CRITICAL NOTES.--+1. Strong drink.+ The Hebrew word _Shekhar_
includes every strong drink besides wine. Delitzsch translates it
_mead._ +2. The fear of a king,+ _i.e.,_ the dread which he inspires.
+Sinneth against his soul,+ or _"forfeits his life,"_ so Delitzsch
and Miller. +3. To cease from strife.+ Rather, "to remain far from"
it. +4.+ Delitzsch translates this verse, _"At the beginning of the
harvest the sluggard ploweth not, and so when he cometh to reaping
time there is nothing."_ +5. Counsel.+ Delitzsch translates this word
_"purpose,"_ and understands it to refer to a secret plan.
+6.+ Miller reads the first clause of this verse, _"Much of the mere
man one calls his goodness," i.e.,_ "Much that is merely human." He
allows, however, that the usual rendering conveys a very striking
meaning and agrees admirably with the second clause. The Hebrew word
means literally _abundance of men._ Delitzsch translates, _"Almost
everyone meeteth a man who is gracious unto him; but a man who
standeth the test, who findeth such a one?"_ +7.+ This verse should
be, _"He who in his innocence walks uprightly, blessed are his
children,"_ etc. +8. Judgment.+ Rather _justice._ +Scattereth+ or
_winnoweth._ +10. Divers weights.+ Literally, _"a stone and a stone,
an ephah and an ephah."_ +11.+ Touching the second clause of this
verse, Miller says, "It is too terse for English, and we cannot
translate it. Nor can we brook the English version. _Doings_ are in
the same category with _work._ How can one be the test of the other?
The only room for a proposition is, obviously, for this: _'A child is
known by his doings;_ and the question, _Is he pure?_ is but the
question, _Is his work right?_'" +15.+ Here Miller reads, _There is
gold,_ etc., in _the lips of knowledge._ +16. A Strange woman.+
Rather, _"a stranger."_ +17. A man.+ The Hebrew word here uses is the
one which denotes _a superior man._ +18.+ The first clause may be
read, _Establish thy purpose by counsel._ +19. "Him that
flattereth."+ Rather, _him that openeth wide his lips, i.e.,_ the
babbler. +24. Man.+ The first word, _Geber,_ denoting _a superior or
mighty man:_ the second, _Adam, man in general, or an ordinary man._
+25.+ The first clause of this verse should be, _"It is a snare to a
man to cry out hastily 'holy,' i.e.,_ to vow without thought and
consideration." +26. The wheel,+ _i.e.,_ the wheel of the threshing
instrument which blows away the chaff. +30. The blueness of a wound.+
_Cutting wounds (Delitzsch), Wounding stripes (Zöckler)._ Miller
translates the _"welts," (i.e.,_ the tumid and purple confines of a
wound) _cleanse as though an evil,_ "that is, although painful and
deformed, they have a clear office, viz., to purge away the sore."
Wardlaw suggests that the word, being etymologically derived from a
verb denoting to _join together,_ may be translated _compressions,_
and says, "The compressions of a wound are necessary for cleansing
out of it the prurient and peccant humour, which would prevent its
healing; they are, at the same time, in many cases exceedingly
painful, and would only be endured or inflicted from necessity. And
as they thus clean the wound and promote its healing, so in a _moral_
sense does the severity of discipline affect with salutary and
cleansing influence the condition of the inner man."
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 1.
STRONG DRINK.
Taking the two words here used to stand for all intoxicating drinks,
we remark--
+I. That they are most deceptive in their operation.+ It is most
certain that there is no person who is now an abject slave to strong
drink, who would not once have indignantly repelled the insinuation
that he or she would ever be a drunkard. It is taken probably for a
long time without any evil effects being apparent, and the temporary
stimulus is mistaken for a permanent increase of strength, until one
day the unhappy victim finds himself a subject of the most tyrannical
habit that enslaves fallen humanity. And strong drink may truly be
said to be a _"mocker,"_ when we see how men appear to struggle to
escape from its deadly fascination, and how fruitless their efforts
often are.
+II. That they are powerful ministers to human passions.+ Wherever
strong drink enters, every evil tendency is increased tenfold; the
angry man becomes a monster of cruelty, and he who was before a
comparatively harmless member of society, or even a useful one,
becomes hurtful and dangerous. The restraints that are all powerful
to govern a man when sober are all as utterly useless when he is
under the power of string drink, as silken cords would be to keep a
wild beast within bounds.
+III. It is utter folly to tamper with such a foe to human dignity
and happiness.+ The deceptive influence of strong drink, and the
miserable results of allowing it to gain the mastery over us, are all
around men; none can now plead ignorance of its nature, or of its
effects, for the world is full of homes ruined by it, and hearts
which it has broken, and men whom it has changed into brutes.
Experience sets her seal to Solomon's declaration, and brands as
_without wisdom_ those who play with such a deadly and treacherous
enemy.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
Solomon seldom singles out a specific vice; and when he does, it is
often exemplary, or to be understood of any. He does single out
drunkenness, however. Strikingly enough the Apostle does so (1 Cor.
vi. 10).--_Miller._
If the fruit of his own vine sometimes chastised the unwary Israelite
with whips, the fiery product of our distilleries chastise the nation
with scorpions. The little finger of strong drink in modern times is
thicker than the loins of its father and representative in Solomon's
day. The deceits which our enemy practises are legion; and legion too
are the unwary "who are deceived thereby." I shall enumerate a few of
its lying devices. 1. A great quantity of precious food is destroyed
in this country that strong drink may be extracted from the
rubbish. . . . On an average of ten years, the quantity of barley
converted into malt in the United Kingdom has been nearly six
millions of quarters annually. When you add to this the unmalted
grain consumed in the distillation of spirits in Ireland, you have an
aggregate sufficient to feed between four and five millions of people
throughout the year. . . . What do we obtain in return? A large
quantity of malt liquors and distilled spirits. And is the grain
equivalent, or nearly equivalent to the loss? 2. The curative and
strengthening powers of our strong drinks, which are so much vaunted,
are in reality next to nothing. We speak of the ordinary use of these
articles as beverages. . . . If they contribute at any time to the
quantity of force exerted by man, it corresponds not to the corn that
you give to your horse, but to the whipping. A master who has hired
you for a day, and desires to make the most of his bargain, may
possibly find it his interest to bring more out of your bones and
sinews, by such a stimulus, but you certainly have no interest in
lashing an additional effort out of yourself to-day, and lying in
lethargy to-morrow. . . . Liebig has a pleasant notion about
balancing on the point of a pen-knife, like a pinch of snuff, all the
nourishment that the most capacious German swallows with his beer in
a day. And it is chemistry he is giving us, not poetry or wit. . . .
3. Strong drink deceives the nation, by the vast amount of revenue
that it pours into the public treasury. It is a true and wise economy
to tax the articles heavily for behoof of the community, so far and
as long as they are sold and used; but it is a false and foolish
economy to encourage the consumption of the article, for the sake of
the revenue it produces. Drink generates pauperism, and pauperism is
costly. Drink generates crime, and crime is costly. . . . There is a
huge living creature with as many limbs as a Hindoo idol, and these
limbs intertwined with each other in equally admirable confusion. The
creature having life must be fed, and being large, must have a good
deal of food for its sustenance. One day, having got rather short
allowance, it was rolling its heavy head among its many limbs, and
found something warm and fleshy. Being hungry, it made an incision
with its teeth, laid its lips to the spot, and sucked. Warm blood
came freely; the creature sucked its fill, and gorged, lay down to
sleep. Next day, it supplemented its short rations in the same way.
Every day the creature drank from that opening, and as this rich
draught made up about one third of its whole sustenance, the wonder
grew, why it was becoming weaker under the process, day by day. Some
one at last bethought him of turning over the animal's intermingled
limbs, and found that all this time it had been sucking its own
blood! The discoverer proposed to bandage the spot, and not permit
the continuance of the unnatural operation. The financiers cried out,
"A third of the animal's sustenance comes from that opening; if you
stop it, he will die!" Behold the wise politicians who imagine that
the body politic would die of inanition, if it were deprived of the
revenue which it sucks from its own veins, in the shape of taxes on
the consumption of intoxicating drinks!--_Arnot._
The thoughts in verses 2 and 3 are the same as that in chap. xix. 12,
see page 571, and chaps. xiv. 29 and xvi. 32, pages 386 and 497. The
thought in the fourth verse is identical with that in chap. x. 4,
although the similitude is different, see page 142.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 5.
DEEP SEA DREDGING.
+I. Much that is good, or much that is bad, may lie hidden in a man's
heart without its existence being suspected by the majority of his
acquaintance.+ The word here rendered "counsel" may be taken in a
twofold sense. It may be used of knowledge, or of great mental
ability, which is hidden either because its possessor is exceedingly
modest or exceedingly reserved--either because he lacks the will or
the power to make it known. Or it may refer to deeply-laid schemes or
well-planned purposes which a man intends shall one day become facts,
but which at present exist only in his own mind. And according to the
nature of the counsel it may be compared to the wealth of beauty and
riches which lie hidden in the depth of the ocean, unsuspected by the
majority of those who sail above, or to the deadly torpedo which
makes no ripple upon the surface of the water, and which its victims
approach without dreaming of what is concealed beneath.
