crowned with light and gladness who had risen early and traded
diligently, and who now brought before their master the fruit of that
toil, and labour, and pain. Each one had his own reward; and amongst the
richest and the best--as though he brought what the king greatly
loved--was his reward who brought unto his master the offering of
gratitude from the broken-hearted widow.
Then drew near the servant who had wasted the morning, but had repented
of his sloth, and had fought his way through the crowds, and had at last
bought the sackcloth. Now he came bringing it with him; and it looked
poor, and mean, and coarse, as he bore it amongst the heaps of gold, and
jewels, and silks, which lay piled up all around; yet did he draw near
unto the king; and as he came, he spoke, and said, "A broken and a
contrite heart wilt thou not despise." And as he spake, the king looked
graciously upon him: a mild and an approving smile sat upon his
countenance, and he spoke to him also the blessed words, "Well done, thou
good and faithful servant." Then did the coarse sackcloth shine as the
most rich cloth of gold; then did the ashes of the furnace sparkle as a
monarch's jewels; whilst every bitter tear which was stored in the bottle
changed into pearls and rubies which were above all price.
Then the king turned to the careless servants, and his voice was terrible
to hear, and from his face they fled away. I dared not to look upon
them; but I heard their just and most terrible sentence, and I knew that
they were driven away for ever from the presence of the king, in which is
life and peace; and that they were bound under chains and darkness,
deeper and more dreadful than those from which the king's son had
graciously delivered them.
* * * * *
_Father_. In what part of God's word do we read such a parable as this?
_Child_. In the 25th chapter of St. Matthew's gospel, and at the 15th
verse.
F. Who is the King who called his servants thus together?
C. Almighty God.
F. Who are meant by these servants trading in the town?
C. All of us Christians.
F. How do you know that they were Christians?
C. Because they had been delivered from slavery and dungeons by the
King's own Son.
F. What is the great town to which they were sent?
C. This world.
F. What are the goods which God gave them to lay out for him?
C. Every thing which we have in this life: our strength, and health, and
reason, and money, and time.
F. How may we trade with these for the King?
C. By trying to use them all so as to please Him and set forth His
glory.
F. Who are those who rose up early to go into the town?
C. Those who begin to serve the Lord even from their youth.
F. What is shewn by their finding the streets easy to pass, and the
markets full of rich goods?
C. That this service of God is far easier to such as begin to serve Him
in youth; and that such are able to offer to Him the best gifts of early
devotion, and their first love, and the zeal of youth, and tender hearts,
and unclouded consciences.
F. What is taught us by their seeing the beautiful things of the city at
their ease, after their diligent trading?
C. That those who serve God truly in a youthful piety commonly find more
than others, that "godliness has promise of the life which now is, as
well as of that which is to come."
F. Why were those who were late ready to quarrel with one another?
C. Because companions in sin have no real love for each other, but are
always ready to fall out; being all selfish and separate from God.
F. What were the full streets they met with when they entered the town?
C. The many difficulties and hindrances which beset those who set about
serving God late in life.
F. What were the shows, and the thieves, and the robbers, which troubled
them?
C. The different temptations which come from the devil, the world, and
the flesh.
F. Who were the crowds who withstood them?
C. Those who love this present world, and who therefore withstand those
who seek to live for God's glory.
F. Who was he who sold the false jewels?
C. One of those who often make a prey of persons beginning, after a
negligent youth, to feel earnest about religion, and of whom we read,
Rom. xvi. 17, 18, "Now I beseech you, brethren, mark them which cause
divisions and offences, contrary to the doctrine which ye have learned;
and avoid them. For they that are such serve not our Lord Jesus Christ,
but their own belly; and by good words and fair speeches deceive the
hearts of the simple."
F. Who was he who held on through all difficulties to the market-place?
C. A truly humble penitent, who having turned to God with all his heart,
leans not to his own understanding, but follows God's leading in all
things; cleaving close to Christ's Church.
F. What were the sackcloth and ashes which he bought?
C. The true contrition of heart and deep sense of sin, which God gives
to those who seek earnestly to turn away from all iniquity.
