SABBATH AND REST.
See, for that the Lord hath given you the Sabbath.—Ex. xvi. 29.
At the close of our last open evening, I promised some of you, dear
girl friends and correspondents, that I would take Sunday and Rest as
the subject of one of our talks. I find that the minds of many amongst
you are much exercised as to “the right way of keeping Sunday.”
“I shall be very glad if you will some time say a little about Sundays,
and perhaps give us some little rule to help us to keep them holy,”
wrote one. “People have such different ideas about what is right and
wrong to do on Sunday.”
I do not wish to take that word “people” in too wide a sense.
Our twilight gathering is a large one, and now includes members of
widely differing ages and positions in life. I hope we all rejoice in
knowing that so many older friends have been drawn within our circle,
and are in full sympathy with us.
Still, I love best of all to picture myself as “the old mother sitting
surrounded by a countless family of girls, my adopted children of the
twilight hours,” and between whom and myself links have been formed
which will last through the life of this world and beyond it.
During our talk I should like to use the old sweet Bible word Sabbath,
which can alone suggest its real subject. I want us all to feel its
importance to ourselves as belonging to those who profess and call
themselves Christians. We have not to consider how those spend the
day of rest who are living without God in the world, and to whom the
Sabbath and its ordinances are less than nothing; but how we can best
use and enjoy the privileges it brings, and help others to do likewise.
What is the Sabbath?
If you were really within hearing, I could imagine most of you would
reply, “Why do you ask such a question? Everybody knows the difference
between it and other days.” And you would probably describe all its
distinctive features. The open churches, the closed places of business,
worshippers hurrying in one direction, holiday-makers in another. Or
perhaps some would tell of joy experienced in meeting with fellow
Christians in the House of God, or of happy family gatherings under the
home roof, impossible on other days, but delightful on that precious
day of rest.
After hearing all, and sympathising with your joys, I should ask you to
turn your thoughts from the present, and go back with me to the first
chapter of the world’s history for the answer to my question, “What is
the Sabbath? What was its beginning?”
It is God’s first gift to mankind, bestowed when His work of Creation
was completed by the instalment of the first human pair in the garden
“eastward in Eden,” which He had planted as a fitting abode for them.
The Divine Creator of the universe consecrated the Sabbath by His
example, and gave it to be a continuous blessing throughout endless
ages.
It is beautiful to note the wisdom of God in dealing with the first
human pair, and the lesson He taught them is for us to-day. Paradise or
Eden was not to be the abode of idleness. By daily work _rest was to
be earned_, and only by means of work could rest be enjoyed, and its
preciousness realised in any great degree.
I may note, in passing, that the idle, self-indulgent time-killers are
the persons who complain most of weariness. They are tired with doing
nothing, yet not having earned the right to rest, they cannot enjoy it.
People often allude to the Sabbath as if it were a merely Jewish
institution. Forgetting the earliest Bible record, they dwell on the
time of Israel’s wanderings in the desert, on the double supply of
manna bestowed on the sixth day to meet the wants of the seventh also;
the disobedience of some, and the words which followed, addressed by
the Lord to Moses:
“See, for that the Lord hath given you the Sabbath, therefore He giveth
you on the sixth day the bread of two days.” The Fourth Commandment,
given from Mount Sinai, and engraved on stone, was the renewal and
confirmation of that first inestimable gift of a day of rest.
Now, dear ones, I want you to think how a gift can alone fulfil the
giver’s object in bestowing it. It must be willingly and gratefully
accepted, valued, and used in accordance with the intentions of the
giver.
Even gifts are often received without being welcome, and for various
reasons. We may fear to cause pain by refusing them, or we may be
afraid of future loss if we do so. We may dislike the idea of being
indebted to the person who offers the gift. The article itself may be
one on which we set no value, and so on. Or, as often happens, gifts
are prized at first for their novelty, then unused, hidden away and
forgotten, together with the giver.
I have a very dear friend who is constantly receiving tokens of
affectionate remembrance. He is one who never loses an opportunity of
brightening a dark path or smoothing a rough one, of helping to relieve
an overweighted back of some part of its burden, of saying a cheery or
comforting word, or of doing a kindness at the right time and in the
right way—always an unostentatious one.
This is a great deal to say of any man, but how delightful to be able
to say it with absolute truth! Many of the little souvenirs that reach
my friend are of small intrinsic value and seem almost out of place
amongst the beautiful ornaments and works of art in his home. But
whenever the donor of the humblest gift is a guest in that house, the
little token of affection or gratitude is sure to be in evidence, and
the sight of it adds to the pleasure of host and visitor. The former
can only show a small number of these carefully-kept presents at one
time, but they come out in turns, and prove that none have been thrown
aside or forgotten.
