so in the official declaration of doctrine and of duty,
_faithfulness_ is the first and most essential qualification. No
"gift," no bribe, no love of gain,--or, in the apostle's words,
"greed of filthy lucre,"--must ever be allowed to corrupt "the man of
God," and tempt him either to pervert or to keep back the truth--to
"shun to declare" any part of "the counsel of God," or to utter a
single sentiment but what he believes to be a lesson of God's Word,
a Divinely authorised message. For a minister of Christ either to
say what is false or to withhold what is true, from a wish to please
those on whom he may feel himself dependent, is as unworthy of him as
for a judge on the civil bench to pervert justice, and may be to
others unspeakably more mischievous. The decisions of the latter can
affect only what is temporary; the effects of the former's unfaithful
temporising may extend to eternity. The guilt of the former,
therefore, may be greater than that of the latter, in the proportion
of the value of the _soul_ to the _body,_ of _eternity_ to _time._
There must be no bribery or corruption here. O to be able to say with
Paul, "I am clear from the blood of all men."--_Wardlaw._
When Jacob, blessing the sons of Joseph, put his hands across, and
laid his right hand on the head of Ephraim the younger, and his left
hand on the head of Manasseh the elder, the thing displeased Joseph.
But Jacob refused to have his hands removed. Now that which Jacob did
in the blessing of his grandchildren, the same is the cursed doing of
many who in the world are seated in the place of justice. For those
whom God setteth on His right hand, they set on the left, those who
God setteth on His left hand they set on the right. . . . And though
God Himself call to them, _Not so,_ yet they refuse to alter their
sentence. . . . And though their hands in justifying go across, yet
being joined together in wickedness they are both an abomination to
the Lord.--_Jermin._
_He that saith to the wicked, thou are righteous_ (1) condemneth the
law of God, for that condemneth the wicked; (2) doth as much as he
may to bring sin into credit, that others also should practise it
without fear or reproach; (3) hardeneth the heart and hurteth the
soul of the offender, debarring him from corrections, which are God's
medicines for the curing of evils. He dealeth as a murderer under the
name of a physician that encourageth his patient to eat the poison
freely.--_Dod._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 16.
NEGLECTED OPPORTUNITIES.
+I. One of the uses which ought to be made of wealth.+ Men ought to
use it to "get wisdom." it is obvious that a wealthy man has more
opportunities of gaining knowledge than a poor man has, and an
increase of knowledge ought to make a man wiser. A rich man's wealth
gives him access to the wisdom of the great minds of past ages, and
it often obtains for him the companionship of the most learned men of
his own generation. It enables him to gain a knowledge of the world
on which he lives and of the men who people it; by travel he can
stand face to face with all the glorious works of God in nature, and
he can mingle with men of various races and see human nature in all
its various phases. And these experiences ought to make him a wise
man. Wealth is given to men for this purpose, among others, to make
them intellectually and morally better--for although spiritual
blessings cannot be purchased for money, yet where the grace of God
is in the heart, the "price in the hand" will increase a man's
opportunities of growing in the knowledge of God and in the practice
of godliness. Those who are _"rich in this world"_ may and ought to
lay _"up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time
to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life"_ (1 Tim. i. 17-19).
Their wealth ought not to be a hindrance but a help to high spiritual
attainments. When we use bread rightly we get strength out of it;
when we use water rightly we get refreshment out of it; when we use
light rightly we get guidance out of it; and when the gift of wealth
is rightly used, men get wisdom out of it.
+II. Wealth bestowed, where we can give no reason for its bestowal.+
Wealth in the hand of a fool seems thrown away. If we saw a bundle of
bank-notes in the hands of an infant we should at once say they were
in the wrong hand; but many a princely fortune is at the disposal of
men who are as incapable now of putting it to a good use, as they
were when they were children. Neither the head nor the heart are
capable of guiding the hand--there is neither moral nor intellectual
capability to make the riches the means of blessing even the
possessor. _"Wherefore,"_ then, _"is there a price in the hand of a
fool to get wisdom,"_ especially when there are so many men in
poverty who would make the best possible use of riches? We cannot
answer the question. Even the wise man does not attempt to solve the
problem. Men daily come face to face with facts connected with human
existence which they cannot explain. In some of these they can see
adaptation; although they cannot tell _how_ it is that the thing is
so, they can discern a _fitness_ in its being so. But there are other
facts in the government of God for which we can assign no reason, and
the "price in the hand of a fool" is one of them. The Divine Ruler of
men's destines fulfils His wise purposes in ways and by means which
often perplex His finite creatures.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
We understand the term _"a price,"_ as signifying _whatever puts it
in anyone's power to acquire_ the particular object. The phraseology
is borrowed from the _market._ Any article, we are wont to say, may
be had there, if a man has but the price to pay for it. What the
_"price"_ is to the article wanted, the _means of acquiring_ are to
_"wisdom."_ When we wish to put any article of ordinary merchandise
within a person's power, we furnish that person with the price at
which it is valued. There are cases, however, in which this may not
be enough. The price may be in a man's hand, and yet the article may
not be within his reach, not, at the time, to be had. Happily, it is
never so with the wisdom here spoken of. If the means are possessed
of acquiring it, it may always be acquired. It is in the hand of God
himself; and He is never either at a distance that we cannot repair
to Him, or unwilling to bestow it upon us when we come to Him for
it--_bestow_ it, I say, for we must remember, with regard to divine
wisdom, that, in a literal sense, it _cannot be purchased._ It must
be had _"without money and without price."_ It is not to be "gotten
for gold." Why is it, then, that in so many cases in which "the price
is in the hand to get wisdom," the means of securing it possessed,
its lessons remained unlearned, the mind ignorant, the heart
unimproved? . . . Here is the answer--the only one that can with
truth be given,--there has been _"no heart to it."_ The principle is
of wide application, and might be largely illustrated. . . . There is
no maxim more thoroughly established by experience, than that a man
cannot excel in anything to which _his heart does not lie._ When do
men succeed best in the pursuit of any object? Is it not when they
_have a heart to it?_ What is it that keeps all men astir in the
pursuit and acquisition of wealth? Is it not that _they have a heart
to it?_ How do men acquire celebrity in any of the departments of
science or of art? Is it not when they _have a heart to it?_--some
measure of enthusiastic eagerness and persevering delight in the
pursuit? . . . I put it to your consciences,--whether there be
anything else whatever, that keeps you from the knowledge and the
fear of God, wherein true religion consists, than your _having no
heart to them?_ Talk not to me of _inability:_--your inability is
entirely moral, and consists in nothing else whatever than your
_"having no heart"_ to that which is good. And is this not criminal?