F. What was the sound of the trumpet?
C. The call of men to the general judgment.
F. Who were those whose trading the master was pleased to reward?
C. Those who had served God early; those who had given to Him the best
of their youth; those who had been kind to others and helped the needy
for His sake; those who had turned to Him in truth, and clave to Him with
a humble penitence.
F. What was the end of the careless servants?
C. It is an awful end, which our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ speaks of
thus: "Cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer darkness: there shall
be weeping and gnashing of teeth." {148a} And, again, "These shall go
away into everlasting punishment; but the righteous into life eternal."
{148b}
The Prophet's Guard.
It was the very earliest morning. The day was not breaking as it does in
this land of England, with a dewy twilight and a gradual dawning--first a
dull glow all over the east, then blood-red rays, catching any fleecy
cloud which is stealing over the sky, and turning all its misty whiteness
into gold and fire;--but day was breaking as it does in those eastern
countries--sudden, and bright, and hot. Darkness flew away as at a word;
the thick shadows were all at once gone, and the broad glaring sun rose
proudly in the sky, rejoicing in his strength. The people of the town
woke up again to life and business. Doors were flung wide open, and some
were passing through them; the flat roofs of the houses began to be
peopled--on one was a man praying, on others two or three standing
together; but most of the people were hastening here and there to get
through their necessary work before the full heat of the day came on;
numbers were passing and repassing to the clear dancing fountain, the
cool waters of which bubbled up in the midst of a broad square within
that city.
And now, what is it which one suddenly sees, and, after gazing at it for
a while, points out to another, and he to a third? As each hears, they
look eagerly up to the hill, which rises high above their town, until
they gather into a knot; and then, as one and another are added to their
company, grow into almost a crowd. Still it is in the same quarter that
all eyes are fixed; their water-vessels are set idly down, as if they
could not think of them. Those which were set under the fountain have
been quite full this long time, but no one stooped to remove them; and
the water has been running over their brimming sides, while its liquid
silver flew all round in a shower of sparkling drops. But no one thinks
of them. What is it which so chains all eyes and fixes the attention of
all?
The hill is quite full of armed men. There were none there overnight:
they have come up from the vale silently and stealthily during the
darkness, while men slept, like some great mist rising in stillness from
the waters, and they seem to be hemming in the town on every side. Look
which way you will, the sun lights upon the burnished points of spears,
or falls on strong shields, or flashes like lightning from polished and
cutting swords, or is thrown a thousand ways by the rolling wheels of
those war-chariots. "Who are they?" is the question of all; and no one
likes to say what all have felt for a long time--"they are our enemies,
and we are their prey."
But there is no use in shutting the eyes any longer to the truth. The
morning breeze has just floated off in its airy waves that flag which
before hung down lifelessly by the side of its staff. It has shewn all.
They are enemies; they are fierce and bitter enemies; they are the
Syrians, and they are at war with Israel.
But why are they come against this little town? When they have licked up
it and its people like the dust from the face of the earth, they will be
scarcely further on in their war against Israel. Why did not they begin
with some of the great and royal cities? Why was it not against
Jerusalem, or Jezreel, or even against the newly rebuilt Jericho? Why
should they come against this little town?
Then one, an evil-looking man of a dark countenance, one who feared not
God and loved not His servants, whispered to those around him, and said,
"Have you not heard how Elisha the prophet, who dwells amongst us, has
discovered to the king of Israel the secrets of the army of the king of
Syria? No doubt it is because Elisha is dwelling here that the king of
Syria has come upon us. And now shall we, and our wives, and our sweet
babes, and our houses, and our treasures, become the prey of the king of
Syria, for the sake of this Elisha. I never thought that good would come
from his dwelling here."
Now, fear makes men cruel and suspicious, and fills their minds with hard
thoughts; and many of these men were full of fear: and so, when they
heard these words, they began to have hard bad thoughts of God's prophet,
and to hate him, as the cause of all the evils which they were afraid
would very soon come upon them.
