem "into the joy of her Lord."

28. Her children arise up, and call her blessed: her husband also, and he praiseth her. 29. 'Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.' 30. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. 31. Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gales.

The virtuous woman is obviously subserving her own interest. For what greater earthly happiness could she know than her children's reverence, and her husband's 'blessing?' We may picture to ourselves her condition—crowned with years; her children grown up; perhaps themselves surrounded with families, and endeavoring to train them, as themselves had been trained. Their mother is constantly before their eyes. Her tender guidance, her wise counsels, her loving discipline, her holy example, are vividly kept in remembrance; and they cease not to call her blessed, and to bless the Lord for her, as his invaluable gift. No less warmly does her husband praise her. His attachment to her was grounded, not on the deceitful and vain charms of beauty, but on the fear of the Lord, She is therefore in his eyes the stay of his declining years, the soother of his cares, the counsellor of his perplexities, the comforter of his sorrows, the sunshine of his earthly joys. Both children and husband combine in the grateful acknowledgment—Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.

But why—it may be asked—do external recommendations form no part of this portrait? All that is described is solid excellence; and favor is deceitful. A graceful form and mien often end in disappointment, more bitter than words can tell. Often do they furnish a cover for the vilest corruptions. And then beauty—what a fading vanity it is! One fit of sickness sweeps it away.3 Sorrow and care wither its charms. And even while it remains, it is little connected with happiness.5 It proves itself the fruitful occasion of trouble, the source of many hurtful temptations and snares;7 and, without substantial principle, to a well-judging mind it becomes rather an object of disgust rather than of attraction.

The portrait, pencilled by Divine inspiration, begins with the touch of a virtuous woman, and fills up the sketch with the lineaments of a woman that feareth the Lord. For the lovely features described—her fidelity to her husband; her active personal habits; her good management and diligence in her family; her consideration for the necessities and comforts of others; her watchfulness of conduct; her tenderness for the poor and afflicted; her kind and courteous behavior to all—this completeness of character and grace could only flow from that virtue, which is identified with vital godliness. They are the good fruit, that "prove the tree to be good." They are such fruit, flowing from a right principle, as the natural corrupt stock of man could never produce.

The virtuous woman seeks not the praise of men. Content to be known and loved within her own circle, she never presses herself into notice. But as a public blessing, she cannot be hid. And if she has no herald to sound her praise, all will say—Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates. 'Let every one'—says Bishop Patrick—'extol her virtue. Let her not want the just commendation of her pious labors. But while some are magnified for the nobleness of the stock, from whence they sprung; others for their fortune; others for their beauty; others for other things; let the good deeds, which she herself hath done, be publicly praised in the greatest assemblies; where, if all men should be silent, her own works will declare her excellent worth.' Add to this—as her works praise her in the gates, so will they "follow her. The memory of the just is blessed."

If this picture be viewed as an exhibition of godliness, we observe that religion does not slacken attention to temporal duties. It rather renders a woman scrupulously exact in all her household obligations, in every thing within her province; careful riot by her negligence to bring reproach upon her holy profession. Why should she be careless or slovenly, putting her important duties out of time, out of place? Of her it is specially expected, as the summing up of all her practical exercises, that "she should have diligently followed every good work."

How valuable also is this picture, as a directory for the marriage choice! Let virtue—not beauty—be the primary object. Set against the vanity of beauty the true happiness, connected with a woman that feareth the Lord. The external choice was the cause of the destruction of the world. The godly choice is uniformly stamped with the seal of Divine acceptance.

In fine—'if women'—says godly Bishop Pilkington—'would learn what God will plague them for, and how; let them read the third chapter of the prophet Esay. And if they will learn what God willeth them to do, and be occupied withal, though they be of the best sort, let them read the last chapter of the Proverbs. It is enough to note it, and point it out to them that will learn.' 'That which is last to be done'—concludes an old Expositor—'is to mark it well, and let every woman strive to make it agree to herself as much as she can. Let every man be ashamed, that any woman shall excel him in virtue and godliness.'4

'Thus'—says pious Matthew Henry, in his quaint style—'is shut up this looking-glass for ladies, which they are desired to open and dress themselves by; and if they do so, their adorning will be found to praise, and honor, and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ.'

We would conclude with a brief summary of a few prominent points involved in the study of this most instructive Book.

Let us observe the connection between inward principle and outward conduct. Never let it be forgotten, that the exercises, here described or inculcated, suppose an internal source. It is the light within, that shines without. The hidden life is thus manifested. The fountain sendeth forth its wholesome waters. The good tree bringeth forth good fruit. "A good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things." These therefore are the manifestations, not the innate principles. They flow from the cultivation of the source within. Nothing permanent is produced by change of opinion, excitement of feeling, conviction of conscience, but by a new mould of the heart. The "soft answer"7 is the outward exhibition of the softened and humbled heart. The religion of sincere purposes, however promising, withers away, "having no root in itself." The ways and fashions of the world therefore rule with a far mightier power, than the dictates of God's word, or the voice of conscience. The external apprehensions of the Christian system also are powerless without the internal principle. They exhibit a body of truth indeed, but a body without life, without any spring of influence or consolation. Religion grounded in the heart will regulate the outward conduct, and put every thing in its proper place and proportion.

