waters fell crashing and thundering on Pharaoh and his host; since over
his chariots and his horsemen swept the huge billows of the sea. We
will not, however, look on his chariot as drawn from the watery waste,
where it lay perhaps imbedded in coral, with the dank sea-weeds wrapped
around it, pierced by the ship-worm, with the finny inhabitants of the
deep gliding under the decaying axle, or over the broken wheel. We
will survey Pharaoh's chariot in all its pomp of colour and gilding;
as it was when the tyrant mounted it to pursue after Israel, a chariot
meet for one of the mightiest of monarchs, one of the proudest of men.
We will look on it as it was when powerful and fiery horses bore it
rapidly onward, under the guidance of the skilful charioteer, and armed
multitudes followed on its track.
What stern and terrible emotions must have darkened the countenance
of Pharaoh as he set his foot on that chariot, which was to bear him
on, as he deemed, to his revenge! He was the tyrant from whom the
captives were escaping; the lion from whom his prey had been torn; the
bereaved father whose bitterness of anguish was turned into thirst
for vengeance. To Pharaoh, every forward bound of his horses, every
revolution of those massive wheels, seemed to brine him nearer to
what he most eagerly desired: "The enemy said, I will pursue, I will
overtake, I will divide the spoil; my lust shall be satisfied upon
them; I will draw my sword, my hand shall destroy them!"
The speed of the royal chariot would appear too slow for the impatience
of the monarch within it. And yet to what goal was Pharaoh so eagerly
rushing, to what was he pressing on with such fiery haste? Death and a
watery grave! In a few hours he was to be a gasping, struggling, dying
man in that chariot, or to be swept out of it like a whirling straw on
a cataract by the power of the mighty waves!
As was his chariot to Pharaoh, so is ambition to those whose
all-absorbing object is to advance in the course of worldly
distinction. There are many, not only in the higher but in the lower
ranks of life, whose one great wish and aim might be expressed in
the words "to get on in the world." Rapid advancement is their grand
object; and they are not careful as to what they crush under their
chariot wheels. If conscientious scruples come in their way, they pass
over them; regard for the interests of others cannot stay them in their
career; success is the goal towards which they eagerly drive, though
that success with each individual may take a different shape. With one
it may be an empire, with another a thriving business; the soldier's
highest mark may be a marshal's baton, while the village girl's dream
of distinction is to become one day a lady. With one the chariot of
ambition is more richly gilded, more gorgeously emblazoned, than
with another, but in some form it is mounted by all who seek worldly
advancement in this life as their chief end and goal.
Doubtless there is something exhilarating in the rapid motion; the
feeling that every turn of the wheel brings the eager aspirant to rank,
or power, or wealth, or fame, nearer to what he desires. This feeling
is not confined to hardened sinners like Pharaoh. The world does not
judge ambition severely, it rather admires the gilded chariot if it
bear a man onward to success. But if any one of my readers should be
tempted to mount it, let him first look forward calmly and thoughtfully
to that point where, to all earthly ambition, it will be said,
"hitherto shalt thou come, but no further."
The waters of death lie before us, high and low; monarch and slave
alike are swallowed up there, as the waves of the Red Sea made no
distinction between mighty Pharaoh and the meanest of his host. What
will the proudest earthly success matter to us when once those waters
close over us?
"Can storied urn, or monumental bust,
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can honour's voice awake the silent dust,
Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?"
There is another chariot mentioned in Scripture, which affords the
most striking contrast to that of Pharaoh. Its circling wheels woke
no echoes amongst the rocks, left no impression upon the sands. It
was prepared for a poor and weary man, whose feet had long trodden a
thorny path of trial. I allude to Elijah's chariot of fire—the noblest
car into which a son of Adam was ever permitted to mount. It came from
Heaven, and Heaven was its bourne. In that chariot, borne above the
waters of death, which might not so much as wet the sole of his foot,
in Elijah the corruptible assumed incorruption, and the mortal put on
immortality!
