Underneath the pictures there lies this thought, that the direction of
a man's trust determines the whole cast of his life, because it
determines, as it were, the soil in which he grows. We can alter our
habitat. The plant is fixed; but 'I saw men as trees--yes! but as
'trees walking.' We can walk, and can settle where we shall be rooted
and whence we shall draw our inspiration, our confidence, our security.
The man that chooses-for it is a matter of choice--to trust in any
creature thereby wills, though he does not know it, that he shall dwell
in a 'salt land and not inhabited.' The man that chooses to cast his
whole self into the arms of God, and in a paroxysm of self-distrust to
realise the divine helpfulness and presence, that man will soon know
that he is 'planted by the river.'
Now, the poor, little dusty shrub in the desert, whose very leaves have
been modified into prickles, is fit for the desert, and is as much at
home there as are the willows by the water-courses with their lush
vegetation in their moist bed. But if a _man_ makes that fatal choice
which so-many of us are making, of shutting out God from his confidence
and his love, and squandering these upon earth and upon creatures, he
is as fatally out of harmony with the place which he has chosen for
himself, and as much away from his natural soil, as a tropical plant
would be amongst the snows of Arctic glaciers, or a water-lily in the
Sahara.
Considering all that I am and need, what and where is my true home and
the soil in which I can grow securely, and fear no evil? Brethren,
there is only one answer to that question. The very make of a man's
spirit points to God, and to God alone, as the natural place for him to
root and grow in. You, I, the poorest and humblest of men, will never
be right, never feel that we are in our native soil, and compassed with
the appropriate surroundings, until we have laid our hearts and our
hands on the breast of God, and rested ourselves on Him. Not more
surely do gills and fins proclaim that the creature that has them is
meant to roam through the boundless ocean, nor the anatomy and wings of
the bird witness more plainly to its destination to soar in the open
heavens than the make of your spirits testifies that God, and none less
or lower, is your portion. We are built for God, and unless we
recognise and act upon that conviction, we are like the prickly shrub
in the desert, whatever good may be around us; and if we do recognise
and act upon it, whatever parched ground may seem to stretch on all
sides, there will be soil moist enough for us to draw refreshment and
vitality from it.
If that be so, brethren, what insanity the lives of multitudes of us
are! As well might bees try to suck honey from a vase of wax flowers as
we to draw what we need from creatures, from ourselves, from visible
and material things.
What would you business men think of some one who went and sold out all
his stock of Government or other sound securities, and then flung the
proceeds down a hole in South Africa, out of which no gold will ever
come? He would be about as wise as are the people who fancy that these
hearts of theirs will ever be at home except they find a home in God.
Where else will you find love that will never fail, nor change, nor
die? Where else will you find an object for the intellect that will
yield inexhaustible material of contemplation and delight? Where else
infallible direction for the will? Where else shall weakness find
unfailing strength, or sorrow, adequate consolation, or hope, certain
fulfilment, or fear, a safe hiding-place? Nowhere besides. Oh! then,
brethren, do, I beseech you, turn away your heart's confidence and love
from earth and creatures; for until the roots of your life go down into
God, and you draw your life from Him, you are not in your right soil.