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THE

WISDOM OF THE KING;

OR,

STUDIES IN ECCLESIASTES.

THE REV. JAMES BENNET,

SAINT JOHN, NEW BRUNSWICK.

EDINBURGH:
WILLIAM OLIPHANT AND CO.

1870.

<6 o 7^"^

<:n/irtj^ /^/^./

MURRAY AND GIBB, KDINBDRGH,
PRINTHRS TO HER MAJESTY'S STATIONERY OFFICB

PREFATOEY NOTE.

rriHIS Volume is the result of certain prepara-
-*- tions made for an evening Lecture to the
Author's congregation. This fact will account, a ad
perhaps apologize, for the various moods observable
in the several chapters, and the hortatory style
sometimes adopted. Having been published in suc-
cessive numbers of a local paper, they are now
reissued, with slight corrections, in a more perma-
nent form, at the request of many who heard them
delivered, or read them in the columns of TJic Prcs-
hytcrian Advocate. The Author is fully sensible of
the many defects in these pages, which he yet hopes
may be found to contain some true and useful views,
not altogether common, and needing exposition.

The distance of the Author from the press pre-
venting him from reading proof, will account for
minor errors and inaccuracies.

Saint John, November 1870. -.—:—- - — - - -

CONTENTS.

II,
III,

IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XV IT.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXI.

INTEODUCTORY, ....

WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK,

INSATISFACTION

THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR, .

KOVELTY,

WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY,

THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY,

THE king's DESPAIR,

MATERIALISM AND MORALS,

EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE ?

THE ENVIOUS MAN, ....

THE LONELY ONE, ....

THE WISE CHILD AND THE FOOLISH KINO,

SNARES IN THE PATH OF PIETY,

THE VOW,

RICHES,

THE BANKRUPT, ....

THE HOUSES OF MOURNING AND MIRTH,

INVENTIONS,

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE PROSPECT OF AGE,
THE JUDGMENT OF PLEASURE, ,

PAOK
1

1.5
28
38
60
8.-)
106
127
162
174
196
217
234
252
270
286
310
336
358
382
406

THE WISDOM OF TUE KING.

INTRODUCTOEY.

THE BOOK.

npiIE Book of Ecclesiastes is one of the few lite-
rary pictures yet hanging on the walls of
early time. The laws of Moses, the wars of Joshua,
the histories of Samuel, the psahns of David, the'
trials of Job, and some others, have a yet more
antique appearance. The first authors in the world
were Jews. No other nation has sent down to us
a literature so old. The first period of Jewish
letters was past ere Solomon's day. Yet the blind
bard of Greece was not born when this King of
Israel sung of the Messiah's love for His Church ;
Lycurgus had not instituted liis laws when Solomon'
sat on the judgment-seat; and Solon had yet to
wait centuries to be born after the Preacher had
delivered his discourses on wisdom. We do not

THE \7ISD0M OF THE KING.

possess the first literary efforts of either the Jew
or the Greek. There is a finish about the style of
their earliest writings \/hich forbids the thought,
that they contain the first attempts of national
authorship. Moses had his precursors, and is in-
debted to previous historians for many of his facts.
The writers of tlie wars of Josliua and of the second
volume of Samuel refer to the ' Book of Jasher ' as
authority for some of their statements. Even the
author of the Book of Numbers refers to a previous
history — ' The Book of the Wars of the Lord.' The
manuscripts of most ancient date ho-v(i fallen a prey
to the devourer, which eats up columns of granite
and stable empires as well as feeble books. "While
war desolates everything, parchments also fear the
worm. Only wonderful care could have preserved
any of this frail generation for so many centuries.
When we think how many, in tlie present day, of
the great family of books die leaving scarcely a
name, \vg shall have the higher respect for those
old-world worthies whose innate vitality has enabled
them to survive the ruins of empires.

It is principally from books that we become ac-
quainted with the men of ancient days. There
are indeed works which industry has reared and art
embellished, whose remains we yet behold. The
pyramids, the sepulchres of the dead, the broken

INTRODUCTORY.

pillars of temples, the treasures of art dug from
ruined palaces, the coins of ancient commerce, the
medals struck in commemoration of victories, tlie
statues and bas-reliefs indicaave of the objects of
worship or portraying historic personages, — these
are useful in constructing the ideal edifice of past
society ; and ycit without contemporaneous litera-
ture all these would be of little avail in producing
an adequate picture of the bygone ages. From
Isaiah, Ezekiel, or Dan^'el, we know more of Baby-
lon, Tyre, and Jerusalem than excavators or tra-
vellers will ever unfold. Even the treasures of art
from the ruined palaces of Nineveh fail to do more
than illustrate as a commentary the things written
of that ancient city by the old Hebrew prophets.

There are certain things of which no knowledge
can be handed down to us save through the medium
of the book. The thinkings of men can become
the heritage of the future generations alone through
literature. What Solomon did might be partly per-
petuated by the works themselves ; but Solomon's
opinions regarding what he did, and the motives of
his actions, can alone be understood through lan-
guage — for a time by tradition, afterwards by writ-
ing. This book, whether from the King's own pen,
or that of some other author after his time, displays
without doubt the workings of Solomon's mind, the

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

feelings by Avhich he was actuated, and the conclu-
sions at which he arrived.

THE AUTHOR OF THE BOOK.

Modern criticism affirms that Solomon is not the
author of tliis book — at least as it now stands^. De
Wette, Keil, Bleek, and otliers refer its composition
to the times of Ezra and Xehemiah. The principal
reasons for setting aside the authorship of Solomon
are — the use of foreign words, more appropriate to
the period of the captivity ; the absence of any pro-
test against, or even reference to, idolatry, which was
still rife in Solomon's time ; and the generally scorn-
ful and sceptical sentiments of the book, evidencing
a later product of ihought. It has been leplied,
tliat Solomon's intercourse with foreign nations, by
commerce and marriage, accounts satisfactorily for
the presence of foreign words and idioms ; that his
own lapse into idolatry might seal his lips against
its condemnation, and prevent even a remote refer-
ence to it ; while his intensely active mind and
wild sensual life would produce just such thoughts,
though not yet common to the age. The author,
also, claims to be the King of Israel, speaks gene-
rally in the first person, and delivers sentiments in
harmony with what we otherwise know of his life.
Though there are great difficulties in acknowledging

INTRODUCTOllY. 5

Solomon as the author, we may still, in accordance
with ancient Jewisli and Christian usage, speak of
him as the writer. We would not despoil the great
monarch of a crown which we can place only on
some vague, imaginary Ijrow. It fits no head so
well as that of the wise Solomon.

THE OBJECT OF THE BOOK.

To teach the unsatisfactoriness of wisdom, plea-
sure, and art — the propriety of a moderate use of
the enjoyments of life — a humble su.bmission to the
arrangements of Providence, and fervent piety, was
the object of this treatise. It is an autobiography
with a purpose. The book may seem unnatural,
])ut it is because the life was a calculation. Men
are led mostly by custom, he by wisdom. He
studied that he might reckon up the value of learn-
ing. He sought pleasure that lie might know its
bitterness and sweetness. He was busy that he
might know the worth and vanity of industry.
Every activity, every passion, every being, every
mode of thought, was a study ; and every study
was for the benefit of his fellows: He seems to be
a fool, but he is rather a wise man making experi-
ments in folly — a philosopher blowing bubbles from
wlii'^h may come out the science of light.

The light at last shines forth from the darkness.

b THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

The Pharos sheds its rays, warning the mariners of
the great sea of life from the rocks and quicksand 3.
' Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is
the whole duty of man,' is the conclusion of the
matter. Every part is calculated for this end. The
dark passages lead up to the radiant day. Life is
a vanity, pleasure is folly, business is unsatisfactory,
without duty and God. This is the lesson of the
great Koheleth.

THE INSPIRATION OF THE BOOK.

It is no doubt inspired, but this inspiration must
be truly conceived. The Spirit inspired the author
to write the history of all the King's experiments,
the motive from which he made them, and his
sentiments regarding them. He also guided him
in the announcement of the true end and duty of
man. The experiments, motives, and sentiments
are not on that account always good. I may write
the history and opinions of a man ; but it does not
follow that I approve of what he has done as right,
or of his theories as correct. Nor will it be neces-
sary always to indicate wherein I differ from him,
especially if he have at a later period corrected
himself. So also is God the inspirer of this book,
which, though it describe some very questionable
doings, and utter very debatable sentiments, yet in

INTKODUCTOKY.

its ultimate results, leads from tlie creature to the
Creator, from sensuous pleasure to the duty of wor-
ship, and from the vanity of things to the enjoyment
of God.

We are not necessarily to receive every sentiment
in the Bible as the mind of God. We can affirm
that it was God's will that it should be placed on
the record, but we must exercise judgment and dis-
crimination as to whether it has as a sentiment the
approbation of God. There are many acts recorded
in the Bible which are not explicitly condemned, but
of which neither God nor man can approve — acts,
sometimes of good men, against which conscience
recoils. We should not permit our reverence for
the man to override our judgment of his conduct ;
nor are we to accept the decisions, declarations, and
opinions of the men of the Bible as infallible doc-
trines, till we have found that they are in harmony
with the general tenor of the Christian faith. The
serpent speaks lies in the Bible. Balaam uttered
some sentiments which we discard, as did Balak
who employed him. The Book of Job contains the
discussions of Job and his three friends, and the
young man Elihu ; but we are expressly told that
the * comforters ' of the afflicted man did not speak
the thing that was right concerning God as Job had.
They were utterly at fault regarding the mode of

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

i i

working in the divine government. Nay, though
Job's sentiments have the approval of God, yet
theirs must be considered only as a comparative
rightness, since God liad already entered into con-
troversy with him, and combat .d his positions. To
take this or that passage at random in proof of a
doctrine, witliout reference to the character of the
speaker, the circumstances in which it was spoken,
or its general harmony with the mind of God, is
singularly vain, and leads to the falsest conchisions.
Yet important doctrines are sometimes supported by
texts, without reference to anything but the simple
fact that they are found in the Bible. On the other
hand, attacks have been made on the Bible because
it contains sentiments winch on examination are
found to be the words not of God, but of wicked
men. Thus in one of the Essays and Bcvicios an
attempt is made to show that tlie prophecies have
failed, because the prophecy of one denominated a
false prophet is aflirmed by the Scripture itself to
have failed. Special care must therefore be taken
to understand in what character any one- — Solomon,
for example — appears before us. Does he speak as
a prophet, or only as an observer or philosopher ?
Does he say, Thus saith the Lord, or. Thus it
appears to me ? Dues he claim Divine illumination,
or only human wisdom ? If he appear as a Divine

INTRODUCTORY. 9

messenger, we must investigate his claims ; and if
they be well founded, submit to his decisions. But
if he make no such claim — if he simply appear as
the inquirer and experimenter, telling us what he
has done, what good means and opportunities he
had of doing it — we are not debarred from a free
criticism on the manner of his inquiry, or the
validity of his conclusions. That the record of his
procedure is placed in this sacred book by the Spirit
of God, neither prevents nor supersedes such exa-
mination. It is not placed in this collection that
we should adopt and submit to its every con-
clusion, but that we might learn from the failures
and follies of the King how little wisdom can
do, even when aided by power and riches, especi-
ally when vice and foliy are added to these trans-
cendent gifts.

THE CHARACTER OF SOLOMON.

The character of Solomon is that of a great mon-
arch with kingly vices — a form of glory yet tar-
nished with black spots. Tlie splendour and shadow
of his life are felt all over the East. His f\ime for
wisdom, magnificence, and work is great among the
nations. Weighed in the Ijalancc, he is found
wanting. His character is an antithesis of virtue
and vice, holiness and sin. He is pious and pro-

THE WISDOM OF THE KIXG.

fane, — pure in sentiment, yet seeking after many
strange women. He builds the temple to Jehovah,
and a high place for Chemosh, the abomination of
Moab, and for IMoloch, the abomination of the chil-
dren of Ammon. He serves the Lord, yet goes
after Ashtaroth, the goddess of the Zidonians, and
after Milcom, the goddess of the Ammonites. He
cherished pure sentiments, yet had many wives and
concubines. His reign was peaceful, but this he
owed more to his father's valour than to his own
virtue. The stories told of his wisdom hardly sus-
tain his reputation. Under him Israel was pros-
perous and happy ; and those who worship success
will find in this fact an apology for every crime.
Wise in youth, he grows foolish as he gets old,
though perhaps repentance came in time to restore
his aged steps to the paths of virtue. Let us hope
that the conclusion of this book shut in the latter
part of the monarch's life — ' Fear God, and keep
His commandments ; for this is the whole duty of
man.' The life that unfolds the doctrine of this
text must needs be beautiful.

But the previous portion of Solomon's life was
far enough from developing this moral ideal, and
many of the sentiments of this book are in poor
correspondence with it, though they may prepare
the way for the perception of its truth. As anta-

INTRODUCTORY.

^'onists they show its strength, and secure its vic-
tory. We will need to take care that we do not
render to those low sentiments which are expressed
in the previous parts of the book, and illustrated in
liis life, that homacje which is alone due to tliis con-
queror in the lists. Experiment, passion, industry,
pleasure, have all had their say; but this word of
conscience hushes their babble. God and duty rise
eternal and immutable above the changing forms
and vanities of tilings, saying to the turbulent waves
of sentiment, ' Peace, be still.' The excited sea of
speculation subsides into a great calm before those
grand words.

THE OBJECT OF THE SPIRIT IN THE BOOK.

But why, from this view of Solomon's position
and character, should so much of the Bible be
taken up with his biography and experiments ? We
reply, for the important purpose of showing how
far human wisdom, when aided by means and oppor-
tunities, can go ; of making way for the fulness of
time, when after that, in the wisdom, of God, the
world by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God by
the foolishness of the preaching of the Cross to put
to shame the preaching of Solomon as well as the
discussions of the philosophers. ^ — • -•

\^.^>^^

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

COiMPAEATIVE MERITS OF SOLOMOX'S TEACHING.

From the vantage ground of Christ's teaching we
feel that we have an understanding of the things of
morality and duty which Solomon had not. Many
things we shall find, by him, acutely observed. His
j)roverhs contain a clear insight into human nature,
and his preaching many excellent instructions. Ad-
vices very valuable he sometimes gave, but they are
far from reaching the top of the Sermon on the
Mount. His thoughts sweep round the visible
horizon, but he fails to discover the invisible. We
may take liim as our guide with a caution among
common things, but knowing little of that higlier
morality which springs from faith. Probably, in-
deed, we should except his wonderful Song. Whetliv3r,
however, he comprehended the deep spiritual mean-
ing of his Odes of Love in their relation to Christ
and the Church is questionable. — His soul hardly
felt the divine harmony of his numbers. The
primary meainng overshadowed the hidden intelli-
gence. We, who have the later teachings of the
Spirit, find in them wings on which to mount the
heiglits of divine contemplation. In his Ecclesiastes,
however, we remain on the lower surfp.ce of earth,
driving as in the chariots of Amminadib, amid festal
scenes and gardens, with fruits and flowers, enclos-

INTRODUCTORY.

ing palaces where the wine-cup circles, and song
sends out its sweet waves of sound on which the
sold floats away to Elysian fields. We may, in our
further contemplation of Solomon's sermons, take
occasion to point to the better land. When we hear
him bewailing the vanity of human work and joy, our
ear will be the better fitted to hear wdiat Jesus has
spoken, and what the Spirit saith unto the churches.
When we find that the happiness of the soul is not
here, we may the more readily give our hand to the
invisible guide who promises to lead us to enjoyment
by another road. Solomon's wisdom may disappoint,
but, behold, a greater than Solomon is here.