Probably what I have said of my friend has put a new thought into the
minds of many of you, and I hope it has suggested a way of giving
pleasure to the humblest friend, which may not have struck you before.
Above all, I trust it will lead each of you to ask, “Have I thankfully
accepted, valued, and used in the right way God’s first precious gift
of one day in seven for the rest and refreshment of mind and body, and
the good of my soul?”
No mere rule will ever make any of us use this gift worthily. We
must rejoice in it as a part of our divine inheritance. Surely, when
we think that God has given us life and breath and all things, that
from Him every good and perfect gift has come, a new glow of glad
thankfulness should fill our hearts, as we remember that He did not
omit to fix the periodical day of rest.
Well for us, dear ones, that we were not left to depend on any
ordinance of man for the right to this blessing. Think what the world
would be without it! The Sabbath is often abused, ignored, neglected,
almost always undervalued. But would the most careless, or even the
most irreligious, like it to be wholly abolished?
I daresay some, probably most, of you have read that amongst the
horrors of the French Revolution the Sabbath was abolished together
with all the services of religion.
I do not wish to enter into detail or to picture the horrible scenes
which followed, but as there is a tendency amongst a large class of
persons to undervalue the Sabbath in its hallowed character, it is well
for us to glance at the state of France during its abolition. Listen
to a few words only. “The services of religion were now universally
abandoned. The pulpits were deserted through all the revolutionised
districts; baptisms ceased; the burial service was no longer heard;
the sick received no Communion; the dying no consolation. A heavier
anathema than that of papal power pressed upon the peopled realm of
France—the anathema of Heaven, inflicted by the madness of her own
inhabitants. The village bells were silent; Sunday was obliterated;
infancy entered the world without a blessing; age left it without a
hope. On every tenth day a revolutionary leader ascended the pulpit
and preached Atheism to the bewildered audience. On all the public
cemeteries the inscription was placed, ‘Death is an eternal sleep.’”
I should not like to shock your ears or to leave with one of our
twilight gatherings such memories as would haunt you, were I to
continue my quotation; so I have only given a faint glimpse of a
country without a Sabbath and its gracious Giver. May the little help
us to realise more fully the preciousness of His first gift to mankind.
I wonder if you, my dear girl friends, have ever thought of a fact
which establishes the Divine origin of the Sabbath. You know how we
measure our years, calendar months and days, and how these periods are
accounted for by the journeying of the earth round the sun, and other
movements and positions which regularly recur. But there is nothing to
divide week from week, or to mark a definite period of seven days, save
the Divine example and the Divine command, as recorded in the Bible.
The story of God’s creative work during six days, and of His resting
and sanctifying the seventh, the commandment, “Six days shalt thou
labour and do all thy work, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the
Lord thy God,” are our only warrant for the division of time which we
call a week. The lunar month divided by four will not give fully seven
days. The calendar months are of unequal lengths, and even the year
cannot be divided into so many exact weeks.
This fact may be already known to most of you, but you may have gone
over the figures many a time without saying to yourselves, “The
movements of the earth and her attendant moon mark various periods, but
never an exact term of seven days. For this division we must refer to
God’s word and His command to give six days to work and the seventh to
rest.”
Are you saying to yourselves that I am dwelling too long on the
institution itself, whereas you want to know how best to keep it in
these days of varied opinions and many temptations? Forgive me if I
have stepped aside a little from the path you asked me to tread. I
longed—I cannot tell you how earnestly—to impress upon your minds,
first of all, a sense of God’s love in bestowing the day of rest and
the infinite benevolence it manifests. We can neither value nor use
such a gift as we ought to do, unless we feel that it was bestowed for
our good and to make us both better and happier. Having once realised
this, how can we help thanking God for it and feeling anxious to use it
aright, so that we may derive from it all the benefit intended for us?
Most people, however irreligious and indifferent to the sanctified
part of the Sabbath, practically acknowledge it as the best day of the
seven. If they do not, why should it be the day for clean raiment, for
the best clothes to be worn, the best food to be provided, and all done
that can be done, according to the lights of different individuals, to
make it stand out as being unlike the other six days?
It ought to be the brightest and happiest day of the week, and I, for
one, have no sympathy with those who would make it a day of gloom and
weariness to the young. On the other hand, I have as little sympathy
with those who would leave God out of it, and dedicate it wholly to
what they call pleasure, but which often results in over-wearied
bodies, unrefreshed souls and unfitness to begin the work of the six
days that follow.
To enjoy our Sabbath we must feel glad of and thankful for it, and
we shall not be satisfied unless our immortal part is refreshed and
strengthened, as well as our body, by the opportunities it gives.
We shall need no special command, no hard and fast rule to direct us.
