_The books which are of a composite character should be read in their
several parts, and traced to their proper places in history._
Thus, for example, in reading Isaiah uncritically we pass from the
fragment of history that forms our thirty-ninth chapter, to the
magnificent strain of impassioned imagination which opens with the
fortieth chapter, as though there were no hiatus; and we proceed straight
through this latter section of the book, taking it all as written in the
reign of Hezekiah, that is, in the latter part of the eighth century
before Christ. We thus view this second section of Isaiah from a wrong
standpoint. The panorama of its visions becomes blurred. We cannot focus
the glass upon the objects in its field. The real significance and beauty
of this noblest reach of prophetic imagination evanishes from our vision.
To see this second section of Isaiah aright, we must push it down the
stream of time nearly two hundred years. It is the work of a prophet, or
group of prophets, in the latter part of the exile, about the middle of
the sixth century before Christ. Watching the signs of the times, the
gifted and gracious spirit who led this chorus of hope saw tokens, as of
the dawning of day after the long, dark night. Rumors of the all
conquering Cyrus, the Medo-Persian king, made Babylon tremble with fear,
and Israel thrill with excited expectation. In the ethical and spiritual
religion of the advancing Persians, the Jews might look for a bond of
sympathy. It would be the policy of Cyrus to make friends of the foes of
Babylon, and to place the captive people in their own land on the borders
of his empire, as his grateful feudatories. The seer saw thus, in the
conquering hero, the Servant of God, raised up to restore the chosen
people to their native country. Prophecy kindled anew for its final flame,
and burst forth in the immortal strain of hope for the long-tried Israel:
Comfort ye, comfort ye my people,
Saith your God.
Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her,
That her warfare is accomplished,
That her iniquity is pardoned.
I never read this sublime chapter without a fresh thrill, as I hear the
voice of a crushed race, lifting amid its misery a cry of unconquerable
confidence in the Just and Holy One, who was ordering alike the embattled
armies of earth and the starry hosts of the skies, and through history, as
in nature, was sweeping on resistlessly to fulfill the good pleasure of
His Will. No wonder the matchless oratorio of the Messiah opens with this
aria, abruptly as the original words are spoken in Isaiah. They sound the
key-note of the good tidings of great joy which, growing as a hope in
men's souls through the centuries, became a faith, an assured conviction,
in the life of the Christus Consolator; in whom God is seen as "Our Father
which art in heaven."
Every gem of this second section of Isaiah takes on a new lustre in this
setting. It is the cry of the lost sheep in the wilderness, catching
sight of the Shepherd who they thought had forgotten them, that we hear in
the gracious strain:
He shall feed his flock like a Shepherd,
He shall gather the lambs with his arm,
And carry them in his bosom,
And shall gently lead those that are with young.
The vision of the Suffering, Righteous Servant of God grows clear and
pathetic in the true historic light. The chastened nation feels itself
called to a higher mission than that of political power. It is to teach
the other nations of the earth the knowledge of God. That knowledge it is
itself to learn in the school of sorrow. It is to save humanity through
the sacrifice of itself. Thus the secret of suffering is spelled out, not
for ancient Israel alone, but for all mankind; the secret which is
shrined, for ever sacred to us, in the story of our Lord Christ; from whom
you and I this day, through a simple symbol, are to learn anew that if we
sorrow it is that we may be made perfect through suffering, and thus be
fitted to lead our fellows up into the light and love of God.