[_October 5._]
THE STRANGE BARGAIN.—In a well known city there lived two merchants—one
of them a skillful arithmetician, and generally an able man; the other,
inexperienced in figures, and by no means a match for the former in
talent. They made the following bargain: The first sold a horse to the
second; but instead of fixing a definite sum of money as the price, they
agreed that it should be regulated by the thirty-two nails with which
the four shoes were fastened to the animal’s hoofs, and should be paid
in millet, one grain being given for the first nail, two for the second,
four for the third, eight for the fourth, and so on; that is, doubling
the number at every nail. The buyer was at first delighted at purchasing
a fine charger for what he fancied a very moderate price; but, when the
account came to be settled, he found that the quantity of grain which,
by the terms of the agreement, he was required to pay, was enormous. In
fact, he would have been reduced to beggary, if some sensible friends had
not interposed and procured a dissolution of the bargain. Gotthold, who
heard the story, observed: “Well does it exemplify the wiles of Satan. By
promising merry hours and temporal gain, he persuades and seduces man at
first into what he calls venial faults, and labors to keep them in these
until they have grown into a habit. Afterwards he advances by geometrical
progression. Sin grows from sin, and one transgression follows another,
the new being always the double of the old; and so the increase proceeds,
until at last the base pleasure which has been bought, can be paid for
only with that which is above all price, namely, the immortal soul;
unless, indeed, God mercifully interpose in time with his holy spirit,
opening the sinner’s eyes, convincing him of the deception, and inducing
him to revoke the bargain, and implore help and deliverance from his
Savior, Jesus Christ. It is therefore best to keep one’s self aloof in
every way from Satan and his concerns, and to regard no sin as venial and
small. How can it be that, when it is committed in opposition to the holy
will of the Most High God?”
My God! teach me to reckon every sin great, so long as I live; but oh,
let me look upon the very greatest sins as little, when I die!
THE LOCK.—A lock was shown to Gotthold, constructed of rings, which were
severally inscribed with certain letters, and could be turned round until
the letters represented the name Jesus. It was only when the rings were
disposed in this manner that the lock could be opened. The invention
pleased him beyond measure, and he exclaimed: Oh that I could put such
a lock as this upon my heart! Our hearts are already locked, no doubt,
but generally with a lock of quite another kind. Many need only to hear
the words _Gain_, _Honor_, _Pleasure_, _Riches_, _Revenge_, and their
heart opens in a moment, whereas, to the Savior and to his holy name it
continues shut. Lord Jesus, engrave thou thy name with thine own finger
upon my heart, that it may remain closed to worldly joy and to worldly
pleasure, self-interest, fading honor and low revenge, and open only to
thee!
THE FRUITFUL TREE.—Passing a garden, Gotthold observed a pear tree whose
branches were bending to the ground, as if they would break with the
weight of the fruit. On asking a friend, who was with him, “What do you
think it is which this tree needs?” he was answered: “A prop or two to
support the overloaded boughs.” “No,” rejoined Gotthold, “but hands to
pluck, and baskets to contain the fruit. It presents to us a beautiful
emblem of the Lord Jesus, our beloved Savior. He needs me, and I him;
and so we suit each other, nor think it strange when I say that the Lord
Jesus needs me, I mean that he needs me as this tree does baskets, or
as the widow’s cruse, which God had blessed, needed empty vessels to
contain the oil.… Love constrains the Lord to seek me, as my wants do me
to seek him. He possesses all things—heaven, earth, and all which they
contain; but these he does not need. What he needs is souls and hearts
to replenish with his grace and spirit, and bless with his salvation. O
mighty love, tender compassion, and mercy of our Savior! He, who needs
nothing else, can not do without sinful and wretched man.”
THE CHILD AT PLAY.—A little boy was running about in an apartment,
amusing himself as children are accustomed to do. His money was
potsherds, his house bits of wood, his horse a stick, and his child a
doll. In the same apartment sat his father, at a table, occupied with
important matters of business, which he noted and arranged for the future
benefit of his young companion. The child frequently ran to him, asked
many foolish questions, and begged one thing after another as necessary
for his diversion. The father answered briefly, did not intermit his
work, but all the time kept a watchful eye over the child to save him
from any serious fall or injury. Gotthold was a spectator of the scene,
and thought with himself: “How beautiful an adumbration of the fatherly
care of God! We, too, who are old children, course about in the world,
and often play at games which are much more foolish than those of our
little ones; we collect and scatter, build and demolish, plant and pluck
up, ride and drive, eat and drink, sing and play, and fancy that we
are performing great exploits, well worthy of God’s special attention.