Strange that an obscure One over whose birth hung
a cloud, without wealtli or apparent power, should,
by the shores of Galilee, claim superiority over him
whom the East honoured as the wisest of its sages !
No doubt, by the greater part of His hearers. His
claims would be received with a sneer. Such lan-
guage coidd be viewed but with scorn by those who
looked back to the wisdom of Solomon, as trans-
cending that of all ancient teachers. The claim,
however, is modest in the extreme. In that form
without comeliness there was a higher dignity than
that of Solomon in all his glory. In that eye there
was a discernment and penetration unknown to him
who vainly strove to discover the causes of human

■t

-Si-

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

sorrow, suffeving, and sin. In that hand lay a capa-
city of blessing, which all the riches of the Eastern
King could not bestow. Before the glory of the
only begotten Son of God, the glory of palaces and
proverbs, of gold and song, of material grandeur and
mental wisdom, grows pale and fades into insignifi-
cance. Solomon's night of stars and flitting aurora
melts into the splendours of the day of Jesus Christ.
As explorers make voyages from their own sunny
skies and moderate climes to polar regions, where
winter as a tyrant rules the frozen year, that they may
note the fauna and flora found capable of existence in
those Arctic regions, and round tlie sciences of botany
and zoology, so we may, leaving the warm bright zone
of Christian thouglit and feeling, transport ourselves
to the cold and t^vilight climes of rational wisdom
where Solomon was doomed to dwell — not that we
may remain there, but return with the knowledge of
what the men cf his time were and thought and did,
and in the thankfulness that ours is a day of brighter
manifestation and higher virtue, brought to perfection
under the healing beams of the Sun of Eighteousness.

11.

WISDOM, TLEASUEE, AND WOKK.

'And I gave my heart to seek and search out by wisdom con-
cerning all things that are done under lieavcn.' — Ecolks. i. 13.

' Go to now, 1 will prove thee with mirth ; therefore enjoy plea-
sure. '—Eccleh. II. 1.

* I sought in mine heart to give myself unto wine (yet ac-
quainting mine heart with wisdom), and to lay hold on fidly. ' —
ECCLES. II. 2.

* I made me great works.' — EccLEs. li. 4.

WISDOM.

IN the first place, Solomon applied his heart to
wisdom. It was that for which he prayed in
early youth, and the prime of his manhood was em-
ployed in its acquisition. The wisdom of his day
embodied in books was su^n attained ; for such trea-
sures were then scarce. From these he would soon
be free to receive such vocal wisdom as the men of
his age could furnish. But above all he directed his
mhid to the study of men and things — the state of
society, the conditions of good and evil, the value of
riches and the evils of poverty, the nature of plants
and animals ; and he condensed the results of his
observations and experiments in proverbial pliilo-

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

Hopliy. Tho divine gift of poetry which he inherited
from his father, was also cultivated. So at an early
period he attained a fame for wisdom exceeding that
of all the men of his day. — ' He was wiser than
Ethan tlie Ezrahite, and Heman, and Chalcol, and
Barda, the sons of Mahol ; and his fame was in all
nations round about.'

WISDOM TO BE SOUGHT THROUGH THE PORTALS OF

YOUTH.

It may seem strange that his acquisition of wisdom
should be placed before his life of pleasure, and ex-
periments in enjoyment. It is, however, the truth
(if nature which so arranges it. He who becomes
learned ever imbibes the desire for knowledge in
youth. The learned man often becomes a rake, but
the original rake seldom becomes a scholar. He
who has pursued a practical business for half a life
hardly ever becomes a philosopher. The acquisi-
tions of literary treasure are usually made while
life beats high-pulsed. A man who has devoted his
principal time to sowing wild oats may turn his
attention to the cultivation of the soil, but seldom
to the cultivation of philosophy. Science selects
her favourites from among the young. You may
learn to plant and build, you may make awkward
attempts in the practice of debauchery after having

WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK.

eschewed these till you have arrived at the meridian
of life ; but you need hardly expect to do more than
form a distant acquaintance with Wisdom after that
date, if you have not paid worship before her shrine
sooner. Learning awaits her passage through the
gates of youth. It is natural, therefore, that we
should find Solomon a wise young man, whatever he
became in after years.

WISDOM NOT HAPPINESS.

The King found that wisdom which he so earnestly
sought, incapable of procuring him the happiness
which he expected. Amid the bountiful harvest of
knowledge, he pined for a plant of which he found
he had not sown the seed. KnoAvledge grew up
tall and luxuriant over the wide field of thought,
but that rare exotic, happiness, was nowhere to be
seen. Fame, admiration, glory, riches, and consoli-
dated power were his, but care and disappointment
still rankled in the monarch's heart ; and he turned
himself to other pursuits to see whether he had not
made a mistake in supposing wisdom the best of the
gifts of Heaven. ' For,' said he, ' in much wisdom
is much grief; and he that increaseth knowledge
increaseth sorrow. I said in mine heart. Go to
now, I will prove thee with mirth ; therefore enjoy
pleasure.*

mmm.

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

HAPPINESS SOUGHT IN A NEW CLIME.

K-

From wisdom to pleasure — at one bound from the
study to the banqueting-room, from deep researches
to light witticisms, from silent contemplation upon
the nature of things to uproarious mirth ! Instead
of practical experiment, the practical joke. His
sage counsellers are dismissed, or transformed into
the nightly revellers of whom alone for the tune he
makes companions. No doubt there was much ad-
mirable fooling round the monarch's board. What
wisdom was transformed to wit ! What jests were
uttered ! Wliat uproar was heard ! What cups
were drained, while the chorus was added to the
song, and the walls of the palace shook with
laughter ! We have no picture of the festal scenes
or wild debaucheries into which Solomon plunged,
but they were probably not very different from
certain modern orgies with which many are but too
well acquainted, and which only want the gorgeous
splendours of the palace and genius to make them,
in all their ruder parts at least, fit exemplars of the
scenes in which the wise King enacted his part —
scenes in which wine put dulness to flight, provok-
ing the flashing repartee, and the loud long laugh, but
which also brought in its train maudlin talk, redness

■WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK.

of eyes, shattered nerves, and all the usual sequels
of the life of the debauchee.

And connected with these boisterous revels other
sensual and emasculative pleasures were indulged in
to the utmost extremes. All the variety of beauty
of which tlie Eastern harem could boast solicited his
love. Queens and concubines without number vied
for his favours. He seems to have delivered him-
self over to all the distractions of multitudinous
attachments. Compared with him, even the royal
rakes of modern times are virtuous. Kings' daugh-
ters were his queens, and peasant beauties were his
mistresses. The usual results, no doubt, were pro-
duced : an utter destruction of the tenderest senti-
ment of the heart ; jealousies and quarrels ; con-
tempt for woman ; utter disbelief in virtue ; and a
mind thoroughly carnalized.

PLEASURE ALSO VANITY.

The conclusion to wliicli Solomon came regarding
pleasure was, that it also was vanity, that laughter
was mad, and that mirth did no good ; while the
result of his experience in strange and numerous
attachments is — ' I find more bitter than death the
woman whose heart is snares and nets, and her
hands bands : whoso pleaseth God shall escape
from her; but the sinner shall be taken by her.'

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

* Behold, this have I found, saith the Preacher,
counting one by one, to find out the account ; which
yet my soul seeketh, but I find not : one man
among a thousand have I found ; but a woman
amons all those have I not found.'

ESTIMATE OF WOMAN.

A true woman, among all for whom he enter-
tained either legitimate or unlawful loves, he has not
found. This sentence of Solomon has been often
quoted to show the utter worthlessness of the female
character. It is, however, an entirely wortliless
conclusion as regards woman when placed in her
legitimate and appropriate sphere as the one sole
companion of man's life in love, cares, and labours.
As well might the tyrant who, by cruelty, has alien-
ated his subjects, complain that he has failed to find
loyal men, as the debauchee who has subjected hun-
dreds to his lust, that he had found no noljle, virtuous
woman. Did the pleasure-seeking King expect, in
lieu of his own dissipated, debauched heart, one
pure and undivided ? It is not thus that the com-
merce of love is carried on. Pearls are not to be
exchanged for pebbles. The law of love which God
has established is heart for heart ; and the affections
that are dissipated among a thousand objects must
ever be without return of that which yet the soul

WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK.

seeks — the iihdivided love. Of this fact Solomon
seems to have had a dim perception when he gives
those never-to-be-forgotten advices to the young
man, to avoid the strange woman whose steps take
hold on hell, and to live joyfully with the wife of
his youth. It was not given to Solomon, wise as he
Avas, to limn the picture of the virtuous woman, but
to another king whose wisdom was derived from the
inspiration of his mother. The words of Lemuel
are well wortiiy of our attention, both as neutraUz-
ing the false impression produced by Solomon's
philosophy, and as showing what the true woman
is : — ' Who can find a virtuous woman ? for her price
is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth
safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of
spoil. She wiU do him good, and not evil, all the
days of her life. She seeketh wool and flax, and
worketh willingly with her hands. She is like the
merchants' ships ; she bringeth her food from afar.
She riseth also while it is yet niglit, and giveth
meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens.
She considereth a field, and buy 3th it: with the
fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard. She
girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth
her arms. She perceiveth that her merchandise is
good : her candle goeth not out by night. She layeth
her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

distaff. She stretcheth out her hand to the poor ;
yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy. She
is not afraid of the snow for her household : for all
her household xre clothed with scarlet. She maketh
herself coverings of tapestry ; her clothing is silk
and purple. Her husband is known in the gates,
when he sitteth among the elders of the land. She
maketh fine linen, and seUeth it ; and delivereth
girdles to the merchant. Strength and honour are
her clothing ; and she shall rejoice in time to come.
She openeth her mouth with wisdom ; and in her
tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to
the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread
of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her
blessed: her husband also, and he praiseth her.
Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou ex-
cellest them all. Favour is deceitful, and beauty is
vain : but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall
be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands ; and
let her own works praise her in the gates.'

HAPPINESS SOUGHT IN THE DOMAIN OF INDUSTRY.

The King, finding little satisfaction in the pur-
suit of knowledge, and still less in the following
of pleasure, — disgusted with science, wine, and de-
bauchery, — resolved to try a life of practical business.
He finds that much study is a weariness to the

WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK.

flesh ; that wine stingeth like an adder ; that favour
is deceitful, and beauty is vain ; that so far, at least,
the most lovely fruits have turned to dust and ashes
on his lips ; that instead of pleasures, he has been
drinking from gilded cups only sorrows and vexa-
tions; yet, with that instinct which never leaves
the children of those who once inherited Paradise, he
turns his eye in other dii-ections, hoping to discover
its golden gates, and ready to force his way even
against the fiery cherubim ; — or if he cannot dis-
cover Paradise, lie will make it. The ideal of all
the beauty that he can imagine shall become a thing
of fact. He wiU plant gardens like Eden, waving
with trees of umbrageous foliage and pleasant fruits.
Every flower of beauty and fragrance shaU bloom
along its borders, and palaces of noble architecture
shall spring up in the midst of all. Fountains shall
flow, diffusing coolness ; and waterfalls shall mii^gle
their music with the songs of birds. And away
from these chosen retreats, woodlands and forests
shall be seen intermingled with fields of ^'orn and
vineyards, tended by the slaves which he has pur-
chased, or which have been born in his house. In
such employment he thinks to find pleasant excite-
ment ; and, when completed, will he not be happy ?
So thinks the monarch one morning, after the plea-
sures of wine, and music, and mirth have left him

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

jaded and worn. His resolve was taken; for he
tells us: *I made me great ^ works; I builded me
houses ; I planted me vineyards ; I made me gardens
and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all
kind of fruits ; I made me pools of water, to water
therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees ; I got
me servants and maidens, and had servants horn in
my house ; ilso I had great possessions of great and
small cattle above all that were in Jerusalem before
me ; I gathered me also silver and gold, and the
peculiar treasure of kings and of the provinces ; I
gat me men-singei- and women-singers, and the
delights of the sons of ii.?n, as musical instruments,
and that of all sorts. So I was great, and increased
more than all that were before me in Jerusalem :
also my wisdom remained with me. And whatsoever
mine eyes desired I kept not from them ; I withheld
not my heart from any joy : for my heart rejoiced in
all my labour ; and this was my portion of all my
labour. Then I looked on all the works that my
hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had
laboured to do ; and, behold, all was vanity and vexa-
tion of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun.'

HAPPINESS THE DAUGHTER OF VARIETY.

Such were the experiments made by Solomon in
pursuit of happiness. Like many another ardent

WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK.

youth, he starts for the chief prizes of distinguished
scholarship ; and whep he has distanced all com-
petitors, finding his soul famishing while luxuriating
in fame, he plunges into dissipation. But the wine-
cup leaves the aching head to muse over the eva-
nescent happiness. The pleasure, too, which came
at first with exquisite sweetness, soon palls. Sensual
delights become ever weaker ; beauty fails to awake
love ; and miserable dregs become thicker and darker
as each new draught is taken. This will never do.
But being a king, having not only men but nature
under his command, there are many regions yet un-
explored, and these also he will put to the question.
He will become the master of architects, who shall
design palaces and temples that shall eclipse all
past wonders, and be the despair of all future artists ;
the beautiful in nature shall become more glorious
by the magic of art ; poetry, music, literature shall
lend their charms ; the bard shall sing his verse to
the accompanying minstrel ; commerce shall bring
from afar whatever is exquisite for ease, comfort, or
beauty; the gold shall shine in vessels of rare
workmanship on the table, and the cedar shall be
inlaid with ivory, and the diamond shall sparkle on
the finger and the brow ; purple, scarlet, and fine
linen shall be his household clothing ; the day shall
be filled up according to the regimen of wisdom ;

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

business, philosophy, and pleasure shall be the three
graces of life. He has erred in seeking happiness
in only one thing ; but it will assuredly be found in
the many. Especially will it not be wanting when
religion, enshrined in the temple of Jehovah, blesses
all ; yet, says the King, * All is vanity*

THE VANITY OF THINGS ENDORSED BY MANY.

There is probably no sentiment more universally
endorsed by mankind, after they have arrived at
and beyond middle age, than this of the disappointed
King ; and the mode in wliich they arrive at his con-
clusion is similar. They start in life with a sense
of trouble in the present ; but they hope to solace
themselves for the tears of childhood with the joys
of youth. Manhood will give freedom and in-
dulgence, and riper years will bring riches and en-
joyment. But as one stage after another has been
passed, after the hard experience of school and ap-
prenticeship, the cares of business are also found to
be wearisome. If they have sought the solace of
meretricious pleasures — draining the wine-cup, and
visiting the house of her whose feet take hold on
hell — an experience is theirs so bitter, that they
often curse life while they fear death. But though
they have never indulged in unlawful pleasure, and
have observed the laws of moderation, still there is

WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK.

the complaint that all things are unsatisfactory.
The world has disappointed them, and they feel as
though they had a just right to quarrel with Provi-
dence. Few, probably, come to the conclusion that
tlie lot of the happiest is, all things considered, no
better than theirs. Providence, they think, has its
prizes for its favourites, and they are not of the
number. They probably think that if Solomon was
not happy, he ought to have been. Observation,
however, will continue to affirm, that a perfect hap-
piness is not to be found in this world ; not in the
treasures of knowledge, nor the treasures of wealth ;
not in business, and certainly not in pleasure ; not
in illicit pursuits, nor even in the lawful ; but that
still in the best estate of men there is an insatisfac-
tion which urges on to higher aims — a something
which still beckons us away to seek after fountains
wliich are purer, and which is ever whispering in
the ear of the soul that these are the mere husks of
happiness out of which the kernel has been threshed.
This, we are certain, is the general experience and
sentiment of manldnd.