+II. The difficulty of one man's obtaining what another wishes to
conceal will depend upon the comparative wisdom of both.+ For many
ages the deep sea seemed to defy all the efforts of man to explore
its depths and to find out its secrets, but now even the ocean has to
own him master in this respect, and to submit to have its treasures
brought to light. There has been, as it were, a struggle between the
sea and the man of science as to which should possess the treasures
of the deep, and the issue has depended upon the ability of the man
in comparison with the depth of the ocean. So there is sometimes a
struggle between men--the one desiring to conceal his knowledge or
his plans within his own breast, and the other desiring to discover
them. The issue will depend upon the comparative mental power of the
two men. If both be "men of understanding," the resistance on the one
side and the effort on the other will be continuous and long, and the
"deep waters" may prove too deep for the bucket or the dredging net.
But if the balance of wisdom is in favour of the seeker--if there is
one spot where his line can reach--he will "draw out" the counsel and
proclaim himself the master.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
The whole emblem finely illustrates what is true of the "inward
light" as held by the "Friends." All men have light which, if they
would follow, would lead them (granting that they persevere) into the
light of the gospel (Rom. i. 20). What better name for this than
counsel? Alas! it lies "deep." No man will follow it but by the
Spirit of God. . . . Nevertheless it is there! How solemn that fact
at the judgment day! "The word is nigh" (Rom x. 8). _"A man of
discernment,"_ or _"understanding," i.e.,_ the Christian. . . . Only
the illuminated man, getting his light from its great fountain, will
be moved to go down into his _"heart,"_ where the counsel lies
waiting and, "draw" the "deep waters."--_Miller._
Every question is, as it were, a turn of the windlass.--_Plumptre._
He is an expert fisher. . . . But man can but _draw them out;_ God
seeth them in the heart, man can see no more than he draws out, but
God seeth all; man draws and labours for the knowledge he getteth,
but all things are naked and open unto God's sight.--_Jermin._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.--Verses_ 6-12.
AN UNIVERSAL CHALLENGE, A GENERAL RULE, AND A RARE VIRTUE.
+I. A double challenge to all men.+ Who can say, I am pure from my
sin? A faithful man, who can find? To the first of these questions
the answer must be in the negative. 1. _God_ answers "No" to it. The
testimony of Scriptures is that in His sight _"shall no man living be
justified"_ (Psa. cxlii. 2): that _"all have sinned"_ (Rom. iii. 23):
that _"if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the
truth is not in us"_ (1 John i. 8). His ability to form a correct
judgment rests upon His _omniscience_--He hath made the _"hearing ear
and the seeing eye"_ (verse 12), and shall He not _hear and see_ and
_know the thoughts of man?_ (Psa. xciv. 9, 10). He is the ideal King
who _winnows_ the actions of man. See Miller's note on ver. 8 (Matt.
iii. 12). 2. _Man's experience_ answers "No" to it. "Even a child is
known by its doings" (verse 11); the actions are like the hands of a
clock, which tell to those who look upon them whether all the wheels
within are in perfect working order. When we mark at all observantly
the actions of even the best of men, we shall be most likely to
detect here and there a flaw in their characters--some
inconsistencies which tell of moral imperfection--but if not, man
need only to look _within_ with some degree of impartiality to be
convinced that his _"own heart condemns him"_ (1 John iii. 20). But
to the second challenge we need not give an universal negative.
Faithful men are _rare,_ but they _can be found._ Even Solomon could
point to the "just man" who "walked in his integrity," leaving a
blessing behind him. His father David, although he was far from being
free from sin, yea, although he sinned deeply and terribly, and yet
was a man who could appeal to God to witness to his _integrity_ (Psa.
vii. 8)--to the general intent and purpose of his life being toward
God and goodness--to his being in the main faithful to his
convictions of the right and true. (On this subject see on chap.
xi. 3, page 196.) And although _faithful_ men are still rare enough
to need _search,_ they are more common than they were in Solomon's
days. There are many men scattered throughout the world who put duty
before worldly interests, and God's glory before their own, and are
thus earning for themselves the _well-done_ of the _faithful_ though
not the _perfect_ servant (Matt. xxv. 21). For it is certain that if
a man is faithful to himself--if he subjects his own moral condition
to that scrutiny which must convince him of his own impurity before a
heart-searching and Holy God, and accepts His method of being
cleansed from guilt--he will be faithful both to God and man.
"To thine own self be true:
And it must follow as the night the day;
Thou canst not then be false to any man."
+II. A general rule.+ Another proposition here laid down is, that
although absolutely pure men are not to be found, and although
faithful men are rare, yet "most men will proclaim everyone his own
goodness" (verse 6). There is a natural tendency in men to shrink
from a very close inspection of their own motives, and desires, and
feelings--they look anywhere rather than within, and consequently,
very few have any conception of their own depravity. They have never
measured even their actions, much less their thoughts, by the
requirements of God's law, and consequently, while He pronounces them
_"wretched, and miserable, and poor"_ they are saying, _"I am rich,
and increased with goods, and have need of nothing"_ (Rev. iii. 17,
18). Most men are thanking God that _"they are not as other men are"_
when they ought to be smiting their breasts and saying, _"God be
merciful to me, a sinner"_ (Luke xviii. 13). It is this wide-spread
self-deception concerning their real condition that renders men so
indifferent to God's method for restoring them, and thus keeps the
world in its present state of soul-sickness and death.
For Homiletics on verse 10, see on chap. xi. 1.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
This faithfulness, where it exists, develops itself in two branches;
the one suppressing our neighbour's vanity, and the other our own.
The last mentioned is first in order of nature and in relative
importance the chief. True faithfulness, like charity, begins at
home. . . . Faithful reproof of another's foibles is a virtue which
some can exercise without an effort. They deal a hearty blow on the
head of a luckless brother egotist who stands in the way of their own
advancement, and then expect to be praised for faithfulness. But it
is Jehu's driving. The zeal which impels it is not pure.--_Arnot._
The meaning is (see Critical Notes for Miller's rendering) that a man
is apt to call mere animal traits, like amiableness, or good nature,
by the name of _goodness;_ and the caution is, that seeking deep for
piety (ver. 5), we should be careful to take up with no such stupid
counterfeit. Much of the mere _flesh_ to borrow a New Testament
expression, is kind and honest. There is much of the mere man's
native morality. We must take care not to take that for _"goodness."_
There is a certain true _fidelity_ that embraces everything. That is
religion. It embraces God. It embraces spiritual _faithfulness._ It
may be easily counterfeited. It has been the snare of our race to
take _"what is of the mere man,"_ and confound it with it.--_Miller._
A faithful man--as a parent--a reprover--an adviser--one "without
guile"--who can find? (Mic. vii. 1, 2). Look close. View thyself in
the glass of the Word (Psa. ci. 6). Does thy neighbour, or thy
friend, find thee faithful to him? What does our daily intercourse
witness? Is not the attempt to speak what is agreeable often made at
the expense of truth? Are not professions of regard sometimes utterly
inconsistent with our real feelings? In common life, where gross
violations are restrained, a thousand petty offences are allowed,
that break down the wall between sin and duty, and, judged by the
Divine standard, are indeed guilty steps upon forbidden
ground.--_Bridges._
But the manner in which men make known what they account their
goodness is very various. Some are open with it. They almost
literally "proclaim" it upon the housetops. To every individual, and
in every company, they speak of it--of what they are, of what they
have said, of what they have done, of what they think, and of what
they wish and intend to do. And O! if they had but the means what
would they not accomplish!