Our grateful hearts will incline us to turn our steps towards the house
of God once during the day, if it be possible for us to do so. And, if
not, we can mark the day in the quiet of home by devoting an hour to
special study of God’s word, prayer, thanksgiving and self-examination.
There are many waking hours in our day. Let us ask ourselves whether,
when prevented from joining in public worship, we habitually dedicate
one in the way I have named.
I once heard a girl say, “I do like to take a bit of Sunday to talk
myself over.”
It was her way of alluding to her weekly self-examination, and, whilst
feeling conscious that I needed to “look within” much more frequently,
I rejoiced to hear from young lips that the “talking herself over” was
habitual.
Supposing that circumstances prevent one visit to the house of God, and
there are only mother and daughter, mistress and maid, in the house,
why should not these claim and enjoy the blessing promised in the words
of Jesus, “For where two or three are gathered together in my name,
there am I in the midst of them”?
I know by experience how very sweet and profitable such household
services can be, even when there are literally only the two or three to
share in them. And how very small is the fragment they take out of the
day of rest, whilst sweetening and purifying the whole of it.
If our Sunday observances are not influenced by thankfulness for God’s
gift, anxiety to use it rightly, and love for the Giver, they are
generally fitful and, to a great extent, dependent on our immediate
surroundings. For instance, when we are at home we may be regular in
our attendance at church. We should feel ashamed were the friends
who worship under the same roof with us to see our seats vacant week
after week from any cause except illness or absence from home. Are we
equally regular in our attendance when amongst strangers, or in a new
neighbourhood? When taking holiday, do we not sometimes regard it as
part of the holiday to excuse ourselves from going to church and say,
“We want the fresh air and change of scene. We must make the most of
our opportunities.” By so doing we show plainly that there is no heart
in our ordinary worship, no realisation of the value of the Sabbath, or
the needs of our spiritual nature.
I heard some young people talking together of a Continental tour they
were about to take and the pleasure it would give them. They were
unused to travel and were discussing the amount of luggage they must
take: what articles must go, what could be done without.
An old friend listened to them with interest and amusement. He had
travelled much and wished that he could renew past pleasure by
witnessing the enjoyment of these bright girls amid new scenes and
experiences. His opinion was often asked as to what might be called
necessaries and what luxuries. At length he said—
“I have noticed that so many people forget one thing which they seem to
value at home, but leave behind, though they could take it with them
and have no extra cost for luggage.”
“What is that?” was the eager question.
“Sunday.”
No other word was needed. The girls understood their old friend’s
meaning. They had heard their travelled acquaintances speak of Sundays
spent in other lands, and knew how easily they had been induced to fall
in with the ways of those amongst whom they found themselves.
One of yourselves told me that when abroad last summer the party of
tourists found there was no English service in the town where they
were, so it was settled they should travel on Sunday to their next
stopping-place. “I,” wrote my girl friend, “had kept the last month’s
Twilight Talk to read in the train at the time that, had I been in
England, I should have been at church.” Then she related an incident
that followed and brought with it a temptation to do something which
would have put self before others; but, she added, “with the words I
had been reading fresh in my mind, I had the strength to overcome my
selfishness.”
It was very delightful to know that, even when so far from home, a dear
member of our circle had been influenced for good by reading our last
talk, and I am sure she will forgive my quoting this little incident,
because it will give pleasure to us all and be helpful also.
You no doubt remember the Bible phrase, “a Sabbath day’s journey,”
which surely suggests Sunday travelling, you will say.
It is wonderful how often we hear an expression without finding out its
meaning, so there may be some of you who do not know that a Sabbath
day’s journey meant seven and a half furlongs, rather less than a mile.
Now, in these days it would be impossible to confine travelling to
such narrow limits, but I do venture to protest against the needless
journeying on Sunday, which helps to keep many people at work who
sorely need the day of rest that God ordained for them.
When, many years ago, the dear partner of my happiest days and I were
travelling together, we always rested on the Sunday, if possible, in
some place where we could attend church; if not, where we could spend
the day peacefully, and claim the blessing promised to the “two or
three.” We reaped the benefit, when we resumed our journey, in the
sense of freshness and vigour, which gave keener enjoyment to every new
scene and experience.
Apart from all religious sentiment, we were in these abundantly repaid
for our observance of the Sabbath.
I have more to say on this subject, but it must wait until our next
meeting, when we will take such glimpses of the Sabbaths of Jesus as
the Bible gives us in the picture of His Manhood. We shall also have
more to say about “Rest.”
(_To be continued._)
[Illustration]
THE HOUSE WITH THE VERANDAH.
BY ISABELLA FYVIE MAYO, Author of “Other People’s Stairs,” “Her Object
in Life,” etc.