III.

INSATISFACTIOK

•All is vanity.' — Ecoles. i. 14.

THE AUTHOR OF PROGRESS.

yAEIOUS explanp.tions have been offered of this
strange restlessness and insatisfaction. Two
main ones seem worthy of attention.

One set of observers see in all this insatisfaction
the mainspring of activity, progress, and improve-
ment. If man, say they, found happiness at any
point of his life, he would cease to aim at a higher
state. The most contented people are ever the
most barbarous, and the beast of the field is more
contented than the lowest classes of men. With
animals and men of the lowest grade there is stag-
nation. The new generations are no improvement
on the past. The bird builds its nest, the wild beast
inhabits a den, and the Indian a hut, as their ances-
tors did fifty generations ago. Not until you pro-
duce insatisfaction, not, rather, till you give the
mind ability to conceive the higher state, and aim

INSATISFACTION.

at elevation from the louver, will the world be im-
proved. Without iiisatisfaction the arts would be
impossible, and all higher enjoyments unknown.
Without it man would be a beast. It is a neces-
sity of the superior organization, with its inhabiting
soul, that it be unsatisfied with what is inferior to
it, and it ever strives to bring the discordant ele-
ments of things into forms of use and beauty, in
accordance with its own higher nature. It has
enjoyments in common with the beast ; but it has
a higher nature, for which these enjoyments are but
husks. Sense without reason and imagination and
wonder may be gratified with the sensual, but mind
demands the true and the beautiful; and as the true
is ever difficult to attain, and the beautiful never
perfect, the higher nature in man goes continually
about seeking for these as though it yet possessed
nothing, and could not be happy while that which
was wanting was not found. So goeth ever forth
the high intellect and soul of man, leaving the ninety
and nine enjoyments at home, that he may find
among the mountains of speculation or practical
being the more excellent things that remain to be
discovered. And ever the nobler and more far-
reaching in view the mind is, the more will it
wander, and seek, and win for itself the lost or
undiscovered. For there would seem to be in the

I''"
i;

THE WISDOM OF THE KINO.

darkness and the light around, ever the dim forms
of the good and the excellent, which the swift and
valiant soid may, by powerful effort, secure for itself,
and embody in some tangible and sweet-smiling
image. And ever, as one after another of these is
secured, doth the soul long for others, so that new
enjoyments may smile on it. Who, then, can com-
plain of this unrest, which is ever adding new
beauties and graces to adorn humanity, whic^ makes
man a fellow-worker with God, who gave him the
world — the mundus — the adorned — that he might
make it ever more beautiful ? ^

This, then, is one explanation of the matter.
Insatisfaction was implanted in the high and noble
nature of man, that he might improve, ennoble, and
beautify the world — the present e; hly scene of
tilings. What the goad is to the ox, the spur to the
horse, and fear to the slave, insatisfaction is to man.
It urges him forward in a career in which he might
flag, making his aim still higher the more and greater
his attainments.

THE SPIRITUAL VIEW.

A second and higher view is that which, while
admitting that insatisfaction is the mainspring of
activity and progress, still further affirms that it is
1 Ruskin has tLis sentiment developed somewhere.

INSATISFACTION.

indicative of a nature in man to be satisfied, not
with the terrestrial, but with the heavenly, — not
with the things of sense, but with the tilings of
faith, — not with the creature, but with God.

Tliis is surely the true explanation of that unrest
of the soul which still, after each new conquest,
whether of truth or means of enjoyment, feels un-
satisfied. It is the higher nature in us tliat is still
ungratified. We want to know truth and beauty —
all truth and beauty ; not merely their outward -En-
dows, but themselves. In a region of limitji n
this is impossible ; but when divested of those bouiiy
organs, which were fitted only to know and enjoy
the material, the soul, either by some higher and
nobler form of organization, or of its own innate
nature, shall — so reason and the revealed testify —
know even as it is known. It shall feel satisfied in
the higher region of discovery. But we must stop
with having indicated the view ; for who can de-
scribe what passes in the regions of the immortals ?
If it were now knowable, it would be unsatisfactory.
Persons who attempt to describe heaven darken
counsel by w^ords without knowledge. There is a veil
which now covers all, and which shall only be lifted
for each of us by the hand of death. Meanwhile
with reverence we bow before the Holy of Holies.

"■■1*1

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

THE SIN ELEMENT.

But still further, as elucidative of this unrest of
man, we have to take ijito account the fact of de-
pravity and sinfulness. I rather think that this
fact, however, is not to be considered as explanatory
of our insatisfaction so much as of dissatisfaction.
Insatisfaction is right ; dissatisfaction is wrong.
God intended that the soul sliould not be satisfied ;
but He wants that we shall not be dissatisfied. We
are not to sit down contented with the present,
making no attempts for its improvement ; but we
are not to go about whining f^nd complaining. Our
business is to make things as right and enjoyable as
possible, not to scream out our despair, and rock
like mourners in the lazy chair of indolence. The
improvement and rectification of things which have
become disordered, is the business of the good,
renewed man ; but the feeble cry of impotence in
the presence of the ills of life, is closely related to
the sin which produced them. The man who, un-
satisfied with attainments, and states of being around
liini, attempts to rectify and rise above the evils, is
pursuing the wise and noble course ; but he who
vents his dissatisfaction in complaints, or curses, or
denunciations, without attempting the removal of
the ills, is a nuisance to be put down or got rid of

INSATISFACTION.

as soon as possible. Eatlier go forth, like Solomon,
to investigate what may be the good which men
should do and enjoy ; like him, plant and Iniild ;
but at the same time it will not be wise either to
plunge into his sensualities, or to reiterate too often,
although it does contain an important tiath, that
all is vanity and vexation of spirit. Much light
is yours, which Solomon, wise as he was, had not.
He probably had glimpses of the depravity of his
own heart, and generally of the human heart, yet
hardly with the demonstrative clearness with Avhicli
it comes home to our convictions ; and lie °eems to
have been greatly in the dark relative to that future
life which hath been brought to light througli Christ,
to which is reserved the full enjoyment of the soul.
He said. All is vanity, because he did iiot know the
all. His eye ranged only over time. Eternity was
all darkness.

S, IS

who

s, or

d of

id of

LIFE A SCHOOL.

And this summons before us anotlier view expla-
natory of the insatisfaction of man. AVe are here
preparing, conning our lesson, forming our character
— a character which is to last with us for ever. We
were not sent here that we might enjoy, but that we
might learn, that we might grow up strong men fit
to live througli the everlasting ages. Yet the great

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

body of even Christian people are looking for en-
joyment as their sole end and aim. They have
renounced the world that they may have the joy?5
of Christianity. Christ promised them a cross, but
they want comfort. They will have positive bliss,
present fruition, instead of patience, experience, and
hope. Fools ! The Christian life is a race, a battle,
a work, a crucifixion. Through the portals of death
alone we gain the Elysian fields.

This insatisfaction which Solomon found in all
things, then, we are to attribute to the design of
God, that man should go on in progressive stages of
improvement ; to show him his true nature, and
that he possesses a soul that is immortal, to be satis-
fied only with nobler things than this world can
afford. It is also to be attributed in large measure
to the disordered state of his soul, which is out of
true harmony, and sends forth dissonant sounds
wlien struck by the hand of Providence. The pre-
sent is still further a state preparatory to the higher
condition, a state in which character is formed, in
which, by wrestling with the evil, we got strong and
noble. AVith these views, we may see that however
pertinent the wail of Solomon over the vanity and
vexations of life was in his day, it sounds sadly
offensive now. It was like the note of the cuckoo
ushering in the spring of thought, hailed also then,

IN SATISFACTION.

as, though harsh and monotonous, it proclaimed the
seed-time of reason and revelation ; but, like the
note of the same bird in autumn, out of place now
when the full harvest of revelation waves before
our delighted eyes. Vanity of vanities in itself,
our world is yet the substantial vestibule, out of
which we shall erewliile find entrance into the
glorious realms of permanency and bliss.

JUSTICE TO SOLOMON MUST LOOK TO HIS LAST
CONCLUSION.

We should not do the wise King justice did we
not refer to his conclusion. AVe are to look upon
the Book of Ecclesiastes as jottings of the >'arious
experiments of Solomon in the pursuit of enjoy-
ment — a pursuit which he seems to have under-
taken with the view not so much to his own selfish
pleasure, as to make known the results of his whole
experience for the benefit of the sons of men.
There was method in his folly, and philosophy
even in his sensuality. He does not propose him-
self as an example to imitate, but as a beacon to
warn youth away from ihe dangerous shoals, and
quicksands, and rocks, where he suffered shipwreck.
His work was something like the log-book of Arctic
explorers, which tells of icebergs ready at each
moment to crush their vessels, but also of the

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

impossibility of sailing by any northern passage to
the lands of the far west — a warning from all
thoughts of commerce through the regions of eternal
frost. So are we warned that not this way which
he sailed on the voyage of life are we to expect to
come to the port of all human wishes, but by
another course altogether, which at the very con-
clusion of his voyage he indicates. ' Eemember
now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while
the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh,
when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them.'
' Let us liear the conclusion of the whole matter ;
Fear God, and keep His commandments : for this is
the whole duty of man.'

PRACTICAL SUMMARY.

Not in acquiring knowledge, then, though it be
power — not in accunndating the truths of science,
valuable as they are — not in the higher regions of
philosophic investigation — not in deep inquiries
into the causes of good and evil — not in the wine-
cup, though it promises fairly with traitorous
tongue — not in sensuality — not in commerce or
business, or in the works of art, are you to expect
to find unalloyed enjoyment. Neither are you to
be disappointed at not finding it there. It was not
intended you should. The immortal in you cannot

INSATISFACTION.

be fed on such things. You are related to the
angels — you are sons of God. Through duty shall
you come to strength, and stature, and fulness of
development. Suffering shall make you men. Dis-
appointments l)elow shall prepare you for the frui-
tion above. Tribulation worketh patience, and
patience experience, and experience lioj)e ; but the
fear of God must be the foundation of all, and the
love of God the crown of all. Fear God, and keep
His commandments : for this is the whole duty of
man.

Such is the general outline of the lesson which
we are to derive from the projects of Solomon in
pursuit of happiness. We shall have yet to deal
with the insoluble questions which pei'plexed him,
as well as the puzzles, but which are of easy reso-
lution. Meantime, let each of us look up to the
shining lights of truth, which shed their radiance
over the dark paths of life, walking in the conscious
guidance of the Spirit of God, and the revelation of
.^lis grace. If you seek wisdom, let it be the wis-
dom which cometh from above ; if pleasure, let it
have the sanctions of conscience, enlightened by the
Word ; if you devote yourselves to business, let it
be with the consciousness that you are fellow-
workers with God. ' In aU thy ways acknowledge
God, and He will direct thy steps.'

IV.

THE UNrPtOriTABLENESS OF LABOUR.

' What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under
the sun ? ' — Eccles. i. 3.

' I have seen all the works that are done under the sun ; and,
behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit,' — Eccles. i. 14.

* Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought,
and on the labour that I laboured to do ; and, behold, all was
vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the
sun.' — Eccles. ii. 11.

THE QUESTION.

THE first question which Solomon raises for our
consideration is a very important one. It is,
What profit hath a man of all his labour which he
taketh under the sun ?

NARROW AND BROAD VIEWS OF PROFIT THE

MATERIAL.

The King here takes a wide and comprehensive
view of the profitable, and one with which it will
do us no harm to familiarize our conceptions. We
are much taken up with questions of profit and
loss ; but with us that means a cash account, or
property which represents cash — or, rather, is
represented by it. The dollar, or the house, or

THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR.

its furniture, or the field, or its productions, or
articles of trade out of which there may be pro-
duced something that is wanted, which we can sell
and turn into money or use, — these things are
alone accounted profit by us. But it is evident
that there is more in Solomon's thought, when he
inquires. What profit hath a man of all his labour ?
In the monetary view, his question would only be
pertinent to the case of the slave, or to the poor
labourer who had never succeeded in accumulating
any of the goods of this world. To him, indeed, it
would be very pertinent. The slave owns not him-
self, nor can he own property ; and many a poor
man is in just as bad a case. Millions of our race
are compelled to toil through life for a bare sub-
sistence. The price of their labours hardly suffices
to sustain their ability to continue them. A roof
to cover them, a little clothing to protect them from
the cold, and the poorest kind of food on which the
human frame has found it possible to subsist, — this
is the portion of all their labour ; but at the end of
the year, or at the end of life, they are as poor as
when they commenced, ai 1 they have no profit of
all the labour they have unu^rtaken under the sun.
We, like Solomon, they may bay, have engaged in
building, and planting, and beautifying things ; but
no profit has come to us. Though we have helped

^IFT

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

■

to build many houses, we dwell in hired rooms ;
thougli we have planted pleasant trees, we gather
no fruits from them ; though we have decked many-
gardens, we dare not pluck one of tho flowers.
Others have the profit ; we only had the labour.
The wise man's question has a meaning which we,
at least, can imderstand. We would almost think,
in reading this sentence, that he was not a king,
but one of ourselves ; or a poor, dusty, ragged
labourer, striving to keep body and soul together,
and support a wife and little ones in a lot in no
respect superior to our own.

Again, in this material point of view, his ques-
tion would be pertinent to that numerous class of
society, who, after much exertion and application to
business, have been unsuccessful ; who find that,
after what were considered the wisest speculations,
and after success seemed to have borne them up
high on its swelling tide toward the rich haven
of prosperity, have found all their hopes stranded
or broken on the rocks. All their brain-work and
hand-work, and all their organization of labour,
while they may have been conducive to the general
welfare, have produced for them only a depleted
purse and wasted credit. The anxieties they have
endured have only ruined their health ; and as they
near the end of their eventful life, dust-stained and

THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR.

travel-worn, the philosophy of Solomon, that all is
vanity and vexation of spirit, and that man has no
profit of anything wliicli he undertakes under the
sun, contains the sum of their experience ; and they
almost think. Surely Solomon was one of us : pro-
bably he felt all the evils we have experienced in em-
barrassed finances ; his expenses had exceeded his
income, and he was at his wit's end how to pay his
bills as they became due. ' There is no profit ' —
that, at least, is one Avise sentence which has come
down to us from antiquity. ' Vanity of vanities.'