Some there are who are quite as vain, and as ambitious of
commendation and praise--who, knowing that everything of the nature
of ostentation is exceedingly unpopular, and lets a man down, and
tempts others to pluck his feathers from him--set about their object
with greater art. They devise ways of getting their merits made known
so as to avoid the flaw of ostentatious self-display. In company,
they commend others for the qualities which they conceive themselves
specially to possess, or for the doing of deeds which they themselves
are sufficiently well known to have done; and they turn the
conversation dexterously that way; or they find fault with others for
the want of the good they are desirous to get praise for; or they
lament over their own deficiencies and failures in the very points in
which they conceive their excellence to lie--to give others the
opportunity of contradicting them; or, if they have done anything
they deem particularly generous and praise-worthy, they introduce
some similar case, and bring in, in as apparently accidental and
unintentional a way as possible, the situation of the person or the
family that has been the object of their bounty.--_Wardlaw._
Verse 7. Many are the several walks of men in this world--one walketh
in his pleasure, as it were in the walks of a garden; another walketh
in his profit, and he walketh as it were up and down the exchange;
another walketh in troubles, and he walketh as it were in a wood;
another walketh in his poverty, and he walketh as it were in a
desert; another walketh in his beastly lusts of drunkenness and
uncleanness, and he walks as it were in mire and dirt; the just man
walketh in his integrity, and he walketh as it were in the holy
temple.--_Jermin._
Verse 8. We must be very careful, then, how we do our sifting. God's
is perfectly complete. . . . He _winnows_ us at a glance. It is
important, therefore, that we have something more than "evil,"
because "all" that He shall _winnow_ bodily away.--_Miller._
Verse 9. Behold here the king sitting upon the throne of His
judgment, whereof the former verse speaketh! Who _can_ say it, and so
be untrue in saying it? Who shall say it, and be so impudent as to
say it? For to make clean the heart is His work who hath made the
heart, thou who hast made it unclean canst not make it
clean.--_Jermin._
This proverb is especially noteworthy because, in contrast with the
style of conception which is elsewhere predominant in the Proverbs,
according to which the imperfection of all human piety is but
slightly emphasized, and he who is relatively pious is allowed to
pass as righteous, it gives expression to the unsatisfying nature of
all moral endeavours, as never conducting to the full extirpation of
all sense of guilt, and a perfect feeling of peace with God; _it
accordingly suggests the need of a higher revelation in which the
sense of guilt and of an ever-imperfect fulfilment of duty shall
finally be overcome._--_Elster, in Lange's Commentary._
Verse 10. Originally, as in xi. 1, of dishonesty in actual trade, but
here perhaps as a companion to verse 9, with a wider application to
all inequality of judgment, to all judging one man by rules which we
do not apply to ourselves or to another.--_Plumptre._
That whereby thou takest from others shall add unto the weight of
thine own punishment; that whereby thou addest in measuring for
thyself shall make God to take away from the measure of His mercy
towards thee.--_Jermin._
Verse 11. There is no tree that in growing doth not bend rather to
the one side or the other; there is no river which, although it have
many windings and turnings, yet in the course of it doth not rather
turn one way than another; and so it is in the life of man, even from
the childhood of man's life. Do not judge, therefore, of any man by
one work or two, so thou mayest wrong him and deceive
thyself.--_Jermin._
For Homiletics on verse 13 see on chap. vi. 10, 11, page 79.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 14.
BARGAINING.
This proverb refers--
+I. To a world-wide manifestation of human selfishness.+ A custom
that was prevalent in the days of Solomon, many centuries ago, and
amid circumstances which differed widely from those by which we are
surrounded, has held its place among men until the present day, and
will doubtless continue to do so until the teachings and the spirit
of Christianity rule the world. It prevails in modern England quite
as extensively as it did in ancient Judea; and whether the buyer be a
millionaire bargaining for an estate, or a costermonger for the worth
of a shilling, he is often found knowingly, and therefore criminally,
depreciating the value of the commodity. It is a trait of fallen
humanity which "makes the whole world kin."
+II. To a pitiful ground of boasting.+ Although it does need some
skill and experience to tell the real value of an article, it
requires none to pronounce it good for nothing. Only a man with some
knowledge and judgment can put a fair price upon it, but any fool can
say, "It is naught, it is naught." And if by knowingly depreciating
the purchase the buyer robs the seller, he has but a very poor
transaction to boast of. He has wronged another, it is true, but he
has far more grievously wronged himself, for if his neighbour is the
poorer by a few pence or pounds he is the poorer by so much injury
done to his own conscience, and by so much loss of the confidence of
his fellow men. He who makes a boast of such a matter must, indeed,
have few grounds for boasting.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
This victorious boasting is not like other boasting. For that
delighteth to do it in the face of the conquered; but this, as justly
ashamed of itself, is made when they are gone one from the other. But
to make a moral application of the words, as it is in buying
commodities, so it is in the getting of wisdom and godliness; while a
man labours for the obtaining of it, the trouble of his pains maketh
him not to think so well of it, but having made it his own, then he
praiseth the worth and excellency of it.--_Jermin._
For Homiletics on Verse 15 see on chap. iii. 14, 15; viii. 11;
xii. 14; xviii. 20, 21; pages 39, 107, 275, and 555.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 16.
NECESSARY SECURITY.
+I. An untrustworthy creditor.+ A man who under ordinary
circumstances makes himself a surety for one who is a stranger to
him, is chargeable with great folly, and the act may be a criminal
one. He is very foolish if he pledges himself up to his ability of
redeeming his pledge, and he is dishonest if he goes beyond it. The
warning of the proverb is directed against entering into business
relations with a man who has so slight a sense of his own
responsibility as to become "surety for a stranger." It may be
regarded as a certainty that a man who will enter into such an
engagement without reflection and caution is not to be depended
on--does not measure his actions in this particular by a very high
standard of morality. He may be a man of generous impulses and good
intentions, but he lacks that substratum of high principle which
makes a safe creditor.
+II. An extreme security.+ The necessity of exacting security before
credit, discloses the existence of immorality in the world. In a
family where every brother is known to the other, and where the
interests of each are the interests of all, there is no need to take
a pledge for the performance of any promise, or the payment of any
debt. But in the imperfect state of society in which we find
ourselves, security before credit is necessary when we enter into
business transactions with our fellow men, for the world is not yet
ruled by the Divine precept, _"Love thy neighbour as
thyself"_--(Matt. xix. 19). And the security may be regulated by the
reliability of him whom we trust. Solomon here regards him who
becomes surety for a stranger, as so unlikely to be faithful to his
own liabilities, that those who trust him may exact from him even
that pledge which was the last allowed in the Mosaic law, and which
could not be retained beyond the day (Exodus xxii. 26, 27). The
injunction is probably to be regarded rather as advice against
trusting such a man at all. (On the subject of suretyship, see
Comments on chap. vi. 1, page 76.)
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
The moral is that securityships are so unsafe that we may treat the
man as one already ruined. But in the spiritual world it means (chap.
vi.) that a man who holds fast sloth (chap. v. 13), holds fast a bond
of eternal vengeance; that he renews it by his wilful act (xvii. 18);
that it is a bond to a friend (chap. vi. 1), but that friend forced
_ex lege_ to collect it; that if now at this late day he holds it on,
stand clear from him! He will certainly be lost. _Take his garment,_
that is, use the last resort, as against the most hopeless
bondsman.--_Miller._
His garment is not so near unto him as thou art unto thyself; this is
not more needful to keep him warm than it is to keep thee safe. And
seeing that he, by his folly, hath made himself naked of
understanding, it is not thou but himself that maketh him naked of
his garment. Seeing he is content to give himself a pledge for a
stranger, it is less than thou doest in taking his garment as a
pledge of him.--_Jermin._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 17.
BAD BREAD.
+I. Some gratification is to be obtained from dishonest gain.+ Many a
swindler gets not only bread by swindling, but many other things,
which not only minister to his senses, but gratify mental appetites
not in themselves unlawful. And he finds pleasure in the fruit of his
dishonesty--in, it may be, his well-furnished table, his luxurious
mansion, his social position. It is not the highest and the purest
pleasure, but there is a sweetness in it, or men would not grasp so
eagerly the "bread of deceit."
+II. A time will come when it will not only cease to give pleasure,
but will bring misery.+ The dishonest man will find that, after all,
his gains are not bread for his higher nature--that his soul is still
unsatisfied, and crying out for sustenance--and, more than this, that
his conscience demands satisfaction for the wrong-doing of the
past--and even if he is permitted to keep possession of his
ill-gotten wealth, it is not only what chaff without the grain, or
the husk without the kernel, is to the starving man, but as the very
sand of the desert or the dust of the highway in the mouth,
tormenting as well as unsatisfying.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
"Everything gotten wrongfully is here implied." Bitter was Achan's
sweet, deceitfully hid in the tent, which brought ruin upon himself
and his family (Josh. vii. 21-24). Look at Gehazi. What profit had he
from his talents of silver and changes of garments? Bitter indeed was
the bread of deceit to him (2 Kings v. 20-27). Look even at Jacob, a
true servant of God; and yet chastened heavily almost to the end of
his days with the bitter fruits of deceit (Gen. xxvii.;
xli. 36-38).--_Bridges._
Men must not think to dine with the devil, and then to sup with
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven.--_Trapp._
It is crusted without, as if it were bread; but within, contrary to
bread, is not soft. The deceived, tasting it with the tongue of his
hope and presuming confidence, findeth nothing which is not grateful
unto him: the deceiver tasting it with the tongue of present profit
findeth it most luscious unto him. But when the deceiver, having it
in his mouth, pierceth it with the teeth of his trial, then so gravel
breaketh the teeth so it breaketh his heart; and when the deceiver
comes to feed upon it he findeth there is no juice of true
profit.--_Jermin._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 18.
THOUGHT BEFORE ACTION.
+I. The permanent success of an undertaking is generally in
proportion to the thought bestowed upon it beforehand.+ It is an act
of extreme folly to commit ourselves to any course, or to undertake
any task without first weighing all the probable consequences, and
providing against the most likely contingencies. Such a wise
forethought by no means excludes entire dependence upon God, for
while it is most true that _"Man's goings are of the Lord,"_ and _"a
man cannot understand his own way"_ (ver. 24), both common sense and
the Word of God plainly teach that man must use the powers of
forethought with which he has been endowed, or he must be content to
see his purposes frustrated and his plans miscarry. If he desires his
"purposes" to be "established," in other words--what he does to have
a lasting result in the direction desired--he must _"sit down first"_
and _"count the cost"_ (Luke xiv. 28, 31).
