In directing our attention to this text, we would regard, _I. by
whom the words were spoken_, and _II. of whom they were spoken_. At
the time of our Savior's birth the spiritual conditions in the land
of Israel were distressingly sad; religious life had become very
degenerate and corrupt; all manner of sects, like the Pharisees and
Sadducees, with their stiff and ossified formalism, ceremonialism,
materialism, had caused a dark eclipse to come over the once living
faith of God's chosen people. Things were droughty and dead. But no
period is ever so desperate, the Church of God never so forlorn and
miserable as not to have in it some true children of faith, yea,
when things are at the worst, divine Goodness is sure to interfere
to bring about a change for the better; and so it was in these
desolate days of Judaism. Residing in the hill country of Judea
was an aged couple; they had lived long together without being
blessed with offspring. This, with the Jews, was not only a defect
in matrimonial happiness, but a positive reproach. The name of
this pair was Zacharias and Elizabeth. Zacharias was a priest, and
Elizabeth was of the daughters of Aaron, and the testimony given of
their character in Holy Scripture is that they were both righteous
before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the
Lord blameless--a devout and honorable pair. One day, so runs the
story in the beginning verses of the Gospel of St. Luke, while he
was engaged in his ministry, offering incense in the temple, there
appeared unto Zacharias at the right-hand side of the altar an angel
of God, and told him that his prayers were answered and that he
would receive a son, whom he should call John. Zacharias startled
at the heavenly apparition, and quite forgetful of the birth of an
Isaac and Samson and Samuel, and that what happened of old might
again happen, since nothing is impossible with God, he skeptically
asked for a sign as the proof of the angel's message, whereupon the
angel replied: "I am Gabriel, that stand in the presence of God, and
am sent to speak unto thee and show thee these glad tidings. And,
behold, thou shalt be dumb, and not able to speak, until the day
that these things shall be performed, because thou believest not
my words, which shall be fulfilled in their season." When Zacharias
came out of the temple to the multitude of worshipers that had been
impatiently waiting for his return, he beckoned to the people with
his hand, and they perceived that he had seen a vision.
Nine months had elapsed after that miraculous visitation and
annunciation of the angel, when the details in the paragraph
immediately preceding our text came to pass. Elizabeth, having
received the fulfillment of the heavenly message, and a company of
her neighbors and relatives having gathered for the circumcision of
the child, a question of friendly contention arose over the name,
the most of them being in favor of calling him after the name of his
father, Zacharias. Zacharias, being consulted and asking for a slate
whereupon to write his opinion, wrote the name John. By this writing
he showed that he consented in the name of the child according to
the angel's direction, and it says: "His mouth was immediately
opened and his tongue loosed, and he spake and praised God in a
song of blessing and joy." This song of Zacharias, which is called
the "Benedictus," because it begins with the word "Benedictus" or
Blessed, is one of the treasured songs of the Church.
Significant--as we read that song it is that his own circumstances
largely are overlooked or disregarded. Two grand and miraculous
events had just happened to him, the birth of a son and the recovery
of speech. These, it may be supposed, would have primarily employed
his mind and called forth his praise and adoration to God; but
whilst he does speak a few words of exultation over his son, a
great, more transporting, and august theme fills his breast; he
thinks in pious rapture of the prophecies that have gone before, the
promises of God by the mouth of His inspired servants, that He would
send a mighty Savior to deliver His people. Now that his own son,
who was to be the forerunner of the Lord and messenger, was born,
he sees the incarnation of this almighty Deliverer begun; under
prophetic inspiration he proclaims what first happened six months
after: "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; for He hath visited and
redeemed His people," and none among us are less interested in
this propitious event than Zacharias was. We have before us the
same prophecies that Zacharias had; we have the same need of this
Savior, and we desire the same blessings from Him which he did. Why,
then, should it not be the rapture of our hearts, the topic of our
triumphant song, as it was of his? With pious joy let us hail the
glorious festival that shall be upon us in a few days, and in this
may our reflection on our text aid us.
"The Dayspring from on high hath visited us." It is interesting to
note how to one whose heart is wrapped up in Christ every object
becomes a preacher, a memorial. That beautiful star, last in the
train of night and first in the forehead of morning, sings of Him
who is the bright Morning Star. That orb in the skies, shedding
the benignant rays over the earth, tells of Him who is the Sun of
Righteousness with healing in His wings. The bread which I eat
becomes to me a symbol of Him who is the Bread of Life; the water
which I drink reminds me of the living water whereof who drinks
shall never thirst again. In brief, Christ is seen in everything,
in every object of external nature, and so with the figure employed
by Zacharias in these words: "the Dayspring," or, as we would
say--the dawn of the morning. Beautiful is dawn. The ancient poets
have represented it as a lovely maiden rising from the waters of
the East (casting aside the gloomy veil of night), and hastening
forward on the foremost rays of light, to open the gates of day,
whilst her rosy fingers scatter abroad the drops of sparkling dew.