But there is also a large class of mankind Avho
cannot adopt the sentiment of Solomon in this
meaning. They have had profit. They have houses
and lands, and a large balance with their bankers.
They have money with M'liich to procure every en-
joyment on which they set their hearts. Their
table is richly supplied ; their home is the abode
of luxury and beauty. Profit ! Tlieir lal)our has
procured it — the winds have w\^fted it to them on
every breeze. Not in any material vie^v can they
adopt tlie language of Solomon. On every hand
they find witnesses to contradict him. In the
house, in the street, in the harbour, in the stock-
market, in the wide-spreading lands, they find good
reason to discard the sentiment : all substantial,
nothing vain, — profit beyond the wildest visions of

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

youthful hope from all their labour. Certainly,
Solomon meant not what he said.

These two classes — the unsuccessful and the suc-
cessful — will give very different answers to the ^
question, What profit ?

The proportion of the successful to the unsuc-
cessful is not easily arrived at. Of men in retail
business in some large cities, more than sixty in
the hundred fail ; while the proportion of merchants
who become bankrupts, in the same cities, is some
ninety in the hundred. But the men of business
are but a small proportion of the population of
great cities, and still smaller of countries. Still,
we should not wonder if there shoidd be found, on
examination, somewhat of a similar proportion of
mechanics and artisans who find no profit from all
the labour which they have undertaken under the
sun — probably three without profit for one who has
remaining, after bare subsistence, what might be
called a balance worthy of the name of profit. We
should have three complaining wdth Solomon, for
one whose experience in this material view will go
against him. This is likely a very high average of
those who might be called successful, and obtains
probably only in very favoured districts ; while in
others there are against every one no doubt ten who
would say, ' We have no profit in all our labours.'

THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR.

CAUSES OF FAILURE.

The causes of this poverty of tlie massoM are
many. Chance — meaning by that, as the poet ex-
presses it, * direction which thou canst not see ' —
is at the foundation of all. Then there are some
endowed with those talents which ensure success
in fortune-making, and by which tliey distance all
competitors. The habits which one has formed
almost of necessity bring abundance to him, while
it is the nature of another to labour little and to
spend much. From the very nature of competition,
it is necessary that some should go beyond others.
We cannot have equality. If the goods of all were
equally divided to-day, before a year marked differ-
en(;es would be apparent. Some by that time
would have become poor, while others would have
laid the foundations of fortune. We must ever
have the rich and the poor — the labourer and the
organizers of labour — those who have no profit of
all their works, and those who count it by thousands
and tens of thousands.

BROADER VIEW.

But, as we intimated before, it is not in this
merely material phase that the question is to be
viewed. It has other aspects. Solomon speaks

THE WISDo.,: OF THE KING.

I; ■

not merely of labour in general, but of his own
labours in par*^' 'ilar. These represent much mate-
rial wejilth. .0 cities which he lias l)uilt briug
him largo revenues ; his grounds produce abun-
dantly; his gardens are loaded with luscious escu-
lents and fruits. We do not hear that inclement
seasons smite liL lands with famine, or that impor-
tunate creditors dun him for payment. Everything
he i)uts his hand to is successful. Riches are around
liim ; beauty, in every form, and colour, and attitude,
meets his eye. His table groans beneath all that
is exquisite, f^om every clime. Yet, as he moves
amid all tluF ^ndid panorama of pleasant things,
he says, 'Wntv ^jrofit ?'

We cannot l)ut think that Solomon's views on
the question are greatly astray. His dissatisfaction
arose, not from the vanity of the things, but from
the vanity of his own heart. It is of the nature of
every excess to produce lassitude, and nervousness,
and miserable feeling ; and certaiidy a king who
indulges in every species of excess is not in a good
position, however strong may have been his original
mind, to give us a true view of the nature of human
life, or a right view of things in general. We are
not to suppose that wine and sensuality would not
produce their usual effects on the body and mind of
Solomon, or that he was exempt from the usual

THE UNPROFITABLENKSS OF LABOUU.

effects with wliicli flattery fills a monarch's ears.
He coiniiienced life with unusual exjiectations. He
was determined, if possible, to find out that which
it '.vas good for the sons of men to do and to enjoy;
hut he did many tilings which the sons of men
should not do, and he drank of cu s of which none
ever yet tasted who did not suffer, to the destruc-
tion of the capacity of purer enjoyments ; and all lie
can say that is of any value is, ' I have missed the
way; avoid my errors. Fear God, aiid keep His
commands.'

REVIEW OF THE QUESTION.

Now our question recurs, Is there any profit in a
mai 's labour? We think there is.

There is one of Solomon's gardeners. He has not
been at the banquet last night. Rut that thought
does not trouble him, for he never supposed that
such honours were for slaves like him. He comes
into the King's garden in the early morning, before
the orb of day lias begun to show himself over the
mountains of Judea. The dews have left on every
leaf and petal a mirror in which the sun may be-
hold an image of himself. The flow^ers are expand-
ing themselves to receive his influence and deck
themselves with the colours of his rays. Birds of
glowing plumage and sweet voice flit among the

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

branches of the fruit-laden trees. Song, beauty, and
fragrance fo'-" .1 a sweet company wliich goes rejoicing
through the aisles of the man's soul. He bends to
look on this pure lily of the valley, whose cup under
his cultivation is larger, and whose colour is purer
than can again be found in all the gardens of Judea.
Tliat vine, too, has larger grapes ; that pomegranate
a more luscious flavour. These flowers and fruits
are his pride ; he has a fellow-feeling for them ; they
are his children. His labour, which gave him healtli
while he cultivated them, has also reared around
him these joys. Solomon, who pays him well ior
cultivating those plants and fruits, may find but
little profit wlien he comes forth amid the noonday
sun, under the influence of the vapours of last night's
wine-cup, and may say, ' What profit ?' But this
gardener kno\vs better, and sweet rejoicings fill his
soul ; while the monarch, with brow severe and
frowning, repeats the main axiom of his philosophy,
'Vanity of vanities.'

PROFIT EVERYWHERE.

There is not a single pursuit in life out of which
the food of satisfaction may not be extracted. Some
pursuits are among more lovely objects than others,
but the beautiful and proportionate soul can put
into even common things its own order and fitness,

THE UNrEOFITABLENESS OF LABOUE.

and in them see its own image. It would not be
possible for man to work satisfactorily were it not
for the use and beauty whicli he can put into his
work ; but this is the fruit of his labour — the satis-
faction he has in beholding his own thought mir-
rored there. The arcliitect is satisfied when he sees
liis conceptions of truth, beauty, and fitness embodied
in the temple of wood or stone. When the ship of
fair proportions leaves the place of her birth, and
rides on the water, a thing of beauty, there is not a
man who has been employed in her construction
that does not feel a glow of satisfaction sufficient to
reward him for all his labours. Then the carpenter,
builder, and shoemaker must all feel, in working
the uncouth forms of matter into things of use and
proportion, a pleasure which renders labour light
and life enjoyable.

THE MOST PROFITABLE EMPLOYMENT.

Those who are employed in the productions of art
have a more direct pleasure arising from their busi-
ness, perhaps, than those who are engaged in com-
merce or trade. if I could only be a merchant !
thinks the steam-engine maker or the saw-mill
worker. Well, what then ? Supjjose you were ?
You would have accounts to keep, you would have
markets to watch, and other excitements ; but would

THE WISDOM OF VIIE Ku^G.

you have so mucli satisfaction in correspondence,
and calculations of commission, and tare and tret,
and bills of exchange — though there is a pleasur-
able excitement in the knowledge of these mysteries
too ? Yet are they, after all, as agreeable as fitting-
valves, polishing cylinders, and proportioning the
various wheels and cranks to the sweet working of
the machine ? There is a farmer, too, who thinks
his a poor lot in life ! The fool ! Why, what is
the merchant or the trader working so liard for every
day, but to amass as much wealth as will enable
him to go in a green eld age to enjoy it andd the
very things wh^cli the farmer would leave to adopt
the merchant's business ? A young man quits the
country to make money in the city, that he may go
back to the country and enjoy the remainder of life.
It seems, does it not, that he would be wiser to stay
in the country amid the fresh breezes, the scent of
flowers, and the trees ? And if he have a well-pro-
portioned nature, not smitten witli the shows and
vanities of life, he will find in the very objects
around him, and wliicli his industry has caused to
spring up, the fruit of all his labour.

Let it then be kept prominently before the mind
that, really, there is fruit of labour to him that
works and opens his eyes to see and enjoy it.

THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR.

NO PROFIT IN IDLENESS.

I suppose that that man will never enjoy labour
who does not work. One who is continually going
about pleasure-hunting, saying, Who will show us
any good ? — who is offering rewards for the inven-
tion of a new pleasure — experience has de nonstrated
that these are the most miserable of men. Better
grind knives and scissors than go about without any-
thing to do, seeking new sensations.

But even when we do labour, we require to open
our eyes. Matter-of-fact people are the least matter-
of-fact people in the world. He was, no doubt, a
very matter-of-fact man concerning whom Words-
worth says, —

* A primrose by the river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more ; '

but there were many matters of fact in the prim-
rose which he did not see : its proportion, its em-
blematic nature, its power to evoke the emotions of
the soul, these were hidden things from him, yet
great and glorious facts. The eyes of our under-
standing require to be opened that we may see the
glorious things concealed within the visible wrap-
pings. Nature is just like those parcels sent from

'mt.-mu^m^',.

II'

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

dry-goods shops in common grey paper, but which
when opened up display to the eye things very
lovely. There is the dust and smoke and sweat
wrapjied round all our works of labour, but inte-
riorly is there not fitness and proportion and har-
mony ? If we have set up as our only standard of
usefulness something which we can eat or drink, we
may say, 'What profit?' when we have done; but
if we take these other things into account, we shall
be ready to say, ' Well, there is some good in labour
after all.'

REAPING FROM OTHERS SOWING.

This will the more appear if we can get our
thoughts out of the regions of mere selfishness.
That we may see how we ought to take a wide
view of the value of labour, let us reflect how other
men have laboured, and we have entered into their
labours. Our fathers before us, and our brethren
around us, have all added to the stock of useful
human things ; and so ought we. No man liveth
to himself. We all live a vicarious life. If we do
not enjoy much of the fruits of our own labour, we
at least have enjoyed the fruits of the labour of those
who were before us. But this appears to have been
one of the reasons why Solomon saw no profit in
all the labour which a man undertook under the

THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR.

sun, namely, he was compelled to leave all ; and
this necessity was aggravated by the thought, that
liis heir might be a fool and not a wise man. He
should have reflected that others left for liim much
that was comfortable and enjoyable ; and if this did
not mitigate his sorrow for leaving them, it should
at least have reconciled him somewhat to the justice
of the dispensation.

WHY GRIEVE TO LEAVE THE UNPROFITABLE ?

It ought also to be remarked, that Solomon is

dissatisfied with his labours, yet grieves to leave

them. He says there is no pleasure in them, and

yet it pains him to think of another possessing

them ; he finds tho.m vanity and vexation of spirit,

concludes that the dead is better than the living,

and that the unborn is better than either, though it

is hard to see how one who has yet to go through a

sad experience is in a better case than one who has

got to the end of the briery way. There is in all

this, perhaps, a latent feeling, very connnon, that

though he had not found out the secret of enjoying

them, his heir would. Still, let us do justice to

the monarch. His chief grief was that a fool might

enter upon his possessions, might dissipate tlie riches

lie had amassed, and destroy the labours of his

hands. This is a serious consideration to every

'if

t !

.1 ii-

1 d

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

benevolent heart. There are people who, when all
is going to wreck around, may find consolation in
the thought that the world will last their day. But
most people have a feeling that they would like the
world, their own country, their own homestead, to
go on prosperously, even after they have no further
personal interest in its concerns. A strange bond
of sympathy unites us to the world of the future,
though we shall have no conscious interest in it,
and no unconscious interest beyond the two feet by
six where our dust reposes. A man about to leave
the world has as strong a sympathy for it, just as
much interest in its works, and labours, and politics,
as if he had many years yet to live. He lives in
his children and friends ; he lives in the trees he
has planted, and the houses he has erected. It is
not possible to sever his love from that world which
was once his home, and where he suffered and en-
joyed so much. He wants to foresee, if not see, its
prosperity. Besides, who shall tell us that we shall
not also have a future conscious interest in the works
and labours that are done under the sun ? It was
said to Daniel, ' Thou slialt rest, and stand in thy
lot at the end of the days,' — a sentence which,
wliatever be its full meaning, certainly indicates
that we are in some way interested in the future
developments of this world. In Solomon's anxiety,

THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR.

therefore, about the heirship of his labours, we find
a laudable sentiment, — one which should not merely
exist in all our breasts, but which also should lead
to important action, and which we are glad to think
does. Conscientious people not only try to do sub-
stantial work, build substantial houses, but also to
raise up substantial men and women — wise, not
fools. It is more than probable that Solomon's
anxiety about the way in which his works would be
treated by his heir, arose from neglect in his duty
to his heir. His whole life is unfavourable to the
supposition that he paid much personal attention to
the cultivation of the minds and consciences of the
heir or heirs-apparent. His family relations were
by no means conducive to the good training neces-
sary to his children. He must have had his time
wonderfully occupied with his many mariiages, and
the distractions arising out of the manifold relation-
ships therein springing, to say nothing of his studies
and philosophies, and city-building and temple-
building, and commercial engagements. His chil-
dren might, indeed, have numerous instructors to
teach them the various wisdom of the day ; but at
least Solomon could have no knowledge how far
these instructions were given or profited by. The
great probability is, that he knew very little about
Kehoboam, and that Kehoboam cared very little

* im

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

about him, and that it would have been a wonderful
thing if he had been less foolish than he proved
himself to be. The monarch had just cause for his
anxiety.

THE DISSIPATION OF EICHES.

Little profit, indeed, has that man in the labour
which he hath undertaken under the sun, who looks
forward with uncertain mind to the probable dissi-
pation of all the riches he has amassed, to the
dilapidation of the buildings which he has reared,
to the loss of a kingdom which he has established
and covered with renown. Little wonder that the
King should go about dissatisfied with life, dis-
satisfied with his labours ; but we do wonder that
he was not more dissatisfied with himself. He
never seems to suspect that much folly was mingled
with his wisdom. He finds plenty of cause for
complaint about the vanity of the world, the vanity
of labour, of pleasure, of sensual indulgeroe, and of
wisdom ; but he sees not that the vanity of his own
heart was the reason of all the other vanities, — that
his own indulgences were the cause of his weariness
and misery, — that neglect of the plain requirements
of the natural laws of God left him a mere wreck
of humanity, — that the manners and customs of the
times, the licentious morals of the court, were at

THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR.

the foundation of that wail of his, and that espe-
cially in his fear about the wisdom of his heir, he
was largely to blame. It by no means follows, that
after the most judicious training, children will turn
out well, nor is it an invariable rule, that those who
have been neglected shall turn out ill ; but it is- a
general rule, that where we want true wisdom to
grow, we must sow its seeds in the sj^ring-time of
life ; and it is also a general rule, that neglect in
training, or bad training, will produce woful results.
It may seem strange that we should suspect Solo-
mon of this neglect — Solomon, who is so often
quoted for his wisdom in regard to the training up
of children ! But we look to the facts of Solomon's
history ; we look to the folly of the young Eeho-
boam ; and we come to the conclusion, that a man
may preach well to others, and give no heed to his
own counsel. Indeed, the very abstractions of
scientific and literary pursuits, while they enable
their devotee to give wise advice, in great measure
incapacitate him from taking it ; and if other bad
habits are added, as in the case of Solomon, the son
will in all probability be a fool.

ANXIETY ABOUT THE FUTURE GENERATION.