+II. It is advisable to call in the wisdom of others to help us in
our deliberations.+ Since one man is rarely, if ever, able to look at
a matter from every point of view, his plans are most likely to be
wisely laid, and his purposes most likely to succeed, if he looks at
them with the eyes of other men as well as with his own. They may
discern a weak spot where he saw nothing to fear, or a point of
vantage which had escaped his notice entirely. Or they may see good
reasons for dissuading him altogether from the undertaking, or may
make him so much the stronger for the task by encouragement and
counsel. It is not generally those who are most able to act alone who
lightly esteem the advice of others--these men who are the most
successful in that to which they put their hand are not as a rule
given to undervalue the wisdom of other people.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
The greatest trust between man and man is the trust of giving
counsel. . . . Things will have their first or second agitation; if
they be not tossed upon by the waves of counsel, they will be tossed
upon the waves of fortune, and be full of inconstancy, doing and
undoing, like the reeling of a drunken man.--_Lord Bacon._
Ponder Bishop Hall's description of the spiritual _war._ "It admits
of no intermission. It knows no night, no winter. It abides no peace,
no truce. It calls us not into garrison, where we may have ease and
respite, but into pitched fields continually. We see our enemies in
the face always, and are always seen and assaulted; ever resisting,
ever defending, receiving and returning blows. If either we be
negligent or weary, we die. What other hope is there, while one
fights and the other stands still? We can never have safety and peace
but in victory. Then must our resistance be courageous and constant,
when both yielding is death, and all treaties of peace mortal." Does
not this war bring the greatest need of deliberate _counsel,_
carefully counting the cost (Luke xiv. 31, 32); cleaving to our
All-wise Counsellor (Isa. ix. 6) and Almighty Helper?--_Bridges._
Among the Romans, though a man were never so strong, never so
valiant, yet, if he wanted wisdom and counsel, he was said to be
_miles sine oculis,_ a soldier without his eyes.--_Jermin._
See Critical Notes for the correct rendering of the second clause of
verse 19, and for Homiletics see on chap. x. 19 and xi. 13, pages 168
and 211.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 20.
AN UNNATURAL CHILD AND A NATURAL LAW.
+I. An unnatural child.+ The ungrateful son or daughter of good
parents is an unnatural being. If experience did not contradict, we
should say that even fallen human creatures must return love for
love, and could not help feeling gratitude to those who have denied
themselves for their good. And if there is no love so strong and so
unselfish as that which a parent feels toward a child, it does seem
almost impossible that any child can be unresponsive to it. But if to
remain untouched by it is unnatural, how much more so is it to attain
to the height of wickedness upon which the text passes judgment. We
must suppose that the proverb refers to fathers and mothers who are,
to some extent, what they ought to be--who do in some measure reflect
upon their offspring the tenderness of the Great and Divine
Father--and then we can conceive of no more unnatural being than he
"who curseth his father or his mother." Every natural instinct tends
in the opposite direction.
+II. A natural law.+ It does not need any special Divine
interposition to blight and ruin such a man. The most powerful and
blessed human influences are those which flow from the home-life, and
from the emotions which ought to be kindled by the relationship of a
child to its parent. But if these holiest influences are resisted and
these emotions are stifled, moral darkness must overshadow the life,
and it will continue to deepen while the hardness of heart continues.
It is well known that even the remembrance of parental love after
long years of insensibility to it is often the first step back into
the light of righteousness and hope, and that many who have sunk very
low in crime could trace their present condition to the unnatural sin
of hardening their hearts against parental love.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
This cursing, according to our Lord's standard, includes "setting
light by father or mother;" wilful disobedience--a fearful, palpable
mark of the last days. How God regards it, let his own curse on Mount
Ebal (Deut. xxvii. 16), and his judgment of temporal death, testify.
The present degradation of Africa is a witness, on the confirming
page of history, of the frown upon an undutiful son (Gen.
ix. 22-25)--his lamp put out in darkness.--_Bridges._
It must needs be an obscure darkness that is fallen upon that soul,
in whom the light of nature is so far extinguished as that he curseth
them from whom he had the blessing of being. It must needs be a smoky
breath that shall reproach him who was the breath of his nostrils.
And what can he expect but that his lamp shall be put out in
darkness.--_Jermin._
For Homiletics of verse 21, see on chap. xiii. 11, page 306; also on
chap. xxi. 5, 7, 17, page 609.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 22.
THE RECOMPENSER OF EVIL.
+I. The man who has been wronged is disqualified to punish the
offender.+ A sense of pain and suffering is not helpful to a man's
judgment. He sees neither things nor persons in the light in which he
would see them under happier conditions, and would not be likely to
deal impartially with the offender. Hence, both the Bible and wise
human governments--while freely allowing that he who injures another
ought not to go unpunished--forbids men from undertaking the
punishment themselves. Every human creature labours under another
disqualification also. He is himself a law-breaker in a greater or
less degree, and is not himself guiltless in thought and word, and
perhaps in deed, of wrong towards his neighbour. The best of men
cannot claim to be guiltless in this matter, and the majority are
great offenders in one form or another. Therefore on this account
also it is not meet for men to avenge their personal wrongs.
+II. The most effectual way to rid one's self of the desire for
revenge.+ We do not understand this proverb to forbid the bringing of
men who have wronged us to the bar of human justice, for this may be
a duty which we owe to society. It would be criminal in most cases
not to apprehend one who had robbed us if it lay in our power to do
so, for by letting him go free we should be exposing other innocent
men to danger. But there are many cases in which men are greatly
wronged in ways which do not come within the cognisance of human law,
and when no benefit to anyone would arise from their punishment by
any human instrumentality. In such cases, the sure remedy for any
vindictive feelings in our own breasts is to lay the matter before
Him whose judgment must be impartial, and who will render to every
man according to his works. Waiting upon the Lord, too, will remind
us so forcibly of our own shortcomings and wrongdoings that we shall
be more ready to forget those of our brother.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
It is to be observed that it is not said, Wait on the Lord and He
will avenge thee, but, He will save thee. By this kind of speech, the
Holy Ghost would warn every one that is injured, not to think of the
revenge or hurt of his adversary, but of his own defence and
salvation.--_Muffet._
The question is clearly this: Is your safety and protection best
lodged in God's hand or your own? By indulging your revengeful
spirit, you do yourself a greater hurt than your greatest enemy can
do you, for you gratify his ill-nature, when you suffer it to make a
deep impression on your spirit, without which it could do you little
or no hurt; but by committing your cause to God, you turn his ill
will to your great advantage, making it an occasion for the exercise
of the noblest graces, which are attended with the sweetest fruits,
and with the rich blessing of God.--_Lawson._
While Moses is dumb, God speaks; deaf, God sees and stirs. Make God
your chancellor, in case no law will relieve, and you shall do
yourself no disservice. If compelled to go a mile, rather than
revenge, go two, yea, as far as the gospel of peace will carry you,
and God will bring you back "with everlasting joy" (Isa. xxxv. 10).
This is the way to be even with him, that wrongs you, nay, to be
above him.--_Trapp._
So far should the desire of revenge be from man's heart, so far the
execution of revenge be from man's hand, that his _tongue should not
say it._ Shall any say, I will revenge, when God says, revenge is
_mine._ Neither let any say, I will revenge because I have been
wronged. For, as Tertullian says, what difference is there between
being the provoker and the provoked; but that he is first found in
wickedness, and the other afterward? Do not therefore provoke God to
anger, by seeking revenge in thy anger. Let God have his
right.--_Jermin._
For Homiletics on verse 23, see on chap. xi. 1, page 190.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 24.
GOD OVER ALL.
A reference to the Critical Notes will show that in this verse there
is an argument from the greater to the less, for the first clause
contains an affirmation of a truth, and the second an argument drawn
therefrom.
+I. The truth affirmed,+ viz.--That the actions of the most mighty
men, and the purposes of the wisest, are directly and absolutely
under the control of God. This is self-evident if we admit that God
is an Eternal, Omniscient, and Almighty Being, who concerns Himself
with the government of the world. Having existed throughout the
Eternal past and possessing absolute knowledge of the Eternal future,
and being the Author of every man's being--determining the date of
his entrance into the world and the period of his continuance in it,
and during all that time _"encompassing his path and his lying
down,"_ and even _"understanding his thought afar off"_ (Psa.
cxxxix. 2, 3)--how can even the mightiest of men boast of his
independence of God and foretell what shall be the issue of his most
sagacious counsels, or be confident that he shall be allowed to carry
out even the most matured of his purposes. While he is perfectly
conscious of his power to will and to do within limits, he must be
also conscious that his ability to do both are dependent upon the
will of Him in whom we all live and move and have our being.
