From all that has been said, it follows, that Abel was not

distinguished from his brother Cain by any thing natural. The

distinction between them was not grounded upon aught in their nature or

circumstances, for, as to these, "there was no difference." What,

therefore, made the vast difference? The answer is as simple as the

gospel of the grace of God can make it. The difference was not in

themselves, in their nature, or their circumstances; it lay,

_entirely_, in their _sacrifices_. This makes the matter most simple,

for any truly convicted sinner,--for any one who truly feels that he

not only partakes of a fallen nature, but is himself, also, a sinner.

The history of Abel opens, to such an one, the only true ground of his

approach to, his standing before, and his relationship with, God. It

teaches him, distinctly, that he cannot come to God on the ground of

any thing in, of, or pertaining to, nature; and he must seek, _outside

himself_, and in the person and work of another, the true and

everlasting basis of his connection with the Holy, the Just, and only

True God. The eleventh chapter of Hebrews sets the whole subject before

us, in the most distinct and comprehensive way. "By faith Abel offered

unto God a more excellent sacrifice ([Greek: pleiona thysian]) than

Cain, by which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God bearing

witness ([Greek: martyrountos]) to his gifts; and by it he being dead

yet speaketh." Here we are taught that it was, in nowise, a question as

to the men, but only as to their "sacrifice,"--it was not a question as

to the offerer, but as to his offering. Here lay the grand distinction

between Cain and Abel. My reader cannot be too simple in his

apprehension of this point, for therein lies involved the truth as to

any sinner's standing before God.

And, now, let us inquire what the offerings were. "And in process of

time it came to pass, that Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an

offering unto Jehovah. And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of

his flock, and of the fat thereof. And the Lord had respect unto Abel,

and to his offering; but unto Cain and to his offering, he had not

respect." (Gen. iv. 3-5.) This passage sets the difference clearly

before us: Cain offered to Jehovah the fruit of a cursed earth, and

that, moreover, without any blood to remove the curse. He presented "an

unbloody sacrifice," simply because he had no faith. Had he possessed

that divine principle, it would have taught him, even at this early

moment, that "without shedding of blood there is no remission." (Heb.

ix.) This is a great cardinal truth. The penalty of sin is death. Cain

was a sinner, and, as such, death stood between him and Jehovah. But,

in his offering, there was no recognition whatever of this fact. There

was no presentation of a sacrificed life, to meet the claims of divine

holiness, or to answer to his own true condition as a sinner. He

treated Jehovah as though he were, altogether, such an one as himself,

who could accept the sin-stained fruit of a cursed earth.

All this, and much more, lay involved in Cain's "unbloody sacrifice."

He displayed entire ignorance in reference to divine requirements, in

reference to his own character and condition as a lost and guilty

sinner, and in reference to the true state of that ground, the fruit of

which he presumed to offer. No doubt, reason might say, "what more

acceptable offering could a man present, than that which he had

produced by the labor of his hands, and the sweat of his brow?" Reason,

and even man's religious mind, may think thus; but God thinks quite

differently; and faith is always sure to agree with God's thoughts. God

teaches, and faith believes, that there must be a sacrificed life, else

there can be no approach to God.

Thus, when we look at the ministry of the Lord Jesus, we see, at once,

that, had he not died upon the cross, all his services would have

proved utterly unavailing as regards the establishment of our

relationship with God. True, "he went about doing good" all his life;

but it was his death that rent the veil. (Matt. xxvii. 51.) Naught but

his death could have done so. Had he continued, to the present moment,

"going about doing good," the veil would have remained entire, to bar

the worshipper's approach into "the holiest of all." Hence we can see

the false ground on which Cain stood as an offerer and a worshipper. An

unpardoned sinner coming into the presence of Jehovah, to present "an

unbloody sacrifice," could only be regarded as guilty of the highest

degree of presumption. True, he had toiled to produce this offering;

but what of that? Could a sinner's toil remove the curse and stain of

sin? Could it satisfy the claims of an infinitely holy God? Could it

furnish a proper ground of acceptance for a sinner? Could it set aside

the penalty which was due to sin? Could it rob death of its sting, or

the grave of its victory? Could it do any or all of these things?

Impossible. "Without shedding of blood is no remission." Cain's

"unbloody sacrifice," like every other unbloody sacrifice, was not

only worthless, but actually abominable, in the divine estimation. It

not only demonstrated his entire ignorance of his own condition, but

also of the divine character. "God is not worshipped with men's hands

as though he needed any thing." And yet Cain thought he could be thus

approached. And every mere religionist thinks the same. Cain has had

many millions of followers, from age to age. Cain-worship has abounded

all over the world. It is the worship of every unconverted soul, and is

maintained by every false system of religion under the sun.

Man would fain make God a receiver instead of a giver; but this cannot

be; for, "it is more blessed to give than to receive;" and, assuredly,

God must have the more blessed place. "Without all contradiction, the

less is blessed of the better." "Who hath _first_ given to him?" God

can accept the smallest gift from a heart which has learnt the deep

truth contained in those words, "of thine own have we given thee;" but,

the moment a man presumes to take the place of the "first" giver, God's

reply is, "if I were hungry, I would not tell thee;" for "he is not

worshipped with men's hands, as though he _needed any thing_, seeing he

_giveth_ to _all_ life and breath and _all_ things." The great Giver of

"all things" cannot possibly "need any thing." Praise is all that we

can offer to God; but this can only be offered in the full and clear

intelligence that our sins are all put away; and this again can only be

known by faith in the virtue of an accomplished atonement.

My readers may pause, here, and read prayerfully the following

scriptures, namely, Psalm i.; Isaiah i. 11-18; and Acts xvii. 22-34, in

all of which he will find distinctly laid down the truth as to man's

true position before God, as also the proper ground of worship.

Let us now consider Abel's sacrifice. "And Abel, he also brought of the

firstlings of his flock, and of the fat thereof." In other words, he

entered, by faith, into the glorious truth, that God could be

approached by sacrifice; that there was such a thing as a sinner's

placing the death of another between himself and the consequence of his

sin, that the claims of God's nature and the attributes of his

character could be met by the blood of a spotless victim,--a victim

offered to meet God's demands, and the sinner's deep necessities. This

is, in short, the doctrine of the cross, in which alone the conscience

of a sinner can find repose, because, therein, God is fully glorified.

Every divinely-convicted sinner must feel that death and judgment are

before him, as "the due reward of his deeds;" nor can he, by aught that

he can accomplish, alter that destiny. He may toil and labor; he may,

by the sweat of his brow, produce an offering; he may make vows and

resolutions; he may alter his way of life; he may reform his outward

character; he may be temperate, moral, upright, and, in the human

acceptation of the word, religious; he may, though entirely destitute

of faith, read, pray, and hear sermons. In short, he may do any thing,

or every thing which lies within the range of human competency; but,

notwithstanding all, "death and judgment" are before him. He has not

been able to disperse those two heavy clouds which have gathered upon

the horizon. There they stand; and, so far from being able to remove

them, by all his doings, he can only live in the gloomy anticipation

of the moment when they shall burst upon his guilty head. It is

impossible for a sinner, by his own works, to place himself in life and

triumph, at the other side of "death and judgment,"--yea, his very

works are only performed for the purpose of preparing him, if possible,

for those dreaded realities.

Here, however, is exactly where the cross comes in. In that cross, the

convicted sinner can behold a divine provision for all his guilt and

all his need. There, too, he can see death and judgment entirely

removed from the scene, and life and glory set in their stead. Christ

has cleared the prospect of death and judgment, so far as the true

believer is concerned, and filled it with life, righteousness, and

glory. "He hath abolished death, and brought life and incorruptibility

to light, through the gospel." (2 Tim. i. 10.) He has glorified God in

the putting away of that which would have separated us, forever, from

his holy and blissful presence. "He has put away sin," and hence it is

gone. (Heb. ix. 26.) All this is, in type, set forth in Abel's "more

excellent sacrifice." There was no attempt, on Abel's part, to set

aside the truth as to his own condition, and proper place as a guilty

sinner,--no attempt to turn aside the edge of the flaming sword, and

force his way back to the tree of life,--no presumptuous offering of an

"unbloody sacrifice,"--no presentation of the fruit of a cursed earth

to Jehovah,--he took the real ground of a sinner, and, as such, set the

death of a victim between him and his sins, and between his sins and

the holiness of a sin-hating God. This was most simple. Abel deserved

death and judgment, but he found a substitute.

Thus is it with every poor, helpless, self-condemned,

conscience-smitten sinner. Christ is his substitute, his ransom, his

most excellent sacrifice, his ALL. Such an one will feel, like Abel,

that the fruit of the ground could never avail for him; that were he to

present to God the fairest fruits of earth, he would still have a

sin-stained conscience, inasmuch as "without shedding of blood is no

remission." The richest fruits, and the most fragrant flowers, in the

greatest profusion, could not remove a single stain from the

conscience. Nothing but the perfect sacrifice of the Son of God can

give ease to the heart and conscience. All who by faith lay hold of

that divine reality, will enjoy a peace which the world can neither

give nor take away. It is faith which puts the soul in present

possession of this peace. "Being justified by faith, we have peace with

God, through our Lord Jesus Christ." (Rom. v. 1.) "By faith Abel

offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain."

It is not a question of feeling, as so many would make it. It is

entirely a question of faith in an accomplished fact,--faith wrought in

the soul of a sinner, by the power of the Holy Ghost. This faith is

something quite different from a mere feeling of the heart, or an

assent of the intellect. Feeling is not faith. Intellectual assent is

not faith. Some would make faith to be the mere assent of the intellect

to a certain proposition. This is fearfully false. It makes the

question of faith human, whereas it is really divine. It reduces it to

the level of man, whereas it really comes from God. Faith is not a

thing of to-day or to-morrow. It is an imperishable principle,

emanating from an eternal source, even God himself: it lays hold of

God's truth, and sets the soul in God's presence.

Mere feeling and sentimentality can never rise above the source from

whence they emanate; and that source is self; but faith has to do with

God and his eternal word, and is a living link, connecting the heart

that possesses it with God who gives it. Human feelings, however

intense,--human sentiments, however refined,--could not connect the

soul with God. They are neither divine nor eternal, but are human and

evanescent. They are like Jonah's gourd, which sprang up in a night,

and perished in a night. Not so faith. That precious principle partakes

of all the value, all the power, and all the reality of the source from

whence it emanates, and the object with which it has to do. It

justifies the soul; (Rom. v. 1;) it purifies the heart; (Acts xv. 9;)

it works by love; (Gal. v. 6;) it overcomes the world. (1 John v. 4.)