If not, then there is no sin nor crime on earth, in hell, in the
universe; nor is the existence or the conception of such a thing as
moral evil possible. The want of heart to that which is good, is the
very essence of all that is sinful. You offer anything but a valid
excuse for your want of religion, when you say you _"have no heart to
it."_ You plead in excuse the very essence of your guilt. If you
desired to fear God, and could not help the contrary, your inability
might be something in your behalf. But the thing cannot be. To desire
to fear God, and not to be able, is a contradiction in terms. The
having of the desire is the having of the principle. There can be no
desiring to fear without fearing, no desiring to love without
loving.--_Wardlaw._
No means can make a man wise who wanteth a good will to learn
heavenly wisdom. Ishmael had good education, and Ahithophel had quick
capacity, and the fool spoken of in the Gospel had great wealth, and
none of all these attained to any grace. One of them was strong, and
another witty, and another wealthy, but never a one wise and godly.
Judas had as good a teacher as Peter, or as any other apostle, and
had as good company, and saw as many miracles; and yet they having
good hearts become worthy and excellent persons, and he having a
false heart became a traitor and a devil.--_Dod._
Wherefore serve good natural parts, either of body or mind; or
authority, opportunity, or other advantages, if they be not rightly
improved and employed? Certainly they will prove no better than
Uriah's letters to those that have them; or as the sword which Hector
gave to Ajax, which, so long as he used it against his enemies,
served for help and defence, but after he began to abuse it, turned
into his own bowels. This will be a bodkin at thy heart one day: "I
might have been saved, but I woefully let slip those opportunities
which God had thrust into my hand."--_Trapp._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSES_ 17, 18, _and of CHAP. xviii._ 24.
TRUE FRIENDSHIP.
+I. A true friend loves under all conditions.+ 1. _He loves in times
of separation._ The distance between our earth and the sun does not
prevent the one from influencing the other--there is a power in
gravitation which can make itself felt even when the objects affected
by it are thousands of miles apart. So true love is quite independent
of space--oceans may roll between the friends, yea, the very grave
may separate them, and yet the gravitating force which first drew the
heart of one man to another will make itself felt. It has been said
that the dead and the absent have no friends, but this is a libel
upon human nature. A friend loveth whether the object of his love is
present or absent, and will, if needs be, defend his friend's
character when he is not present to speak for himself. 2. _He loves
even in times of temporary estrangement._ Transitory differences are
not incompatible with the most genuine friendship, and while human
nature is in its present imperfect condition it will sometimes happen
that one real and true friend will disappoint and grieve another. But
if the real and true feeling is in the heart it will be as unshaken
by these temporary disturbances as the root of the tree is by the
storm-wind that moves its branches.
+II. Friendship is especially precious in times of trial.+ True
friends are not like the locust, which seeks only the green pastures
and fruitful fields, and leaves them as soon as it has taken from
them all that it could feed upon, but they are like the stars, the
value of whose light is only really understood when all other lights
are absent. When all is going well with a man he may underestimate
the value of his friend's regard; he may not really know how
heartfelt it is; but when misfortune, or sickness, or bereavement
overtake him, he realises that a "brother is born for adversity."
+III. There is a bond stronger than any tie of blood-relationship.+
We have abundant and melancholy proofs that the mere fact of being
brothers according to the flesh does not make men one in heart. The
first man who tasted death was murdered by his brother, and many sons
of the same father since that day have been separated from each other
by a hatred as deep and deadly as that which prompted Cain to murder
Abel. In the family in which Solomon was a son there was one brother
with the blood of another upon his head (2 Sam. xiii. 28-30).
Something stronger and deeper than the mere tie of blood is needed to
make men one in heart. The most beautiful example of friendship upon
record existed between the son of Saul and the shepherd of Bethlehem
where there was no relationship according to the flesh, and where the
heir-apparent to the throne loved as his own soul the youth who was
to supplant him. There is no friendship so firm and enduring as that
which is based upon doing the will of God (Mark iii. 35) no
brotherhood so perfect and lasting as that which has its origin in a
common discipleship to Him who is not ashamed to call them brothers
(Heb. ii. 11), and who is Himself the "friend above all others,"
whose love can span the distance between His throne in glory and the
meanest hovel upon earth, and the greater distance between Divine
perfection and human sinfulness, and who was in all things _"made
like unto his brethren,"_ that having Himself _"suffered being
tempted, He might be able to succour them that are tempted"_ (Heb.
ii. 17), and thus prove Himself to be pre-eminently the "Brother born
for adversity," and the "Friend that sticketh closer than a brother."
+IV. It is an evidence of great folly to treat men as bosom-friends
before we know them.+ There are men who will trust in a comparative
stranger to such an extent as to lend their credit and their good
name to him without any reasonable security. Such a man Solomon here
characterises as being "void of understanding." It is a mark of a
fool to enter into any engagement without deliberation, and in
nothing does lack of wisdom more plainly manifest itself than in the
formation of hasty friendships, especially if the friendship involves
a man in any kind of suretyship. From lack of prudence in this matter
many a man has been "all his lifetime subject to bondage." It behoves
all men in the matter of friendship to follow the advice of
Polonius:--
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade.
_ILLUSTRATION OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP._
Damon was sentenced to die on a certain day, and sought permission of
Dionysius of Syracuse to visit his family in the interim. It was
granted on condition of securing a hostage for himself. Pythias heard
of it, and volunteered to stand in his friend's place. The king
visited him in prison, and conversed with him about the motive of his
conduct, affirming his disbelief in the influence of friendship.
Pythias expressed his wish to die, that his friend's honour might be
vindicated. He prayed the gods to delay the return of Damon till
after his own execution in his stead. The fatal day arrived.
Dionysius sat on a moving throne drawn by six white horses. Pythias
mounted the scaffold and thus addressed the spectators, "My prayer is
heard; the gods are propitious, for the winds have been contrary till
yesterday. Damon could not come, he could not conquer
impossibilities; he will be here to-morrow, and the blood that is
shed to-day shall have ransomed the life of my friend. Could I erase
from your bosoms every mean suspicion of the honour of Damon, I
should go to my death as I should to my bridal.". . . As he closed a
voice in the distance cried, "Stop the execution!" and the cry was
taken up and repeated by the whole assembly. A man rode up at full
speed, mounted the scaffold, and embraced Pythias, crying, "You are
safe now, my beloved friend! I have nothing but death to suffer, and
am delivered from reproaches for having endangered a life so much
dearer than my own." Pythias replied, "Fatal haste, cruel impatience!
What envious powers have wrought impossibilities in your favour? But
I will not be wholly disappointed. Since I cannot die to save you, I
will not survive you." The king was moved to tears, and, ascending
the scaffold, cried, "Live, live, ye incomparable pair! Ye have borne
unquestionable testimony to the existence of virtue, and that virtue
equally evinces the existence of a god to reward it. Live happy, live
renowned, and oh! form me by your precepts, as ye have invited me by
your example, to be worthy of the participation of so sacred a
friendship."