Just then the door of another house opened: it was the prophet's house,
and his servant came forth with the water-vessels to fill them at the
fountain. He wondered to see the crowd of men gathered together, and he
drew near to ask them what was stirring. He could read upon their dark
scowling faces that something moved them exceedingly; but what it was he
could not gather. He could not tell why they would scarcely speak to
him, but looked on him with angry faces, and spoke under their breath,
and said, "This is one of them." "'Twere best to give them up." "They
will destroy us all." Then the man was altogether astonished; for his
master had been ever humble, and kind, and gentle; no poor man had ever
turned away without help when he had come in his sorrows to the prophet
of the Lord. And yet, why were they thus angry with him, if it were not
for his master's sake?
Broken sentences were all that he could gather; but, by little and
little, he learned what they feared and what they threatened; he saw,
also, the hosts of armed men gathered all around the city; and his heart,
also, was filled with fear. He believed that it was for his master's
sake that they were there; he saw that all around him were turned against
his master, and he trembled exceedingly. For some time he stood amongst
the rest, scarce knowing what to do, neither liking to remain nor daring
to go; until at last, as some more stragglers joined themselves to the
company, he slunk away like one ashamed, without stopping even to fill
the water-vessels he had brought.
And so he entered his own door, heavy-hearted and trembling; and he went
to the prophet's chamber, for he deemed that he still slept. But the man
of God was risen; and he knew, therefore, where he should find him--that
he would be upon the flat roof of his house, calling upon the name of the
Lord his God, who had made another morning's sun to rise in its glory.
{The Prophet's Guard: p156.jpg}
So he followed his master to the housetop; and there, even as he had
supposed, he found the holy man. It was a striking sight, could any one
have seen the difference between these two men. The one pale and
trembling and affrighted, like a man out of himself, and with no stay on
which to rest his mind; the other calm and earnest, as, in deep and
solemn prayer, with his head bowed and his hands clasped together, his
low voice poured forth his thanksgiving, or spake of his needs; he also,
as it seemed, was out of himself, but going out of himself that he might
rest upon One who was near to him though his eye saw Him not, and who
spake to him though his outward ear heard no voice of words.
Thus he continued for a season, as if he knew not that any man was nigh
unto him; as if he knew not that there were, in the great world around
him, any one besides his God with whom he communed, and his own soul
which spake unto his God. All this time his servant stood by him, pale
and trembling, but not daring to break in upon that hour of prayer; until
at length the prophet paused, and his eye fell upon the trembler; and he
turned towards him, and said kindly, "What ails thee, my son?" Then the
servant answered, "O my father, look unto the hill." And he stood gazing
in the prophet's face, as though he expected to see paleness and terror
overspread it when his eyes gathered in the sight of those angry hosts.
But it was not so. No change passed over his countenance; his brow was
open as it was before; the colour never left his cheeks; and, with almost
a smile, he turned unto the servant, and said, "And why does this
affright thee?" "It is for thee they seek, my father--it is for thee
they seek; and the wicked men of the town are ready to fall upon thee and
deliver thee into their hands. Even now, as I walked along the street,
they looked on me with fierce and cruel eyes; and they breathed threats
which these lips may not utter, and said, that thou hadst brought this
trouble upon them, and their wives, and their little ones; and I feared
that they would curse thee and thy God." But the prophet was not moved
by his words, for he only answered, "Fear them not; they that are with us
are more than they that are against us." Then did the servant cast his
eyes to the ground, and he spake not, yet his lips moved; and if any one
had heard the words which he whispered, they might perhaps have heard him
ask how this could be, when they were but two, and their enemies were so
many and so mighty.
Now the prophet's eye rested upon him, and he read all his secret
thoughts; and he pitied his weakness, for that holy man was full of pity
for the weak: so he chid him not; but, bowing his knees again on that
flat roof, he prayed unto his God to open the eyes of his affrighted
servant. His prayer was heard. For there fell from them as it were
films; and now, when he looked out, he saw a glorious sight. All the
mountain was full; and they were a wonderful company which filled it. The
dark hosts of the Syrians, and their glancing swords and clashing
chariots, now looked but as a mere handful; for the whole mountain round
them was full of that heavenly army. Chariots of fire and horsemen of
fire thronged it in every part. High up into the viewless air mounted
their wheeling bands: rank beyond rank, and army beyond army, they seemed
to stretch on into the vastness of space, until the gazer's wearied eye
was unable to gaze on them. And all of these were gathered round his
master. They were God's host, keeping guard over God's servant. And
they who would injure him must first turn aside those flashing swords,
must break up that strong and serried array, and be able to do battle
with God's mighty angels.