Feeling and sentiment never could accomplish such results: they belong

to nature and to earth,--faith belongs to God and to heaven; they are

occupied with self,--faith is occupied with Christ; they look inward

and downward,--faith looks outward and upward; they leave the soul in

darkness and doubt,--faith leads it into light and peace; they have to

do with one's own fluctuating condition,--faith has to do with God's

immutable truth, and Christ's eternally-enduring sacrifice.

No doubt, faith will produce feelings and sentiments,--spiritual

feelings and truthful sentiments,--but the fruits of faith must never

be confounded with faith itself. I am not justified by feelings, nor

yet by faith _and_ feelings, but simply by faith. And why? Because

faith believes God when he speaks; it takes him at his word; it

apprehends him as he has revealed himself in the person and work of

the Lord Jesus Christ. This is life, righteousness, and peace. To

apprehend God as he is, is the sum of all present and eternal

blessedness. When the soul finds out God, it has found out all it can

possibly need, here or hereafter; but he can only be known by his own

revelation, and by the faith which he himself imparts, and which,

moreover, always seeks divine revelation as its proper object.

Thus, then, we can in some measure enter into the meaning and power of

the statement, "By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent

sacrifice than Cain." Cain had no faith, and therefore he offered an

unbloody sacrifice. Abel had faith, and therefore he offered both

"blood and fat," which, in type, set forth the presentation of the

life, and also the inherent excellency of the Person of Christ. "The

blood" set forth the former; "the fat" shadowed forth the latter. Both

blood and fat were forbidden to be eaten under the Mosaic economy. The

blood is the life; and man, under law, had no title to life. But, in

the sixth of John we are taught that unless we eat blood we have no

life in us. Christ is _the_ life. There is not a spark of life outside

of him. All out of Christ is death. "In him was life," and in none

else.

Now, he gave up his life on the cross; and, to that life, sin was by

imputation attached, when the blessed One was nailed to the cursed

tree. Hence, in giving up his life, he gave up also the sin attached

thereto, so that it is effectually put away, having been left in his

grave from which he rose triumphant, in the power of a new life, to

which righteousness as distinctly attaches itself as did sin to that

life which he gave up on the cross. This will help us to an

understanding of an expression used by our blessed Lord after his

resurrection, "A spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have."

He did not say, "flesh and blood;" because, in resurrection, he had not

assumed into his sacred person the blood which he had shed out upon the

cross as an atonement for sin. "The life of the flesh is in the blood,

and I have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your

souls: for it is the blood which maketh an atonement for the soul."

(Lev. xvii. 11.) Close attention to this point will have the effect of

deepening in our souls the sense of the completeness of the putting

away of sin by the death of Christ; and we know that whatever tends to

deepen our sense of that glorious reality, must necessarily tend to the

fuller establishment of our peace, and to the more effectual promotion

of the glory of Christ as connected with our testimony and service.

We have already referred to a point of much interest and value in the

history of Cain and Abel, and that is, the entire identification of

each with the offering which he presented. My reader cannot possibly

bestow too much attention upon this. The question, in each case, was

not as to the person of the offerer; but entirely as to the character

of his offering. Hence, of Abel we read that "God testified of his

_gifts_." He did not bear witness to Abel, but to Abel's sacrifice; and

this fixes distinctly the proper ground of a believer's peace and

acceptance before God.

There is a constant tendency in the heart to ground our peace and

acceptance upon something in or about ourselves, even though we admit

that that something is wrought by the Holy Ghost. Hence arises the

constant looking _in_, when the Holy Ghost would ever have us looking

_out_. The question for every believer is not, "what am I?" but, "what

is Christ?" Having come to God "in the name of Jesus," he is wholly

identified with him, and accepted in his name, and, moreover, can no

more be rejected than the One in whose name he has come. Before ever a

question can be raised as to the feeblest believer, it must be raised

as to Christ himself. But this latter is clearly impossible, and thus

the security of the believer is established upon a foundation which

nothing can possibly move. Being in himself a poor worthless sinner, he

has come in the name of Christ, he is identified with Christ, accepted

in and as Christ, bound up in the same bundle of life with Christ. God

testifies, not of him, but of his gift, and his gift is Christ. All

this is most tranquillizing and consolatory. It is our happy privilege

to be able, in the confidence of faith, to refer every objection and

every objector to Christ and his finished atonement. All our springs

are in him. In him we boast all the day long. Our confidence is not in

ourselves, but in him who hath wrought every thing for us. We hang on

his name, trust in his work, gaze on his person, and wait for his

coming.

But the carnal mind at once displays its enmity against all this truth

which so gladdens and satisfies the heart of a believer. Thus it was

with Cain. "He was very wroth, and his countenance fell." That which

filled Abel with peace, filled Cain with wrath. Cain, in unbelief,

despised the only way in which a sinner could come to God. He refused

to offer blood, without which there can be no remission; and then,

because _he_ was not received, _in his sins_, and because Abel was

accepted, _in his gift_, "he was wroth, and his countenance fell." And

yet, how else could it be? He should either be received with his sins,

or without them; but God could not receive him with them, and he would

not bring the blood which alone maketh atonement; and, therefore, he

was rejected, and, being rejected, he manifests in his ways the fruits

of corrupt religion. He persecutes and murders the true witness,--the

accepted, justified man,--the man of faith; and, in so doing, he stands

as the model and forerunner of all false religionists in every age. At

all times, and in all places, men have shown themselves more ready to

persecute on religious grounds than on any other. This is Cain-like.

Justification--full, perfect, unqualified justification, by faith only,

makes God every thing, and man nothing: and man does not like this; it

causes his countenance to fall, and draws out his anger. Not that he

can give any reason for his anger; for it is not, as we have seen, a

question of man at all, but only of the ground on which he appears

before God. Had Abel been accepted on the ground of aught in himself,

then, indeed, Cain's wrath and his fallen countenance would have had

some just foundation; but, inasmuch as he was accepted, exclusively on

the ground of his offering; and, inasmuch as it was not to him, but to

his gift, that Jehovah bore testimony, his wrath was entirely without

any proper basis. This is brought out in Jehovah's word to Cain: "If

thou doest well, (or, as the LXX. reads it, if thou offer correctly,

[Greek: orthos prosenenkes],) shalt thou not be accepted?" The

well-doing had reference to the offering. Abel did well by hiding

himself behind an acceptable sacrifice. Cain did badly by bringing an

offering without blood; and all his after-conduct was but the

legitimate result of his false worship.

"And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they

were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew

him." Thus has it ever been; the Cains have persecuted and murdered the

Abels. At all times, man and his religion are the same; faith and its

religion are the same: and wherever they have met, there has been

conflict.

However, it is well to see that Cain's act of murder was the true

consequence--the proper fruit--of his false worship. His foundation was

bad, and the superstructure erected thereon was also bad. Nor did he

stop at the act of murder; but having heard the judgment of God

thereon, despairing of forgiveness through ignorance of God, he went

forth from his blessed presence, and built a city, and had in his

family the cultivators of the useful and ornamental

sciences,--agriculturists, musicians, and workers in metals. Through

ignorance of the divine character, he pronounced his sin too great to

be pardoned.[8] It was not that he really knew his sin, but that he

knew not God. He fully exhibited the terrible fruit of the fall in the

very thought of God to which he gave utterance. He did not want pardon,

because he did not want God. He had no true sense of his own condition;

no aspirations after God; no intelligence as to the ground of a

sinner's approach to God. He was radically corrupt,--fundamentally

wrong; and all he wanted was to get out of the presence of God, and

lose himself in the world and its pursuits. He thought he could live

very well without God, and he therefore set about decorating the world

as well as he could, for the purpose of making it a respectable place,

and himself a respectable man therein, though in God's view it was

under the curse, and he was a fugitive and a vagabond.

Such was "_the way of Cain_," in which way millions are at this moment

rushing on. Such persons are not by any means divested of the religious

element in their character. They would like to offer something to God;

to do something for him. They deem it right to present to him the

results of their own toil. They are ignorant of themselves, ignorant of

God; but with all this there is the diligent effort to improve the

world; to make life agreeable in various ways; to deck the scene with

the fairest colors. God's remedy to _cleanse_ is rejected, and man's

effort to _improve_ is put in its place. This is "the way of Cain."

(Jude 11.)

And, my reader, you have only to look around you to see how this "way"

prevails at the present moment. Though the world is stained with the

blood of "a greater than" Abel, even with the blood of Christ; yet see

what an agreeable place man seeks to make of it! As in Cain's day, the

grateful sounds of "the harp and organ," no doubt, completely drowned,

to man's ear, the cry of Abel's blood; so now, man's ear is filled with

other sounds than those which issue from Calvary, and his eye filled

with other objects than a crucified Christ. The resources of his

genius, too, are put forth to render this world a hot-house, in which

are produced, in their rarest form, all the fruits for which nature so

eagerly longs. And not merely are the real wants of man, as a creature,

supplied, but the inventive genius of the human mind has been set to

work for the purpose of devising things, which, the moment the eye

sees, the heart desires, and not only desires, but imagines that life

would be intolerable without them. Thus, for instance, some years ago,

people were content to devote three or four days to the accomplishing

of a journey of one hundred miles; but now they can accomplish it in

three or four hours; and not only so, but they will complain sadly if

they happen to be five or ten minutes late. In fact, man must be saved

the trouble of living. He must travel without fatigue, and he must hear

news without having to exercise patience for it. He will lay iron rails

across the earth, and electric wires beneath the sea, as if to

anticipate, in his own way, that bright and blissful age when "there

shall be no more sea."[9]

In addition to all this, there is abundance of religion, so called;

but, alas! charity itself is compelled to harbor the apprehension, that

very much of what passes for religion is but a screw in the vast

machine, which has been constructed for man's convenience, and man's

exaltation. Man would not be without religion. It would not be

respectable; and, therefore, he is content to devote one-seventh of his

time to religion; or, as he thinks and professes, to his eternal

interests; and then he has six-sevenths to devote to his temporal

interests; but whether he works for time or eternity, it is for

_himself_, in reality. Such is "the way of Cain." Let my reader ponder

it well. Let him see where this way begins, whither it tends, and where

it terminates.