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
Verse 17. _"The Friend."_ We are to notice the article. It does not
impair the proverb for its secular use. We have such an idiom: _"the
friend," i.e., the true friend._ Even a worldly friend, to be worth
anything, must be for all times; and what is a brother born for, but
for distress? But spiritually, the article is just in its place.
There is but One Only _"Friend,"_ and a _"Brother"_ who would not
have been _"born"_ at all, but for the distress and straitness of His
house.--_Miller._
Friendship contrasted with the wicked decreases from hour to hour,
like the early shadow of the morning; but friendship formed with the
virtuous will increase like the shadow of evening, till the sun of
life shall set.--_Herder._
Extremity distinguisheth friends. Worldly pleasures, like physicians,
give us over, when once we lie-a-dying; and yet the death-bed hath
most need of comforts. Christ Jesus standeth by His in the pangs of
death, and after death at the bar of judgment; not leaving them
either in their bed or grave. I will use them, therefore, to my best
advantage; not trust them. But for Thee, O my Lord, which in mercy
and truth canst not fail me, who I have found ever faithful and
present in all extremities, kill me, yet will I trust in Thee.--_Bp.
Hall._
A friend shares my sorrow and makes it but a moiety; but He swells my
joy and makes it double. For so two channels divide the river and
lessen it into rivulets and make it fordable, and apt to drink up at
the first revels of the Syrian star; but two torches do not divide,
but increase the flame. And though my tears are the sooner dried up
when they run on my friend's cheek in furrows of compassion; yet when
my flame has kindled his lamp, we unite the glories, and make them
radiant, like the golden candlesticks that burn before the throne of
God; because they shine by numbers, by unions, and confederations of
light and joy.--_Jeremy Taylor._
When a man blind from his birth was asked what he thought the sun was
like, he replied, "Like friendship." He could not conceive of
anything as more fitting as a similitude for what he had been taught
to regard as the most glorious of material objects, and whose
quickening and exhilarating influences he had rejoiced to
feel.--_Morris._
A brother for adversity is one who will act the brother in a season
of adversity. Of such an one it is said, _he must or shall be born,_
possibly, _he is born._ I do not understand this last clause unless
the assertion is, that none but such as are _born brethren, i.e.,_
kindred by blood, will cleave to us in distress. Yet this is true
only in a qualified sense. But another shade of meaning may be
assigned to the passage, which is, that such a man as a friend in
adversity _is yet to be born, i.e.,_ none such are now to be found;
thus making it substantially equivalent in sense to the expression:
"How few and rare are such faithful friends."--_Stuart._
As in the natural, so in the spiritual brotherhood, misery breeds
unity. Ridley and Hooper, that when they were bishops, differed so
much about ceremonies, could agree well enough, and be mutual
comforts one to another when they were both prisoners. Esther
concealed her kindred in hard times, but God's people cannot; Moses
must rescue his beaten brother out of the hand of the Egyptian,
though he venture his life by it.--_Trapp._
Man in his weakness needs a steady friend, and God in His wisdom has
provided one in the constitution of nature. Not entrusting all to
acquired friendship, He has given us some as a birthright
inheritance. For the day of adversity a brother is born to many who
would not have been able to win one. It is at once a glory to God in
the highest, and a sweet solace to afflicted men, when a brother or a
sister, under the secret and steady impulses of nature, bears and
does for the distressed what no other friend, however loving, could
be expected to bear or do. How foolish for themselves are those who
lightly snap those bonds asunder, or touch them oft with the
corrosive drops of contention! One who is born your brother is best
fitted to be your friend in trouble, if unnatural strife has not rent
asunder those whom their Maker intended to be one in spirit. . . .
_"There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."_ He must be
a fast friend indeed, for a brother, if nature's affections have been
cherished, lies close in, and keeps a steady hold. . . . Oh, when
hindering things are taken out of the way of God's work, a brother
lies very close to a brother. He who comes closer must be no common
friend. . . . It is the idea of a friendship more perfect, fitting
more kindly into our necessities, and bearing more patiently with our
weaknesses, than the instinctive love of a brother by birth. From
God's hand-work in nature a very tender and a very strong friendship
proceeds: from His covenant of mercy comes a friendship tenderer and
stronger still. Now, although the conception is embodied in the
communion of saints, its full realisation is only found in the love
wherewith Christ loves His own. . . . The precious germ which
Solomon's words unfold, bore its ripened fruit only when He who is
bone of our bone gave Himself the just for the unjust. Thus by a
surer process than verbal criticism, we are conducted to the man
Christ Jesus, as at once the Brother born for adversity, and the
Friend that sticketh closer than a brother. . . . In the day of your
deepest adversity even a born brother must let go his hold. That
extremity is the opportunity of your best friend.--_Arnot._
Verse 18. It is good to try him whom we intend for a bosom friend
before we trust him; as men prove their vessels with water before
they fill them with wine. Many complain of the treachery of their
friends, and say, with Queen Elizabeth, that in trust they have found
treason; but most of these have greatest cause, if all things be duly
weighed, to complain of themselves for making no better
choice.--_Swinnock._
Seeing he hath not understanding to keep himself from hurt, it were
good if he had not power in his hand to do himself hurt. . . . Surely
such a fool may quickly wring his hands together in sorrow, who
before did clap his hands in joy, and may strike himself in anger
with the same hand, wherewith in the foolish kindness of surety he
struck the hand of another. . . . For often this over-kind part of a
friend is the breaking of friendship if it bring no further
mischief.--_Jermin._
The evil effects of _strife_ and _pride,_ which form the subject of
verse 19, have been treated before. See on verse 14, and on chaps.
xi. 2, and xvi. 18. Some expositors attach a slight difference to the
meaning of the latter clause. See below.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
_"Sets high_ (exalteth) _his gate;"_ a figure that is probably
misunderstood. It probably means _belligerence._ A moat over which
issued armed bands, with banners and mounted spearmen, required high
space to let them go forth. "Lift up your heads, O ye gates," etc.