Then was the weak heart strong. Then did the poor trembler see that he
was safe; and know that he who is on God's side can never want companions
and defenders.
The Brothers' Meeting;
OR,
The Sins of Youth.
A large company was winding its way slowly out of the vale in which the
river Jordan runs. The sun was just beginning to strike hotly upon them,
and make them long for rest and shelter, as they toiled up the open sandy
hills and amongst the great masses of rock with which that country was
strewn.
It was a striking sight to see those travellers. First went three troops
of kine, lowing as they went; camels with their arched necks, stooping
shoulders, and forward ears; asses with their foals; ewes and lambs; and
goats with their kids, which mounted idly upon every rock that lay by
their road-side, and then jumped as idly down again; and before and after
these, drivers in stately turbans and long flowing robes, keeping the
flocks and herds to their appointed way. Then came large droves of
cattle, and sheep, and goats, and asses, stirring up with their many feet
the dust of the sandy plain, till it fell like a gentle shower powdering
with its small grains all the rough and prickly plants which grew in
tufts over the waste. Then was there a space; and after that were seen
two bands of camels,--the best they seemed to be of all the flock, those
which came last especially,--and on them were children and women riding,
over whom hung long veils to shelter their faces from the hot breath of
the sandy desert through which they had travelled. And after all these
came one man, with his staff in his hand and a turban on his head,
walking slowly, as one who walked in pain and yet walked on, following
those who went before.
If you had stood near to that man, you might, perhaps, have heard him
speaking to God in prayer and thanksgiving; you might have heard him
saying to himself, "with my staff passed I over this Jordan, and now I am
become two bands:" or you might have heard him earnestly calling upon the
God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac his father, to keep him safe in the
great danger which now lay close before him. His mind was certainly very
full of that danger; for he kept looking up from the sand on which his
eyes were often fixed, and gazing as far as he could see over the hills
before him, as if he expected to see some great danger suddenly meet him
on his way, and as if, therefore, he wished to be quite ready for it.
If you looked into his face, you could see at once that he was not a
common man. He was not a very old man; his hair was not yet grey upon
his head; and yet it seemed, at the first glance, as if he was very old.
But as you looked closer, you saw that it was not so; but that many, many
thoughts had passed through his mind, and left those deep marks stamped
even on his face. It was not only sorrow, though there was much of that;
nor care, though he was now full of care; but besides these, it seemed as
if he had seen, and done, and felt great things--things in which all a
man's soul is called up, and so, which leave their impress behind them,
even when they have passed away.
He HAD seen great things, and felt great things. He had seen God's most
holy angels going up to heaven, and coming down to earth upon their
messages of mercy. He had heard the voice of the Lord of all, promising
to be his Father and his Friend. And only the night before, the Angel of
the covenant had made himself known to him in the stillness of his lonely
tent, and made him strong to wrestle with him for a blessing, until the
breaking of the day. So that it was no wonder, that when you looked into
his face, it was not like the face of a common man, but one which was
full of thought, which bore almost outwardly the stamp of great
mysteries.
But what was it which now filled this man with care? He was returning
home from a far land where he had been staying twenty years, to the land
where his father dwelt. He had gone out a poor man; he was coming home a
rich man. He was bringing back with him his wives, and his children, and
his servants, and his flocks, and his herds; and of what was he afraid?
Surely he could trust the God who had kept him and blessed him all these
twenty years, and who had led him now so far on his journey?
Why should he fear now, when he was almost at his father's tent?