How different the way of the man of faith! Abel felt and owned the

curse; he saw the stain of sin, and, in the holy energy of faith,

offered that which met it, and met it thoroughly,--met it divinely. He

sought and found a refuge in God himself; and instead of building a

city on the earth, he found but a grave in its bosom. The earth, which

on its surface displayed the genius and energy of Cain and his family,

was stained underneath with the blood of a righteous man. Let the man

of the world remember this; let the man of God remember it; let the

worldly-minded Christian remember it. The earth which we tread upon is

stained by the blood of the Son of God. The very blood which justifies

the Church condemns the world. The dark shadow of the cross of Jesus

may be seen by the eye of faith, looming over all the glitter and glare

of this evanescent world. "The fashion of this world passeth away." It

will soon all be over, so far as the present scene is concerned. "The

way of Cain" will be followed by "the error of Balaam," in its

consummated form; and then will come "the gainsaying of Core;" and what

then? "The pit" will open its mouth to receive the wicked, and close it

again, to shut them up in "blackness of darkness forever." (Jude 13.)

In full confirmation of the foregoing lines, we may run the eye over

the contents of Chapter V. and find therein the humiliating record of

man's weakness, and subjection to the rule of death. He might live for

hundreds of years, and "beget sons and daughters;" but, at last, it

must be recorded that "_he died_." "Death reigned from Adam to Moses."

And, again, "It is appointed unto men once to die." Man cannot get over

this. He cannot, by steam, or electricity, or any thing else within the

range of his genius, disarm death of its terrible sting. He cannot, by

his energy, set aside the sentence of _death_, although he may produce

the comforts and luxuries of _life_.

But whence came this strange and dreaded thing, death? St. Paul gives

us the answer: "By one man sin entered into the world, and _death by

sin_." (Rom. v. 12.) Here we have the origin of death. It came by sin.

Sin snapped asunder the link which bound the creature to the living

God; and, that being done, he was handed over to the dominion of death,

which dominion he had no power whatever to shake off. And this, be it

observed, is one of the many proofs of the fact of man's total

inability to meet God. There can be no fellowship between God and man,

save in the power of life; but man is under the power of death; hence,

on natural grounds, there can be no fellowship. Life can have no

fellowship with death, no more than light with darkness, or holiness

with sin. Man must meet God on an entirely new ground, and on a new

principle, even faith; and this faith enables him to recognize his own

position, as "sold under sin," and, therefore, subject to death; while,

at the same time, it enables him to apprehend God's character, as the

dispenser of a new life,--life beyond the power of death,--a life

which can never be touched by the enemy, nor forfeited by us.

This it is which marks the security of the believer's life. Christ is

his life,--a risen, glorified Christ,--a Christ victorious over every

thing that could be against us. Adam's life was founded upon his own

obedience; and, therefore, when he disobeyed, life was forfeited. But

Christ, having life in himself, came down into this world, and fully

met all the circumstances of man's sin, in every possible form; and, by

submitting to death, destroyed him who had the power thereof, and, in

resurrection, becomes the Life and Righteousness of all who believe in

his most excellent name.

Now, it is impossible that Satan can touch this life, either in its

source, its channel, its power, its sphere, or its duration. God is its

source; a risen Christ, its channel; the Holy Ghost, its power; heaven,

its sphere; and eternity, its duration. Hence, therefore, as might be

expected, to one possessing this wondrous life, the whole scene is

changed; and while, in one sense, it must be said, "in the midst of

life we are in death," yet, in another sense, it can be said, "in the

midst of death we are in life." There is no death in the sphere into

which a risen Christ introduces his people. How could there be? Has not

he abolished it? It cannot be an abolished and an existing thing at the

same time and to the same people; but God's word tells us it is

abolished. Christ emptied the scene of death, and filled it with life;

and, therefore, it is not death, but glory that lies before the

believer. Death is behind him, and behind him forever. As to the

future, it is all glory,--cloudless glory. True, it may be his lot to

"fall asleep,"--to "sleep in Jesus,"--but that is not death, but "life

in earnest." The mere matter of departing to be with Christ cannot

alter the specific hope of the believer, which is to meet Christ in the

air, to be with him, and like him, forever.

Of this we have a very beautiful exemplification in Enoch, who forms

the only exception to the rule of Chap. V. The rule is, "he died;" the

exception is, "he should not see death." "By faith Enoch was translated

that he should not see death; and was not found, because God had

translated him; for before his translation he had this testimony, that

he pleased God." (Heb. xi. 5.) Enoch was "the seventh from Adam;" and

it is deeply interesting to find, that death was not suffered to

triumph over "the seventh;" but that, in his case, God interfered, and

made him a trophy of his own glorious victory over all the power of

death. The heart rejoices, after reading, six times, the sad record,

"he died," to find, that the seventh did not die; and when we ask, How

was this? the answer is, "by faith." Enoch lived in the faith of his

translation, and walked with God three hundred years. This separated

him, practically, from all around. To walk with God must, necessarily,

put one outside the sphere of this world's thoughts. Enoch realized

this; for, in his day, the spirit of the world was manifested; and

then, too, as now, it was opposed to all that was of God. The man of

faith felt he had naught to do with the world, save to be a patient

witness therein of the grace of God and of coming judgment. The sons of

Cain might spend their energies in the vain attempt to improve a cursed

world, but Enoch found a better world, and lived in the power of

it.[10] His faith was not given him to improve the world, but to walk

with God.

And oh, how much is involved in these three words, "walked with God!"

What separation and self-denial! what holiness and moral purity! what

grace and gentleness! what humility and tenderness! and yet, what zeal

and energy! What patience and long-suffering! and yet what faithfulness

and uncompromising decision! To walk with God comprehends every thing

within the range of the divine life, whether active or passive. It

involves the knowledge of God's character as he has revealed it. It

involves, too, the intelligence of the relationship in which we stand

to him. It is not a mere living by rules and regulations; nor laying

down plans of action; nor in resolutions to go hither and thither, to

do this or that. To walk with God is far more than any or all of these

things. Moreover, it will sometimes carry us right athwart the thoughts

of men, and even of our brethren, if they are not themselves walking

with God. It may, sometimes, bring against us the charge of doing too

much: at other times, of doing too little; but the faith that enables

one to "walk with God," enables him also to attach the proper value to

the thoughts of man.

Thus we have, in Abel and Enoch, most valuable instruction as to the

sacrifice on which faith rests; and, as to the prospect which hope now

anticipates; while, at the same time, "the walk with God" takes in all

the details of actual life which lie between those two points. "The

Lord will give grace and glory;" and between the grace that has been,

and the glory that is to be, revealed, there is the happy assurance,

that "no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly."

(Psalm lxxxiv. 11.)

It has been remarked, that "the cross and the coming of the Lord form

the termini of the Church's existence," and these termini are

prefigured in the sacrifice of Abel, and the translation of Enoch. The

Church knows her entire justification through the death and

resurrection of Christ, and she waits for the day when he shall come

and receive her to himself. She, "through the Spirit, waits for the

hope of righteousness by faith." (Gal. v. 5.) She does not wait for

righteousness, inasmuch as she, by grace, has that already; but she

waits for the hope which properly belongs to the condition into which

she has been introduced.

My reader should seek to be clear as to this. Some expositors of

prophetic truth, from not seeing the Church's specific place, portion,

and hope, have made sad mistakes. They have, in effect, cast so many

dark clouds and thick mists around "the bright and morning star," which

is the proper hope of the Church, that many saints, at the present

moment, seem unable to rise above the hope of the God-fearing remnant

of Israel, which is to see "the Sun of righteousness arise with healing

in his wings." (Mal. iv.) Nor is this all. Very many have been deprived

of the moral power of the hope of Christ's appearing, by being taught

to look for various events and circumstances previous to the moment of

his manifestation to the Church. The restoration of the Jews, the

development of Nebuchadnezzar's image, the revelation of the man of

sin,--all these things, it is maintained, must take place ere Christ

comes. That this is not true, might be proved from numerous passages of

New-Testament scripture, were this the fitting place to adduce them.

The Church, like Enoch, will be taken away from the evil around, and

the evil to come. Enoch was not left to see the world's evil rise to a

head, and the judgment of God poured forth upon it. He saw not "the

fountains of the great deep broken up," nor "the windows of heaven

opened." He was taken away before any of these things occurred; and he

stands before the eye of faith as a beautiful figure of those, "who

shall not all sleep, but shall all be changed, in a moment, in the

twinkling of an eye." (1 Cor. xv. 51, 52.) Translation, not death, was

the hope of Enoch; and, as to the Church's hope, it is thus briefly

expressed by the apostle, "To wait for the Son from heaven." (1 Thess.

i. 10.) This, the simplest and most unlettered Christian can understand

and enjoy. Its power, too, he can, in some measure, experience and

manifest. He may not be able to study prophecy very deeply, but he can,

blessed be God, taste the blessedness, the reality, the comfort, the

power, the elevating and separating virtue of that celestial hope which

properly belongs to him as a member of that heavenly body, the Church;

which hope is not merely to see "the Sun of righteousness," how blessed

soever that may be in its place, but to see "the bright and morning

star." (Rev. ii. 28.) And as, in the natural world, the morning star is

seen, by those who watch for it, before the sun rises, so Christ, as

the morning star, will be seen by the Church, before the remnant of

Israel can behold the beams of the Sun.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] The word used by Cain is [Hebrew: minneso'] which occurs in Psalm

xxxii. 1, "whose transgression is _forgiven_." The LXX. renders it by

[Greek: aphethenai], "to be remitted."

[9] True, the Lord is using all those things for the furtherance of his

own gracious ends; and the Lord's servant can freely use them also; but

this does not hinder our seeing the spirit which originates and

characterizes them.

[10] It is very evident that Enoch knew nothing whatever about the mode

of "making the best of both worlds." To him there was but one world.

Thus it should be with us.

CHAPTERS VI.-IX.

We have now arrived at a deeply-important and strongly-marked division

of our book. Enoch has passed off the scene. His walk, as a stranger on

earth, has terminated in his translation to heaven. He was taken away

before human evil had risen to a head, and, therefore, before the

divine judgment had been poured out. How little influence his course

and translation had upon the world is manifest from the first two

verses of Chapter VI. "And it came to pass, when men began to multiply

on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them, that the

sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took

them wives of all which they chose."

The mingling of that which is of God with that which is of man is a

special form of evil, and a very effectual engine, in Satan's hand, for

marring the testimony of Christ on the earth. This mingling may

frequently wear the appearance of something very desirable; it may

often look like a wider promulgation of that which is of God,--a fuller

and a more vigorous outgoing of a divine influence,--a something to be

rejoiced in rather than to be deplored: but our judgment as to this

will depend entirely upon the point of view from which we contemplate

it. If we look at it in the light of God's presence, we cannot possibly

imagine that an advantage is gained when the people of God mingle

themselves with the children of this world; or when the truth of God is

corrupted by human admixture. Such is not the divine method of

promulgating truth, or of advancing the interests of those, who ought

to occupy the place of witnesses for him on the earth. Separation from

all evil is God's principle; and this principle can never be infringed

without serious damage to the truth.

