If we follow the analogy of Scripture symbolism, significance
belongs to that emblem, making it quite worthy to stand by the side
of the former one. You remember Christ's first exhortation in the
Sermon on the Mount immediately following the Beatitudes: 'Ye are
the salt of the earth, ye are the light of the world. Men do not
light a candle, and put it under a bushel. _Let your light so
shine before men_, that they may see your good deeds.' If we
apply that key to decipher the hieroglyphics, the burning lamps
which the girded servants are to bear in the darkness are the whole
sum of the visible acts of Christian people, from which there may
flash the radiance of purity and kindness, 'So shines a good deed in
a naughty world.' The lamp which the Christian servant is to bear is
a character illuminated from above (for it is a kindled lamp, and
the light is derived), and streaming out a brilliance into the
encircling murky midnight which speaks of hospitable welcome and of
good cheer in the lighted hall within.
Now, what is the connection between that exhibition of a lustrous
and pure Christian character and the former exhortation? Why this,
if you do not gird your loins your lamp will go out. Without the
concentrated effort and the continually repeated detachment and the
daily renewed 'Lord! here am I, send me,' of the alert and ready
servant, there will be no shining of the life, no beauty of the
character, but dimness will steal over the exhibition of Christian
graces. Just as, often, in the wintry nights, a star becomes
suddenly obscured, and we know not why, but some thin vaporous cloud
has come between us and it, invisible in itself but enough to blur
its brightness, so obscuration will befall the Christian character
unless there be continual concentration and detachment. Do you want
your lights to blaze? You trim them--though it is a strange mixture
of metaphor--you trim them when you gird your loins.