+II. The inference drawn.+ If God is thus above and behind the goings
of the mighty of the earth, it is man's wisdom to trust the mysteries
of the present and the contingencies of the future into His hands.
Every night throughout the year travellers from one part of our
island to the other commit their bodily life unreservedly into the
hands of one or two of their fellow-creatures. They are either
impelled by inclination, or compelled by necessity, to undertake a
certain journey, and to do this they must take their places in a
railway train, and for a time surrender their power to take care of
their own lives into the hands of others. Darkness is all around them
as they travel on, and darkness is before them--they cannot discern
the road by which they are travelling, or be absolutely certain that
they will reach the place which they desire. Yet their confidence in
the skill and fidelity of a few of their fellow-creatures is strong
enough to make them generally at ease. Each human life resembles such
a journey. The path from the cradle to the grave must be traversed,
but insoluble mysteries lie all around, and the future is entirely
hidden from view. There is but One who knoweth the way that we take,
to whom both past, and present, and future are alike visible and
comprehensible. His infinite wisdom and love ought to make us willing
to leave Him to _"direct our paths,"_ while a sense of our individual
responsibility ought to keep us from presumptuous rashness on the one
hand, and from indolent inertness on the other. The truth set forth
in this proverb ought to be set beside that in verse 18.
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
As the first clause attributes to the Lord exclusively _the ordering_
of great men's goings, in order to attain success, so the second
attributes to Him the _prescient understanding_ of men's course. God
directs natural actions by His ordinary providence, spiritual actions
by His special providence, which foreordains from eternity, awakens
the sinner, removes obstacles, suggests that state of life wherein He
sees that the man will not fall away, but attain to glory. However a
man may understand his life with respect to its beginning and aim,
yet he understands not the best _means_ in doubtful cases, nor can he
ensure the issue.--_Fausset._
Little did Israel _understand_ the reason of their circuitous _way_
to Canaan. Yet did it prove in the end to be "the right way." As
little did Ahasuerus _understand_ the profound reason why "on that
night could not the king sleep;" a minute incident, seemingly
scarcely worthy to be recorded, yet a necessary link in the chain of
the Lord's everlasting purposes of grace to His Church (Esth. vi. 1).
Little did Philip _understand his own way_ when he was moved from the
wide sphere of preaching the Gospel in Samaria to go into the desert,
which ultimately proved a wider extension of the Gospel. As little
did the great Apostle understand that his "_prosperous_ journey" to
see his beloved flock at Rome would be a narrow escape from
shipwreck, and to be conducted a prisoner in chains. Little do we
know what we pray for. "By terrible things wilt Thou answer us in
righteousness, O God of our salvation" (Ps. lxv. 5). We go out in the
morning _not understanding our way;_ "not knowing what an hour may
bring forth" (chap. xxvii. 1). Some turn connected with our happiness
or misery for life meets us before night (John iv. 7). Joseph, in
taking his walk to search for his brethren, never anticipated a more
than twenty years' separation from his father (Gen. xxxvii. 14). And
what ought those cross ways or dark ways to teach us? Not constant,
trembling anxiety, but daily dependence. "I will bring the blind by a
way that they know not: I will lead them in paths that they have not
known." But shall they be left in the dark perplexity? "I will make
darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things
will I do unto them, and not forsake them" (Isa.
xlii. 16).--_Bridges._
The cross ways that thwart man's goings are of God's laying out, the
short ways which some make are of His finding out, the long ways that
some go about are of His leading. . . . He doth but tumble down the
hill of his own audacious rashness that thinketh to climb up unto
God's way. What God hath revealed of Himself in moderating man's ways
is true wisdom to observe, and happy is he who maketh use of it. But
as ignorance here is an idle carelessness, so knowledge there is a
prying boldness.--_Jermin._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 25.
For the correct rendering of this verse see Critical Notes.
RELIGIOUS VOWS.
+I. A man is under no obligation to vow.+ While the Scriptures
contain many references to vows, whereby certain persons consecrated
themselves or their property to God and give laws concerning their
fulfilment (Num. xxx.), there is no command which requires men to
enter into such a solemn engagement. The text refers solely to
_religious_ vows--to an act of special consecration to God, such as
that of Jacob at Bethel when he dedicated the tenth of all his gains
to the service of Jehovah (Gen. xxviii. 22), or that of Hannah when
she promised that, if God would give her a man-child, she would give
him unto the Lord all the days of his life (1 Sam. i. 11). It is
obvious that such special acknowledgements of particular and
exceptional blessings must be pleasing to God, but He lays upon men
no obligation to render them, seeing that their value consists in
their being spontaneous--the overflow of a grateful heart, or the
result of a deep conviction of the claims of God, or of the need of
Divine help in extraordinary circumstances.
+II. A man is bound by the most solemn considerations not to vow
thoughtlessly.+ As an intelligent and moral being he is bound to
enter upon no course and to make no engagement without first
inquiring whether the motive which prompts him at the outset is
strong enough to carry him to the end. It is a snare and a sin to
promise to a fellow-man and afterwards, in the words of the proverb,
"to make inquiry," _i.e.,_ to ask ourselves whether we are prepared
to abide by our promise. The inquiry must even in such a case be made
beforehand, or we must be branded with unfaithfulness to our plighted
word. (These remarks of course do not apply to vows and promises
which are in themselves sinful or unlawful. The proverb does not deal
with such.) If, then, a man is bound to consider well before he
promises to man, how much more so before he vows to God! What must be
the harm done to conscience and to character, and how great the
insult offered to the Divine Majesty, when vows are made and
obligations entered into, and afterwards he who thus bound himself
finds that he is not morally prepared for the sacrifice. To such an
one we might say, as Peter said to Ananias--_"Whiles it remained, was
it not thine own? . . . Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God"_
(Acts v. 4, 5). _"Better it is that thou shouldst not vow,"_ says the
Preacher, _"than that thou shouldest vow and not pay"_ (Eccles. v. 5).
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
It is questionable whether vows, properly so called, are consistent
with the genius of the New Testament dispensation. At any rate, of
such vows as were common under the Old, we have no recorded examples
under the New. Resolutions to serve God we may, nay we _must_ make;
there is no getting on in the Divine life and in the zealous
promotion of the Divine glory, without them. But the binding of the
soul by particular bonds and oaths, whether verbal or
written--obligations superinduced upon those of the Divine law--have
been "a snare" to many. Weak minds have often felt the obligation of
their vow more stringent than that of the Divine
authority.--_Wardlaw._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSES_ 26 _and_ 28.
PILLARS OF GOVERNMENT.
+I. A human ruler will have rebellious subjects in his kingdom.+ This
will be the case however wise the laws, and with whatever care and
discrimination they are administered. In the most cultivated and
carefully kept ground some weeds are always found among the
flowers--some tares among the wheat; and since the King who can do no
wrong numbers among his subjects those who are lawless and
disobedient, the best and wisest of human rulers must expect to do
the same.
+II. It is the duty and wisdom of a human ruler to make a distinction
between his good and bad subjects, and to punish the latter.+ Even if
the wheel mentioned in the proverb be regarded as simply an
instrument of separation, as the threshing instrument separates the
chaff from the wheat, the idea of punishment is retained. In a
well-governed kingdom the laws which govern it are such a separating
power between the evil and the good, so far as external conduct is
concerned, and it is indispensable for the stability of peace and
order that they should be strictly enforced. It would be most unjust,
as well as unwise--it would be tempting men to transgression--if the
lawless citizens in a community were allowed to go unpunished; and it
is contrary to our innate sense of justice that in any kingdom "the
righteous should be as the wicked" (Gen. xviii. 25)--that the thief
should have all the privileges of an honest man, and the murderer the
liberty of an innocent person. The punishment of transgressors not
only defends the good man, but it may prevent the bad man from
increasing his guilt by adding crime to crime. The king of Solomon's
proverbs is a typical word for all who are called upon to rule,
whether in the family or the State, and the very word ruler, or
governor, implies a discrimination between the evil and the good and
a difference in their treatment.
+III. The preservation of the throne depends more upon moral than
upon physical power.+ We take the word "throne" in the widest sense
as signifying any place or position which raises one man to be in any
sense the ruler of another, from the throne of the father in his
family and the master among his servants, to that of the king amidst
his subjects. In each and every one of the kingdoms, although
external and physical coercion and punishment are sometimes
indispensable, yet there is no permanent stability unless there is
mercy and truth in the ruler, and unless it is manifest in his
government. Many a throne has been erected on other
foundations,--physical strength has established many kingdoms, and
material wealth has set many men upon thrones. But if they have
raised a superstructure its foundation has been in the sand, and when
the rain and wind of adversity have descended upon it it has fallen,
and great has been the fall of it. There must be some truth and
mercy--some righteousness and justice, and withal some exercise of
grace towards the wrongdoer--if the throne or the kingdom is to be
upholden, and the wisdom of the ruler will be shown in his so
mingling sternness with severity as to make both contribute to one
end. Truth must here be taken as synonymous with righteousness--as
that observance of the just claims of every man which he has a right
to expect and demand from those who rule him. This will include that
punishment of the lawless which is the subject of verse 26, but is
here implied that even punishment is to be tempered with mercy. Pity
for the offender ought always to be mingled with indignation at the
offence, and if any ruler desires to sit firmly upon his seat of
justice he must consider not only the greatness of the crime but the
strength of the temptation--not how severely he can punish the
criminal but whether he can reform him. And this is rarely if ever
done by the exercise of justice merely. The frost and cold are
necessary to kill the weeds and vermin and to break up the soil, but
there will never be flowers or fruit without summer rain and
sunshine. And mercy is that "gentle rain from heaven" without which
no sinful creature will ever bring forth fruits of righteousness.
