"The conies are but a feeble folk, yet make they their houses in the
rocks." They cannot fight with the lion, and they don't try. They run
from the least appearance of evil, and so ought we. It is often
one-half, and sometimes the whole, of the victory to know our own
weakness. Discretion is always the better part of valour.
How many there are who have not this wisdom of the coney! They are
feeble as he is, and yet they do not pray, "Lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil." They cannot turn aside the fiery darts of
the evil one, and yet they carelessly play into his hands by dallying
with that which is not good. But
"This is hypocrisy against the devil,
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven."
Far better to act as young Gareth acted when he lived among the
"kitchen-knaves" of King Arthur's palace--
"If their talk were foul,
Then would he whistle rapid as any lark."
The pure-minded lad refused to listen to it, and he had his reward.
They mocked him at first, but afterwards they turned and reverenced him.
A like testimony was borne to John Milton when he entered Christ's
College, Cambridge, at sixteen years of age. Because of his virtuous
conduct he was ridiculed by his fellow-students, and nicknamed "the lady
of Christ's." But the future author of "Paradise Lost" could afford to
let them sneer. He had the testimony of a good conscience, and "they
who honour Me, I will honour." And all those who are tempted to-day
must draw their succour from a similar divine source. With the wisdom
of the coney they must betake themselves to the safety of the hills, and
say, "Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I." And in that strong
Rock of Ages all feeble ones will be eternally safe, for neither foe nor
tempest can reach them there. Flee, then, as a bird to your mountain,
or in the language of your hymn--
"Yield not to temptation, for yielding is sin,
Each victory will help you some other to win,
Fight manfully onward, dark passions subdue,
Look ever to Jesus, He will carry you through."
*The Ass's Colt.*
"And Jesus, when He had found a young ass, sat thereon."--John xii. 14.
Two varieties of the ass exist in Bible lands, namely, the domesticated
and the wild ass. But whether these are two different kinds, or simply
variations of the same species, is not yet a settled question. On the
assumption that they are one, it would still be disputed whether the
wild ass is to be regarded as an emancipated domestic ass, or the latter
a reclaimed wild one. But into the merits of this question we have no
call to enter.
We may say at the outset, however, that when speaking of the ass of the
Bible, we are dealing with a very different animal from the poor
weather-beaten, stunted, and half-starved beast of our commons. The
coldness of our climate, and the life of hardship endured by the ass in
this country, have, no doubt, operated largely in the decay of the
breed. But the Arabian ass is quite different. A well-bred Syrian ass
will fetch forty pounds. It is well formed and muscular, well cared for
and fed, and is altogether a finer and nobler animal than the spiritless
and degraded creature so familiar to us.
Consequently, when we read of Jesus riding upon an ass's colt, there
would seem to be some ground for the statement that "there was no
humility in the case. He rode upon an ass as any prince or ruler would
have done who was engaged on a peaceful journey" (Wood). In fine, Jesus
came riding on the universal saddle animal of the East.
But turning to the ass's colt, I want you to note three things about it.