In the narrative now before us, we see that the union of the sons of

God with the daughters of men led to the most disastrous consequences.

True, the fruit of that union seemed exceedingly fair, in man's

judgment, as we read, "the same became mighty men, which were of old,

men of renown;" yet, God's judgment was quite different. He seeth not

as man seeth. His thoughts are not as ours. "God saw that the

wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of

the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually." Such was man's

condition before God,--"evil _only_"--"evil continually." So much for

the mingling of the holy with the profane. Thus it must ever be. If the

holy seed will not maintain its purity, all must be forfeited, as

regards testimony on the earth. Satan's first effort was to frustrate

God's purpose, by putting the holy seed to death; and when that failed,

he sought to gain his end by corrupting it.

Now, it is of the deepest moment that my reader should clearly

understand the aim, the character, and the result of this union between

"the sons of God" and "the daughters of men." There is great danger, at

the present day, of compromising truth for the sake of union. This

should be carefully guarded against. There can be no true union

attained at the expense of truth. The true Christian's motto should

ever be--"maintain truth at all cost; if union can be promoted in this

way, so much the better; but maintain the truth." The principle of

expediency, on the contrary, may be thus enunciated:--"Promote union at

all cost; if truth can be maintained as well, so much the better; but

promote union." This latter principle can only be carried out at the

expense of all that is divine in the way of testimony.[11] There can,

evidently, be no true testimony where truth is forfeited; and hence, in

the case of the antediluvian world, we see that the unhallowed union

between the holy and the profane--between that which was divine and

that which was human--only had the effect of bringing the evil to a

head, and then God's judgment was poured out.

"The Lord said, I will destroy man." Nothing less would do. There must

be the entire destruction of that which had corrupted God's way on the

earth. "The mighty men, and men of renown," must all be swept away,

without distinction. "All flesh" must be set aside, as utterly unfit

for God. "The end of _all_ flesh is come before me." It was not merely

the end of _some_ flesh; no, it was all corrupt, in the sight of

Jehovah,--all irrecoverably bad. It had been tried, and found wanting;

and the Lord announces his remedy to Noah in these words, "Make thee an

ark of gopher wood."

Thus was Noah put in possession of God's thoughts about the scene

around him. The effect of the word of God was to lay bare the roots of

all that which man's eye might rest upon with complacency and pride.

The human heart might swell with pride, and the bosom heave with

emotion, as the eye ran down along the brilliant ranks of men of art,

men of skill, "men of might," and "men of renown." The sound of the

harp and the organ might send a thrill through the whole soul, while,

at the same time, the ground was cultivated, and man's necessities were

provided for in such a way as to contradict every thought in reference

to approaching judgment. But, oh! those solemn words, "_I will

destroy!_" What a heavy gloom they would necessarily cast over the

glittering scene! Could not man's genius invent some way of escape?

Could not "the mighty man deliver himself by his much strength?" Alas,

no: there was one way of escape, but it was revealed to faith, not to

sight,--not to reason,--not to imagination.

"By faith Noah, being _warned of God_, of things _not seen_ as yet,

moved with fear ([Greek: eulabetheis]), prepared an ark to the saving

of his house; by the which he condemned the world, and became heir of

the righteousness which is by faith." (Heb. xi. 7.) The word of God

brings his light to shine upon all that by which man's heart is

deceived. It removes, completely, the gilding with which the serpent

covers a vain, deceitful, passing world, over which hangs the sword of

divine judgment. But it is only "faith" that will be "warned of God,"

when the things of which he speaks are "not seen as yet." Nature is

governed by what it sees,--it is governed by its senses. Faith is

governed by the pure word of God; (inestimable treasure in this dark

world!) this gives stability, let outward appearances be what they

may. When God spoke to Noah of judgment impending, there was no sign of

it. It was "not seen as yet;" but the word of God made it a present

reality to the heart that was enabled to mix that word with faith.

Faith does not wait to _see_ a thing, ere it believes, for "faith

cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God."

All that the man of faith needs, is to know that God has spoken; this

imparts perfect certainty to his soul. "Thus saith the Lord," settles

every thing. A single line of sacred scripture is an abundant answer to

all the reasonings and all the imaginations of the human mind; and when

one has the word of God as the basis of his convictions, he may calmly

stand against the full tide of human opinion and prejudice. It was the

word of God which sustained the heart of Noah during his long course of

service; and the same word has sustained the millions of God's saints

from that day to this, in the face of the world's contradiction. Hence,

we cannot set too high a value upon the word of God. Without it, all is

dark and uncertainty; with it, all is light and peace. Where it shines,

it marks out for the man of God a sure and blessed path; where it

shines not, one is left to wander amid the bewildering mazes of human

tradition. How could Noah have "preached righteousness" for 120 years

if he had not had the word of God as the ground of his preaching? How

could he have withstood the scoffs and sneers of an infidel world? How

could he have persevered in testifying of "judgment to come," when not

a cloud appeared on the world's horizon? Impossible. The word of God

was the ground on which he stood, and "the Spirit of Christ" enabled

him to occupy, with holy decision, that elevated and immovable ground.

And now, my beloved Christian reader, what else have we wherewith to

stand, in service for Christ, in an evil day, like the present? Surely,

nothing; nor do we want aught else. The word of God, and the Holy

Ghost, by whom _alone_ that word can be understood, applied, or used,

are all we want to equip us perfectly--to furnish us thoroughly--"to

all good works," under whatever head those works may range themselves.

(2 Tim. iii. 16, 17.) What rest for the heart! What relief from all

Satan's imagery, and man's imaginations! God's pure, incorruptible,

eternal word! May our hearts adore him for the inestimable treasure!

"Every imagination of the thoughts of man's heart was only evil

continually;" but God's word was the simple resting-place of Noah's

heart.

"God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me.... Make

thee an ark of gopher wood." Here was man's ruin, and God's remedy. Man

had been allowed to pursue his career to the utmost limit, to bring his

principles and ways to maturity. The leaven had worked and filled the

mass. The evil had reached its climax. "All flesh" had become so bad

that it could not be worse; wherefore nothing remained but for God to

destroy _it_ totally; and, at the same time, to save all those who

should be found, according to his eternal counsels, linked with "the

eighth person,"--the only righteous man then existing. This brings out

the doctrine of the cross in a very vivid manner. There we find at once

God's judgment of nature with all its evil; and, at the same time, the

revelation of his saving grace, in all its fulness, and in all its

perfect adaptation to those who have really reached the lowest point of

their moral condition, as judged by himself. "The Day-spring from on

high hath visited us." (Luke i. 78.) Where? Just _where we are_, as

sinners. God has come down to the very deepest depths of our ruin.

There is not a point in all the sinner's state to which the light of

that blessed Day-spring has not penetrated; but, if it has thus

penetrated, it must, by virtue of what it is, reveal our true

character. The light must judge every thing contrary to itself; but,

while it does so, it also "gives the knowledge of salvation through the

remission of sins." The cross, while it reveals God's judgment upon

"all flesh," reveals his salvation for the lost and guilty sinner. Sin

is perfectly judged,--the sinner perfectly saved,--God perfectly

revealed, and perfectly glorified, in the cross.

If my reader will turn for a moment to the First Epistle of Peter, he

will find much light thrown upon this entire subject. At the third

chapter, verse 18, we read, "for Christ also hath once suffered for

sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God, being put

to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit: by which (Spirit)

he went and preached (through Noah) to the spirits (now) in prison;

which once were disobedient, when the long-suffering of God waited in

the days of Noah, while the ark was being prepared, wherein few, that

is, eight souls, were saved through water ([Greek: di' hydatos]); to

which the antitype ([Greek: antitypon]) baptism doth also now save us,

not the putting away of the filth of the flesh, (as by water,)[12] but

the answer of a good conscience towards God, by the resurrection of

Jesus Christ, who, having gone into heaven, is at the right hand of

God, angels, and authorities, and powers, being made subject to him."

This is a most important passage. It sets the doctrine of the ark and

its connection with the death of Christ very distinctly before us. As

in the Deluge, so in the death of Christ, all the billows and waves of

divine judgment passed over that which, in itself, was without sin. The

creation was buried beneath the flood Of Jehovah's righteous wrath; and

the Spirit of Christ exclaims, "All thy billows and thy waves have gone

over me." (Ps. xlii. 7.) Here is a profound truth for the heart and

conscience of a believer. "_All_ God's billows and waves" passed over

the spotless person of the Lord Jesus, when he hung upon the cross;

and, as a most blessed consequence, not one of them remains to pass

over the person of the believer. At Calvary we see, in good truth, "the

fountains of the great deep broken up, and the windows of heaven

opened." "Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts."

Christ drank the cup, and endured the wrath perfectly. He put himself,

judicially, under the full weight of all his people's liabilities, and

gloriously discharged them. The belief of this gives settled peace to

the soul. If the Lord Jesus has met all that could be against us, if he

has removed out of the way every hindrance, if he has put away sin, if

he has exhausted the cup of wrath and judgment on our behalf, if he has

cleared the prospect of every cloud, should we not enjoy settled peace?

Unquestionably. Peace is our unalienable portion. To us belong the deep

and untold blessedness and holy security which redeeming love can

bestow on the righteous ground of Christ's absolutely accomplished

work.

Had Noah any anxiety about the billows of divine judgment? None

whatever. How could he? He knew that "_all_" had been poured forth,

while he himself was raised by those very outpoured billows into a

region of cloudless peace. He floated in peace on that very water by

which "all flesh" was judged. He was put beyond the reach of judgment;

and put there, too, by God himself. He might have said, in the

triumphant language of Romans viii., "If God be for us, who can be

against us?" He had been invited in by Jehovah himself, as we read in

Chapter vii. 1, "Come thou and all thy house into the ark;" and when he

had taken his place there, we read, "_the Lord shut him in_." Here,

assuredly, was full and perfect security for all within. Jehovah kept

the door, and no one could go in or out without him. There was both a

window and a door to the ark. The Lord secured, with his own omnipotent

hand, the door, and left Noah the window, from which he might look

upward to the place from whence all the judgment had emanated, and see

that no judgment remained for him. The saved family could only look

_upward_, because the window was "above." (Chap. vi. 16.) They could

not see the waters of judgment, nor the death and desolation which

those waters had caused. God's salvation--the "gopher wood," stood

between them and all these things. They had only to gaze upward into a

cloudless heaven,--the eternal dwelling-place of the One who had

condemned the world, and saved them.