Zacharias employs the same illustration only to a subject more
noble. He sees Messiah near at hand, breaking on the world just like
the approach of dawn. Yes, the vision of His coming is so clear that
he says not, "The Dayspring shall visit us," but, "The Dayspring
hath visited us." Let us spend a few moments in considering, not
every, but a few features that connect with this description of our
Lord as the "Dayspring from on high." And here, to begin with, we
have a significant thought. "The Dayspring from on high" suggests
His _origin_. The day-dawn comes from the heaven; it is not of
man's ordering and making, but of God's; it bears the imprint of
the Creator's hand, and for this reason the Bible styles Him "the
Father of lights," and says: "Every good and every perfect gift is
from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights." So with this
Dayspring, Christ,--He is from on high. His origin and His coming
are divine. We sing:
True Son of the Father, He comes from the skies,
To be born of a virgin He does not despise.
This earth is not His home, as it says: "The Dayspring from on high
hath visited us." He came from elsewhere and He departed again
elsewhere. From eternity He lay in the bosom of the Father, and
when the fullness of time was come, He descended upon this earth
and tabernacled among us thirty and three years, and then returned
to the glory whence He came forth. It was, indeed, a transcendent
sojourn, a visit that spells everything, that connects with
salvation and blessedness. Yes, it was only a visit; He was from
on high. To use the words of the Nicene Creed: Christ is true God,
begotten of the Father from eternity, God of God, Light of Light
(note that expression as in accordance with the figure in the text),
very God of very God, begotten, not made; being of one substance
with the Father, who for us men and for our salvation, came down
from heaven and was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary,
and was made man. Verily, He was the Dayspring from on high.
Again, observe _the manner of His coming_,--how like the day-dawn.
What so gentle as the light of morning, rising mutely in the
brightening east and pouring the light so softly that never a leaf
is stirred; noiselessly, peacefully does it make its approach.
So when the Savior was born, He came into the world silently and
unobtrusively. All heaven was moved and followed Him down to the
threshold of earth; but few on earth were aware of it. One solitary
star pointed to the humble birthplace, and the hymn that sang of it
was heard only at night by a few watching shepherds, and His whole
life partook of the same character. For which reason we sing in one
of our favorite hymns:
As His coming was in peace,
Noiseless, full of gentleness,
Let the same mind be in me
That was ever found in Thee.
He came like the dawn in its soft and silent approach. Then, also,
in another manner. Not suddenly, nor all at once. The sun's rising
is a gradual and progressive thing. First, there is but a faint gray
twilight, softening the darkness and heralding what is to come,
then a few dim purple streaks spread upon the far eastern horizon,
followed shortly by the golden tips of the great luminary lifting
the gates of the morning. So with our divine Dayspring. From all
eternity it was determined that this Dayspring should come. Adam,
going weeping from a paradise lost, and after him Seth and Enoch
and Noah and Shem and Abraham beheld from afar the early dawn, the
dim and vague streaks. The types and holy sacrifices offered in the
temple after that, the psalms and prophecies given by God's inspired
servants, gave still nearer and clearer views of what was to come.
Zacharias exults as he sees the tips, as it were, beginning to
appear. And we, with the whole Christian world, are hastening these
days in spirit to see the sun rising over the hills of Judea in
Bethlehem's town. How in its promises and preparations--its gradual
development--was the coming of Christ like the day-spring, the
rising dawn.
Nor can we afford to overlook one other feature in the manner of
Christ's visit as the Dayspring. The sun comes every morning,
shining for all and singling out none. There is a universality of
kindness about it. The poorest man and the richest, all classes and
all things, have the same access to its undivided radiance. How much
is this like Christ's coming! "God so loved the world that He gave
His only-begotten Son." "Behold," was the angelic proclamation on
Christmas night, "I bring you glad tidings of great joy which shall
be to _all_ people." The Christmas story enters into the world with
the broad universal look of daylight. It is as wide and open to all
as is this earth. It singles out none, it excludes none, it wishes
to bless a whole guilty world with the same impartiality as the sun.
The Christmas message is unlimited in its invitation: "Come hither,
ye faithful, O come, one and all." Silently, gradually, universally,
hath and doth the Dayspring from on high visit us. And why--that is
the concluding feature of our contemplation, why has it visited us?
What is its object in doing so?
The sun is the dispenser of the world's light and warmth and
fruitfulness. Without the day-dawn everything would be chilliness,
darkness, desolation, and death. Let the sun arise, shoot forth his
cheering and enlivening rays,--the dormant germs start up, the buds
swell, the birds sing, and man goes forth to ply the occupation
of his hands. Christ is the same to the human race. He rose above
the darkness of Judaism and over the night of heathenism. He
declared: "I am the Light of the world." "When once Thou visitest
the heart, the truth begins to shine." New life, new energy, new
understanding takes hold upon the dormant and dead soul, and the
fruits of righteousness spring up. To quote the text and language of
Zacharias: "To give light to them that sit in darkness and in the
shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace." There is
not the least exaggeration about it; wherever Christ is preached,
the darkness flees as night flies before the sun, the clouds of
ignorance and superstition pass away. Pardon of sin, purity of
morals, comfort in affliction, triumph in death,--these are a
portion of what follows. Do these things not constitute the light of
life of man? What else does?
Is, to conclude, Christ such a light to you? Would you permit this
season to pass without diligently inquiring whether "the Dayspring
from on high" has visited your souls? Do you rejoice at His coming
with holy joy? Invigorating, inspiring is the sight of a morning
dawn; are you so welcoming again the Dayspring from on high about
to send its healing beams, its cheering, holy splendor upon our
world? Open your hearts to receive and to realize the significance
and blessedness of this "Dayspring from on high, which by the tender
mercy of our God hath visited us." Amen.