The subject is a very sublime one, but the lesson which we may draw
from it is practical. If Pharaoh's chariot be an emblem of ambition, we
may regard Elijah's as the emblem of a spirit of devotion. It descends
from Heaven; it is sent by our God to bear His servants upwards towards
Him. Not all the waters of death shall quench or dim its glory, for it
is immortal like Him who bestowed it.
Reader, a choice is before us: one of these chariots may receive us,
but into whichever we enter, it must be by turning away from the other.
The man whose first aim and desire is to push himself forward in the
world, to press over whatever impediments conscience may place in his
way, though he may possess shining qualities, cannot be a true disciple
of the meek and lowly Redeemer. While he who has given himself heartily
unto Christ, in a spirit of earnest devotion, cannot rest his chief
hopes upon any object, however grand, of mere earthly ambition. "The
pride of life" is not of the Father, but of the world. "If any man love
the world, the love of the Father is not in him."
What, then, is the direction of our most earnest desires? Is it onwards
or upwards? Is the goal towards which we are pressing below the skies
or above them? If the career before a man be but that of self-seeking
pride, however rapid may be his promotion, however swiftly he may sweep
on in the path of distinction, with the gaze of an admiring or an
envying crowd fixed upon him, every turn of the wheel but brings him
nearer to the dark goal of destruction, where his vain ambition, like
the chariot of Pharaoh, must perish with the life of its possessor!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
X.
The Tables of Stone.
BROKEN; alas! Shivered and broken! The gift of the Most High—the tables
inscribed with the Law which was uttered in the thunders of Sinai,
with the commandments which Israel had thrice vowed to keep—all broken
through the baseness of man!
But man is not willing to own this. He has gathered the broken
fragments together, as the shivered pieces of a precious ancient vase
were once gathered, and has placed them together, fitting bit to bit,
and has fastened them firmly, as he deems, with the cement of his own
self-righteousness. He believes that there are few particles missing.
Perhaps, indeed, he has not kept the Fourth Commandment in all its
integrity; perhaps some fragments are wanting in the Tenth; but still,
on the whole, he believes that he can present fair, almost faultless,
tables, on which God will look with approval, and fellow-creatures
with applause. When the Pharisee's eye rested on the tables of the
Commandments—that proud eye detected no flaw—he cried, "God, I thank
Thee that I am not as other men!" When the young ruler was questioned
by the Lord, he, too, marked no breach in the heaven-given Law: "all
these things have I kept from my youth up," was the complacent answer
of a conscience at rest.
The Lord Jesus, the Source and Fountain of Light, threw such radiance
on the Law of God, which man had broken, that the flaws and fractures
in it became terribly manifest to every unblinded eye. Christ showed
that the Commandment extends to the words of the lip and the thoughts
of the heart. How self-righteousness melts under the burning power of
that declaration from the Saviour, which sums up all the Commandments
in two! "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with
all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is
the First Commandment. And the Second is like, namely this, Thou shalt
love thy neighbour as thyself." No one, but Him who gave the Law, could
keep that Law unbroken!
Yet still, even to the present day, man takes self-righteousness to
cement the fragments, and in his secret soul believes his work to be
successful. He regards the Tables of Stone as holy; he knows that they
were given by God; and his object, sometimes secret, but sometimes
even avowed, is to make of them stepping-stones in the way to Heaven,
so that he may pass the river of death without fear. He says, in his
heart, that he has so carefully kept the Commandments, that he may
safely rest upon them, and so receive the reward of obedience.
But woe to man, guilty man, if he trust his safety to that which has
been broken again and again, and which never can be effectually joined
together again by human effort. Not to his faithfulness in keeping
God's Commandments, can the highest saint look for salvation. He knows
that he might as well place his foot on a foam bubble floating on a
torrent, and trust to that bubble to keep him from sinking, as rest
on the broken Law to save him from being swept away to everlasting
destruction.
They who have tried most carefully to keep the Law, are most ready to
own this truth. Well does the Church of England make her children's
response to each Commandment a petition for "mercy." Then at the close
of all comes a prayer that God would write His Laws in our hearts, in
allusion to His own gracious promise: "I will put My laws into their
mind, and write them in their hearts; and I will be to them a God, and
they shall be to Me a people."