Nothing can more fully express the believer's perfect security in

Christ than those words, "the Lord shut him in." Who could open what

God had shut? None. The family of Noah were as safe as God could make

them. There was no power, angelic, human or diabolical, which could

possibly burst open the door of the ark, and let the waters in. That

door was shut by the self-same hand that had opened the windows of

heaven, and broken up the fountains of the great deep. Thus Christ is

spoken of as the One "that hath the key of David, he that openeth and

no man shutteth, and shutteth and no man openeth." (Rev. iii. 7.) He

also holds in his hand "the keys of hell and of death." (Rev. i. 18.)

None can enter the portals of the grave, nor go forth therefrom without

him. He has "all power in heaven and on earth." He is "head over all

things to the Church," and in him the believer is perfectly secure.

(Matt. xxviii. 18; Eph. i. 22.) Who could touch Noah? What wave could

penetrate that ark which was "pitched within and without with pitch?"

Just so now, who can touch those who have, by faith, retreated into the

shadow of the cross? Every enemy has been met and silenced,--yes,

silenced for ever. The death of Christ has triumphantly answered every

demur; while, at the same time, his resurrection is the satisfactory

declaration of God's infinite complacency in that work which is, at

once, the basis of his righteousness in receiving us, and of our

confidence in drawing nigh unto him.

Hence, therefore, the door of our ark being secured, by the hand of God

himself, nothing remains for us but to enjoy the window; or, in other

words, to walk in happy and holy communion with him who has saved us

from coming wrath, and made us heirs and expectants of coming glory.

Peter speaks of those, who "are blind, and cannot see afar off, and

have forgotten that they were purged from their old sins." (2 Peter i.

9.) This is a lamentable condition for any one to be in, and it is the

sure result of not cultivating diligent, prayerful communion with him

who has eternally shut us in in Christ.

Let us, now, ere we proceed further with Noah's history, glance for a

little at the condition of those to whom he had so long preached

righteousness. We have been looking at the _saved_,--let us now look at

the _lost_: we have been thinking of those _within_ the ark,--let us

now think of those _without_. No doubt, many an anxious look would be

cast after the vessel of mercy, as it rose with the water; but, alas!

"the door was shut," the day of grace was over, the time of testimony

closed, and that forever, so far as they were concerned. The same hand

which had shut Noah _in_, had shut them _out_; and it was as impossible

for those without to get in as it was for those within to get out. The

former were irrecoverably lost; the latter, effectually saved. The

long-suffering of God, and the testimony of his servant, had both been

slighted. Present things had engrossed them. "They did eat, they drank,

they married wives, and were given in marriage, _until_ the day that

Noah entered into the ark, and the flood came and destroyed them all."

(Luke xvii. 26, 27.) There was nothing wrong in any of these things,

abstractedly looked at. The wrong was not in the things done, but in

the doers of them. Every one of them might be done in the fear of the

Lord, and to the glory of his holy name, were they only done in faith.

But, alas! they were not so done. The word of God was rejected. He told

of judgment; but they did not believe. He spoke of sin and ruin; but

they were not convinced. He spoke of a remedy; but they would not give

heed. They went on with their own plans and speculations, and had no

room for God. They acted as if the earth belonged to them, by a lease,

forever. They forgot that there was a clause of surrender. They thought

not of that solemn "_until_." God was shut out. "Every imagination of

the thoughts of their heart was only evil continually;" and hence, they

could do nothing right. They thought, spake, and acted for themselves.

They did their own pleasure, and forgot God.

And, my reader, remember the words of the Lord Jesus Christ, how he

said, "_as it was_ in the days of Noah, _so shall it be_ in the days

of the Son of man." Some would have us to believe that ere the Son of

man appears in the clouds of heaven, this earth shall be covered, from

pole to pole, with a fair mantle of righteousness. They would teach us

to look for a reign of righteousness and peace, as the result of

agencies now in operation; but the brief passage just quoted cuts up by

the roots, in a moment, all such vain and delusive expectations. How

was it in the days of Noah? Did righteousness cover the earth, as the

waters cover the sea? Was God's truth dominant? Was the earth filled

with the knowledge of the Lord? Scripture replies, "the earth was

filled with violence." "All flesh had corrupted his way on the earth."

"The earth also was corrupt before God." Well, then, "_so_ shall it be

in the days of the Son of man." This is plain enough. "Righteousness"

and "violence" are not very like each other. Neither is there any

similarity between universal wickedness and universal peace. It only

needs a heart subject to the Word, and freed from the influence of

preconceived opinions, in order to understand the true character of the

days immediately preceding "the coming of the Son of man." Let not my

reader be led astray. Let him reverently bow to Scripture. Let him look

at the condition of the world, "in the days before the flood;" and let

him bear in mind, that "_as_" it was then, "_so_" shall it be at the

close of this present period. This is most simple,--most conclusive.

There was nothing like a state of universal righteousness and peace

then, neither shall there be any thing like it by-and-by.

No doubt, man displayed abundant energy in making the world a

comfortable and an agreeable place for himself; but that was a very

different thing from making it a suitable place for God. So also at

this present time; man is as busy as he can be, in clearing the stones

off the pathway of human life, and making it as smooth as possible; but

this is not "making straight in the desert a highway for our God;" nor

is it making "the rough places smooth," that all flesh may see the

salvation of Jehovah. Civilization prevails; but civilization is not

righteousness. The sweeping and garnishing are going forward; but it is

not in order to fit the house for Christ, but for Antichrist. The

wisdom of man is put forth in order to cover, with the folds of his own

drapery, the blots and blemishes of humanity; but, though covered, they

are not removed! They are underneath, and will, ere long, break out in

more hideous deformity than ever. The painting of vermilion will soon

be obliterated, and the carved cedar wood destroyed. The dams by which

man sedulously seeks to stem the torrent of human wretchedness, must

soon give way before the overwhelming force thereof. All the efforts to

confine the physical, the mental, and the moral degradation of Adam's

posterity within those enclosures, which human benevolence, if you

please, has devised, must, in the sequel, prove abortive. The testimony

has gone forth. "The end of _all_ flesh has come before me." It has not

come before man; but it has come before God: and, albeit, the voice of

the scoffers may be heard, saying, "Where is the promise of his coming?

for, since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were

from the beginning of creation;" yet the moment is rapidly hastening on

when those scoffers will get their answer. "The day of the Lord will

come as a thief in the night, in the which the heavens shall pass away

with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the

earth also, and the works that are therein, shall be burnt up." (2

Peter iii. 4-10.) This, my reader, is the answer to the intellectual

scoffs of the children of this world, but not to the spiritual

affections and expectations of the children of God. These latter, thank

God, have a totally different prospect, even to meet the Bridegroom in

the air, before evil shall have reached its culminating point, and,

therefore, before the divine judgment shall be poured forth thereon.

The Church of God looks not for the burning up of the world, but for

the arising of "the bright and morning Star."

Now, in whatever way we look at the future, from whatever point of view

we contemplate it, whether the object, which presents itself to the

soul's vision be the Church in glory, or the world in flames, the

coming of the Bridegroom, or the breaking in of the thief, the morning

Star, or the scorching sun, the translation, or the deluge, we must

feel the unspeakable importance of attending to God's present testimony

in grace, to lost sinners. "_Now_ is the accepted time; behold, _now_

is the day of salvation." (2 Cor. vi. 2.) "God was in Christ,

reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto

them." (2 Cor. v. 19.) He is reconciling now, he will be judging

by-and-by; it is all grace now; it will be all wrath then; he is

pardoning sin now, through the cross; he will punish it then, in hell,

and that forever. He is sending out a message of purest, richest,

freest grace. He is telling sinners of an accomplished redemption

through the precious sacrifice of Christ. He is declaring that all is

done. He is waiting to be gracious. "The long-suffering of our Lord is

salvation." "The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men

count slackness, but is long-suffering to usward, not willing that any

should perish, but that all should come to repentance." (2 Peter iii.)

All this makes the present moment one of peculiar solemnity. Unmingled

grace declared!--unmingled wrath impending! How solemn! How deeply

solemn!

And, then, with what profound interest should we mark the unfolding of

the divine purposes! Scripture sheds its light upon these things; and

such a light, too, that we need not, as another has said, "vacantly

stare on passing events, as those who know not where they are, and

whither they are going." We should accurately know our bearings. We

should fully understand the direct tendency of all the principles now

at work. We should be well aware of the vortex, toward which all the

tributary streams are rapidly flowing on. Men dream of a golden age;

they promise themselves a millennium of the arts and sciences; they

feed upon the thought, that "to-morrow shall be as this day, and more

abundant." But, oh! how utterly vain are all those thoughts, dreams,

and promises. Faith can see the clouds gathering thickly around the

world's horizon. Judgment is coming. The day of wrath is at hand. The

door will soon be shut. The "strong delusion" will soon set in with

terrible intensity. How needful, then, it is to raise a warning

voice,--to seek, by faithful testimony, to counteract man's pitiable

self-complacency. True, in so doing, we shall be exposed to the charge

which Ahab brought against Micaiah, of always prophesying evil: but no

matter for that. Let us prophesy what the word of God prophesies, and

let us do this simply for the purpose of "persuading men." The word of

God only removes from beneath our feet a hollow foundation, for the

purpose of placing instead thereof a foundation which never can be

moved. It only takes away from us a delusive hope, to give us, instead,

"a hope which maketh not ashamed." It takes away "a broken reed," to

give us the "Rock of ages." It sets aside "a broken cistern, which can

hold no water," to set in its place "the Fountain of living waters."

This is true love. It is God's love. He will not cry "peace, peace,"

when there is no peace; nor "daub with untempered mortar." He would

have the sinner's heart resting sweetly in his own eternal Ark of

safety, enjoying present communion with himself, and fondly cherishing

the hope, that, when all the ruin, the desolation, and the judgment

have passed away, it shall rest with him in a restored creation.

We shall now return to Noah, and contemplate him in a new position. We

have seen him building the ark, we have seen him in the ark, and we

shall now view him going forth of the ark, and taking his place in the

new world.[13] "And God remembered Noah." The strange work of judgment

being over, the saved family, and all in association with them, come

into remembrance. "God made a wind to pass over the earth; and the

waters assuaged; the fountains also of the deep and the windows of

heaven were stopped, and the rain from heaven was restrained." The

beams of the sun now begin to act upon a world that had been baptized

with a baptism of judgment. Judgment is God's "strange work." He

delights not in, though he is glorified by, it. Blessed be his name, he

is ever ready to leave the place of judgment, and enter that of mercy,

because he delights in mercy.

"And it came to pass, at the end of forty days, that Noah opened the

window of the ark which he had made: and he sent forth a raven, which

went forth, to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the

earth." The unclean bird made its escape, and found, no doubt, a

resting-place upon some floating carcase. It sought not the ark again.