_ILLUSTRATION._
The necessity of mingling mercy with justice is strikingly
exemplified in the great success which attended the efforts of the
late Captain Maconochie to benefit the convicts in our penal
settlement in Norfolk Island. Having, in his capacity as Secretary to
the Governor of Tasmania, seen most terrible and hardening effects
from unmixed severity, he desired earnestly to try what could be done
by combining mercy with discipline and punishment. For this purpose
he was placed in command of Norfolk Island, and remained there four
years, having under his care from 1500 to 2000 doubly-convicted
prisoners, _i.e.,_ convicts who, after being transported from England
to New South Wales, had been for other crimes _again_ transported to
Norfolk Island. Previous to his arrival they worked in chains, and it
was considered dangerous for even armed officers to approach within
three yards of them. It was considered unsafe to trust them with
knives, and they therefore tore their food with their hands and
teeth. They were accustomed to inflict dreadful injuries upon
themselves in order to evade labour, and were described at the time
as a demoniacal assemblage. But under more humane treatment the
entire colony became changed, and one of his colleagues testifies
that he and another superintendent "resided at one of the settlements
in a cottage without lock and key, with simply a latch to the door,
and close to the convict barracks, where over 2000 were lodged every
night, also without locks." "Not a single serious offence," says he,
"was ever committed in that time by any of those men, and the only
bodyguard was another free superintendent and myself, together with a
few trustworthy men selected from among themselves." This gentleman
(Mr. J. Simms, since Governor of Plymouth Prison) goes on to say, "I
shall ever remember this year as the most remarkable of all my prison
experience, because it . . . was a fair result of what might be
realised from any body of men generally, thus treated, not by force,
iron force, but by moral means." One remarkable example is given. At
Sydney there had been a most desperate and unmanageable convict,
named Anderson. He was flogged time after time for various offences,
but to no good effect. He became more outrageous than ever. At last,
the authorities, in despair, put him on a little island in Sydney
Harbour, where he was kept chained to a rock, and in the hollow of
which rock he slept. After some weeks the Governor went to see him,
and urged him to submit to authority, but he refused. He was then
sent for life to Port Macquarie Convict Station, where he was again
and again flogged. He made his escape, and lived among the natives
for some time, but, ultimately, being recaptured, he was sent to
Norfolk Island for the crime of murder. Under Maconochie's humane
treatment he became a changed man, and when the Governor of New South
Wales visited the settlement he particularly noticed Anderson, and
inquired, "What smart fellow may that be?" (See _Leisure Hour_ for
October, 1878.)
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
All dynasties have been kind. If they are cruel now, it must be like
the weight of a clock, running down. There _was_ kindness. "Mercy and
truth" must at some time or other have builded the
"throne."--_Miller._
Godly Asa removed wickedness from the high place nearest his own
throne and heart. Amaziah justly punished it with death.
Nehemiah--that true reformer--rebuked it even in the family of the
high priest. Our own Alfred appeared to maintain this standard as a
witness for God in an age of darkness. But it is the King of kings
alone that can make this separation complete. Often does He sift His
Church by trial, for her greater purity and complete preservation
(Amos ix. 9). But what will it be, when He shall come "with His fan
in His hand, and shall thoroughly purge His floor?" (Matt. iii. 12).
What a scattering of chaff will there be! Not an atom will go into
the garner. Not a grain of wheat will be cast away. O my soul! what
wilt thou be found at this great sifting day! "Who may abide the day
of His coming? And who shall stand when He appeareth?" (Mal.
iii. 2).--_Bridges._
There goes more to preserve a king than to preserve a kingdom; and
though the preservation of a kingdom be a weighty matter, yet the
preservation of a king is much more weighty--though much care and
pains be required for the one, much more is required for the other.
Half of that will serve for the one which is needful for the other.
Mercy will support the throne, but mercy and truth must preserve the
king.--_Jermin._
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 27.
THE CANDLE OF THE LORD.
We understand by the spirit of a man the self-conscious _ego_--that
which takes cognizance of the inner life, and which reasons and
passes judgment upon all a man's perceptions, emotions, and volitions.
+I. Man's spirit is a candle, because it is not self-originating.+
When we speak of a candle, the idea of a _borrowed_ light comes
before us; with us there is but one source and fountain of material
light, and that is the sun, which, although it is but a candle of the
Lord placed in the midst of our solar system so far transcends all
our artificial lights in its glory and permanence, that in comparison
with them it seems self-existent and eternal. As a matter of fact, we
know that all the artificial light stored up for us in combustible
materials around us had its origin in that great father of lights,
the sun, and that these lesser lights require kindling before they
give forth brightness. So with the spirit of man--it is not
self-existent and eternal, nor did it kindle itself, it owes its
existence to that God who is the intellectual and moral light of the
universe, because He is the source of all knowledge and goodness.
That same Divine Creator, who said _"Let there be light and there was
light,"_ who set the sun in the heavens to rule the day, made man in
His own image by breathing into the human body that spiritual life
which makes man a living soul, and distinguishes him from the animal
creation around him. We can no more claim to be the author of our own
spirits than the sun can claim to have called itself into existence.
+II. Man's spirit is a candle, because it is a revealing power.+ All
light is revealing; it first makes evident its own existence and then
reveals the existence of objects outside itself. When the sun comes
forth above the eastern horizon like a bridegroom from his chamber,
it reveals its own glory, and it makes manifest all things upon which
its rays fall, and nothing is hidden from the light thereof. So in a
less degree is it with every flame of light, and so it is with the
mysterious spirit of man. It is self-revealing and self-evidencing,
and in and by its light we become conscious of the existence of
material forms and spiritual beings, and moral and physical influence
outside ourselves.
+III. Man's spirit is a candle which is intended to prevent
self-deception.+ Knowledge of any description is good and desirable,
but there are two beings of whom it is moral death to remain in
ignorance--ourself and God. The spirit of a man is the power by which
he apprehends both, and this proverb deals exclusively with man's
power to know himself, and especially with his power to take
cognizance of himself as a moral and responsible being. As the sun,
when it darts forth its rays upon the earth, does not leave us in
twilight, and in uncertainty as to what is around us, and as the
candle brought into a dark chamber shows us, maybe, the dust and the
cobwebs, as well as the costly drapery on the walls, so this
God-kindled light searches into the innermost thoughts, and feelings,
and motives, and shows to every man who does not wilfully turn away
from the sight, both the good and the evil that is in him. True it is
that, as a moral light, it does not shine so brightly as it did when
man came forth from his Maker's hand, and that he who _"hateth
light"_ because it is a reprover of his sin (John iii. 20) may to
some extent obscure its brightness, yet every man possesses light
enough within to show him his need of a light outside and above
him--even of that _"true Light which lighteth every man that cometh
into the world"_ (John i. 9).
_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._
The candle which God has kindled in man has, as the nearest sphere of
illumination which goes forth from it, the condition of the man
himself--the spirit comprehends all that belongs to the nature of man
in the unity of self-consciousness, but yet more, it makes it the
object of reflection; it penetrates, searching it through, and seeks
to take it up into its knowledge, and recognises the problem proposed
to it, to rule it by its power. The proverb is thus to be ethically
understood.--_Delitzsch._
The essential connection between the life of God and the life of men
is the great truth of the world, and that is the truth which Solomon
sets forth in the striking words of my text. The picture which the
words include is one of the most simple. A candle stands upon a table
in a dark room, itself unlighted. Fire is brought into the room; a
blazing bit of paper holds the fire, but it is blown and flutters,
and any moment may go out; but the blaze touches the candle and the
candle catches fire, and at once you have a steady flame which burns
bright and pure and constant. The candle gives forth its
manifestation to all the neighbourhood which is illuminated by it.