It is a good thing that man cannot relieve him-
self from anxiety about the world, even when he

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

! i

i i

ii I

; i!

n
It i

I '

shall have passed away from it ; for this anxiety is
the origin of all those exertions which he makes in
raising up a worthy posterity. Happily he cannot
act on the principle, * The world will last during my
day :' therefore does he set himself with more or
less of energy to provide that youth shall be trained
in wisdom's ways ; tierefore always our prayer, that
the rising generation may be better than their fathers
were ; therefore our scliools, secular and Sabbath ;
therefore our catechetical instructions, and maxims
for the young. We may not be able to make any
certain provision against the influx of a wide-sweep-
ing folly. We are like the Hollanders, whose homes
are beneath the level of the tide-waters, which some-
times (do what the inhabitants will) make their efflux
over and through the banks, laying provinces in
ruins. But still with energy is the tide rolled back,
and the inundating waters pumped out, and the land
recovered. So we are ever in danger of being inun-
dated by the waters of ignorance and vice, which
tlireaten to sweep us away ; but by attention to our
embankmviuts, to our moral laws and Christian insti-
tutions, to our associations for stemming the course
of vices which threaten our peace and content, we
may be, and have, under the good providence of
God, been able to keep our generations free from
the devastating tides of immorality and secularism

THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR.

which continually threaten iis. It is only by strict
and constant attention to this duty on the part of
a,ll — on the part of philos()[)hers, ministers, teachers,
parents — that, living, as human nature does, below the
tide-level of vice and ignorance, it may be presei-ved
from destruction. Let any large portion of the com-
munity be neglectful of their duty in this respect,
and soon we shall see the glory of our nation over-
whelmed, and the energies and labours of the past
century brought to ruin.

RESULTS YET UNSATISFACTORY.

Though we have affirmed that many have profit
from their labour — profit which appears in the
shape of substantial goods, profit also in the enjoy-
ment with which it was attended in the execution ;
and though we have assigned as one chief cause of
its unsatisfactoriness, the disorder of the nature which
we bring to its performance, the blindness of eye
with which w^e view it, refusing to see its beauty, or
recognise its mysterious use ; and though we have,
still further, admitted that our desire for the world's
future welfare was implanted in us that we might
be thereby urged to educate and bring up a seed
to serve and glorify Him ; we are yet far from saying
that the result of our labours is of a satisfactory
kind. They fail, for they have no permanence.

i -.1

''h

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

Time wears and wastes tlieni. The stone will decay,
the iron will rust, and the gold will tempt the cupi-
dity of the robber. We shall have to speak further
yet of the insatisfaction which Solomon found in
labour ; but in the meantime we cannot refrain from
observing that, above and beyond the reasons which,
in a former chapter, we assigned of a merely secular
kind for this insatisfaction in the things with which
man is called to deal, there was another reason to be
found in his superior and immortal nature, — a nature
not to be put off with mere objects of sense, though
it be educated by their instrumentality, — a nature
which, in its aims and aspirations after innnortal
fame, gives indications of its own undying being —
which, in its attempts to make a name that shall
live through the future generations, gives evidence
that, when it has passed through the portals of the
grave, it still consciously beholds the ever-rolling
events as they sweep through the cycles of time,
and evermore, as it sees the designs and works of
God approaching towards a higher perfection, feels
within its ^,1 ,re which it did not previously

exr>'»ri"»' . i, if (as we trust he did, with all

hi. tiling id i ,^icrfections) he received the grace
which is renewing, no doubt now has much brighter
views of liie grand designs of God in making man,
and giving him wherewith > be exercised with his

THE UXrUOFITABLENESS OF LABOUR.

sore labour ; and sees, as we shall all, we trust, yet
see, that God's purposes are good, however in this
world lie may have failed in his appreciation of
them ; and that out of the chaos a beautiful order of
things is emerging, very good, and ever better, until
the new heavens and the new earth shall be beheld
in all tlieir beauty, leaving the heart nothing further
to desire.

;■ it

! x\

'■%

v%.

i-M

NOVELTY.

'One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh:
but the earth abideth for ever. The sun also arisetli, and the sun
goeth down, and hasteth to his phice where he arose. The wind
goeth toward the south, and turnetli about unto the north : it whirleth
about continually ; and the wind returneth again according to his
circuits. All the rivers run into the sea ; yet the sea is not full :
unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return
again. All things are full of labour ; man cannot utter it : the eye
is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear fdled with hearing. The
thing that hath been, it is that which shall be ; and that which is
done, is that which shall be done : and there is no new thing under
the sun.

*ls there anything whereof it may be said. See, this is new? it
hath been already of old time, which was before us.

'There is no rememl)rance of former things ; neither shall there
be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that
shall come after.' — Eccles. i. 4-11.

CHANGE EVERYWHERE.

s»'

ALL things substantially stable are in a state of
change, and have their peculiar activities as
well as man, and as if intended to satisfy him,
intent on novelties, with something new. But
change is not novelty. He tliinks to see something
new, but he sees only some old event, which first
astonished and then tired his fathers and grand-

«0

NOVELTY.

fathers, appealing to his sentiment of wonder in
some different dress. The oblivion into which it is
the tendency of all events to sink, favours the illu-
sion that we are making discoveries. History has
failed to keep a record of the past, and the news-
mongers of the day call attention to the inventions,
and discoveries, and extraordinary events which, for
the time, boil up from the bosom of a world ever in
a state of turbulent agitation, without suspecting
that, long ago, other wonder-gazers and discoverers
talked with astonishment of the same things, ere
they were engulfed in the whirlpool, whence, after
undergoing an accustomed cycle of gyrations, they
are now cast up to the gaze of the marvel-lovers of
the present age. To a man wlio wants something
substantial and novel, this is a great vanity. Such
is the amount of the sentiment of the King, trans-
lated into the vernacular of our day.

There are several ])()sitions here taken by the
King which we may with profit investigate. Some
of them are, indeed, truisms ; but truisms are often
first truths, which require to he observed and laid
down in our search after the hisrlier. The com-
monest observation alone was required to discover
that 'one generation passeth away, and another
Cometh.' The abiding nature of the eai-th was also,
up to a certain point, an easily established fact.

■'I

"'si

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

4 I-

The traditions of the past reached far back through
many generations, all indicating permanence of the
habitation, thorgh the tenure of the tenants was
but short. Still, that the earth abide Lh for ever is
a truth that does not lie on the surface of things.
There are many things which, to the casual observer,
apparently point in the oj)posite direction. Many
things on earth seem to suffer consumption ; and
before the positive science of modern ages demon-
strated the absolute indestructibility of the least
particle of matter, it would have seemed a very fair
conclusion, that however long the earth, or even the
sun, might continue in existence, there was a time
coming when waste would do its work on them, and
reduce them to nothingness — tha<", in the language
of the poet, not only the ' cloud-capped towers, and
gorgeous palaces, and solemn temples, but the great
globe itself might yet dissolve, and, like an unsub-
stantial pageant faded, leave not a wreck behind ;'
or, in the words of another favourite of the nnises, —

' The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years. '

Nor is such an event impossible. And the immor-
tality of the soul being a doctrine of faith, it may
yet flourish in immortal youth,

' Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds. '

NOVELTY.

fii

MAN SPIRITUAL ALONE PERMANENT.

The generations of men will then be found to be
the permanent things of the world, and instead of
affirming that tlie generations come and go, in the
sense that they become non-existent, while the
material scheme continues, we shall see reason for
affirming that the fashion of the world passeth
away, but that the word of the Lord, and he that
believeth and doeth it, abide for ever.

THE BALANCE OF CHANGE.

Very wonderful is this economy of nature by
which everything is for the present held in the
balance. Very wonderful is that machinery which
brings the water from the seas to the highlands.
Extraordinary is that power which sends our earth
ever revolving upon its own axis and ever wheeling
through its elliptic orbit in the heavens, giving us
the agreeable vicissitudes of night and day, and
summer and winter. Very astonishing are the laws
by which the atmosphere is governed ; by which the
winds are held in obedience, or, the rein being given
to them, they go madly sweeping over the earth or
the ocean ; but far more wonderful is that economy
by which the human race, thougli short-lived as in-

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING,

ii !

dividuals, sweeps on its course with ever accumu-
lative force — short-lived as far as earth is concerned,
and yet eternal. All things, we might say, save
man, are explicable. We can calculate the orbit
of our planet ; we attempt, at least, to form theories
regarding the mode of its formation ; and we have
made considerable progress in deciphering the record
in which it has written its own history on its sur-
face. We have made ourselves familiar with the
inhaljitants of the great geologic eras, and can talk
wisely of the carboniferous, rej)tile, and mammal
periods of pre-adamite history. We know the laws
of motion, of fluids, of the stars, and even of storms.
The deep secrets of the former days have been
umreiled, and those which still elude the eye of dis-
covery we expect to see brought out some time
shortly into light. We have even gone to a great
length in discovering the nature and constitution of
man. As far as he is a material being, he is known
as the subject of material laws. Mind, too, has re-
sponded to many of the interrogations which have
been addressed to it, and the actions of men have
been made the subject of calculation. The average
of life and the average of honesty have been re-
spectively made the basis of insurance. It is diffi-
cult to discover any portion of the science of the
natural man, into which his eye has not endeavoured

NOVELTY.

to look. Yet is there miicli of his own most in-
timate being which is a mystery to him. He is
conscious of thoughts and feelings which he cannot
explain. He came whence ? He goes whither ?
Wliy is he here ? To wliat does lie tend ? Solo-
mon could only say he cometli and lie goeth ; but
neither he nor any other of the wdse has been able
to pierce the myster\' from which he enters the
golden gate of life, or into which he proceeds through
the dismal gate of death. He brings with him no
recollections, he returns to tell no tales. IMemory
denies any past existence which speculation would
give him ; but hope and faith have discovered for
him a future, though of its special nature we know
but little. That we shall be we know ; what we
shall be we are ignorant.

Let us take up some of the threads of thought
which appear to form the material of Solomon's
speculations.

MAN NOT TO BE CLASSED ALTOGETHER V/ITH THE

MATERLVL.

The first thing that strikes us is, that he places
the comings and goings of the generations of men
in the same class with such events as the rising
and setting of the sun, the changes in the ^\'ind,
the importation of the waters from the ocean to the

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

mountains, and their exportation from the hills to
the seas. Tliis is all very well when considered as
poetry, but not correct as a conclusion of science.
The material idea is, that they are all fluctuating ;
that man comes and goes as the waters of the river,
as the turning of the wind. But there is this precise
difference between man and the elemental things to
which lie is comppred : the volume of the atmo-
sphere and of the waters, taken as a whole, has been
always the same, but the geierations of man com-
menced with a single pair, and now they number a
thousand millions. The wind rushes hither and
thither according to the precise atmospheric laws ;
the waters are collected in tlie clouds, fall upon the
earth, and make their way to the ocean in conformity
with well-known principles ; but it is the same air,
it is the same wind, and there are the same amounts
of them, from the beginning of the world to the
present time. But this cannot be affirmed of man
— especially of man as a thinking, moral, and spi-
ritual being. As to his body, it may be affirmed
that he is only a composition of earth, or of the
materials of which the world is composed ; but as
to his mind, conscience, soul, he is held to be a
product, not educed from the material, but owning
some other origin, or, if a product of the material, yet
not destined to return to the material again, — a pro-

NOVEL A.

duct rather of the all-creative Spirit, a breath of God,
not destined to come and go as the winds, but to
exist personally and eternally. It may not be pos-
sible to establish this doctrine of the innnortality of
the soul on rational grounds, or by reasonings satis-
factory to the demands of demonstration ; but from
the whole lustory of redemption as revealed, we must
adopt the conclusion that he is not altogetlier ab-
sorbed into the sum of material things at deatii, but
that there is a seed, a germ of immortality wliich
springs up out of the very grave itself, tliat there
is a finer essence evolved from this material being,
that our personality is not dissipated by death,
nor is our consciousness destroyed. Of this truth
the King appears to have had a glin^ise when
he distinguishes the spirit of the man t -at goeth
upward, from the spirit of the beast wliich goeth
downward.

MAN AND NATURE ALIKE IN LABOUR.

A second correspondence which he observed 1)0-
tween man and the elements of things was in labour.
Man taketli labour, and all things are full of labour.
This also is rather a poetical coincidence than a
deep philosophical observation. The facts of the
resemblance are patent to every eye. AM the
things around us are in a state of motion. The

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

earth, as a whole, careers through the slvy in its
appoinced orbit ; tlie tides are ever swelling and de-
pressing the waters of the sea ; the winds are ever
agitating them ; tlie lieat is ever causing tliem to
change places relatively, and is also ever drawing
them np in vapour and mist, which hy their com-
parative lightness are carried by the winds over con-
tinents and islands, till, being condensed by the cold
with Avhich they come into contact, tliey fall in
genial rains or chilling snows or destructive hail-
storms. Then coming down to earth, we see the
waters wearing away the stones and the soil from
the sides of the hills, and filling up the valleys and
the mouths of rivers. The central heat — the fires
of the earth — are also exerting their elevative power,
so that here we find whole continents being elevated,
rising above the former tide-marks, as other places
are dej)ressed beneath them. In the depths of
ocean, also, myriads of insects are building up the
reefs which are to constitute the foundations of
future islands. Earthquakes and volcanoes are
doing their work of changing the forms of things.
These laborious changes are esteemed the counter-
part of the great changes which man produces on
the surface of the earth. He is esteemed but as a
portion of the great gang of natural agencies wliich
are with immense labour changing the order of

NOVELTY.

•'fii

things. It should be observed, however, that his
agency is of a totally different kind from that by
which these inanimate objects are urged forward.
His is voluntary, theirs is involuntary ; hiw is labour
proper, theirs is only motion. A great Being over-
rules and guides all man's actions as well as the
material activities. But this Being has delegated to
man an agency proper, and has associated him with
Himself in carrying out His purposes ; while in the
other He has located only blind forces. IVxan con-
sciously beholds, and plans, and works ; but matter
is subjected to laws of impulsion, by which it is
shaped and moved. We do not agree with that
view of man's nature which holds that his will is
only a shadow, and that his free agency is only a
deceitful illusioii. We grant that his actions are
produced by motives, and yet we hold that he makes
a really voluntary choice in the perf on nance of
them. And in this voluntary election to do or not
to do, is to be found the necessary basis of respon-
sibility, and the righteousness of rewards and punish-
ments, and the assurance of a continuous being in
which these rewards and punishments are to take
effect. But if we merely place man with all his
labours in the same class Mdth the other labouring
agencies of the world, if we consider him as subject
to the same blind and necessary obedience to the

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

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forces of nature, we cannot rescue him from tlie
same changes and fatalities by which the air and
waters are reduced to new form, by which personal
identity is utterly lost, and by wliich he is dissipated
by the hand of death. Mind, then, would be nothing
but a phase of matter ; consciousness but a passing
cloud ; identity no longer a reality ; and the im-
mortality of the soul a figment. But this is not the
view which as Christians, looking to the promises of
Jesus, to His resurrection and ascension, we are com-
pelled to take. We are responsible immortal beings,
and in the great panorama of existence we simply
appear on the theatre of time not to become hence-
forth non-existent, but to reappear in the future,
glorious or degraded, according as we have used or
abused that trust which God has given us in the
performance of those labours to which we have been
called under the sun. It may have suited Solomon's
materialistic conceptions to class man's labour with
the motion of matter, but we are bound, in the
Christian view, to enter our caveat, ' Behold, a
greater than Solomon is here !'