The soul that fixes itself that way against the Almighty, ready to
march out upon Him on any occasion of quarrel, _"seeks"_
ruin.--_Miller._
The slothful man exposes himself to misery; but he waits for it till
it comes upon him like a traveller. The aspiring man, that cannot be
happy without a stately dwelling, and a splendid manner of living
beyond what his estate will bear, _seeks_ for destruction, and sends
a coach and six to bring it to him.--_Lawson._
_"And he that exalteth his gate seeketh destruction."_ Some take this
for a comparison:--As surely as he that exalteth his gate (enlarging
it out of due proportion) seeketh destruction to his house, by thus
weakening its structure,--_so surely_ does he that loveth strife
generate transgression. The phrase _"exalteth his gate,"_ however,
instead of being thus understood literally, may, with more propriety,
be interpreted of a man's _ambitiously affecting a style of living
beyond his income_--disproportionate to the amount of his means of
maintaining it. The _general character_ is described by one
particular manifestation of it--the high style of the exterior of his
mansion. The "exalting of the _gate_" applies to the entire style of
his household establishment--not to his dwelling merely, but to his
equipage, his table, his servants, his dress, and everything else. He
who does this _"seeks destruction:"_ he courts his own downfall, as
effectually as if it were his direct object to ruin himself. Matthew
Henry, in his own quaint and pithy way, says--"He makes his gate so
large, that his house and estate go out at it."--_Wardlaw._
There is none that loveth strife more than he that _exalteth his
gate,_ either the gate of his ears to hear the tales of others, and
the praises of himself, or else the gates of his eyes overlooking
others with scorn and disdain, and his own worth by many degrees, or
else the gate of his mouth, which is properly the gate of man, with
big and swelling words, with high and lofty terms which usually are
the sparks that kindle contention. But what doth such an one do, but
ever _seek for destruction,_ which at his lifted-up gate, findeth
easy passage to run in upon him.--_Jermin._
For Homiletics on the subjects of verses 20 and 21, see on chapter
x. 1, 13, 14, etc., and on verse 24.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 22.
THE MERRY HEART.
+I. The mind acts upon the body.+ It is a fact which no observant man
would deny, that there is an intimate connection between sorrow of
soul and sickness of body, and that cheerfulness of spirit tends to
physical health. A physician always tries to keep his patient in good
spirits, and when he discerns that he is weighed down by some mental
burden, he wisely seeks to lighten that as well as to administer
remedies to the body. And when a man is in health cheerfulness of
disposition tends to keep him so; while a depressed condition of mind
makes him a more easy prey to disease. That "a merry heart doeth good
like a medicine, but a broken spirit drieth the bones," is a
convincing proof of the mysterious sympathy that exists between the
_man_ and his _earthly dwelling-place._
+II. What will conduce to cheerfulness of spirit--to what Solomon
here calls "a merry heart?"+ 1. _A heart at peace with God._ Some
poisons taken into the system produce for a time a calming and
quieting influence upon the body, but it is a quiet and a calm which
comes from deadening the capabilities of feeling. Opium may send a
man to sleep, but it is a sleep which gives neither refreshment nor
strength. A quiet conscience is the first and indispensable element
of heart-cheerfulness, and there are other methods of getting free
for a time from pain of conscience beside "that peace with God which
comes from being justified by faith" (Rom. v. 1). But all other quiet
of soul comes from opiates whose power is but for a time, while this
peace comes from the consciousness of reconciliation with God--from a
sense of standing in a right relation to all that is right and true
in the universe. 2. _A vivid realisation of unseen realities._ Though
a state of reconciliation with God will give freedom from the sense
of guilt, it does not always give that active state of cheerfulness
which can be called "a merry heart." A river sometimes glides along
between its banks in a state of undisturbed calmness; but there are
times when the volume of water is so great that it overflows its
channels. Peace is like a calm river, but joy is like one whose
waters cannot contain themselves within its boundaries, but must pour
forth on the right hand and on the left. _Peace_ has been defined as
"love resting," and joy as "love exulting." The one is a passive
state of mind, while the other is active. But it is the latter,
rather than the former, which makes that cheerful spirit which "doeth
good like a medicine," and it is the fruit only of a vivid sense of
"things not seen" (Heb. xi. 1). Those who live on high lands and
breathe the pure mountain air, are conscious of an exuberance of
animal life, of which even perfectly healthy people who live in the
valleys know nothing. So, men who live in the higher regions of
spiritual life know a "joy in God"--are sensible of an uplifting of
spirit--to which ordinary and every-day Christians are strangers.
They are not only _believers,_ but they are filled with "all joy and
peace in believing;" they not only have "peace with God through our
Lord Jesus Christ," but they "rejoice in hope of the glory of God"
(Rom. v. 1, 2). 3. _A life of active love._ A selfish man can never
be a cheerful man--he who lives for himself alone can never know the
healing power of "a merry heart." There can be no abiding
cheerfulness of heart without joy in God, and there can be no abiding
joy in God without love to man. "There is nothing," says _Dr.
Maclaren,_ "more evanescent in its nature than the emotion of
religious joy, faith, or the like, unless it be turned into a spring
of action for God. Such emotions, like photographs, vanish from the
heart unless they be fixed. Work for God is the way to fix them. Joy
in God is the strength of work for God, but Work for God is the
perpetuation of joy in God."
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
Mirth is short and transient, cheerfulness fixed and permanent. Those
are often raised into the greatest transports of mirth who are
subject to the greatest depressions of melancholy. On the contrary,
cheerfulness, though it does not give the mind such an exquisite
gladness, prevents us from falling into any depths of sorrow. Mirth
is like a flash of lightning, that breaks through a gloom of clouds,
and glitters for a moment; cheerfulness keeps up a kind of daylight
in the mind. . . . Cheerfulness is the best promoter of health.
Repinings and secret murmurs of heart give imperceptible strokes to
those delicate fibres of which the vital parts are composed, and wear
out the machine insensibly; not to mention those violent ferments
which they stir upon the blood, and those irregular disturbed motions
which they raise in the animal spirits. I scarce remember, in my own
observation, to have met with many old men, or with such who (to use
our English phrase) wear well, that had not at least a certain
indolence in their humour, if not a more than ordinary gaiety and
cheerfulness of heart. The truth is, health and cheerfulness mutually
beget each other.--_Addison._
The verb means, _to cure,_ and, as far as we can fix it, the noun
means, not a _medicine,_ but a final _"cure."_ In the world at large
cheerfulness is an immense gift; but in religion the wise man wishes
to say that hopefulness is strength (Neh. viii. 10); that it is
better to look cheerfully upon God, than with complaints; that if we
are to be _cured_ at all, a glad heart will help it.--_Miller._
All true mirth is from rectitude of the mind, from a right frame of
soul. When faith hath once healed the conscience, and grace hath
hushed the affections, and composed all within, so that there is a
Sabbath of the spirit, and a blessed tranquility lodged in the soul,
then the body also is vigorous and vegetous, for most part in very
good plight and healthful constitution, which makes man's life very
comfortable. . . . They that in the use of lawful means _wait on the
Lord, shall renew their strength_ (Isa. ix. 31).--_Trapp._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 23.
BRIBERY.