The candle is glorified by the fire, and the two bear witness that
they are made for one another by the way in which they fulfil each
other's life. That fulfilment comes by the way in which the inferior
substance renders obedience to the superior. The wax acknowledges the
subtle flame as its master and yields to its power, and so, like
every faithful servant of a noble master, it gives itself most
unreservedly up, and its own substance is clothed with a glory that
does not belong to itself. The granite, if you try to burn it, gives
no fire; it only opposes a sullen resistance, and as the heat
increases splits and breaks but will not burn. But the candle obeys,
and so in it the scattered fire finds a point of permanent and clear
expression. "The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord," says
Solomon. God is the fire of this world. It is a vital principle, a
warm pervading presence everywhere. What thing in outward nature can
so picture to us the mysterious, subtle, quick, productive, and
destructive principle; that which has always elevated men's hearts
and solemnized their voices when they have said the word "God," as
this strange thing, so heavenly, so unearthly, so terrible, and so
gracious, so full of creativeness, and yet so quick and fierce to
sweep whatever opposes it out of its path? The glory, the beauty, the
marvel, the mystery of fire! Men have always felt the fitness of fire
as being the closest of all the elements around the throne on which
their conception of Deity is sitting. Men and all other beings, if
such beings there are capable of watching our humanity, see what God
is in gazing at the manhood God has kindled. The universe is full of
the fire of divinity; men feel it in the air as they feel an intense
heat which has not yet broken out into a blaze. There is meaning in a
great deal of the unexplained, mysterious awfulness of life--the
sense of God felt, unseen. The atmosphere is burdened with heat that
does not burst out into fire, and in the midst of this solemn burning
world there stands up a man, pure and God-like. In an instant it is
as if a heated room had found some sensitive inflammable point where
it would kindle into a blaze, and prospects of God's felt presence
become clear and definite. The fitfulness of the impression of
divinity is steadied into permanence. The mystery changes its
character, and is a mystery of light and not of darkness. _The fire
of the Lord has found the candle of the Lord,_ and burns clear and
steady, guiding and cheering instead of bewildering and frightening
us, just as a man obedient to God has begun to catch and manifest His
nature. I hope you will find this truth comes very close to your
separate lives, but let me remind you first _what essential dignity
clothes the life of man in this world._ Such philosophy as belongs to
our time would deprecate the importance of man in the world, and rob
him of his centralness. His position in such philosophies is this:
that the world was not made for man. With us the old story that the
Bible told, the book of Genesis with its Garden of Eden, and its
obedient beasts waiting until man should tell them what they should
be called, stands firmly at the beginning of the world's history. The
great notion of the centralness of man in the Garden of Eden
re-asserts itself in every cabin of the western forests, or the
southern jungles, where a solitary settler and his wife begin as it
were the human history anew. There once again the note of Genesis is
struck, and man asserts his centralness, and the beasts hesitate in
fear till he shall tame them to his service, or bid them depart. The
earth under his feet holds its fertility at his command, and what he
does upon the earth is echoed in the storms. This is the great
impressive idea which over the simplest life of man is ever growing,
and with which the philosophies that would make little of the
sacredness and centralness of man must always have to fight. This is
the impression which is taken up, and steadied, and made clear, and
turned from a petty pride to a lofty dignity and a solemn
responsibility, when there comes such a message as this of Solomon.
He says that the true sacredness, and superiority, and centralness of
man is in the likeness of his nature to God's, and that capacity of
spiritual obedience to Him, in virtue of which man may be the earthly
declaration and manifestation of God to all the world. So long as
that truth stands, the centralness of man is sure. "The spirit of man
is the candle of the Lord." This is the truth of which I wish to
speak to you--the perpetual revelation of God by and through human
life. I. You must ask yourself, first, _what God is._ See how at the
very bottom of His existence, as you conceive of it, there lie these
two thoughts--purpose and righteousness; how impossible it is to give
God any personality, except as the embodiment of these two qualities,
the intelligence that plans, and the righteousness that lives in
duty. How could any knowledge of these qualities, of what they are,
of what sort of being they will make, exist upon the earth, if there
were not a human heart in which they could exist, and from which they
could be shown? Only a person can truly utter a person; only from a
character can character be echoed. You might write it over the skies
that God was just, but it would be at best only a bit of
knowledge--never a Gospel--never something which it would gladden the
hearts of men to know. That comes only when a human life is capable
of a justice like God's justice, and is clothed with His justice in
the eyes of men. I have just intimated one thing that we need to
observe: man's utterance of God is purely the utterance of a quality;
it can tell me nothing of the quantities that make up His life. That
God is just, and what it is to be just, I can learn from the just
lives of the just men about me; but how just God is, to what
unconceived perfection, to what unexplained developments that
majestic quality of justice may extend in Him--of that I can form no
judgment that is worth anything from the justice I see in my
fellow-men. II. This seems to me to widen at once the range of the
truth I am stating. If it be a quality of God, which man is capable
of uttering, then it must be the simple quality of manhood that is
necessary for the utterance, and not any specific quantity, nor any
assignable degree of human greatness. Whoever has the spirit of man
may be the candle of the Lord. A larger measure of that spirit may
make a brighter light; but there must be a light wherever any human
being, in virtue of his essential humanness, by obedience becomes
luminous with God. There are the men of manhood, spiritually the
leaders of the race; how they stand out! how all men feel their power
as they come into their presence, and feel that they are passing into
the light of God! They are puzzled when they try to explain it. There
is nothing more instructive and suggestive than the bewilderment men
feel when they try to tell what inspiration is. He who goes into the
presence of any powerful nature, feels sure in some way he is coming
into the presence of God; but it would be melancholy if only the
great men could give you this conviction. The world would be darker
than it is if any human spirit, as soon as it became obedient, did
not become the Lord's candle. A poor, bruised life, if only it keeps
that human quality, and does not become inhuman, but is obedient to
God, in its blind way, becomes a light. A mere child with his pure
humanity, and with his turning of his life towards God from Whom he
came--how often he may burn with some suggestion of divinity, and
cast illumination upon problems and mysteries so difficult that he
himself has never felt them! Little lamps burning everywhere. III. We
have here the key to another mystery that often puzzles us. _What
shall we make of some men rich in attainments and well educated, who
stand in the midst of their fellow-men dark and helpless?_ . . . Let
us let the light of Solomon's figure upon it. Simply this: they are
unlighted candles; they are the spirit of man furnished to its very
finest, but lacking the last touch of God; like silver lamps all
chaste and wrought with wondrous skill, all filled with choicest oil,
but all untouched by fire. IV. _There are multitudes of men whose
lamps are certainly not dark, and yet who certainly are not the
candles of the Lord,_--with a nature richly furnished, yet profane,
impure, worldly. . . . Such a man is not another unlighted candle. He
burns so bright and lurid that often the pure light grows dim within
its glare. But if it be possible for the human candle, when the
subtle components of a human nature are all mingled carefully in it;
if it be possible that, instead of being lifted up to heaven, and
kindled at the pure beam of Him who is eternally and absolutely good,
it should be plunged down into hell, and lighted at the cruel flames
that burn out of the dreadful brimstone pit, then we can understand
the sight of a man who is rich in every energy of manhood cursing the
world with the exhibition of the devilish instead of the Godlike in
his life. . . . V. There is still one other way, more subtle and
sometimes more dangerous than this, in which the spirit of man may
fail of its functions as the candle of the Lord. The man may be
lighted, and the fire at which he is lighted may be, indeed, the fire
of God, and yet it may not be God alone he shows forth upon the
earth. I can picture to myself a candle which should in some way
mingle the peculiarity of its own substance with the light it sheds.
So it is, I think, with the way in which a great many men manifest
God. They have really kindled their lives at Him. It is His fire that
burns in them. They are obedient, and so He can make them His points
of exhibition, but they are always mixed with the God whom they show.
They show themselves as well as Him; just as a mirror mingles its own
reflection with the things that are reflected from it and gives them
a curious convexity because it is itself convex. This is the secret
of pious bigotry, of holy prejudices; it is the candle putting its
own colour into the flame it has borrowed from the fire of God. The
feeble man makes God seem feeble, the speculative man makes God look
like a doubtful dream, the legal man makes God seem as hard and
steel-like as law. VI. I have tried to depict some difficulties which
beset the full exhibition in the world of the great truth of
Solomon. . . . Man is selfish and disobedient, and will not let his
light burn at all; man is wilful and passionate, and kindles his
light with ungodly fire; man is narrow and bigoted, and makes the
light to shine in his own peculiar colour; but all these are
accident--distortions of the true idea of man. How can we know that?
_Here is the perfect man,_ CHRIST! . . . I bring a man of my
experience and the man of my imagination into the presence of Jesus,
but they fall short of Him, and my human consciousness assures me
they all fall short of the best ideal of what it is to be a man. "I
am come a light into the world," said Jesus; "he that hath seen me
hath seen the Father." "In Him was light, and the life was the light
of men." So wrote the man who of all men know Him best. I think I
need only bid you look at Him and you will see what it is to which
our feeble lights are struggling. There is the true spiritual man who
is the candle of the Lord, "the Light that lighteth every man." It is
entirely a new idea of life, new to the standards of our ordinary
living, which is there revealed. All ordinary appeals to men to be up
and doing, and to make themselves shining lights, fade away and
become insignificant before this higher message which comes in the
words of Solomon in the life of Jesus. What does that higher message
say to you and me? That your full relationship to God can only be
realised by obedience to Him, when you will shine by His light; then
you cannot be dark, for He shall kindle you; then you shall be as
incapable of burning with false passion, as you shall be quick to
answer the true; then the devil may hold his torch to you, as he held
it to the heart of Jesus in the desert, and your heart shall be as
uninflammable as His. As soon as God touches you, you shall burn with
a light so truly your own that you shall reverence your own
mysterious life, and yet be so truly His that pride shall be
impossible. In certain lands, for the most holy ceremonies they
prepare the candles with the most precious care. The very bees that
distil the wax are sacred. They range in gardens planted with sweet
flowers for their use alone. The wax is gathered by consecrated
hands, and the shaping of the candles is a holy task performed in
holy places, with the singing of hymns, and in an atmosphere of
prayer. All this is done because the candles, when they are made, are
to burn in the most elevated ceremonies and on the most sacred days.