There is much, indeed, of man's labour which
springs from material impulses and subserves only
material ends. All his labour for food, for clothing,
for shelter, is the result of wants, material wants,
but yet that impulse is directed by mind, intelligent

NOVELTY.

forethouglit — an element not belonging to the labour
of the \vaters and the winds. There is also recog-
nised in man's labour another element. It is that
which we mean wlien we say ' Ought,' ' You Ought/
'You Owe it.' The owing — that which is duty and
which is a great impeller of man in the performance
of the various labours wliicli lie undertakes under
the sun. Why does that man labour ? Because he
ought, or he owes it to himself, to his family, to
society, to posterity. Surely this element should be
noted when we go to compare man's labour with
the labour of the ocean and wind. And in these
two elements — tlie element of intelligence and the
element of duty — let us ever see the immense supe-
riority of the labours of man over all the blind forces
of nature which are continuously operating in the
world, in his thinking and moral resolve ; and in
these elements, too, let us not fail to discover the
proper basis of innuortality, the qualities which
make the spirit of the man to go upward, while
the spirit of the beast goes downward.

Another remark which Solomon made was, that
these changes resulted in nothing new. He thought
there was not anything of Avhich it might be said,
Lo, this is new ! To a large extent he was correct.
Still, we will require not to be carried away by
assertions true in one sense, but false in others.

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

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OK THE USE OF THE WORD ' NEW.'

Olio of tliG chief causes of dispntiitioii.s among
men is the use of words in (ILftorcnt and confused
senses. The word new lias different senses. You
say of tlie article of dress or furniture it is new,
when it has received the last touch of the work-
iiian, and has not heen sulijected to wear. But a
l)hilosopher or a captious person may say, Yon call
that new ? No, this part of it grew in the woods,
that other on the hack of the animal ; and before the
wood was, or before the wool was, that which forms
the wood and the wool existed from time imme-
morial. So how can you call it new ? It may
be replied, But the article, whatever it is, has been
produced in a different form ; the various elements
have been combined in new relations, and therefore
it is properly denominated nein. But our philo-
sopher or captious debater says, No, the form even
is not new, f'lr there are many things of the same
form. You say. There is a new chair ; but neither
are the elements which compose the chair new, nor
is the form of the chair new, for there are thousands
of others like it. How is it then new ? You still,
however, notwithstanding this demonstration, insist
that there are things which may with propriety be
denominated new. No, not now-a-days, says the

NOVELTY.

strict disciple of Solomon, That which we call dis-
covery is only, as it were, the exhumation of tilings
which, having been well known, are bomehow ab-
sorbed into the sum of matters ; and now, by some
curious turn, they have been thrown out again. All
tliese changes of the ebbing and Howing of tlie tides,
of the variation of the Avinds, of the inventions of
men, are onlij changes — nothing new. There i.s
nothing new under the sun.

rUOORESS.

N(»w we aflirm, that while all the changes which
occur in nature are by the operation of the same
laws, yet that there has been progress made in
matter taldng on itself higher forms ; or rather,
God, by fixed principles of action, is ever producing
a highf^r and nobler set of objects. If any one says,
All things continue as they were since the creation,
we say. No, they do not. We have satisfactory
evidence that the world of mattei* has gone through
different stages of development. We have satisfactory
evidence that at one period of its history neither
man nor any of the present tribes of animals, nor
even trees, were the same as those which are now
to be found. There was once a time when gigantic
ierns and palm-like trees covered the main portion
of the sui'face of the earth. We have evidence

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THE WISDOM OF THE KIlsG.

;

that at one time great reptiles were its chief inha-
bitants. We know tliat we iind the skeletons of
many tribes of r.uimals now extinct, of animals
which required other conditions for life than those
which now obtain on the portion of the eaith
where they are found, and conditions in which the
present inhabitants could not exist. The fact is,
God has been continually creating plants and ani-
mals on the otirth suitable to its various progressive
stages of development. So that while we may with
certainty affirm that the laws of matter are the
same now as ever they were, it is also to be
affirmed that at various points of time God has
interposed to bring upon the stag 3 of existence
new and higher orders of things — new things under
the sun, chough Solomon ftiiled to discover that it
was so.

IS THERE NEV: DISCOVERY ?

But let us see how the affirmation of Solomon
will stand witli regard to the period of man's exist-
ence on tlie world. Is it indeed the fact that he,
in later periods, has discovered nothing that was
not originally taught him ; or has no succeeding
generation been wiser — knowing more., becoming
stronger, effecting more than any of its prede-
cessors ? Is all that which we call invention and

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NOVELTY.

discovery but a repetition of some previously known
and forgotten thing ?

It is no doubt true that a great deal of that
which passes for new, and which may be announced
as grand discovery, is only a resuscitation of the
forgotten. The great works whicli former ages have
left, show that some of the mechanical princi[)les
which have been considered the discoveries of
modern ages must have been known thousands
of years since. Painting, sculpture, architecture,
have long since, we might say, ceased to be original
arts. Medicine probably has added but little that is
new to tlie pliarmacopneia of former days. Yet still
we are of opinion, that if we compare the state of
knowledge, science, and art, as they existed in th(^
time of Solomon, with their condition now, we must
come lo the conclusion that there are various things
which would strike even an acute observer like
Solomon as nev/. We are accustomed to speak of
the steam-engine, the rail, the electric telegraph,
nd such like inventions, as new; and we believe
they ure new things. Steam, indeed, is not new,
but its fi,pplication to motion is. Electricity hi
not new, but its application to useful purposes is.
The steamsliip is new. The scien'M^ of modern
astronomy is new ; and positive sci* uce is, as a
whole, new. There has been progress made. No

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

doiiht many good old inventions liave been for-
gotten, and probably the world was on the whole
quite as enjoyable in former days as it is now ; but
tliat is not the point in dispute. We hold that
there is such a thing as novelty, and that there are
novelties in all ages worth seeing. The age of
bronze was an improvement as well as a change
fiom the age of stone ; and the age of ii'on was
different from, and superior to, either. And though
it might be said that the same turmoils, and warS;
and strifes for life were observable in each, yet
would it not be correct to affirm that the same
characters belonged to each, and that there was
nothing new.

i i

SHUKT-SIGHTEDNESS SEES NO PROGRESS,

A A'iew whicli oidy ranges over a few years or
a few centuries, especially wlien combined wiJi a
fastidious taste, extravagant ideas of personal im-
portance!, and an appetite jaded with enjoyment, is
very likely, in its critical analysis of things, to find
repetition everywhere, novelty nowhere. It is true,
Nature repeats herself : tli3 same snows of winter,
the same suns in summer. What is spring but the
fresh garment woven out of the decayed clothing
of the last year, — the old coat furbislied up by the
patent process which has been in existence since

NOVELTY.

the beginning ? The gi-ass and the grain are both
there, having only changed places. The strong
men have become old, the youths have sprung into
manhood, and fresh troops of- children have taken
the place of those "svlio begin to put on looks of
staidness and bu;." ess-like importance. The spring,
summer, fall, and winter of human life are ever re-
peating themselves. Times of war succeed times of
peace. We talk of new systems of education, new
doctrines of faith. The critical, fastidious eye looks
throngh nil, and sees sameness in all ; yet, if we
mistake not, amid the sameness there is some-
tliing that is new — it is not all monotony. The
discordant, creaking sounds of the great world-
instrument have among them some new tones. The
barl)uric periods are not merely repeated in the
civilised ages. The civilisations of Tudea, of Greece
and IJonie, are not exactly the civilisations of Eng-
land and France. Christianity, tbongh based on
Judaism, has a spirit of its own. The h:pirit of
Christ is surely not the same as the spirit of Solo-
mon. The Son (jf Davitl has a kingdom better
ordered than that of David. True it is that it is
rfnt into pieces, that it is in practical captivity,
that it subserves very partially the intention of its
Founder ; but yet, even in its external aspects, it is
an improvement on the old Temple-religion. Let

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

US trace, if we will, the resemblance between the
priests of Judea and the priests of modern times ;
let us assert that l^harisaism is as rampant now as
it was in Jerusalem ; that political virtue is bought
now, a3 it was when, in the holy city, offices, civil
and religious, were purchased o} unscrupulous meii.
When we have exhibited the lines of correspondence,
there will still bo found some marks, we would hope,
of superiority and advancement. "VYe are unwilling
to believe that under the government of God there
is no progress being made, that Satan is still as
powerful as ever, and that there is no hope of a
still further advancement. That things are as bad
as ever, is the Devil's gospel. It is not surely an
Ixion's labour, this continual work of generations
of men, without profit and without progress. Apart
from the consideration that men enjoy their labours
— that they are not more slaves, but that with a
hearty good-will they work, and find in the very
work itself fruit ; apart also from the further con-
sideration that they are being prepared for a higlier
grade of life, and tliat out of this world they pro-
ceed to another higher state, — we do tliink we may
affirm of the world itself, with its plenty, its liljerty,
its prospects of peace, its better understood principles
of morality, and its purer faith, that it is certainly
becoming a better, more enjoyable place, than it was

' f

NOVELTY.

in days gone by. Famines now are far more rare.
With our means of locomotion, and with the spirit
of benevolence, but small suffering arises now from
want of food, Nations are being l)oru to liberty
in a day. Eussia has emancipated her slaves, and
20,000,000 of chattels have become free men.
Italy, so long debased and tyrannized over, is once
more almost a kingdom. Slavery has ceased to
exist over the whole U ' States. War is now
conducted upon princ ; o of mercy unknown to
ancient times. The wliole world is also being more
and more leavened with the principles of Christian
truth, and justice, and mercy. While, at the same
time, we know that the means whereby man lives and
enjoys are enlarged, and brought \\itliin tlie reach of
large bodies of the people. No, no ! Looking on our
age as a Avhole, we are convinced that it is not as
Solomon would liave us to believe, and as critical
pleasure-seeking philosophers of our own time w^ould
have us to think — a mere repetition of the past.
There are new elements introduced into it since
Solomon's time. It has made great advances ; and
we would not wish to go back to the times of
Israel's King, even for the purpose of S(3eing Solo-
mon arrayed in all his glory, hearing his words of
wisdom, and seeing aU liis mighty works, or living
under his despotic authority.

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

OBLIVION.

The statement, too, that oblivion covers all, is in
a large measure to be conceded. There is no re-
membrance of anything. Still there is such a thing
as history. Tlie statement looks to the desire wliich
man has for remembrance in the world which he
has inhabited and caused to resound with liis deeds,
and to the weakness of the means Ijy which he
tries to perpetuate that memory. As to the desire
for continued remembrance, we may remark that it
exists with all, and is especially strong in those who
have held a high position in the eye of the world.
It is not alone to be found in the bosom of con-
(pierors, or otlicr great men. It is nniversal. We
would like that at least our little world should not
soon forget us. The city or the town where we
have lived and acted, we would be glad to think,
when we liave arrived at the gate of death, should
still remendjer us, or if they do not, from our ob-
scm'e position, think of us, still we hope the select
circle of our relatives and friends will long speak of
us with kindly reminiscences. We feel, however,
that but a very short time Mill elapse till we and
our deeds are forgotten. It has been so with
others, it will be so with us. A few more years,

Mi^'t

NOVEWy.

and all who knew us will ti,

and none will be left !' ' ."'f"^«'^<'« '«ve followed.

speak of u ; r. 'T' "'"' l"-"-^" l«-eath, or

with perhaps an epifr^^h ! , f'"''"'*' ''"°™^«"-
daad to the pa,«i,! if ' " ''" '" "'« "'^ "f «»
a -an,' PerC ? ?'■' """ ""'" '«-'<' '-ed

. elapse ere th " L hf '', " "'''' '°"=-' "^y
i-ae scone has crumbled nr f..ii i, . /

time will come when there wi ! f '' *"" *'"^

brance. A tew ,>,■„, • 7 "^ "' "» remem-

- to fouua a fi^;— :/^^^^

-te descendants as'th i S:'' 1 ''. ''''' ""-
soM of genius may embalm n ™'^- •'°™

"ud remote sH„l ' "^'^s in history

<'-th. Solomon yet LT" " "" '^"'"""^ ''^
Wm in some de-L ? ? " remembrance of

»"- is n:::;rL™rt'' "^^^*" "'^^

'- says, that of the vaS nZljl "''' "™ "■''»'
"« .eniembrance Thev , , '■''"" "''"' "

»J wept, and wrestS LIT , "", "'"' ^"J">'^'^.

-*ough they had nlte'^trir"^^^"'^
pear— for this is tha n ' '^''^^ ''""^ ap-

-e man- -.tlrany beTefirhr "'^ "''^"^™ "^ '^^
i"Jividual or to the I , '"'"' '^'""^■' '" ^e

'■e led on earth iV T" """ "^'■''^"- »hich

ea.th. I,, would have been ddferent he

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

seems to think, could he liave made his name per-
j)etiial, though of what advantage that is in reality,
it is hard to see. Tt is one of the desires, however,
implanted in the human heart, and for wise pur-
poses ; for if it were not there, mankind would be
much less careful of how they act while they are in
this world. It may he questioned whether the de-
sire for the good opinion of r>ur fellow-men in life
and at death be not more conchicive to right living
than any view to a future judgment of God. With
those who disbelieve in a future state it will be the
great motive impelling to right living, apart from
the beauty and excellence of its rectitude, and we
cannot too much cultivate the feeling. We may
not do anything to make ns long remembered ; we
may not have bestowed on us any greiil brilliancy
of talent or splendour of genius ; but all of us have
had a sphere of activity given us in which we may
win the good opinion or execration of our fellow-
men ; and certainly, at the period of our departure,
though we may have nothing to boast of before
God, we may have something for which we may be
approved by man. By the law of perfection we
may have sinned and come far short of the glory of
God, but by the law of man's opinion we may stand
in an exalted position.

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us.

The t J

NOVELTY.

SUMMARY.

AVithout, then, annoying ourselves witli any de-
sponding views of tlio nselessness of the la])ours to
Avliich, in conqjanionship with the waves of tlie sea,
and the Avinds, and tlie riA'ers, and the universal
motion of things, we are called, let us rather rejoice
in that activity, and fulfil the great end allotted to
us, though we may not clearly comprehend what it
is ; remembering still, however, that though in this
world the record of our deeds may he very imperfect,
and, like our footprints on the sand, to he oblite-
rated by the next tide that flows, the deeds them-
selves shall reappear, and w^e with them. After this
fitful, feverisli, eventful life is closed — after death
has sealed our eyes, and friends have consigned us to
the tomb— -after the stone that records our nrnie
has crumbled in decay — after all who ever may yet
syllable our name have followed us in death — after
the other generations of men have all stamped their
way across this field of life out of the darkness of
non-existence into the land of substantiality, — we,
spiritual beings, still existent, still sentient, stil"" per-
sonal, shall meet with, and find, a reward in all that
we have done under the sun. Our works do foUov,-
us. The material things shall crumble in the dust.
The temple, the estate, the money, the fame, all go to

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

the obliviou of eartlily things, but nothing ever dies,
no deed is left without its record, no work without
its reward. Up they come, those shadows, those reali-
ties, those cruelties, those kindnesses, those labours,
those neglects, — up they come, not as separate exist-
ences, so much as all embodied in our own living
spirits, deeds done in the body, whether they be good,
or whether they be evil. Every one of them having
a place in the person, just as the essence of our food
and drink becomes part of our living frame, so they
have become the warp and woof of our never-dying
being. Yes, think this, your labours are all entering
into the very constitution of your eternal being.
The memory of them, tlie reality of them, lias taken
up a place in it — is part of your very soul ; so that
that declaration will be found to contain a despair-
ful, hopeful truth, ' He that is filthy, let him be filthy
still; he that is holy, let him be holy still;' a decla-
ration, a warning of that God who desireth ncit the
death of the sinner, but rather that he would turn
unto Him and live.