It was because he heard that HIS BROTHER was coming to meet him. But why
should this fill him with such fear? Surely it would be a happy meeting;
brothers born of the same father and of the same mother, who had dwelt
together in one tent, kneeled before one father's knees in prayer, and
joined together in the common plays of childhood,--surely their meeting
must be happy, now that they have been twenty years asunder, and God has
blessed them both, and they are about to see each other again in peace
and safety, and to shew to each other the children whom God had given
them, and who must remind them of their days of common childhood. And
why then is the man afraid? Because when he left his father's house this
brother was very angry with him, and he fears that he may have remembered
his anger all these twenty years, and be ready now to revenge himself for
that old quarrel.
And yet, why should this make such an one to fear? Even if his brother
be still angry with him, and have cruel and evil thoughts against him,
cannot God deliver him?--cannot the same God who has kept him safely all
these twenty years of toil and labour, help and save him now? Why then
does he fear so greatly? He has not forgotten that this God can save
him--he has not for a moment forgotten it; for see how earnestly he makes
his prayer unto Him: hear his vows that if God will again deliver him, he
and all of his shall ever praise and serve him for this mercy. Yet still
he is in fear; and he seems like a man who thought that there was some
reason why the God who had heard him in other cases should not hear him
in this.
What was it, then, which pressed so heavily upon this man's mind? It was
the remembrance of an old sin. He feared that God would leave him now to
Esau's wrath, because he knew that Esau's wrath was God's punishment of
his sin. He feared that Esau's hand would slay his children, as God's
chastisement for the sins of his childhood. He remembered that he had
lied to Isaac his father, and mocked the dimness of his aged eyes by a
false appearance; now he trembled lest his father's God should leave the
deceiver and the mocker to eat the bitter fruit of his old sin. It was
not so much Esau's wrath, and Esau's company, and Esau's arms, which he
feared--though all these were very terrible to this peaceful man,--as it
was his own sin in days long past, which now met him again, and seemed to
frown upon him from the darkness before him. In vain did he strive to
look on and see whether God would guide him there, for his sin clouded
over the light of God's countenance. It was as when he strained his eyes
into the great sand-drifts of the desert through which he had passed:
they danced and whirled fearfully before him, and baffled all the
strivings of his earnest gaze.
But the time of trial was drawing very near. And how did it end? Instead
of falling upon him and slaying him and his; instead of making a spoil of
the oxen, and the asses, and the camels, and giving the young children to
the sword, Esau's heart melted as soon as they met; he fell upon his
brother's neck and kissed him; he looked lovingly upon the children who
had been born to him in the far land; he spake kindly of the old days of
their remembered childhood, of the grey-haired man at home; and he would
not take even the present which his brother had set apart for him.
Jacob knew who it was that had turned his brother's heart, and he felt
more than ever what a strong and blessed thing prayer and supplication
was. Nor did he forget his childhood's sin against his God. It had
looked out again upon him in manhood, and reminded him of God's holiness,
of his many past misdeeds, and made him pray more earnestly not to be
made to "possess the iniquities of his youth."
* * * * *
_Father_. What should we learn from this account of Jacob's meeting
Esau?
_Child_. That God remembers and often visits long afterwards the sins of
our childhood.
F. Does not God, then, forgive the sins of children?
C. Yes, He does forgive them, and blot them out for Christ's sake.
F. Why, then, do we say that He visits them?
C. Because He often allows the effects of past sins to be still their
punishment, even when He has forgiven them.
F. Why does He do so?
C. To shew us how He hates sin.
F. What should we learn from this?
C. To watch against every sin most carefully, because we never can know
what may be its effects; to remember how God has punished it, often for
years, in His true servants; to pray against sin; to think no sin little.
F. What should we do, if we find the consequences of past sin coming
upon us?
C. Take our chastisement meekly; humble ourselves under God's hand; pray
for deliverance, as, "Remember not the sins of my youth, nor my
transgressions: according to thy mercy remember thou me for thy goodness'
sake, O Lord" (Ps. xxv. 7).
F. What should be the effect on us when God hears our prayer, and
delivers us?
C. It should make us more humbly remember our sins and unworthiness, and
strive to shew forth our thankfulness, "not with our lips only, but in
our lives."
{Finis: p172.jpg}