With what care must the man be made whose spirit is to be the candle
of the Almighty Lord! It is his spirit that the Lord is to kindle for
Himself; therefore the spirit must be the precious part of him. The
body must be valued only for the protection and education that the
spirit may gain by it. The power by which his spirit shall become a
candle is obedience; therefore obedience must be the struggle and
desire of his life; obedience, not hard and forced, but ready,
loving, and spontaneous; obedience in heart, the obedience of the
child to the father, the obedience of the candle to the flame; the
doing of duty not merely that the duty may be done, but that the soul
in doing it may become capable of receiving and uttering God; the
bearing of pain not merely because the pain must be borne, but that
the bearing of it may make the soul able to burn with the Divine fire
that found it in the furnace; the repentance of sin and the
acceptance of forgiveness not merely that the soul may be saved from
the fire of hell but that it may be touched with the fire of Heaven,
and shine with the light of God as the stars, for ever.--_Philips
Brooks._
This "candle of the Lord" is a _slight_ and _diminutive_ light. A
lamp is no such dazzling object. A candle has no such goodly light as
that it should pride and glory in it; it is but a brief and
compendious flame, shut up and imprisoned in a narrow compass. How
far distant is it from the beauty of a star! how far from the
brightness of a sun! This candle of the Lord, when it was first
lighted up, before there was any thief in it, even then it had but a
limited and restrained light. God said unto it: "Thus far shall thy
light go; hither shalt thou shine and no further." Adam, in his
innocency, was not to crown himself with his own sparks. God never
intended a creature should rest satisfied with his own candle-light,
but that it should run to the fountain of light, and sun itself in
the presence of God. What a poor happiness had it been for a man only
to have enjoyed his own lamp. . . . The "candle of the Lord" is a
light _discovering present,_ not _future_ things, for did you ever
hear of such a lamp as would discover an object not yet born? Would
you not smile at him that should light a candle to search for a
futurity? . . . Let, then, this candle content itself with its proper
object. It finds work enough, and difficulty enough, in the discovery
of present things, and has not such a copious light as can search out
the future. . . . The light of reason is a _certain_ light.
Lamplight, as it is not glorious, so it is not deceitful--though it
be but limited, it will discover such things as are within its own
sphere with a sufficient certainty. The letters of nature's law are
so fairly printed, they are so visible and capital, that you may read
them by this candlelight. . . . Although there is not vigour enough
in any created eye to pierce into the pith and marrow, the depth and
secrecy of being. . . . It is a _directive_ light. The will looks
upon that, as Leander in Musæus looked up to the tower for Hero's
candle, and calls it, as he doth there: "Lamp which to me, on my way
through this life, is a brilliant director.". . . The will doth but
echo the understanding, and doth practically repeat the last syllable
of the final decision; which makes the moralist well determine that
"moral virtues cannot exist without intellectual powers.". . . Other
creatures, indeed, are shot more violently into their ends; but man
hath the skill and faculty of directing himself, and is, as you may
so imagine, a rational kind of arrow, that moves knowingly and
voluntarily to the mark of its own accord. . . . It is an _aspiring_
light. I mean no more by this than what that known saying of
Augustine imports: "Thou hast made us, O Lord, for Thyself: our heart
will be restless till it return to Thee." The candle of the Lord--it
came from Him and it would fain return to Him. For an intellectual
lamp to aspire to be a sun is a lofty strain of that intolerable
pride which was in Lucifer and Adam; but for it to desire the favour,
and presence, and enjoyment of a beautiful sun, is but a just and
noble desire of that end which God created it for. . . . If you look
but upon a candle, what an aspiring and ambitious light it is! . . .
It puts on the form of a pyramid, occasionally and accidentally by
reason that the air extenuates it into that form: otherwise it would
ascend upward in one greatness, in a rounder and completer manner. It
is just thus in "the candle of the Lord;" reason would move more
fully according to the sphere of its activity, it would flame up to
heaven in a more vigorous and uniform way; but that it is much
quenched by sin . . . therefore it is fain to aspire and climb as
well as it can. The bottom and base of it borders upon the body, and
is therefore more impure and feculent; but the _apex_ and _cuspis_ of
it catches toward heaven. . . . Every spark of reason flies upward.
This Divine flame fell down from heaven and halted with its fall--as
the poets tell us of the limping of Vulcan--but it would fain ascend
thither again by some steps and gradations of its own
framing.--_Culverwell._
For Homiletics on verse 28, see verse 26.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 29.
THE GLORY OF YOUTH AND AGE.
+I. Each period of life has a value and a glory of its own.+ There is
a beauty in spring to which no other season of the year can approach.
The vivid green of the opening leaves, and the meadows and
hedge-banks carpeted with early flowers, give to spring a glory all
its own. But the other seasons have their peculiar charms. It is no
less pleasant to look upon the landscape at midsummer, when the woods
are in their full dress, and the valleys are covered over with corn,
or in the autumn, when the harvest is being gathered in, and flowers
have given place to fruit. If spring is the time of hope and promise,
autumn is the season of realisation and fulfilment, and we are all
content that the one should be lost in the other. So it is with the
different periods of our human life--each has its special charm and
its special advantages. We love to dwell upon the loveliness of
childhood, but we should not like to see our sons and daughters
remain children for ever, and it is pleasant to look upon and to
experience the energy and hope of youth, but there are good things
which cannot be ours until we reach to mature life, and even to grey
hairs. We have before considered the glory of the hoary head (see on
chap. xvi. 31, page 493); we have only to consider--
+II. The peculiar gift and glory of young men.+ It is, says Solomon,
their _"strength"_--their power to do and to endure in a physical
sense, what the aged cannot, by reason of the failure of their bodily
powers. When men have passed middle life, they become more and more
painfully conscious that if the _"inward man is renewed day by day,
the outward man is perishing"_ at the same rate (2 Cor. iv. 16), and
although their experience is richer, and their wisdom greater, their
physical ability and energy is not what it once was. Their ship is
laden, it may be, with a far more precious cargo, but the tide is not
so strong, and the breeze is not so powerful to waft it on its way as
it was in the years that are gone. It is the glory of the young man
that his strength is often more than enough for himself, he is able
to bestow some upon the weak and needy. But the aged man is often
painfully conscious that he has none to spare, that instead he is
dependent upon the strength of others. The consideration of the
special advantage of each season of human life ought to cheer the
aged man and prevent him from regretting the days of youth, and at
the same time it ought to make the young man respectful to the old,
and willing to listen to their counsel, and so far as it is possible
combine the wisdom of grey hairs with the vigour of youth. It also
warns the young man against any abuse of his physical powers--against
any unlawful indulgence of bodily appetites, and against the
formation of unhealthy or indolent habits--which make so many of our
youths prematurely old, bringing upon them the frosts of autumn,
before they have brought forth its fruits.
_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 30.
PAIN AS A PREVENTIVE OF PAIN.
For the different renderings of this verse, see the Critical Notes.
However we translate it the thoughts suggested are the same, viz.:--
+I. That pain in the present may prevent greater pain in the future.+
When the surgeon is called in to examine a wounded man, the
examination of the wound may give him more pain than he would have
suffered if he had been let alone; it may bring far more present
suffering to extract the ball, or to insert the probe, than it would
have done simply to bandage the wound. But the pain of to-day is to
ensure days of healthful rest by and by; if the present suffering was
not inflicted, months and years of pain in the future might be the
result. The pain of mind or body inflicted upon a child of five or
ten years old, is intended by its parent to prevent greater moral or
physical pain when he is fifty or seventy. There is no human creature
who can afford to do without the pruning-knife at some period of its
life; and if the pruning is not administered, the penalty will be
paid either in this world or the next. The wise and loving parent
gives pain in youth to prevent pain to his child in manhood, and the
All-wise and Loving Father, God, subjects His children to pain in the
present life to prevent a deeper and more lasting pain in the life to
come. He pricks the conscience by His word to bring men to
repentance, and so to salvation from the "wrath to come" and He sees
even in His own children so much "evil" remaining that He is
compelled to visit _"their transgressions with the rod, and their
iniquity with stripes"_ (Psa. lxxxix. 32), in order to _"cleanse"_
their characters.
+II. Pain of body may be beneficial to the human spirit.+ This is a
subject to which our attention has been before directed. See on chap.
xiii. 24, page 334, and on chap. xvii. 10, page 510.
* * * * * *