Meanwhile, however, the Omniscient is sitting by, and writing our days
in his book. He orders and executes all that is to befall us, overruling
it for our best interests in time and in eternity; and yet his eye never
ceases to watch over us, and the childish sports in which we are engaged,
that we may meet with no deadly mischief.”
“My God! such knowledge is too wonderful for me. It is high, and I can
not attain unto it; but I shall thank and praise thee for it. O, my
Father! withhold not from me thy care and inspection, and, above all,
at those times when, perhaps, like this little one, I am playing the
fool!”—_From Gotthold’s “Emblems.”_
[_October 12._]
Thus all history is swallowed up in boundless sorrow and remorse for
that he is still laden with his boundless infirmity. But he hath delight
and joy in that he seeth that the goodness of God is as great as his
necessities, so that his life may well be called a dying life, by reason
of such his griefs and joys, which are conformable and like unto the life
of our Lord Jesus Christ, which from beginning to end was always made
up of mingled grief and joy. Grief in that he left his heavenly throne
and came down into this world; joy in that he was not severed from the
glory and honor of the Father. Grief in that he was the son of man; joy
in that he nevertheless was and remained the Son of God. Grief, because
he took upon him the form of a servant; joy in that he was nevertheless
a great Lord. Grief, because in human nature he was mortal, and died
upon the cross; joy, because he was immortal, according to his godhead.
Grief in his birth, in that he was once born of his mother; joy, in that
he is the only begotten of God’s heart from everlasting to everlasting.
Grief, because he became in time subject to time; joy, because he was
eternal before all time, and shall be so forever. Grief, in that the word
was born into the flesh, and hath dwelt in us; joy, in that the word was
in the beginning with God, and God himself was the word. Grief, in that
it behooved him to be baptized, like any human sinner, by St. John the
Baptist, in the Jordan; joy, in that the voice of his heavenly Father
said of him: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Grief,
in that, like others, sinners, he was tempted of the enemy; joy, in that
the angels came and ministered unto him. Grief, in that he ofttimes
endured hunger and thirst; joy, because he is himself the food of men and
angels. Grief, in that he was often wearied with his labors; joy, because
he is the rest of all loving hearts and blessed spirits. Grief, forasmuch
as his holy life and sufferings should remain in vain for so many human
beings; joy, because he should thereby save his friends. Grief, in that
he must needs ask to drink water of the heathen woman at the well; joy,
in that he gave to that same woman to drink of living water, so that she
should never thirst again. Grief, in that he was wont to sail in ships
over the sea; joy, because he was wont to walk dry shod upon the waves.
Grief, in that he wept with Martha and Mary, over Lazarus; joy, in that
he raised their brother Lazarus from the dead. Grief, in that he was
nailed to the cross with nails; joy, in that he promised paradise to the
thief by his side. Grief, in that he thirsted when hanging on the cross;
joy, in that he should thereby redeem his elect from eternal thirst.
Grief, when he said, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me;” joy,
in that he would, with these words, comfort all sad hearts. Grief, in
that his soul was parted from his body, and he died and was buried; joy,
because on the third day he rose again from the dead, with a glorified
body.
Thus was all his life, from the manger to the cross, a mingled web of
grief and joy. Which life he hath left as a sacred testament to his
followers in this present time, who are converted unto his dying life,
that they may remember him when they drink of his cup, and walk as he
hath walked! May God help us so to do! Amen.—_From Tauler._
[_October 19._]
I count it the most grievous offense which the honor of Christianity has
to sustain, that some of its ostentatious disciples confine their piety
to the Sabbath and its ordinances, and banish God from the week-day
employment of ordinary business. Whence that disgusting censoriousness
which spreads the tincture of gall over so many a religious conversation?
Whence that low tone of honesty and truth, which … is so often found to
accompany the uniform appearance, and I believe, too, the occasional
reality, of zeal in matters of religion? Whence, in fact, that separation
of religious from social duty we so often meet with, not merely in their
conception, but in their example and practice?… Alas! against them,
too, we can prefer the charge of not “doing all things,” and we can
substantiate it. With the mark of godliness upon their forehead, their
conduct for the great majority of their time says: “We will not have God
to rule over us.” He is only their occasional God. The easy offering of
their prayers in the family, or of their attendance in the church and at
the table, is ever in readiness. But the living sacrifice of the whole
body, soul, and spirit, is withheld from him. He is deposed from his
right and sovereignty over every minute of their existence; and instead
of his law reaching to all their concerns, and bringing the whole man
under its obedience, we see that in the vast majority of their doings
they cast him off, and are as much the slaves of their own temper, and
inclination, and interest, as if God had not a will for them at all times
to obey, and as if Christ had never set an example before them to study
and to imitate.