When our Lord sojourned upon earth, a sinner was brought before Him
who had notoriously broken the Law. Christ appealed to the consciences
of her accusers, and conscience convicted them all of having, likewise
transgressed God's Commandment. Twice on that memorable occasion,
"Jesus stooped down, and with His finger wrote upon the ground." No
action of the Lord recorded in Scripture can be without significance.
If we humbly try to penetrate the meaning of this one, may we not find
that the Lord would remind man, that though scribe, Pharisee, and those
whom they condemned, had all broken the Law contained in the Tables
given through Moses, yet that Christ could write that Law so indelibly
in dust and ashes, "with the Spirit of the living God, not in tables of
stone, but in fleshy tables of the heart," that it should ever remain
there? Thus every true believer becomes, in the forcible language of
St. Paul, the epistle of Christ; the Law being inscribed therein by
"the finger of God," not as a ground of acceptance, but as a token of
adoption.
And let us never forget that what is written in the heart will
assuredly be read in the life; none will so earnestly endeavour to
keep the Commandments in thought, and word, and deed, as he who has
received them in the spirit as well as the letter, "whose obedience is
the cheerful heart-service of the man whose transgression is pardoned,
whose sin is covered."
[Illustration]
XI.
The High Priest's Mitre.
A VERY remarkable scene is brought before us in the history of
Alexander the Great. During his career of conquest, he had been
offended by the Jews, then subject to his enemies the Persians. Unlike
the Samaritans, who had sent troops to the aid of Macedon's mighty
king, the Jews remained faithful to their allegiance to Darius.
Alexander, little accustomed to have his imperious will opposed,
resolved that as soon as he should have conquered Tyre, to which he was
then laying siege, he would march against the Jews, and let them also
feel the weight of his wrath.
Tyre fell, merciless slaughter ensued, the city was given to the
flames, and many of its inhabitants to the sword; while, with yet
more horrible cruelty, Alexander caused two thousand of the miserable
Tyrians to be crucified along the sea-shore! Such was the conqueror who
was now to march against defenceless Jerusalem!
Let me give the account of what followed in the words of Rollin,
the historian: "In this imminent danger, Jaddus, the high priest,
who governed under the Persians, seeing himself exposed, with all
the inhabitants, to the wrath of the conqueror, had recourse to the
protection of the Almighty, gave orders for the offering up of public
prayers to implore His assistance, and made sacrifices. The night
after, God appeared to him in a dream, and bid him to cause flowers to
be scattered up and down the city; to set open all the gates; and go,
clothed in his pontifical robes, and all the priests dressed also in
their vestments, and all the rest clothed in white, to meet Alexander,
and not to fear any evil from that king, inasmuch as He would protect
them. This command was punctually obeyed; and, accordingly, this grand
procession, the very day after, marched out of the city to an eminence,
where there was a view of all the plain, as well as of the temple and
city of Jerusalem."
Here the high priest and his company awaited the approach of the
terrible conqueror surrounded by his victorious bands. The boldest
amongst the Jews might well tremble before the destroyer of Tyre. But
great was the astonishment, both of the Macedonians and the Jews, at
the scene which ensued, when the victorious monarch met the unarmed and
defenceless Jaddus.
"Alexander was struck by the sight of the high priest, on whose mitre
and forehead a gold plate was fixed, on which the name of God was
written. The moment the king perceived the high priest, he advanced
towards him with an air of the most profound respect, bowed his body,
adored the august Name upon his front, and saluted him who wore it
with a religious veneration . . . All the spectators were seized with
inexpressible surprise; they could scarcely believe their eyes. . .
Parmenio, who could not yet recover from his astonishment, asked the
king how it came to pass that he, who was adored by every one, adored
the high priest of the Jews.