I; I

VI.

WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY.

' And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness
ami folly. '—EccLES. i. 17.

' And I turned myself to behold wisdom, and madness, and
folly : for what can the man do that cometh after the king i even
that which hath been already done. Then I saw tliat wisdom ex-
celleth folly, as far as light exeelleth darkness. The wise man's
eyes are in his head ; hut the fool walketh in darkness. ' — Eccles.
II. 12-14.

WISDOM, madness, and folly are tlie three
heads under which Solomon sums up the
actions of men. In his vocabulary wisdom is not
mere knowledge, but a certain just appreciation of
it ; folly also does not exclude knowledge, but may
be viewed as a practical misapplication of it, while
madness is a direct inversion of it. Wisdom deals
with things in their proper relations as causes and
effects ; folly often scorns the consideration of these,
except for the immediate results ; but madness has
a total disregard for results, either near or remote.
Madness with the wise man is not what we call
insanity proper, where reason is unseated and lunacy
is triumphant. The best way to understand his

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

meaning, is to take three classes or types of men.
Here is one who studies subjects with a view always
to extract out of them, not some transient pleasure?
but substantial and useful results. He makes that
the main end of all that he does. He ploughs, and
sows, and reaps, with due observance of the seasons ;
he never misses an opportunity to increase his wealth,
to secure his healtli, to procure the mean , of perma-
nent enjoyment. All his studies have relation to
the practical, the useful, the permanent. Then the
fool is one who does not calculate, who looks only
to present enjoyment, whose actions are not squared
by any just rule or measure : but the madman out-
rages every principle of reason and common sense.
We might say of Solomon, that he was wise while
he studied, and in due measure planted, builded, and
made beautiful the garden and forest ; that he acted
the fool when he entered on his dissipation ; and
that madness characterized his proceedings when
he, to please his wives, built the temples of his false
gods. No doubt, in all this procedure, however
foolish or vain, he might still lay claim to the cha-
racter of the wise man, as in all that he did lie was
professedly making experiments in that which was
good for man. In his folly he was not a fool like
those with whom he associated. He held himself
above them, even when he put himself on an equality

WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY.

with them. He not only turned himself to behold
wisdom, and madness, and folly, but he proved them
by trying what satisfaction they would bring. It is
but fair to the monarch to remember that the attain-
ment of wisdom was the object of his folly and mad-
ness, — a dangerous experiment, and one out of which
he did not come unscathed. Though a L'n.;, -id
wise, he suffered sadly, in his character, and in his
kingdom. It is on record that his wives turned
away his heart from God, :^nd that for his apostasies,
enemies were raised up to trouble him in life, and
the kingdom was rent under his son after his death.
Experiments of this kind should never be made.
Plausible excuses may be urged by every one for
vices and errors. ' To see life ' is thought to be
necessarv. ' To knov/ the world ' is considered an
excuse for a criminal career. It is possible to
seclude ourselves too much from the view of those
things which are of questionable character. We
may grow up ignorant of much that is evil, and
which it yet concerns us to know, and yet which it
would be ruinous to our moral nature to come into
close contact with. There is a middle path. It is
that indicated in two descriptions of Solomon's con-
duct relative to those dangerous things. He says
he turned himself to behold wisdom, madness, and
folly. Quite right. Sin, folly, vice, crime, are all

THE WISDOM OF THE XING.

appropriate subjects of study. We cannot know
man without knowing them, and we cannot conduct
ourselves towards man properly without knowing
them ; but when we make them not only subjects
of observation, but matters of practice, even though
for the purpose of knowing them more intimately,
we are eating the fruit of the forbidden tree, which
will issue in our expulsion from the Eden of happi-
ness. This Solomon appears to have done, by his
own admission, when he says that he gave his heart
to know, not wisdom alone, but madness and folly,
withholding not his heart from any joy. Those who
do this, even for the avowed purpose of enlarging
their experimental knowledge, wiU certainly not
escape unhurt. ' Can a man take coals into his
bosom and not be burned ? ' No more can he taste
of the tree of forbidden pleasure, and not suffer the
evil consequences of its poisonous taste.

SEEING LIFE.

When a young man commences his career, if he
have been previously untarnished, his character per-
fectly bright, his moral principles upright, truthful,
pure, in better moments he scorns the thought of
tasting the mixed wines which unlawful pleasures
tempt him with. Direct allurements have no power
over his resolution to keep himself unspotted from

WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY.

the world's vicesj. But suppose the temptation
comes in this form, from the lips of companions, or
the suggestion of his own thoughts : ' You cannot
know what the world is — you are really up to a
certain point ignorant, a butt for ridicule — rif you
do not participate in those enjoyments, those gay
revels, in which youth generally indulge. Wliy, if
you only want to know the evils of their ways, you
must indulge in them a little of course. You will
be able to preach all tlie better against them.' There
is something in all this very plausible, and, I have
no doubt, aided by the corrupt nature that is in all
such argument, fallacious as it is, has been sufficient
to draw many a young person away from the path
of virtue. I can fancy a young man of the best
nature, and disposition, and training, suffering him-
self to be imposed upon with tliis reasoning. He
just wishes to know a little of their ways, that he
may not be esteemed altogether a fool by the mad
ones with whom the business of life brings him into
contact. But he ]iy no means intends to practise
them, or allow himself to be drawn away by them.
If he have a strong moral nature, if he be sur-
rounded by virtuous guards, he may be saved from
the formation of habits of sin, thougli he has actually
ventured within the charmed region, in which many
strong men have been, like the crew of Ulysses,

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

converted into beasts by the cups of Circe. The
experiment is not only dangerous ; it is, in the most
favourable case, detrimental. The first debauch is,
to a man's moral nature, like dragging a new garment
through the mire. All the brushing and polishing
in the world will never make it clean again.

But many who make the experiment do not stop
with the experiment. They feel that they are hurt
by it, yet they are willing to make it evermore. The
fisherm.an knows that even the touch of the sharp
hook only whets the appetite of the silly trout. So
is it witli the bait of unlawful pleasures. If the
man be not taken at once by them, even though he
have already experienced their sharp fangs, he will
yet return to them. Tl e headache too oftAi fails
to prevent the recurrence of the debauch ; and the
sting which conscience inflicts is forgotten in the
presence of the subsequent temptation.

Bad habits are bound upon the man by number-
less repetitions, which are like so many threads,
each one of little force, but together like sevenfold
cords, which require the force of Samson to break.
There are not many Samsons either. And many a
strong young man — strong in moral power, strong
in high resolves — gets his locks shorn, and becomes
weak as other men, when Delilah has taken hold of
his fancy. So that even experimental pleasures are

WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY.

dangerous. Tliis Solomon found out to his cost,
when learning wisdom he turned to make experi-
ments in madness and folly.

Turn yourselves, tbon, as much as ye will to
study these things. Study wisdom, and practise it ;
but study madness and folly only to avoid them.
And take the experience of Solomon ; take the
warning example of the many whom you have seen
in your own day and neighbourhood destroyed by
the insidious operation of folly and madness. The
decision of Solomon — for his decisions, ultimate
decisions, are generally wise — is, that wisdom ex-
celleth folly as nnich as light excelleth darkness.

:^i|

WISDOM HAS ITS EYES IN ITS HEAD.

The particular in which wisdom excelleth folly
is, says Solomon : ' The wise man's eyes are in his
head, but the fool walketh in darkness.'

This gives us a view of the superior value of
wisdom over folly. The one is an eye, the other is
blindness. A general view of all things necessary
for man to know is before the wise man. Only
those things which are near, in contact with his
person, are in any respect known by the fool. The
wise man sees all that is within the wide hoiizon,
having his eyes in his head ; but the fool is a blind

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

man, who goes about with his eyes in his stomach,
or some other sensual part of his nature. The wise
man's eyes instruct his intellect ; but the fool's eyes
only seem to be fit to give him information regard-
ing the quality of meat and drink, or some present
enjoyment. The wise man's actiors are subjects
of calculation ; the fool lives at random. The wise
man, having his eyes in his head, has discovered
that there is a God who rules and judges : that
there is a wide distinction between virtue and vice ;
that the way of the righteous shall be established,
but that the way of the ungodly shall perish ; that
present pleasure in the ways of vice are a poor pur-
chase for future retributive pain. The fool being
blind, rather having shut his eyes to the reality of
things, hath said in his heart. There is no God. Virtue
and vice are mere names without distinction in the
nature of things : he pleases himself with the emi-
nently vain idea that wickedness shall be as suc-
cessful as righteousness, and that he may with
impunity violate the moral principles of his nature.
The wise man with his eyes in his head has come
to right decisions ; the fool, from natural defect or
from shutting his, has come to false conclusions.
We have only to look to the world around us, to see
that this is so.

WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY.

EXPLANATION.

The only explanation which can be given why
men, so many of them, rush on in folly to ruin, is
that they have blinded themselves, for the illustra-
tions of the evils of certain vicious courses are
everywhere. There is no young man, who, if he
did not allow his passions to blind the eyes of his
understanding, but must see that those ways which
are justly called wicked, are also ruinous. Here,
then, are three things which we should look at :
1st, The fool is justly called a fool who does not see
the consequences of his acts ; 2d, He does not see
them because he will not ; and Sd, He is a mentally
inferior specimen of humanity when compared with
the wise man. Eegarding the first of these positions,
we need not observe almost anjrthing save this, that
a man who does not look at the natural conse-
quences of any course of conduct, or looking does
not see them to a large extent, is, properly speaking,
a fool. People call him a fool. If he is in business,
and acts without am *^'"t calculation of the various
elements which are xxecessary to ensure success, h^
is among business men a fool. If he enter on a
course of dissipation, by which, on a fair review of
the examples within liis reach, we might justly con-
clude he will in a few years be brought to min, his

wmmmmt

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

i ■'■

body a wreck, and his soul a miserable thing to
which vices cling, what can he be called but a fool ?
If witli the knowledge of the fact that but few of
those wlio try to swindle succeed, while ruin comes
from detection, is lie not a fool who tries it ? Tlie
mental pain and tlie moral detriment are plainly
in their elements visible to the eye of introspection,
were they not so largely insisted on by mental and
moral observers, and were the workings of the soul
oppressed with crime not fuUy portrayed in writ-
ings sacred and profane. How, then, does it come
that, with aU the light of knowledge, so many pur-
sue the ruinous course, — why so many who have
been unsuccessful, so many dissipated, so many sen-
sual, and wretched ? Why, because they did not
carry their eyes in their head, they did not see, they
were blind. But why were they blind ? Naturally,
or by some fault of their own ? Probably both.
We may here observe, that as a man may destroy
his eyes, so may he destroy or weaken the eyes of
his understanding ; but it is far more common to
weaken the vision of reason than the vision of the
eye. No doubt there are those who are born blind
in understanding as well as of eye. These are to be
pitied. But for every one who is thus born with
mental vision defective, thousands, from the very
beginning of life, seem to have no other object in

^V'ISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY.

view than t(^ destroy their mental capacities, at
least so far as to distinguisli moral suLjects. Their
•(Teat object is to get their reason into such a state
that it will justify them in calling good evil, and
evil good ; sweet bitter, and bitter sweet. The edu-
cation whicli many receive from their infancy is
calculated to destroy all mental vision. The ex-
ai-ples they see, and the precepts they are taught,
are alike bad. On(} liardly knows what reverence
is due to wicked parents. We would say that even
children are under no obligations to allow their
minds to be blinded by the acts and opinions of
vicious parents, by any positive command ; and
when respect for them and respect for virtue are
opposed, let the higher law operate and the lower
in the letter give way. Unfortunately, however,
the vicious and the wicked instruction is all the
more likely to be listened to, as there is in us a
natural inclination to the evil. In too many cases
we are perfectly willing to have our eyes blinded.
We want arguments to make us easy in the pursu-
ance of the courses in which we wish to indulsre.
If true arguments fail us, we press in witticisms to
supply their room. Sophistry, which is on the side
of inclination, is ever more powerful than reason,
which is against it. Every moral sophistry may be
viewed as a thin film which covers the eye of the

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

I- '

;

i-,

iinderstaii(ling, while true reason is a cure which
would enable us to discover with exactitude the
relations and differences of truth and error. But
how few want to be taught that which is really
true and false, good and bad ! Most men want
rather something which will enable them to set at
defiance the outcries which conscience makes against
the evil courses in which tliey indulge. They are
quite willing that the eyes of the understanding
should be blinded, that they should not come to the
knowledge of the truth. My way, they say, the
way in which I wish to walk, to wliich inclination
leads, and in wliich passion drives, lies through
plotting and scheming, through sensuality and de-
bauchery, and I want something to make me com-
fortable in it, not anything which will spoil my joy
and check my vivacity. You would think it strange
that any man should voluntarily consent to have his
eyes put out, or to have them dimmed so that he
could only see at the distance of a yard or two ; but
it is by no means strange — it is, on the contrary, a
thing of everyday occurrence — to find men consent-
ing to have their understanding dimmed so that all
moral subjects shall be indistinct. Probably, how-
ever, this is mostly consented to on the plea of
getting greater enlargement of vision. Yes, tliis is
the plea. There are thousands of moral quack

WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY.

oculists in the world, ^v]\o profess to give extended
range of vision, so extended as that all distinctions
of virtue and vice are obliterated, (iod is Ijoluild
vanishing from the world, and man — not the innnor-
tal, but ho of the threescore and ten years — the god
of individual worship. This is surely an extension
of vision ! We shall not now enter the lists with
these ojiinions. We believe them to be utterly fal-
lacious; we believe that he who has come to see the
world without a God, without duty and sin, and
temporary being as the only hope of man, has had
the eyes taken out of his head, and is to all intents
a fool, groping along in darkness.

5 : 1

f I

IGNORANCE OF NATURAL LAWS.