Hold, ye hypocrites! who talk of this as the season that is given to the
love of Christ and to the memorial of his atonement! Did not Christ order
away a disciple from his altar?—and upon what errand? Upon what you, it
seems, would call the very worldly and unsuitable employment of making up
a quarrel with a neighbor? Did not Christ say, “If ye love me, keep my
commandments?” And yet the minister who expounds these commandments, and
presses their observance upon you, is looked upon as preaching another
gospel than what Christ left behind him. Oh! when will men cease to put
asunder what God hath joined; and taking their lesson from the Bible, as
little children, submit to it without a murmur, in all its parts, and in
all its varieties!
But let the minister of God be gentle with all men, and humble under the
feeling of his own infirmities. Let him, however zealous for the truth
as it is in Jesus, learn that there is nothing in the purity of his own
practice to justify a tone of indignant superiority to others. It is
easy to see and to approve that which is excellent; but how shall we
compass the doing of it? It is easy to expatiate on the frailties and
the delusions of men; but how shall he manage for himself, when told by
his own melancholy experience that he shares in them? It is easy to
acknowledge the right and the sovereignty of God in all things, and to
press his earnest assurances upon you, that you are wrong, if you suffer
not the word of exhortation urging you to the daily walk and duties of
the Christian; but to what refuge can he fly, when he finds that he
is himself a defaulter, and that after having warmed his heart at the
inconsistency of others, and penned his sentences against it, he mingles
in the business of his work and his family, and forgetting that the eye
of his God follows him there, falls a helpless victim to the imbecilities
of our ruined nature?—_From Dr. Chalmers._
[_October 26._]
The Christian minister needs often to be reminded of this great end of
his office, the perfection of the human character. He is too apt to rest
in low attainments himself, and to be satisfied with low attainments in
others. He ought never to forget the great distinction and glory of the
gospel—that it is designed to perfect human nature. All the precepts of
this divine system are marked by a sublime character. It demands that
our piety be fervent, our benevolence unbounded, and our thirst for
righteousness strong and insatiable. It enjoins a virtue which does not
stop at what is positively prescribed, but which is prodigal of service
to God and to mankind. The gospel enjoins inflexible integrity, fearless
sincerity, fortitude which despises pain and tramples pleasure under
foot in the pursuit of duty, and an independence of spirit which no
scorn can deter and no example seduce from asserting truth and adhering
to the cause which conscience approves. With this spirit of martyrs,
this hardness and intrepidity of soldiers of the cross, the gospel calls
us to unite the mildest and weakest virtues; a sympathy which melts
over others’ woes; a disinterestedness which finds pleasure in toil,
and labors for others’ good; a humility which loves to bless unseen,
and forgets itself in the performance of the noblest deeds. To this
perfection of social duty, the gospel commands us to join a piety which
refers every event to the providence of God, and every action to his
will; a love which counts no service hard, and a penitence which esteems
no judgment severe; a gratitude which offers praise even in adversity;
a holy trust unbroken by protracted suffering, and a hope triumphant
over death. In one word, it enjoins that, living and confiding in Jesus
Christ, we make his spotless character, his heavenly life, the model of
our own. Such is the sublimity of character which the gospel demands, and
such the end to which our preaching should ever be directed.
… We need to feel more deeply that we are entrusted with a religion
which is designed to ennoble human nature; which recognizes in man the
capacities of all that is great, good and excellent, and which offers
every encouragement and aid to the pursuit of perfection. The Christian
minister should often recollect that man, through prepense to evil, has
yet power and faculties which may be exalted and refined to angelic
glory; that he is called by the gospel to prepare for the community of
angels; that he is formed for unlimited progress in intellectual and
moral excellence and felicity. He should often recollect that in Jesus
Christ our nature has been intimately united with the divine, and that in
Jesus it is already enthroned in heaven. Familiarized to these generous
conceptions, the Christian preacher, whilst he faithfully unfolds to
men their guilt and danger, should also unfold their capacities for
greatness; should reveal the splendor of that destiny to which they are
called by Christ; should labor to awaken within them aspirations after
a nobler character and a higher existence, and to inflame them with the
love of all the graces and virtues with which Jesus came to enrich and
adorn the human soul. In this way he will prove that he understands the
true and great design of the gospel and the ministry—which is nothing
less than the perfection of the human character.—_From Channing._