Not so the dove. "She found no rest for the sole of her foot, and she

returned unto him into the ark ... and again he sent forth the dove out

of the ark: and the dove came in to him, in the evening; and, lo, in

her mouth was an olive-leaf, pluckt off." Sweet emblem of the renewed

mind, which, amid the surrounding desolation, seeks and finds its rest

and portion in Christ; and not only so, but also lays hold of the

earnest of the inheritance, and furnishes the blessed proof, that

judgment has passed away, and that a renewed earth is coming fully into

view. The carnal mind, on the contrary, can rest in any thing and every

thing but Christ. It can feed upon all uncleanness. "The olive-leaf"

has no attraction for it. It can find all it needs in a scene of death,

and hence is not occupied with the thought of a new world and its

glories; but the heart that is taught and exercised by the Spirit of

God, can only rest and rejoice in that in which he rests and rejoices.

It rests in the Ark of his salvation "until the times of the

restitution of all things." May it be thus with you and me, beloved

reader! May Jesus be the abiding rest and portion of our hearts, that

so we may not seek them in a world which is under the judgment of God!

The dove went back to Noah, and waited for his time of rest; and we

should ever find our place with Christ, until the time of his

exaltation, and glory, in the ages to come. "He that shall come, will

come, and will not tarry." All we want, as to this, is a little

patience. May God direct our hearts into his love, and into "the

patience of Christ!"

"And God spake unto Noah, saying, Go forth of the ark." The same God

that had said, "Make thee an ark" and "Come thou into the ark," now

says, "Go forth of the ark." "And Noah went forth ... and builded an

altar unto the Lord." All is simple obedience. There is the obedience

of faith and the worship of faith: both go together. The altar is

erected, where, just before; all had been a scene of death and

judgment. The ark had borne Noah and his family safely over the waters

of judgment. It had carried him from the old into the new world, where

he now takes his place as a worshipper.[14] And, be it observed, it was

"unto the Lord" he erected his altar. Superstition would have

worshipped _the ark_, as being the means of salvation. It is ever the

tendency of the heart to displace God by his ordinances. Now, the ark

was a very marked and manifest ordinance; but Noah's faith passed

beyond the ark to the God of the ark; and hence, when he stepped out of

it, instead of casting back a lingering look at it, or regarding it as

an object of worship or veneration, he built an altar unto the Lord,

and worshipped him: and the ark is never heard of again.

This teaches us a very simple, but, at the same time, a very seasonable

lesson. The moment the heart lets slip the reality of God himself,

there is no placing a limit to its declension; it is on the highway to

the grossest forms of idolatry. In the judgment of faith, an ordinance

is only valuable as it conveys God, in living power, to the soul; that

is to say, so long as faith can enjoy Christ therein, according to his

own appointment. Beyond this, it is worth just nothing; and if it in

the smallest degree comes between the heart and his precious work and

his glorious person, it ceases to be an ordinance of God, and becomes

an instrument of the devil. In the judgment of superstition, the

ordinance is every thing, and God is shut out; and the name of God is

only made use of to exalt the ordinance, and give it a deep hold of the

human heart, and a mighty influence over the human mind. Thus it was

that the children of Israel worshipped the brazen serpent. That, which

had once been a channel of blessing to them, because used of God,

became, when their hearts had departed from the Lord, an object of

superstitious veneration; and Hezekiah had to break it in pieces, and

call it "a piece of brass." In itself it was only a "Nehushtan," but,

when used of God, it was a means of rich blessing. Now, faith owned it

to be what divine revelation said it was; but superstition, throwing,

as it ever does, divine revelation overboard, lost the real purpose of

God in the thing, and actually made a god of the thing itself. (See 2

Kings xviii. 4.)

And, my reader, is there not a deep lesson in all this for the present

age? I am convinced there is. We live in an age of ordinances. The

atmosphere which enwraps the professing church, is impregnated with the

elements of a traditionary religion, which robs the soul of Christ, and

his divinely full salvation. It is not that human traditions boldly

deny that there is such a person as Christ, or such a thing as the

cross of Christ: were they to do so, the eyes of many might be opened.

However, it is not thus. The evil is of a far more insidious and

dangerous character. Ordinances are added to Christ, and the work of

Christ. The sinner is not saved by Christ alone, but by Christ and

ordinances. Thus he is robbed of Christ altogether; for it will,

assuredly, be found that _Christ and ordinances_ will prove, in the

sequel, to be _ordinances, and not Christ_. This is a solemn

consideration for all who stand up for a religion of ordinances. "If ye

be circumcised Christ shall profit you nothing." It must be Christ

wholly, or not at all. The devil persuades men, that they are honoring

Christ when they make much of his ordinances; whereas, all the while he

knows full well that they are, in reality, setting Christ entirely

aside, and deifying the ordinance. I would only repeat here a remark

which I have made elsewhere, namely, that superstition makes _every

thing_ of the ordinance; infidelity, profanity, and mysticism, make

_nothing_ of it; faith uses it according to divine appointment.

But I have already extended this section far beyond the limit which I

had prescribed for it. I shall, therefore, close it with a hasty glance

at the contents of Chapter ix. In it we have the new covenant, under

which creation was set, after the Deluge, together with the token of

that covenant. "And God blessed Noah and his sons, and said unto them,

Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth." Observe, God's

command to man, on his entrance into the restored earth, was to refill

that earth; not parts of the earth, but the earth. He desired to have

men dispersed abroad, over the face of the world, and not relying upon

their own concentrated energies. We shall see, in Chap. xi., how man

neglected all this.

The fear of man is now lodged in the heart of every other creature.

Henceforth the service, rendered by the inferior orders of creation to

man, must be the constrained result of "fear and dread." In life, and

in death, the lower animals were to be at the service of man. All

creation is delivered, by God's everlasting covenant, from the fear of

a second deluge. Judgment is never again to take that shape. "The world

that then was, being overflowed with _water_, perished; but the heavens

and the earth, which are now, by the same word are kept in store,

reserved unto _fire_ against the day of judgment and perdition of

ungodly men." The earth was once purged with water; and it will be

again purged by fire; and in this second purgation none will escape,

save those, who have fled for refuge to him who has passed through the

deep waters of death, and met the fire of divine judgment.

"And God said, This is the token of the covenant ... I do set my bow

in the cloud ... and I will remember my covenant." The whole creation

rests, as to its exemption from a second deluge, on the eternal

stability of God's covenant, of which the bow is the token; and it is

happy to bear in mind, that when the bow appears, the eye of God rests

upon it; and man is cast, not upon his own imperfect and most uncertain

memory, but upon God's. "I," says God, "will remember." How sweet to

think of what God will, and what he will not, remember! He will

remember his own covenant, but he will not remember his people's sins.

The cross, which ratifies the former, puts away the latter. The belief

of this gives peace to the troubled heart and uneasy conscience.

"And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that

_the bow shall be seen in the cloud_." Beautiful and most expressive

emblem! The beams of the sun, reflected from that which threatens

judgment, tranquillize the heart, as telling of God's covenant, God's

salvation, and God's remembrance. Precious, most precious sunbeams,

deriving additional beauty from the very cloud which reflects them! How

forcibly does this bow in the cloud remind us of Calvary. There we see

a cloud indeed,--a dark, thick, heavy cloud of judgment, discharging

itself upon the sacred head of the Lamb of God,--a cloud so dark, that

even at mid-day "there was darkness over all the earth." But, blessed

be God, faith discerns, in that heaviest cloud that ever gathered, the

most brilliant and beauteous bow that ever appeared; for it sees the

bright beams of God's eternal love darting through the awful gloom, and

reflected in the cloud. It hears, too, the words, "It is finished,"

issuing from amid the darkness, and in those words it recognizes the

perfect ratification of God's everlasting covenant, not only with

creation, but with the tribes of Israel and the Church of God.

The last paragraph of this chapter presents a humiliating spectacle.

The lord of creation fails to govern himself: "And Noah began to be an

husbandman, and he planted a vineyard; and he drank of the wine, and

was drunken; and he was uncovered within his tent." What a condition

for Noah, the only righteous man, the preacher of righteousness, to be

found in! Alas! what is man? Look at him where you will, and you see

only failure. In Eden, he fails; in the restored earth, he fails; in

Canaan, he fails; in the Church, he fails; in the presence of

millennial bliss and glory, he fails. He fails everywhere, and in all

things: there is no good thing in him. Let his advantages be ever so

great, his privileges ever so vast, his position ever so desirable, he

can only exhibit failure and sin.

We must, however, look at Noah in two ways, namely, as _a type_, and as

_a man_; and while the type is full of beauty and meaning, the man is

full of sin and folly; yet the Holy Ghost has written these words,

"Noah was a just man, and perfect in his generation; and Noah walked

with God." Divine grace had covered all his sins, and clothed his

person with a spotless robe of righteousness. Though Noah exposed his

nakedness, God did not see it, for he looked not at him in the weakness

of his own condition, but in the full power of divine and everlasting

righteousness. Hence we may see how entirely astray--how totally

alienated from God and his thoughts--Ham was in the course he adopted;

he evidently knew nothing of the blessedness of the man whose iniquity

is forgiven and his sin covered. On the contrary, Shem and Japheth

exhibit in their conduct a fine specimen of the divine method of

dealing with human nakedness; wherefore they inherit a blessing,

whereas Ham inherits a curse.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] We should ever bear in mind, that "the wisdom which is from above

is _first pure_, then peaceable." (James iii. 17.) The wisdom which is

from beneath would put "peaceable" first, and, therefore, it can never

be pure.

[12] It is impossible to over-estimate the wisdom of the Holy Ghost,

as seen in the way in which he treats the ordinance of baptism, in the

above remarkable passage. We know the evil use which has been made of

baptism; we know the false place it has gotten in the thoughts of many;

we know how that the efficacy, which belongs only to the blood of

Christ, has been attributed to the water of baptism; we know how the

regenerating grace of the Holy Ghost has been transferred to water

baptism; and, with the knowledge of all this, we cannot but be struck

with the way in which the Spirit of God guards the subject, by stating,

that it is not the mere washing away of the filth of the flesh, as by

water, "but the answer of a good conscience toward God," which "answer"

we get, not by baptism, how important soever it may be, as an ordinance

of the kingdom, but "by the resurrection of Jesus Christ," "who was

delivered for our offences, and raised again for our justification."

Baptism, I need hardly say, as an ordinance of divine institution, and

in its divinely-appointed place, is most important and deeply

significant; but when we find men, in one way or another, putting the

figure in place of the substance, we are bound to expose the work of

Satan by the light of the word of God.