"'I do not,' replied Alexander, 'but the God whose minister he is;
for whilst I was at Dia in Macedonia, my mind wholly fixed on the
great design of the Persian war, as I was revolving the methods how
to conquer Asia, this very man, dressed in the same robes, appeared
to me in a dream, exhorted me to dismiss every fear, bid me cross the
Hellespont boldly, and assured me that God would march at the head of
my army, and give me the victory over that of the Persians.' Alexander
having thus answered Parmenio, embraced the high priest and all his
brethren; then, walking in the midst of them, he arrived at Jerusalem,
where he offered sacrifices to God in the temple, after the manner
prescribed to him by the high priest."
Let us now see placed before us in the Scriptures the mitre, as
appointed by God Himself to be worn by the high priest of Israel: "Thou
shalt make a plate of pure gold, and grave upon it, like the engravings
of a signet, HOLINESS TO THE LORD. And thou shalt put it on a blue
lace, that it may be upon the mitre; upon the forefront of the mitre it
shall be. And it shall be upon Aaron's forehead . . . And they made the
plate of the holy crown of pure gold, and wrote upon it a writing, like
to the engravings of a signet, HOLINESS TO THE LORD." It was before
such a mitre as this, or rather before Him whose Name appeared on the
mitre, that the proud head of earth's mightiest conqueror was bowed low
in adoration.
We know that there was a solemn meaning in the various portions of the
high priest's garments, and the words inscribed on his "holy crown"
leave us in no doubt as to what it symbolized. He who appeared before
the Majesty of Heaven to plead for Israel, and to offer the appointed
sacrifices, must be holy unto the Lord. Yet how often must the weak,
fallible high priest, have been humbled by the very dignity of his
office, when he contrasted his own infirmity and sin with the spotless
purity symbolized by his mitre!
With heavy heart must an Aaron or an Eli have bound that holy crown on
their brows, when conscious of having fallen under the displeasure of
the Most High! When we think of the sacred emblem being proudly worn
by a Caiaphas, its being polluted by contact with that man of blood,
our Lord's image of the "whited sepulchre" rises vividly before us; how
fair, pure, holy, that which was without, while the dark mind within
was festering corruption!
There was but one High priest who could appear before God in innate
purity, "holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners." It was He
who wore on His bleeding temples the crown of thorns instead of the
mitre; He who had HOLINESS TO THE LORD not borne aloft on His brow, but
woven into every action of His life. What Aaron symbolized, that was
the Lord Jesus Christ.
Before Him, arrayed in the majesty of His spotless purity, every knee
shall bow, earth's proudest kings shall fall down and adore Him.
"Wherefore He is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto
God by Him, seeing He ever liveth to make intercession for them."
[Illustration]
XII.
The High Priest's Mitre—_Continued._
THE high priest's mitre affords to us another, and a very wide field
for meditation.
Under the Jewish dispensation, the priesthood was confined to one
tribe, and the sacred crown was worn by one man; but since the
rending of the veil that shrouded the Holy of Holies, all Christ's
servants, even the lowly woman, even the feeble child, become "a royal
priesthood," as well as "a peculiar people." The "crown of life" is for
those—for all those who love the Lord Jesus supremely. The song of the
redeemed is a chorus of thanksgiving unto Him who "hath made us kings
and priests unto God and His Father." Surely it is in allusion to the
inscription upon Aaron's mitre that it is written of the blessed in the
kingdom of Christ, "His name shall be in their foreheads," according to
His own gracious promise, "I will write upon him the name of My God."
There is, even in this world, a sealing, a marking of the servants of
Christ, which conveys an idea both of dignity and of consecration. Very
remarkable is that passage in Ezekiel which records the vision granted
to the seer of the mysterious One whose "likeness was as the appearance
of fire;" and the six, each with a slaughter-weapon in his hand, who
signify the ministers of God's vengeance: "The glory of the God of
Israel was gone up from the cherub, whereupon He was, to the threshold
of the house. And He called to the man clothed with linen . . . And
the Lord said unto him, Go through the midst of the city, through the
midst of Jerusalem, and set a mark upon the foreheads of the men that
sigh and that cry for all the abominations that be done in the midst
thereof. And to the others He said . . . Go ye after him through the
city, and smite . . . but come not near any man upon whom is the mark."
The ministers of wrath were to spare God's people, marked as those who
in the midst of a sinful generation mourned for the general corruption,
and by doing so, showed that they at least valued and desired "holiness
unto the Lord."