+I. Its nature.+ An act of bribery may be committed without any
monetary transaction taking place. It is not necessary that gold
should pass from hand to hand to make a man guilty of bribery. It is
not even necessary that there should be a distinct promise of any
good either in the present or the future. A man bribes another if he
merely implies by word or deed that he can make him suffer for
speaking what he knows is the truth, and for acting according to the
dictates of his conscience. And a man is guilty of accepting a bribe
if he abstains from such speech or action from a fear of loss or from
a hope of gain, although no distinct promise or threatening has been
made by those whom he wishes to propitiate.
+II. Its cause.+ Want of integrity on the part of both the man who
offers the bribe and him who accepts it. There are some men in the
world to whom even a man who held their lives in his hand would not
think of offering a bribe of any kind. He knows it would be as
useless to attempt to make such men swerve from the path of right as
to try to alter the course of the earth round the sun. There are
many, we know, in this country, notwithstanding its many timeservers
and place-hunters who, like Samuel of old can say, _"Whose ox have I
taken, or whose ass have I taken, or who have I defrauded, who have I
oppressed, or of whose hands have I received any bribe to blind mine
eyes therewith?"_ (1 Sam. xii. 3). Only one thing is needed to
destroy bribery--in its most impalpable and shadowy forms as well as
in its more glaring and shameless manifestations--and that is
universal honesty of character. When every man loves truth and right
more than he loves material gain then bribery will cease, but not
before. Men may be restrained by shame from being guilty of it
openly, and will call it by some less obnoxious name, but the spirit
of bribery will be at work so long as there are men upon the earth
who love gain more than godliness.
+III. The universal testimony of the human conscience against it.+
"The wicked man taketh a gift _out of his bosom_"--it is a
transaction of secrecy--there is a shame connected with the act which
proves that conscience condemns it. The man who offers the bribe does
not do it openly, which shows that he is fully conscious that he is
transgressing the law of right; and the man who accepts it does not
boast openly that he has done so for the same reason. Bribery is a
sin which is repeatedly denounced by God (Isa. i. 23, 24; Ezra
xxii. 13), but men who have not possessed the light of revelation
have denounced bribery as a crime.
+IV. Its effect.+ It "perverts the ways of justice." Its effect is to
bring about that abomination mentioned in verse 15--the justification
of the wicked and the condemnation of the just. (See Homiletics on
that verse.)
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
An honest man would rather lose his cause, however just, than gain it
by such a base thing as a bribe. It must have been a great bondage
for Paul to have been confined in a prison, when he loved the pulpit
so well, had not his will been sunk in the Will of God; yet he would
not offer the least bribe to his covetous judge, who detained him in
prison, expecting that money would be offered for his freedom (Acts
xxiv. 6).--_Lawson._
Is not the child of God often pressed with this temptation? Does the
influence of a gift, the sense of obligation, never repress the bold
consistency of godliness? Does no bias of friendship, no plausible
advantage, entice into a crooked path?--_Bridges._
There is a gift of thankfulness, there is a gift of reconciliation,
there is a gift of goodwill, all these are lawful. Besides these
there is a gift of corruption; this is unlawful.--_Muffet._
Bribery is an officious fellow, and a special bidder to the fatal
banquet, (Prov. ix. 17, 18). He invites both forward and froward: the
forward and yielding by promises of good cheer, _secunda dies,_ that
they shall have a fair day of it; the backward, honest man, by
terrors and menaces that his cause shall else go westward (indeed, it
goes to Westminster!). Yea, with pretence of commiseration and pity,
as if the conscience of their right did animate him to their cause.
Thus with a show of sanctimony they get a saint's money; but indeed,
_argentum fæcundum, argumentum facundum,_--there is no persuasion
more pathethical than the purse's. Bribery stands at the stairfoot in
the robes of an officer, and helps up injury to the place of
audience; thus Judas's bag is drawn with two strings, made of silk
and silver, favour and reward. All officers belong not to one court;
their conditions alter with their places. There are some that seem so
good that they lament the vices, whereupon they yet inflict but
pecuniary punishments. Some of them are like the Israelites, with a
sword in one hand and a trowel in the other, with the motto of that
old emblem, _In utrumque paratus;_ as the one daubs up justice, so
the other cuts breaches of division. They mourn for truth and equity,
as the sons of Jacob for Joseph, when themselves sold it; they
exclaim against penal transgressions. . . . If the party be innocent,
let his cause be sentenced for his innocence's sake; if guilty, let
not gold buy out his punishment. If the cause be doubtful, the judge
shall see it worse when he hath blinded his eyes with bribes. But the
will of the giver doth transfer right of the gift to the receiver.
No; for it is not a voluntary will. But as a man is willing to give
his purse to the thief rather than venture life or limb, so the poor
man gives his bribes rather than hazard his cause. Thou sayest the
thief has no right to the purse so given; God saith, Nor thou to the
bribe. . . . Far be from our souls this wickedness, that the ear
which should be open to complaints is thus stopped with the ear-wax
of partiality. Alas! poor Truth, that she must now be put to the
charges of a golden ear-pick, or she cannot be heard.--_T. Adams._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 24 _IN CONNECTION
WITH THE FIRST CLAUSE OF VERSE_ 22.
THE EYES OF A FOOL AND THOSE OF A WISE MAN.
+I. Even a fool is conscious that there is good to be found.+ If we
meet a traveller in search of a certain city, even although he is
journeying in the very opposite direction to that in which the city
lies, yet the fact that he is journeying at all shows that he is
conscious of its existence. His eyes may be turned away from it
instead of towards it, his feet may be carrying him every moment
farther from it, yet he would not be seeking it in any direction if
he had not a persuasion that it was in existence. A man may be
digging for gold in a soil in which gold has never been found, nor
ever will be, but the fact that he is digging anywhere proves that he
is alive to the fact that there is gold in the world. So the fool is
here represented as seeking--which shows that he is persuaded that
there is a certain good and desirable thing which is attainable. Most
men are seeking--_"There be many which say, Who will show us any
good?"_ (Psalms iv. 6). They are in one direction and another looking
for that which will satisfy and ennoble them, and this universal
quest proves a universal sense of the existence of some desirable
good.