[13] I would here mention, for my reader's prayerful consideration, a

thought very familiar to the minds of those who have specially given

themselves to the study of what is called "dispensational truth." It

has reference to Enoch and Noah. The former was taken away, as we have

seen, before the judgment came; whereas the latter was carried through

the judgment. Now, it is thought that Enoch is a figure of the Church,

who shall be taken away before human evil reaches its climax, and

before the divine judgment falls thereon. Noah, on the other hand, is a

figure of the remnant of Israel, who shall be brought through the deep

waters of affliction, and through the fire of judgment, and led into

the full enjoyment of millennial bliss, in virtue of God's everlasting

covenant. I may add, that I quite receive this thought in reference to

those two Old-Testament fathers. I consider that it has the full

support of the general scope and analogy of Holy Scripture.

[14] It is interesting to look at this entire subject of the ark and

deluge, in connection with that most important and deeply significant

ordinance of baptism. A truly baptized person, that is, one who, as the

apostle says, "obeys from the heart that type of doctrine to which he

is delivered," is one, who has passed from the old world into the new,

in spirit and principle, and by faith. The water rolls over his person,

signifying that his old man is buried, that his place in nature is

ignored, that his old nature is entirely set aside; in short, that he

is a dead man. When he is plunged beneath the water, expression is

given to the fact that his name, place, and existence, in nature, are

put out of sight; that the flesh, with all that pertained thereto, its

sins, its iniquities, its liabilities, is buried in the grave of

Christ, and never can come into God's sight again.

Again, when he rises up out of the water, expression is given to the

truth, that he only comes up as the possessor of a new life, even the

resurrection life of Christ. If Christ had not been raised from the

dead, the believer could not come up out of the water, but should

remain buried beneath its surface, as the simple expression of the

place which righteously belongs to nature. But, inasmuch as Christ rose

from the dead, in the power of a new life, having entirely put away our

sins, we also come up out of the water; and, in so doing, set forth the

fact, that we are put, by the grace of God, and through the death of

Christ, in full possession of a new life, to which divine righteousness

inseparably attaches. "We are buried with him by baptism into death;

that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the

Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life." (See Rom. vi.

and Col. ii. _passim_. Comp. also 1 Peter iii. 18-22.) All this makes

the institution of baptism one of immense importance, and pregnant with

meaning.

CHAPTER X.

This section of our book records the generations of Noah's three sons,

noticing, especially, Nimrod, the founder of the kingdom of Babel, or

Babylon, a name which occupies a very prominent place on the page of

inspiration. Babylon is a well-known name,--a well-known influence.

From the tenth chapter of Genesis, down to the eighteenth chapter of

Revelation, Babylon, again and again, appears before us, and always as

something decidedly hostile to those who occupy, for the time being,

the position of public testimony for God. Not that we are to look upon

the Babylon of Old Testament scripture as identical with the Babylon of

the Apocalypse. By no means. I believe the former is a city; the

latter, a system; but both the city and the system exert a powerful

influence against God's people. Hardly had Israel entered upon the wars

of Canaan, when "a Babylonish garment" brought defilement and sorrow,

defeat and confusion, into the host. This is the earliest record of

Babylon's pernicious influence upon the people of God; but every

student of Scripture is aware of the place which Babylon gets

throughout the entire history of Israel.

This would not be the place to notice in detail the various passages in

which this city is introduced. I would only remark here, that whenever

God has a corporate witness on the earth, Satan has a Babylon to mar

and corrupt that witness. When God connects his name with a city on the

earth, then Babylon takes the form of a city; and when God connects his

name with the Church, then Babylon takes the form of a corrupt

religious system, called "the great whore," "the mother of

abominations," &c. In a word, Satan's Babylon is always seen as the

instrument moulded and fashioned by his hand, for the purpose of

counteracting the divine operations, whether in Israel of old, or the

Church now. Throughout the Old Testament Israel and Babylon are seen,

as it were, in opposite scales; when Israel is up, Babylon is down; and

when Babylon is up, Israel is down. Thus, when Israel had utterly

failed, as Jehovah's witness, "the king of Babylon broke his bones,"

and swallowed him up. The vessels of the house of God, which ought to

have remained in the _city_ of Jerusalem, were carried away to the

_city_ of Babylon. But Isaiah, in his sublime prophecy, leads us onward

to the opposite of all this. He presents, in most magnificent strains,

a picture, in which Israel's star is in the ascendant, and Babylon

entirely sunk. "And it shall come to pass in the day that the Lord

shall give thee rest from thy sorrow, and from thy fear, and from the

hard bondage wherein thou wast made to serve, that thou shalt take up

this proverb against the king of Babylon, and say, How hath the

oppressor ceased! the golden city ceased!... since _thou_ art laid

down, no feller is come up against _us_." (Isa. xiv. 3-8.)

Thus much as to the Babylon of the Old Testament. Then, as to the

Babylon of Revelation, my reader has only to turn to the 17th and 18th

chapters of that book to see her character and end. She is presented in

marked contrast with the bride, the Lamb's wife; and as to her end, she

is cast as a great millstone into the sea; after which we have the

marriage of the Lamb, with all its accompanying bliss and glory.

However, I could not attempt to pursue this most interesting subject

here: I have merely glanced at it in connection with the name of

Nimrod. I feel assured that my reader will find himself amply repaid

for any trouble he may take in the close examination of all those

scriptures in which the name of Babylon is introduced. We shall now

return to our chapter.

"And Cush begat Nimrod: he began to be a _mighty one in the earth_. He

was a mighty hunter before the Lord: wherefore it is said, Even as

Nimrod the mighty hunter before the Lord. And the beginning of his

kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and Accad, and Calneh, _in the land of

Shinar_." Here, then, we have the character of the founder of Babylon.

He was "a mighty one _in the earth_"--"a mighty hunter before the

Lord." Such was the origin of Babylon; and its character, throughout

the entire book of God, remarkably corresponds therewith. It is always

seen as a mighty influence in the earth, acting in positive antagonism

to every thing which owes its origin to heaven; and it is not until

this Babylon has been totally abolished, that the cry is heard, amid

the hosts above, "Alleluia; for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth."

Then all Babylon's mighty hunting will be over forever, whether it be

its hunting of wild beasts, to subdue them; or its hunting of souls, to

destroy them. All its might, and all its glory, all its pomp and pride,

its wealth and luxury, its light and joy, its glitter and glare, its

powerful attractions and wide-spread influence, shall have passed away

forever. She shall be swept with the besom of destruction, and plunged

in the darkness, the horror and desolation, of an everlasting night.

"How long, O Lord?"

CHAPTER XI.

This is a chapter of very deep interest to the spiritual mind. It

records two great facts, namely, the building of Babel, and the call of

Abraham; or, in other words, man's effort to provide for himself, and

God's provision made known to faith; man's attempt to establish himself

_in the earth_, and God's calling a man _out of_ it, to find his

portion and his home _in heaven_.

"And the whole earth was of one language and of one speech. And it came

to pass as they journeyed from the east, that they found a plain in the

land of Shinar; and they dwelt there.... And they said, Go to, let us

build us a city, and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let

us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the

whole earth." The human heart ever seeks a name, a portion, and a

centre in the earth. It knows nothing of aspirations after heaven,

heaven's God, or heaven's glory. Left to itself, it will ever find its

objects in this lower world; it will ever "build beneath the skies." It

needs God's call, God's revelation, and God's power, to lift the heart

of man above this present world, for man is a grovelling

creature,--alienated from heaven, and allied to earth. In the scene now

before us, there is no acknowledgment of God, no looking up to, or

waiting on, him; nor was it the thought of the human heart to set up a

place in which God might dwell,--to gather materials for the purpose of

building a habitation for him,--alas! no; his name is never once

mentioned. To make a name for himself was man's object on the plain of

Shinar; and such has been his object ever since. Whether we contemplate

man on the plain of Shinar, or on the banks of the Tiber, we find him

to be the same self-seeking, self-exalting, God-excluding creature,

throughout. There is a melancholy consistency in all his purposes, his

principles, and his ways; he ever seeks to shut out God and exalt

himself.

Now, in what light soever we view this Babel confederacy, it is most

instructive to see in it the early display of man's genius and

energies, regardless of God. In looking down along the stream of human

history, we may easily perceive a marked tendency to confederacy, or

association. Man seeks, for the most part, to compass his great ends in

this way. Whether it be in the way of Philanthropy, Religion, or

Politics, nothing can be done without an association of men regularly

organized. It is well to see this principle,--well to mark its

incipient working,--to see the earliest model which the page of

inspiration affords of a human association, as exhibited on the plain

of Shinar, in its design, its object, its attempt, its overthrow. If we

look around us at the present moment we see the whole scene filled with

associations. To name them were useless, for they are as numerous as

are the purposes of the human heart. But it is important to mark that

the first of all these was the Shinar association, for the

establishment of the human interests, and the exaltation of the human

name,--objects which may well be set in competition with any that

engage the attention of this enlightened and civilized age. But, in the

judgment of faith, there is one grand defect, namely, God is shut out;

and to attempt to exalt man, without God, is to exalt him to a dizzy

height only that he may be dashed down into hopeless confusion and

irretrievable ruin. The Christian should only know _one_ association,

and that is, the Church of the living God, incorporated by the Holy

Ghost, who came down from heaven as the witness of Christ's

glorification, to baptize believers into one body, and constitute them

God's dwelling-place. Babylon is the very opposite of this, in every

particular; and she becomes at the close, as we know, "the habitation

of devils." (See Rev. xviii.)

"And the Lord said, Behold, the people is one, and they have all one

language; and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained

from them which they have imagined to do. Go to, let us go down, and

there confound their language, that they may not understand one

another's speech. So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon

the face of all the earth; and they left off to build the city." Such

was the end of man's first association. Thus it will be to the end.

"Associate yourselves, O ye people, and ye shall be broken in pieces

... gird yourselves, and ye shall be broken in pieces; gird yourselves,

and ye shall be broken in pieces." (Isa. viii. 9.) How different it is

when God associates men! In the second chapter of Acts, we see the

blessed One coming down in infinite grace to meet man in the very

circumstances in which his sin had set him. The Holy Ghost enabled the

messengers of grace to deliver their message in the very tongue wherein

each was born. Precious proof this, that God desired to reach man's

heart with the sweet story of grace! The law from the fiery mount was

not thus promulgated. When God was telling what man ought to be, he

spoke in one tongue; but when he was telling what he himself was, he

spoke in many. Grace broke through the barrier which man's pride and

folly had caused to be erected, in order that every man might hear and

understand the glad tidings of salvation,--"the wonderful works of

God." And to what end was this? Just to associate men on God's ground,

round God's centre, and on God's principles. It was to give them, in

reality, one language, one centre, one object, one hope, one life. It

was to gather them in such a way as that they never should be scattered

or confounded again; to give them a name and a place which should

endure forever; to build for them a tower and a city which should not

only have their top reaching to heaven, but their imperishable

foundation laid _in_ heaven, by the omnipotent hand of God himself. It

was to gather them around the glorious person of a risen and highly

exalted Christ, and unite them all in one grand design of magnifying

and adoring him.