This inscription, the sentence graven upon Aaron's mitre, is, then,
what all God's servants should wear—it is for them a distinguishing
mark. But does this appear to be the case; is "holiness unto the Lord"
the visible sign and seal of the Christian's high calling? There are
many who are recognized as active, honourable, useful, zealous servants
of God, but how few could we single out as being eminent for holiness!
And how, it may be asked, can holiness be defined? As that purity of
thought and heart which the Spirit alone can bestow; that abhorrence
of sin which is something far higher than mere abstinence from sin.
The man who bears the stamp of holiness, will detect and grieve over
the lightest stain upon conscience; the coarse allusion, however
witty, the drunkard's song, or the scoffer's jest, will never raise a
smile on his lips: nor are they so likely to be heard in his presence;
for the world, like Alexander, is often constrained to pay homage
where holiness is legibly inscribed, and the silence of one whose
habitual walk is with God, impresses more than the open rebuke of a
more inconsistent believer. Deep reverence for God and God's Word is
an accompaniment of "holiness unto the Lord;" the heavenly-minded
Christian will not jest with sacred things, nor lightly use quotations
from Scripture.
It is the holy Christian, or to use the much abused, yet most
expressive Scripture term, the "saint," who earnestly endeavours to
"bring into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ." How
marvellous is that constant current of thought flowing through every
mind, silently, secretly, like a narrow stream between banks so steep
that we cannot catch a glimpse of its course, and can but trace it
by the vegetation on either side, as our usual current of thought is
judged of by our words and our actions! How often, when seated amongst
silent companions—as, for instance, when travelling with strangers—have
we reflected how interesting it would be, could we gain a glimpse of
that stream of thought passing unceasingly through each brain; could
we know whether it sparkles with hope, or "flows deeply and darkly"
in shadow; whether it bears along golden grains of holy meditation,
or mere bubbles of folly to break at a touch, or if the current be
fetid and polluted with ideas that the lips would not dare for shame
to form into words! Could the thoughts of the travellers in one
railway-carriage, during a single hour of silence, be so photographed
as to become visible to all, how marvellous would appear the difference
between those of the worldling and those of the saint; though, alas!
the musings of the holiest child of Adam would be found no pure and
untainted stream, reflecting Heaven perfectly within its crystal depths.
The contrast would be yet more striking were the thoughts thus laid
open to view those which had flowed during an hour of public worship.
The posture of the body, the words of the mouth, might be the same, but
the current of thought would appear as different in individuals, as
the pestilential drainage from a marsh from the clear brooklet bearing
health and fertility wherever it flows. It is impossible for us to
obtain this glimpse of the stream, this knowledge of the thoughts in
the minds of others, but have we ever endeavoured to gain it as regards
our own? Have we tried to retrace the windings of the current for
one single hour, and so enabled ourselves to estimate more correctly
whether God's grace has in any degree purified "the issues of life,"
and imparted to our souls some measure of "holiness unto the Lord"?
Is such purity of thought actually requisite for—actually indispensable
to a true Christian? To judge by the standard of the world, even
that which is called the religious world, we should at once conclude
that it is not. The pre-eminently spiritual Christian stands almost
as singular amongst his brethren as did the high priest of Israel
amongst the sons of Levi. But is not this because Christians live
below their privileges, so that comparatively few let their light so
shine before men that God is glorified in His saints? Let us, ere we
close our meditations on Aaron's mitre and its inscription, earnestly,
prayerfully, revolve the solemn exhortation addressed to the servants
of Christ: "Follow peace with all men, and HOLINESS, without which no
man shall see the Lord."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XIII.
Balaam's Staff.
IT is with a sigh that we look on aught that reminds us of Balaam, the
highly honoured, the highly gifted—he "which heard the words of God,
and knew the knowledge of the Most High, which saw the vision of the
Almighty, falling into a trance, but having his eyes open." In Balaam
we behold a mournful example of light without heat, knowledge without
practical wisdom, the gift of prophecy without that more excellent gift
of charity.