+II. But the fool looks afar for what he needs while it is close at
hand.+ An idle, unpractical man of business spends his time in
fancies that he could make his fortune if he were in some far-off
land, and all the time misses the opportunities of doing so which are
within his reach at home. The idle youth dreams of the grand things
he would do if he were a man, and neglects to do that which would
ennoble and bless his present life. It is a very common
characteristic of moral fools to imagine that they would be blest if
they possessed something which is entirely beyond their reach,
whereas means of obtaining the only real and lasting good are
scattered around them so abundantly that they trample them every day
under their feet. Every sinful man feels that it would be good for
him to stand in a different relation to God, but he does not always
seek that good in the direction in which it is to be found. He feels
his need of a different disposition and character, but he does not go
in quest of them where they may be found. In verse 22 the wise man
traces this habit of the moral fool to the source. He finds "no good"
because he "is froward in heart." The fruitlessness of his search is
due to nothing else but to his own perversity. He would rather demand
external evidence for the truth of revelation than test it by
compliance with its precepts. He excuses his neglect of the plain
commands of God, by dwelling upon mysteries connected with His
Gospel, which finite minds cannot solve. Israel of old was warned of
this error. _"For this commandment which I command thee this day, it
is not hidden from thee, neither is it far off. It is not in heaven,
that thou shouldest say, Who shall go up for us to heaven, and bring
it unto us, that we may hear it and do it? Neither is it beyond the
sea, that thou shouldest say, Who shall go over the sea for us, and
bring it unto us, that we may hear it and do it? But the word is very
nigh unto thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart, that thou mayest do
it"_ (Deut. xxx. 11-14). And Paul convicts them of the same sin after
the coming of the Messiah. The Scribes and Pharisees in the days of
Christ perversely looked everywhere for light, except to the moral
sun which was shining in their midst.
+III. The man whose understanding is enlightened not only knows what
he needs, but he knows where to find it.+ It is a mark of practical
sagacity in human affairs to know what is wanted, and to know also
where to look for a supply of the want. A traveller ought not only to
know the name of the city which he wants to find, but he ought to
know upon which road to travel to find it. The physician ought not
only to know what his patient needs, but he ought to know where to
find the remedy. The statesman ought to be able to detect the
nation's needs, and he ought also to know where to look for a supply
of the need. And so in every department of social life. A man's life
will be a failure if he can only discern that something is wanting in
himself, in his family, or in his business, but does not know where
to turn to supply the want. So it is in spiritual things. But he who
is morally wise knows what is the real good to be aimed at, and knows
where to seek it. He knows that _"happy is the man that findeth
wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding,"_ that _"the
merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the
gain thereof than fine gold"_ (chap. iii. 13, 14). And he knows that
it is "before him"--that the _"fear of the Lord that is wisdom, and
to depart from evil is understanding"_ (Job. xxviii. 28); and that he
need not go "to the ends of the earth" in quest of this, but that it
is within the reach of every sincere and earnest seeker. (Many
expositors give this verse a different rendering. See Critical Notes.
It would then express a truth similar to that contained in Homiletics
on chap. xiii. 14, page 313.)
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
Heaven is able to know so much more plainly than hell. The very thing
which is the best enlightener, the minds of hell will be entirely
without. "The depth saith, It is not in me; and the sea saith, It is
not in me. Destruction and death say, We have heard the fame thereof
with our ears." Hell, therefore, will always cavil. If saints judge
better than sinners, how much better God than saints. _"Wisdom is
before_ (His) _very face,"_ while the _"eyes,"_ not of the _"stupid"_
only, but of Gabriel himself, must be in the respect of contrast,
_"at the end of the earth." "At the end,"_ not in the middle, where
the thing can be best judged, but at the dark extremity.--_Miller._
The countenance is the glass of the mind, and the star of the
countenance is the eye. "In the face of the prudent wisdom is
present." In the whole countenance of the discreet person, and in
every part thereof, there is a wise moderation; for in his brows he
carrieth calmness, in his eyes modesty, in his cheeks cheerfulness,
in his lips comeliness, in his whole face a certain grace and
staidness. "But the eyes of the fool are in the ends of the earth."
On the contrary, he who is simple or vain governeth not his very eyes
aright, but letteth loose unto them the bridle in such sort as that
they roll or rove after every vanity, or pry into every
corner.--_Muffet._
We must not only learn wisdom, but keep it in our eyes, that it may
be a light to our feet; for a man that has wisdom in his mind, and
forgets to use it, is like one that has money in his chest, but
forgets to carry some of it with him when he is going a long journey,
to bear his necessary expenses. He will be at a great loss, on many
occasions, that has money in his house, but none in his
pocket.--_Lawson._
_"But the eyes of a fool are in the ends of the earth."_ He has no
fixed and steady principle or rule; nothing on which he fixes his eye
for his guidance. His thoughts are incessantly wandering after
matters he has nothing to do with,--anything and everything but that
which he should at the time be minding;--roving after every vanity,
and keeping steadily no pursuit. It is specially true of "things
pertaining to salvation." Wisdom, in this matter above all others, is
"before him that hath understanding." He looks to one point. He sees
_one thing to be needful._ He sees the wisdom of God providing for
it. There he fixes. And this is wisdom. It is ever before him. _One_
end--_one_ means. Whereas "the fool's eyes are in the ends of the
earth." He has examined nothing. He roves at random, with no
determinate ideas about the most interesting, by infinite degrees, of
all concerns. Ask him _how he hopes to be saved,_ and you immediately
discover his thoughtless unsettledness. He is "in the ends of the
earth." His answer is to seek. It is here, it is there, it is
nowhere. He hesitates, he supposes, he guesses, he is at a stand--he
cannot tell. . . . There is another character that may here be meant,
namely, the _schemer,_ the _visionary projector._ The truly
intelligent man applies the plain and obvious dictates of common
sense to the attainment of his end; but the scheming visionary fool
is ever after out-of-the-way plans, new and far-fetched
expedients.--_Wardlaw._
Wisdom is full in the sight of the man of understanding, he beholdeth
the beauty and perfection of it, he looketh into the worth and
happiness of it. He sets it before him as a pattern, by which he
frameth and ordereth all his ways, all his doings. His eye is never
from it. It is the glass by which he espieth out the blemishes and
defects of his life, and if he see in it a true resemblance of
himself, it is not the glass that must be said to be true for that
cannot be false, but it is himself that is a man of true worth; the
glass approving his goodness, not he the goodness of the glass. But a
fool beholds wisdom as a thing afar from him; he discerneth not what
it is, nor what is the glory and excellency of it: he perceiveth
nothing whereby either to take direction from it, or liking to it. He
thinketh that he must go to the ends of the earth to get it, and if
ever, it is in the end of his life, that he hath any sight of
it. . . . Or else we may understand the latter part of the verse
thus: That a fool's eyes are in the ends of the earth, because in any
trouble or distress he looketh all up and down the earth, from one
end of it to the other for help and succour, and in the end as a fool
remaineth helpless. But wisdom is before him that hath understanding,
and stopping his eyes from looking too much that way, turneth them
and directeth them up to heaven, where help ought to be sought and is
sure to be found.--_Jermin._
Verse 25 is a repetition of the thought in verse 21. For Homiletics
and Comments see on chap. x. 1.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 26.
SMITING THE JUST.