If my reader will turn to the seventh chapter of Revelation, he will

find at the close thereof, "All nations, and kindreds, and people, and

tongues," standing round the Lamb; and, with one voice, ascribing all

praise to him. Thus the three scriptures may be read in most

interesting and profitable connection. In Gen. xi. God gives various

tongues as an expression of his _judgment_; in Acts ii. he gives

various tongues as an expression of _grace_; and in Rev. vii. we see

all those tongues gathered round the Lamb, in _glory_. How much better

it is, therefore, to find our place in God's association than in man's!

The former ends in glory, the latter in confusion; the former is

carried forward by the energy of the Holy Ghost, the latter by the

unhallowed energy of fallen man; the former has for its object the

exaltation of Christ, the latter has for its object the exaltation of

man, in some way or other.

Finally, I would say, that all who sincerely desire to know the true

character, object, and issue of human associations, should read the

opening verses of Genesis xi.; and, on the other hand, all who desire

to know the excellency, the beauty, the power, the enduring character

of divine association, should look at that holy, living, heavenly

corporation, which is called, in the New Testament, the Church of the

living God, the body of Christ, the bride of the Lamb.

May the Lord enable us to look at and apprehend all these things, in

the power of faith; for only in this way can they profit our souls.

Points of truth, however interesting; scriptural knowledge, however

profound and extensive; Biblical criticism, however accurate and

valuable, may all leave the heart barren, and the affections cold. We

want to find Christ in the Word; and, having found him, to feed on him

by faith. This would impart freshness, unction, power, vitality,

energy, and intensity, all of which we deeply stand in need of, in this

day of freezing formalism. What is the value of a chilling orthodoxy

without a living Christ, known in all his powerful, personal

attractions? No doubt, sound doctrine is immensely important. Every

faithful servant of Christ will feel himself imperatively called upon

to "hold fast the form of sound words." But, after all, a living Christ

is the very soul and life, the joints and marrow, the sinews and

arteries, the essence and substance of sound doctrine. May we, by the

power of the Holy Ghost, see more beauty and preciousness in Christ,

and thus be weaned from the spirit and principles of Babylon.

We shall, God willing, consider the remainder of Chapter xi. in the

next section.

CHAPTER XII.

The book of Genesis is, for the most part, taken up with the history of

seven men, namely, Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and

Joseph. There is, I doubt not, a specific line of truth brought out in

connection with each of those men. Thus, for example, in Abel we have

the great foundation truth of man's coming to God, in the way of

atonement,--atonement apprehended by faith. In Enoch, we have the

proper portion and hope of the heavenly family; while Noah presents to

us the destiny of the earthly family. Enoch was taken to heaven before

the judgment came; Noah was carried through the judgment into a

restored earth. Thus, in each, we have a distinct character of truth,

and, as a consequence, a distinct phase of faith. My reader can pursue

the subject fully, in connection with the eleventh of Hebrews; and I

feel assured he will find much interest and profit, in so doing. We

shall now proceed with our immediate theme, namely, the call of

Abraham.

By comparing Chapter xii. 1, Chapter xi. 31, with Acts vii. 2-4, we

learn a truth of immense practical value to the soul. "The Lord _had_

said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy country, and _from thy kindred_,

and from thy father's house, unto a land that I will show thee." (Chap.

xii. 1.) Such was the communication made to Abraham,--a communication

of the most definite character, designed of God to act upon Abraham's

heart and conscience. "The God of glory appeared unto our father

Abraham, when he was in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Charran, and

said unto him, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and

come into a land that I will show thee. Then went he forth out of the

land of the Chaldeans, and dwelt in Charran, (or Haran;) and from

thence, _when his father was dead_, he removed him into this land

wherein ye now dwell." (Acts vii. 2-4.) The result of this

communication is given in Chapter xi. 31: "And Terah took Abram his

son, and Lot the son of Haran, his son's son, and Sarai his

daughter-in-law, his son Abram's wife; and they went forth with them

from Ur of the Chaldees, _to go into the land of Canaan_: and they

came _unto Haran, and dwelt there_ ... and Terah died in Haran."

From all these passages taken together, we learn that the ties of

nature hindered the full response of Abraham's soul to the call of God.

Though called to Canaan, he, nevertheless, tarried at Haran, till

nature's tie was snapped by death, and then, with unimpeded step, he

made his way to the place to which "the God of glory" had called him.

This is full of meaning. The influences of nature are ever hostile to

the full realization and practical power of "the calling of God." We

are sadly prone to take lower ground than that which the divine call

would set before us. It needs great simplicity and integrity of faith

to enable the soul to rise to the height of God's thoughts, and to make

our own of that which he reveals.

The apostle's prayer (Eph. i. 15-22) demonstrates how fully he, by the

Holy Ghost, entered into the difficulty with which the Church would

ever have to contend, in seeking to apprehend "the hope of _God's

calling_, and the riches of the glory of _his_ inheritance in the

saints;" because, evidently, if we fail to apprehend the calling, we

cannot "walk worthy" thereof. I must know where I am called to go,

before I can go thither. Had Abraham's soul been fully under the power

of the truth that "God's calling" was to Canaan, and that there, too,

lay "his inheritance," he could not have remained in Charran. And so

with us. If we are led by the Holy Ghost into the understanding of the

truth, that we are called with a heavenly calling; that our home, our

portion, our hope, our inheritance, are all above, "where Christ

sitteth at God's right hand," we could never be satisfied to maintain

a standing, seek a name, or lay up an inheritance, on the earth. The

two things are incompatible: this is the true way to look at the

matter. The heavenly calling is not an empty dogma, a powerless theory,

nor a crude speculation. It is either a divine reality, or it is

absolutely nothing. Was Abraham's call to Canaan a speculation? Was it

a mere theory about which he might talk or argue, while, at the same

time, he continued in Charran? Assuredly not. It was a truth, a divine

truth, a powerfully practical truth. He was called to Canaan, and God

could not possibly sanction his stopping short thereof. Thus it was

with Abraham, and thus it is with us. If we would enjoy the divine

sanction and the divine presence, we must be seeking by faith to act

upon the divine call. That is to say, we must seek to reach, in

experience, in practice, and moral character, the point to which God

has called us, and that point is full fellowship with his own

Son,--fellowship with him in his rejection below, fellowship with him

in his acceptance above.

But, as in Abraham's case, it was death that broke the link by which

nature bound him to Charran; so, in our case, it is death which breaks

the link by which nature ties us down to this present world. We must

realize the truth that we have died in Christ, our Head and

Representative,--that our place in nature and in the world is amongst

the things that were,--that the cross of Christ is to us what the Red

Sea was to Israel, namely, that which separates us forever from the

land of death and judgment. Thus only shall we be able to walk, in any

measure, "worthy of the calling wherewith we are called,"--our high,

our holy, our heavenly calling,--our "calling of God in Christ Jesus."

And here I would dwell for a little on the cross of Christ in its two

grand, fundamental phases, or in other words, the cross as the basis of

our worship and our discipleship, our peace and our testimony, our

relation with God, and our relation with the world. If as a convicted

sinner I look at the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ, I behold in it the

everlasting foundation of my peace. I see my "sin" put away, as to the

root or principle thereof, and I see my "sins" borne. I see God to be,

in very deed, "for me," and that, moreover, in the very condition in

which my convicted conscience tells me I am. The cross unfolds God as

the _sinner's_ Friend. It reveals him in that most wondrous character

as the righteous Justifier of the most ungodly sinner. Creation never

could do this. Providence never could do this. Therein I may see God's

power, his majesty, and his wisdom: but what if all these things should

be ranged against me? Looked at in themselves abstractedly, they would

be so, for I am a sinner; and power, majesty, and wisdom, could not put

away my sin, nor justify God in receiving me.

The introduction of the cross, however, changes the aspect of things

entirely. There I find God dealing with sin in such a manner as to

glorify himself infinitely. There I see the magnificent display and

perfect harmony of all the divine attributes. I see love, and such love

as captivates and assures my heart, and weans it, in proportion as I

realize it, from every other object. I see wisdom, and such wisdom as

baffles devils and astonishes angels. I see power, and such power as

bears down all opposition. I see holiness, and such holiness as

repulses sin to the very farthest point of the moral universe, and

gives the most intense expression of God's abhorrence thereof, that

could possibly be given. I see grace, and such grace as sets the sinner

in the very presence of God,--yea, puts him into his bosom. Where could

I see all these things but in the cross? Nowhere else. Look where you

please, and you cannot find aught that so blessedly combines those two

great points, namely, "glory to God in the highest," and "on earth

peace."

How precious, therefore, is the cross, in this its first phase, as the

basis of the sinner's peace, the basis of his worship, and the basis of

his eternal relationship with the God who is there so blessedly and so

gloriously revealed! How precious to God, as furnishing him with a

righteous ground on which to go in the full display of all his

matchless perfections, and in his most gracious dealings with the

sinner! So precious is it to God that, as a recent writer has well

remarked, "All that he has said,--all that he has done, from the very

beginning, indicates that it was ever uppermost in his heart. And no

wonder! His dear and well-beloved Son was to hang there, between heaven

and earth, the object of all the shame and suffering that men and

devils could heap upon him, because he loved to do his Father's will,

and redeem the children of his grace. It will be the grand centre of

attraction, as the fullest expression of his love, throughout

eternity."

Then, as the basis of our practical discipleship and testimony, the

cross demands our most profound consideration. In this aspect of it, I

need hardly say, it is as perfect as in the former. The same cross

which connects me with God has separated me from the world. A dead man

is evidently done with the world; and hence the believer, having died

in Christ, is done with the world; and, having risen with Christ, is

connected with God, in the power of a new life, a new nature. Being

thus inseparably linked with Christ, he of necessity participates in

his acceptance with God, and in his rejection by the world. The two

things go together. The former makes him a worshipper and a citizen in

heaven, the latter makes him a witness and a stranger on earth. That

brings him inside the veil; this puts him outside the camp. The one is

as perfect as the other. If the cross has come between me and my sins,

it has just as really come between me and the world. In the former

case, it puts me into the place of peace with God; in the latter, it

puts me into the place of hostility with the world, that is, in a moral

point of view; though in another sense it makes me the patient, humble

witness of that precious, unfathomable, eternal grace which is set

forth in the cross.