Let us mark also the flow of true happiness throughout the whole sphere of godliness. Often has the wise man painted this connection in the most glowing interest. Most important is it to leave this impression upon the minds of all—specially of our young—readers—that religion is a joyous thing. With the world it is a matter to be endured, not to be enjoyed. The Pharisaic professor conceives of much to be done, but nothing to be enjoyed. With him it is a serious and most weighty concern. But no gleam of sunshine has he ever found in it. The man of pleasure has no conception of religion, except as the atmosphere of gloom—as absurd as to speak of the darkness of noon-day. But notwithstanding all these misconceptions, no reality is more undoubted than this—Holiness is happiness. It is not indeed the mirth of the fool, or the giddy gaiety of the thoughtless. But it is the only thing, that deserves the name of happiness—the only solid—permanent principle of enjoyment. The unenlightened mind associates it with restraint, never with freedom or confidence. But in fact actions that are valued according to their conformity with the will of God, though they be secular in their character, are a part of his service, and ensure his acceptance. Taking up this right standard, we shall be able to resist our ruling passion. We shall occupy no doubtful position. We shall adopt no questionable course. We shall not lend the influence of our character to the spirit of this world. We shall feel, that we have only one object—only one obligation—to maintain the honor of our God. And yet this yoke of strict discipline is our happiness, not our burden. It is linked with a foretaste of heavenly happiness, of which none of us have an adequate conception. Speculative religion is indeed dry and barren. Practical godliness is rich in its delights.3 And while the defect of earthly joy is, that it comes to an end; the perfection of this happiness is, that it will endure throughout eternity. Truly we have far more reason for joy than for mourning, and we are hasting onward to the home, where "the days of our mourning will be ended" for ever.

It is of great moment to remark the wise man's estimate of real good. Every particle of the chief good he centres in God. To find him is life. To fear him is wisdom.6 To trust him is happiness. To love him is substantial treasure.8 To neglect him is certain ruin. Now man is naturally an idolater. Himself is his centre, his object, his end. Instead of submitting to guidance, he guides himself. He disputes the sovereignty with God. He would amend the laws of the Great Lawgiver. Need we add—"This his way is his folly?"2 What then is the true good? "Acquaint thyself with God, and be at peace." Not real, but known excellence quickens the desire. Our known God will be our portion.4 He will claim our entire service. He will show himself to us as our chief good—a privilege worth ten thousand worlds to know—a satisfying portion for eternity.

Let us study Christian completeness and consistency. The elements of this character will be brought out by a diligent and prayerful study of this important Book. Let them be put together in their due connection and proportion; and "the man of God will be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works." We want religion to be to the soul, what the soul is to the body—the animating principle. The soul operates in every member. It sees in the eye, hears in the ear, speaks in the tongue, animates the whole body, with ease and uniformity, without ostentation or effort. Thus should religion direct, and regulate every thought, word, and act. In this day of light and knowledge, ignorance of our duty too often implies neglect of the means of instruction, and therefore is our aggravation, rather than our excuse. The grand object is, that the conscience be intelligently instructed under Divine teaching. Then let the daily course be carefully regulated by it. Never turn aside a single step from its guidance. Never admit the maxims or habits of this world. Guard against every thing, that damps vital spirituality, lowers the high Scriptural standard, or slackens the energy of unremitting Christian watchfulness. Let our path be steadily balanced between compromising concession and needless singularity. Let the Christian only walk with God in the way of the Gospel. He will never be satisfied with appearing to maintain his ground. But he will acknowledge the wisdom of the discipline, which allows him no enjoyment at the present moment, except in grasping at something beyond him.7 We want not a profession, that will give us a name in the Church, or even a stamp of reproach in the world; but which places the Divine image before our eyes, and animates us to a growing conformity to our standard. The conscience thus enlightened, and the heart readily following its voice—the sins that carry less reproach with the world will be resisted not less, than those which are more revolting. We shall no more indulge an uncharitable spirit than a course of profligacy. An angry tone, lowering look, sharp retort, or disparaging word, will cause grief to the conscience, and will be visited by its rebuke, as severely, as those gross ebullitions, which disgrace our character before men. "Walking thus before God"—not before men—is Christian perfection." His eye is our restraint—his judgment our rule—his will our delight.

But "Who is sufficient?" Child of God! let the trembling of insufficiency in thyself be stayed by the recollection of all-sufficiency in thy God. What he demands of thee, that he works in thee. His covenant secures thy holiness, no less than thine acceptance—thine holiness—not as some would have it, as the ground—but as the fruit—of thine acceptance. Let the one then be primarily sought; and the other will assuredly follow.

"I WILL PUT MY LAW IN THEIR INWARD PARTS, AND WRITE IT IN THEIR HEARTS.… FOR I WILL FORGIVE THEIR INIQUITY, AND I WILL REMEMBER THEIR SINS NO MORE."

THE END.

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