This verse has been variously rendered and explained. (See Critical
Notes and the comments of different expositors.) It suggests,
however--
+I. That punishment in itself is sometimes necessary and desirable.+
When the laws of the family are wise and good, it is a great
misfortune for the children, and a great sin against them, not to
visit their transgressions with a suitable punishment. And it is
absolutely essential to the existence of a well-ordered state, that
there should be punishment for those who rebel against righteous
laws. Civil rule is of Divine ordination--"the powers that be are
ordained of God" (Rom. xiii. 1). When, therefore, there is no just
cause for civil rebellion, it is a sin not only against the state but
against the Ruler of all the kingdoms of the earth, to break the
established laws. Punishment forms a necessary part of the government
of the universe. God has, both by example and precept, shown its
necessity. When there was rebellion in heaven against a perfect
government, punishment followed, which was proportioned to the
greatness of the transgression--the sentence passed upon the first
rebel in the universe and upon those who were confederate with him
was a terrible one, but it was only commensurate to the exceeding
magnitude of the offence. If rebellion against a government had been
allowed to go unpunished, it would have made way for universal
anarchy. And a community of any kind without punishment for
transgressors, is lacking in a most essential element of its peace
and stability.
+II. But those whose moral character fits them to be the awarders of
punishment are often the victims of it.+ The natural and right order
of things in this respect is often exactly the reverse of what it
ought to be, and just and noble men are treated as transgressors and
suffer the punishment which ought to fall upon their persecutors.
Might is very far from being right in this world, and even in this
country Richard Baxter stood at the bar while Judge Jeffries sat upon
the bench. The apostles of the Lord suffered scourging at the hands
of the council at Jerusalem (Acts v. 40); Paul was condemned to death
by Nero, and Incarnate Righteousness was crucified between two
thieves at the instigation of some of the worst men that the world
has ever seen. In all these cases, and in ten thousand others, the
just were smitten, and as a rule they have suffered, not merely
_although_ they were righteous, but _because_ they were so--it was
their integrity that aroused the enmity of their persecutors--these
moral _"princes"_ were _"stricken for equity."_
+III. Such an abuse of power will in its turn be visited with
punishment.+ Those who have thus unjustly condemned the righteous,
have found in their own personal experience that "to punish the just
is _not good_"--"not good" for their own peace of mind--not good for
their future reputation--not good for the nation who instigated them
or permitted them to do the deed. Haman found that it was not good
for him to aim a blow at the upright Mordecai when he was himself
hanged upon his own gallows; the Persian princes found it was not
good to strike a prince for equity when they were themselves cast
into the den of lions; Judge Jeffries found it out when he lay face
to face with death in the Tower. And among all the nations whose
history has confirmed the truth of the text, none stands out so
prominently as that one whose king was the author of the proverb. The
punishment of the _just_--the striking of _moral princes_ for
equity--was one of the most prominent of their national crimes, and
He whose death at their hands filled up the measure of their
iniquity, declared that it was the great cause of their national
ruin. _"Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! because ye
build the tombs of the prophets, and garnish the sepulchres of the
righteous, and say if we had been in the days of our fathers we would
not have been partakers with them in the blood of the prophets.
Wherefore ye be witnesses unto yourselves that ye are the children of
them that killed the prophets. . . . Wherefore, behold, I send unto
you prophets, and wise men, and Scribes; and some of them ye shall
kill and crucify; and some of them ye shall scourge in your
synagogues, and persecute them from city to city; that upon you may
come all the righteous blood shed upon the earth, from the blood of
righteous Abel unto the blood of Zacharias son of Barachias, whom ye
slew between the temple and the altar"_ (Matt. xxiii. 29-35). The
Jewish nation has been for nearly nineteen centuries a witness that
"to punish the just is not good, nor to strike princes for equity."
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
_Even deserved punishment to the righteous does not seem good when
designed to chasten the willing with a view to holiness. "Even."_
This seems to have been treated as a word _de trop._ King James' men
made it _also;_ as though Solomon grew tired of sameness, and broke
the monotone by a new opening vocable. But with the above rendering
it takes its usual sense. _"Righteous."_ This word and _"punishment"_
bear the weight of the word _"even." Even the righteous,_ who ought
to know better; and _"even punishment,"_ which the righteous, at
last, ought to be willing to bear.--_Miller._
Often is the wise man's meaning much beyond his words. _To punish the
just_ not only _is not good,_ but it is "the abomination" (verse
15)--"an evident token of perdition" (Philip. i. 28). If rulers are
"a terror to good works," they are ministers of God in authority, but
ministers of Satan in administration. And how will such injustice
"abide the day of His coming," when He shall "lay judgment to the
line, and righteousness to the plummet!"--_Bridges._
The word _prince_ signifies _noble,_ and is differently understood.
It may be applied to the nobility of _station,_ or to that of _mind._
Some give preference to the latter; and by interpreting it of the
_noble-minded,_ and the _"just"_ in the former clause, of _the
righteous_ or the _people of God,_ make the two clauses thus to
correspond, and to have much the same import. It seems, however, both
more natural and more comprehensive to consider _two_ ideas to be
expressed; the one relating to the duty of the _ruler,_ and the other
to that of the _ruled._ It is the incumbent duty of the ruler, on the
one part, to administer justice with strict impartiality. It is the
duty, on the other part, of subjects to countenance, encourage, and
support the ruler in the equitable administration of his trust. To
_"strike"_ is evidently to be understood, not literally alone of
actual striking, but of "smiting with the tongue" as well as with the
fist or the rod,--of all kinds of vituperation and abuse, and
attempts to bring the throne into disrepute and odium, and unsettle
its stability, by shaking the confidence and attachment of the
community. There are many occasions in which a man may be tempted to
this. He may, in particular cases, have his mind biassed by pride, by
self-interest, by partiality towards a friend, by political
predilections; so that even when all has been done with impartial
investigation, and the judgment pronounced according to legitimate
rules of evidence and demands of equity, there may be unfair,
unreasonable and angry dissatisfaction; and the prince may be smitten
for justice. Every man ought to be on his guard against this. The
higher the responsibility,--the more burdensome and difficult the
trust,--and the more serious the results of bringing authorities and
the laws into disesteem, and unsettling public confidence in
them,--ought to be the amount of our reluctant caution in pronouncing
censure. Another remark may be ventured. One of the great
difficulties with which governments of great nations have to contend,
arises from the variety of crossing and contending interests with
which they have to deal. How anxious soever they may honestly be, to
allow no undue bias to draw them from the line of impartial justice,
yet there is hardly a measure they can adopt that does not affect
differently different classes of the community; so that, from their
various predisposing circumstances, that shall appear to one
class--to those in one particular department of trade or
commerce--the very essence of injustice, which by another is lauded
as a most unexceptionable exemplification of impartial equity. This
ought surely to have the effect--I do not by any means say of
forbidding the most vigilant observance and the freest and most
searching scrutiny and discussion of every measure, and the exposure
of its evil or questionable character and tendency--but assuredly of
procuring some allowance for the difficulty of the task of pleasing
all parties, and some moderation in the tone of censure even where to
us the grounds for it are clear and palpable. No man who knows
himself will affirm, in almost any case, that, placed, in other
circumstances, he might not see with other eyes. I speak in general.
There are cases in which the interests of a suffering country are, to
a vast extent, involved, in which it becomes every man's paramount
duty to speak out and to speak plainly, and to make the ears of the
rulers to tingle with the outcry of humanity and justice. I would
further apply the spirit of this verse to the case of _arbitrators._
We have ourselves, it may be, consented to submit a litigated point
to arbitration. We do so with a full persuasion of our being in the
right--of our claim being the just one. But the arbiters unite in
giving it against us. It would be most unreasonable on our part to
retain a grudge, especially at the one appointed by ourselves, on
this account. Our reference implied confidence in his impartiality
and honour, and implied a pledge of cheerful acquiescence. To
grumble, to censure, and to withdraw our friendship, would be indeed
to _"strike him for equity."_ He would have proved himself unworthy
of his trust, if his disposition to please and serve us had been too
strong for principle, conscience, and oath. There is _one_
government, in which "the just" are never "punished"--all whose laws
and all whose sanctions are the perfection of equity. But alas! it is
under that very government that the spirit expressed by the phrase
"striking princes for equity" is most fearfully manifested. All the
murmurings of sinners against either the law of God or its revealed
and threatened penalty, are the very essence, in its deepest
malignity, of this spirit.--_Wardlaw._
Righteous men are princes in all lands (Psa. xlv. 16); yea, they are
kings in righteousness as Melchisedec. Indeed they are somewhat
obscure kings as he was, but kings they appear to be, by comparing
Matt. xiii. 17 with Luke x. 24; "many righteous," saith Matthew,
"many kings," saith Luke. Now, to strike a king is high treason; and
although princes have put up blows, as when one struck our Henry VI.,
he only said, "Forsooth, you do wrong yourself more than me, to
strike the Lord's anointed."--_Trapp._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSES_ 27, 28.
TWO BADGES OF A WISE MAN.
+I. Reticence of speech.+ This subject has been dwelt on before. See
on chap. x. 19-21. The verses before us suggest further that a man
who is sparing of words is not necessarily a man of abundant wisdom,
for even a fool may hold his peace sometimes. Solomon elsewhere tells
us that "a fool uttereth all his mind" (Prov. xxix. 11); but the fool
of this text is not so foolish as to do that. It has been remarked
that "by silence a fool abates something of his senselessness, and
since he gets the opportunity to collect himself and to reflect, a
beginning of wisdom is developed in him" (_Von Gerlach_). It argues
some amount of wisdom in a man if he is silent when he has nothing to
say which is worth the saying. But the false conclusion must not be
drawn, that every man who is not given to much speech is a man of
great understanding and of vast mental resources. It is much better
that the stone should remain upon the mouth of a well of impure
water, but it must not be taken for granted, because the well is kept
closed, that there is a supply of life-giving water within.
+II. Calmness of temper.+ It is a mark of wisdom to strive after a
"cool" (excellent) "spirit." 1. _It makes life more pleasant._ A man
who allows himself to be vexed and irritated by all the annoyances of
every-day life has no enjoyment of his existence. A fretful and hasty
temper makes every bitter draught more bitter, and takes the
sweetness out of the cup that would otherwise be a pleasant one.
2. _It makes a man more respected and more useful._ A man who cannot
curb his temper is a despicable object, and will certainly be
despised. A passionate man may be pitied and excused, but he cannot
be respected. Hence he cannot have much influence for good upon
others. This subject also has been treated before. See Homiletics on
chap. xiv. 17 and 29, pages 363 and 386.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
_"He that retains his words knows knowledge."_ The words are precise.
It is the fact that he "knows knowledge" that impels a man to
restrain his words. If he did not _"know knowledge,"_ if he had not
_light,_ and did not know it when he saw it; if he did not see light
in God, and know it when he has seen it, and really see enough of it
to convince him that "God is light," he could not stand the darkness.
The unfortunates in hell have no light to enable them to endure the
dark. But the saint, _knowing knowledge,_ and seeing that it exists
in God, is balanced enough against the mysteries to enable him to
restrain his words. . . . The wise man asserts that this silence is a
chief mark of piety. . . . If a man do shut his lips he is
wise. . . . The fool is a wise man when he is silent, and when, in
meek submission, he bows to what he cannot understand.--_Miller._
He cannot be known for a fool who says nothing. He is a fool, not who
hath unwise thoughts, but who utters them. Even concealed folly is
wisdom.--_Bp. Hall._
He that hath knowledge hath not many words: the fulness of the one
causeth in him a scarcity of the other. And there is nothing that he
spendeth idly more unwillingly than his words. But yet, _having
knowledge,_ he knoweth both when to spare and when to spend. . . .
The original words here are _knowing knowledge,_ for many know much,
but it is not knowledge that they know. Some labour hard and waste
their time to know needless vanities, which, being better unknown,
have not true knowledge in them. . . . Right knowledge is the
knowledge of the Lord, and he that knoweth this spareth his words to
spend them to God's glory. And as it is in many the penury of their
knowledge that causeth the superfluity of their words, so chiefly is
the lack of this knowledge. For it is by this knowledge we learn that
an account must be given for every idle word. . . . Silence being so
rare a virtue, where wisdom doth command it, it is accounted a virtue
where folly doth impose it. He that fails of this first help, and is
so far gone in folly as that his tongue outgoes his understanding,
yet hath a second help, and that is to stop, and shut his lips before
they go too far, which, though not the first, yet is a second praise;
and he hath the repute of some understanding who either seeth, or is
thought to see, his want of understanding.--_Jermin._
It has been safely enough alleged that of two men equally successful
in the business of life, the man who is silent will be generally
deemed to have more in him than the man who talks; the latter "shows
his hand;" everybody can tell the exact length of his tether; he has
trotted himself out so often that all his points and paces are a
matter of notoriety. But of the taciturn man, little or nothing is
known. "The shallow murmur but the deep are dumb." Friends and
acquaintances shake their heads knowingly, and exclaim with an air of
authority, that "So and so" has a great deal more in him than people
imagine. They are as often wrong as right, but what need that signify
to the silent man? . . . To follow out one of the Caxtonian
essayist's illustrations,--When we see a dumb strong-box, with its
lid braced down by iron clasps and secured by a jealous padlock,
involuntarily we supposed that its contents must be infinitely more
precious than the gauds and nicknacks which are unguardedly scattered
about a lady's dressing-room. "Who could believe that a box so
rigidly locked had nothing in it but odds and ends, which would be
just as safe in a bandbox?"--_Jacox._
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