•

Yet, on the other hand, we see a great many per-
sons, who, while clear on the great landmarks of
virtue, are yet voluntarily blind in regard to the
great laws of the universe in which they dwell.
They are ignorant of the principles of science, of
commerce, of the minor morals, on which much of
the comfort of life depends. They believe in God,
but, from false notions of the natural laws by wliich
His providence is carried forward, they live in terror
of Him as a capricious tyrant, not in love of Him as
a Father. In olden times, people were frightened
by an eclipse. Thunder to them was the voice of

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

God's wrath, and the lightning the terrifiu glance of
His angry eye. The wise man knows that these are
beneficent arrangements of His eternal foresight and
care. Fools, even now, forgetting, ignoring the
great principles of demand and supply, and urged on
to extravagant competition by the selfish principle
of gain, bring judgments upon themselves ; and
other fools conduct themselves in family and social
relationships, so tliat peace flies from the house, the
country, and the kingdom. Many kings who are
called to rule, seem to have no eyes except for their
self-aggrandizement and self- gratifying purposes.
Politicians, who ought to be the most far-seeing
among men, voluntarily blind themselves to the true
interests of those whom they profess to serve by
their government, and can only see how to elevate
themselves and found families, while the interests of
the nation go lo ruin; while people in general seen; to
have forgotten that it is by individual righteousness
that the well-being of nations is established. They
are all, in the midst of much light, voluntarily blind
to that which God would have them to see. The
proper description of them is, that they are groping
about in the dark. The circle of selfishness rises
up, and, like a wall that reaches to heaven, prevents
them from beholding what true wisdom would teach
them. They may profess to see God, but in works

WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY.

tliey deny Him ; to see virtue, but prefer only some
of its more self-looking duties ; to live for immor-
tality, and yet tliey are guided wholly by the present
aspect of things. In a word, I fear we are all liable,
more or less, to the charge of folly in its most un-
deniable lineaments and terms, and that we have
ourselves much to blame for having blinded our
eyes to the true distinction of things.

We may for a moment just refer to slavery as
one of those things in wliich we can best see how it
is possible to blind the eye to that which is just,
true, and wise. We do not need to argue that
slavery is a crime, a blunder, a folly. Upon that
question we may say the whole civilised world has
gi'^en its verdict. England knows this ; France
knows it, so does Austria ; and the Russian autocrat
was so convinced of it, that he set free his 20,000,000
of serfs — made them rise to tlie dignity of men —
the greatest act, the noblest achievement of modern
times. All the world knov/s the criminality, the
guilt, the folly of slaveholding, save the slaveholders
themselves, or the bondholders on slave property.
All the civilised world were convinced that slave-
holders had their moral sense blinded by self-inte-
rest in this matter. Tliey knew that all those gentle
terms, such as ' the peculiar institution,' the ' do-
mestic institution,' and the foul names with which

I', i

100

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

those were greoted who disapproved of the system,
were inventions to conceal from the view of the
slaveholders the positive iniquity of the system.
Now we believe that the greater portion of those
who have been slaveholders were perfectly convinced
that there was nothing morally wrong in slavery.
They were quite conscientious in believing that what
all the world, not selfishly interested, held to be
wrong and foolish, was yet right and wise. I bring
this forward as an example of the blinding nature
of self-interest, or rather greed. But with this ex-
ample before us, may it not be very fairly affirmed
that greed produces moral blindness nearer home ?
We look to France, and we see in the restless, un-
easy, warlike disposition of that people, their fond-
ness for glory and extension of territory, the cha-
racteristics of great folly. Is it not also quite likely
that, in our social system, there is much that is both
wicked and foolish, though self-interest will not let
us see it ? Slaveholders have pointed to the miseries
which obtained to an even greater extent in manu-
facturing England, as an offset against the evils of
slavery, and said, ' Physician, heal thyself And I
daresay, among ourselves there are many legalized
evils which we are unwilling to acknowledge as
such, because our selfish interests are involved in
upholding them. In private life, without doubt,

WISDOM, MADNi:SS, AND FOLLY.

101

men can perpetrate crimes and commit follies with-
out seeing that they are such, because they are in-
terested — pecuniarily, at least we think so — in
them. In every smaller circle there is also a re-
cognised code of morals of a lower grade than that
which finds public acknowledgment. Gentlemen, as
a certain class call themselves, though they may
have small claims to the title, have their peculiar
notions of what is wise, and right, and honourable
to do.

Then there is the commercial code of the bulls
and bears of the Stockmarket, the code of the Shop-
keeper, etc. ; — all of them founded on some principle
of rottenness, but believed by the blinded fools to
be quite sound, or at least excusable and justifiable.
They all have this character of the fool, that they
walk in darkness ; aiid the description of the Psalmist
is perfectly applicable to them :

' Because himself lie flattercth

In his own hliinled eye,
Until the hatefulness be found
Of his iniquity. '

We have been so long now dealing with fools, and
finding them everywhere, that we may have fur-
gotten what wisdom is. We want some model with
which to compare these fools of dissipation, politics,
commerce, gentility, and so forth.

>:ti?W

102

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

THE WISE MAN WHERE ?

But where shall we fiDd such a one. It may
not be said of any one man, See, here is the perfectly
wise. AU have their faults and their follies. Not
in Solomon himself, — not in David, who, though
less gifted with knowledge than Solomon, may yet be
esteemed more practically wise than the son, a man
more after God's own heart. In the absence of any
merely human model of wisdom, we might with much
propriety set before us the character of the man
who is truly blessed, as found in the 1st Psalm ; for
surely the man whose course leads to true blessed-
ness is the truly wise : ' Blessed is the man that
walketh not in the counsel of the -ingodly, nor
standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the
seat of the scornful : but his delight is in the law
of his God ; and in His law doth he meditate day
and night. And he shall be like a tree planted by
the rivers of waters ; his leaf also shall not wither ;
and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.'

The truly wise man is one who knows the law of
his God, and who walks in it day and night ; who
hears ever the voice of God saying unto him. This is
the way, walk ye in it. And we may say this law
of God is that wTitten on the heart, written in Num-
bers, written in Kevelations. He who strives with

WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY.

103

all liis might to know and to keep all the laws
which God has given for the regulation of his being,
physical, mental, moral, in all the relations of life,
is a good student of the heavenly wisdom, and, in
as far as he has attained to his aims, is wise. Nor
are we to exclude from our consideration the law
of faith, by which he, a participator of the divine
grace, enters into communion and fellowship with
the Father, and His Son Jesus Christ.

Is it necessary to consider for a moment tlie trutli
of Solomon's affirmation, ' That wisdom excelleth
folly as far as light excelleth darkness,' — that the
wise man according to the law of his God is as
superior to tlie fool who transgresses it, either from
ignorance or through turpitude of nature, as the man
who sees is superior to the blind for all the purposes
of life, — or to doubt those passages in which Solo-
mon described the superiority of wisdom over folly?
These passages, however, have their value, and we
may with profit rehearse them. ' Wisdom,' saith he,
' is good with an inheritance; and by it there is profit
to tliem that see the sun. Wisdom strengtheneth
the wise more than ten miglity men that are in the
city. A man's wisdom niakoth his face to shine.
Wisdom is better than strength and weapons of war.
The excellency of knowledge is, that wisdom givetli
life to them that have it.' There is value in wis-

Til

■ *1

104

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

dom to those that come after us, value in it for
present ability, value for beauty and ornament, and
value in it, for it gives life, it preserves from the
way of death, and secures the life everlasting.

GLIMPSES OF IMMORTALITY.

StiU we do not say that Solomon had the life
everlasting in his view. Whatever glimpses he had
of the life to c^me, we think that, while pursuing his
career of investigation respecting the good that man
should do under the sun, he had very little tliought
of the immortality that awaits the soul. Probably, in
writing the book, he intelligently touched on that
truth when he made the distinction between the spirit
of the man and that of the beast ; probably also he
had a glimpse of it when, in the conclusion of that
beautiful passage descriptive of old age, he describes
the spirit returning to God who gave it : still there is
nothing in either of these passages which absolutely
proves that the writer affirmed the immortality of
the soul. At any rate, we have a sad doubt thrown
over his views on this subject, in the verses which we
are just now considering. What is the meaning of the
following verses, if through wisdom a man might attain
to immortality ? ' I,' says he, ' myself perceived also
that one event happeneth to all. Then said I in my
heart, As it happeneth to the fool, so it happeneth

WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY.

105

even to me ; and why was I tlien more wise ? Then
I said in my heart, that this also is vanity. For
there is no remembrance of the wise more than of the
fool for ever ; seeing that which now is, in the days to
come shall all be forgotten : and how dieth the wise
man ? even as the fool.' Why does Solomon com-
plain that wisdom cannot keep him living, nor pre-
serve his renxembrance ? Why does he affirm, that
though within the boundaries of the world wisdom
is good, yet its value seems to end then, if he
thought that through all eternity he would shine as
the brightness of the firmament ? In reading this
passage, the sickening thought presses in on the mind,
that Solomon at least had no distinct or positive
faith in the immortality of the soul, that his wisdom
was of a worldly kind, and that he was without that
definite hope which cheers the Christian on life's
journey through this world, which, amid all the
clamours cind turmoils of life, sings him sweet songs,
which has a word of comfort for the severest trials,
and sheds its rays over the darkest hour.

iff

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i t5

VII.
THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY.

' There is nothing better for a man, than that he should eat and
drink, and tliat he should make his soul enjoy good in his labour.
This also T saw, that it was from the hand of God. For who can
eat, or who else can hasten hereunto, more than I ? For God
giveth to a man that is good in His sight wisdom, and knowledge,
and joy": but to the sinner He giveth travail, to gather, and to heap
up, that he may give to him that is good before God. This also is
vanity and vexation of spiiit.' — Eccles. li. 24-26.

THE great question, which it is very important
we should have resolved for us at or near
the beginning of our present life, is, What is that
general principle on which our life should proceed,
and pursuing which, we shall enjoy the greatest
good ? or, if the question of good be held to be an
inferior consideration, Wliat is that course which man
should i^ursue in accordance with duty and right ?
Probably it will be found that these two things, as
a general rule, are coincident ; yet it may be that
the motive of right wiU more surely lead to the
possession of good, than the pursuit of good to the
doing of right. Both of these aspects of the case
presented themselves before the mind of Solomon,

106

THE SEI^SUAL PHILOSOPHY.

107

but at different times. Here we have the good
brought prominently before us ; at the conclusion of
the wise man's experiments we have the duty pre-
sented, the one by no means necessarily excluding
the other ; but from false views of the nature of the
good, and false judgments regarding its relation to
man, the lower often opposing the higher principle.
It is, however, quite possible for us to take, with
Solomon, a view of what is good for man, without
contradicting or ignoring the nobler principle which
is involved in duty. We would therefore inquire,
with Solomon, what is that good thing i'

We have Solomon's reply, which needs no expla-
nation. It may, however, need definition ; for in
any licence which is given to the sensual side of our
nature, there requii-e to be appended the strongest
injunctions against licentiousness. I daresay many
have thought, in reading these verses, that they just
contained the substance of the songs of Anacreon, or
other Bacchanalian poets ; and many a jolly good
liver may have had his conscience liglitened by
what, under the biassed interpretation of the animal
passions, might seem to be tlie sentiment of the wise
King. We do not think that they fairly bear this
interpretation. We rather think, that while Solo-
mon enjoyed, or rather tried to enjoy, life in excess,
that is not the purport of his observation here, but

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108

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

that there is here commended a rational use of all
the gifts of the divine providence, without any com-
mendation of excesses.

AGAINST MISERLINESS.

We would here observe that the sentiment of the
King is directed against, that miserly abuse of labour
which consists in laying up riches, accumulating
without enjoyment for the sake of accumulation, or
with the expectation that by accumulation enjoy-
ment will come after a fixed amount has been
reached,

li is not easy always to unravel the motives of
those men who act very differently from most otJiers.
Here is a man, for instance, who has devoted his
life to the accumulation of wealth, and ho is now
worth an enormous sum — worth, that is, possesses,
property to an almost fabulous amount. As to per-
sonal worthiness, that is quite another question. But
he does not enjoy the property or the money. He
lives sparely and meanly ; and yet he is as much
intent on adding to the original sum as when,
standing face to face with hard poverty, he first
began to save. You may well ask what are the
man's motives for thus hoarding up that which he
does not seem to know the use of. We may remark
in explanation, that we see in him only the con-

THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY.

109

tinuation and extravaj^'ant enlargemont of a common
and wise motive natural to the whole human family,
— the desire to make provision for the wants of the
future, to lay up for a rainy day, or a sick day, or
old age, when incapacitated for work. That desire
in him has attained extraordinary and extravagant
development, wliile other desires have been curbed
and dwarfed. So he has grown up, needing little,
and yet providing for the supply of many needs.
So, with the ascetic life of the hermit, he has accu-
mulated sufficient for the wants of princes. Besides
this original desire to put himself beyond the reach
of want, there is generally added the lust of power
whicli money gives ; for money is king of men.
They said once cotton was king ; but cotton was
only one of money's prime ministers. Tlie money-
lender is the real king to whom tlie needy bow.
So, in order that this principle of love of power may
be gratified, the miser lends for the wants, real or
imaginary, of the man of business or the man of
pleasure. The miser may have also in view the
founding of a name and a family. He w^ishes to
leave to his heir what will enable him to take a
place among the great and noble — the greatness of
the heir being reflected with glory on him as the
founder of a house and family. Now there is really
nothing in any of these motives which is radically

110

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

wrong.

On the contrary, it is quite right and pru-
dent to provide for the wants of tlie future. It
is also fair enough to seek for legitimate influ-
ence through the possessions which may have been
honestly attained ; and to raise one's family in posi-
tion and importance is by no means unworthy of
the consideration of a wise man. The evil in the
motives of the miser lies in the excess to which he
allows them to grow, to the dwariing of other equally
important principles of his nature. Whenever the
love of money, or of the power which it brings, or
of the fame which it confers, stands in the way of
the enjoyment of that life which God has given us,
not to say contravenes our duty towards God, it
becomes an evil. In the text the question is not
debated on any higher principle than that of the
greatest good ; and on this principle, no doubt, Solo-
mon was right in his conclusion, that it is better
that a man should eat and drink, and enjoy the fruit
of all his labour, — better than that he should deny
himself and lay up, and accumulate riches, which,
after all, may serve no good purpose, but which
coming, as riches gathered nearly or shabbily, not to
say unjustly, generally do, into the hands of foolish
heirs, may be all squandered in vice, and instead of
adding to the posthumous fame of the gatherer, only
hurt his children. Consider, then, that it is wiser

THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY.

Ill

to enjoy the good of labour, than with meanness and
carefuhiess to provide for the generations to come.

AGAINST EXTRAVAGANCE.

But again, let us guard ourselves against the con-
clusion that a man is to eat and drink, and consume
all the fruit of his hibours. Because a man is not
to be a ndser, it does not follow that he is to be a
spendthrift. Let him enjoy the fruit of his labours
by all means, but at the same time let him leave
the world as well as, or better than he found it.
Let us think of this a little. We all owe a del)t to
our aacestors, which they require us to pay to pos-
terity. True, there is no written bond which we
have signed to that effect, but there are the obliga-
tions of nature and justice which require this of us.
Our forefathers have laboured, and we have entered
into their labours. V^e believe it was Dr. Franklin
who once lent a sum of money to a young man
commencing business, with the obligation tliat he
should also do the tsame, when he became indej)en-
dent, for another worthy but poor young man, with
a similar obligation on him to go and do likewise.
It may be that this loan is going forward in its
operation yet, according to the wishes of him who
commenced it ; but whether or not, the great com-
mission to every one on entering the world is, that

112

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

he also, as he hath received, should commimicate.
A man has no right to eat and drink and destroy
without reference to the world in which he lives,
and without a thought of those who are to come
after him in the world. The commission to the
apostles when they were sent forth, is also given
to each of us : ' Freely ye have received, freely
give.'

That each man should enjoy the fruit of all his
labour, and yet leave the world as well, or even
better, are quite compatible. A man plants an
orchard, and the fruit is his to enjoy ; while the
trees themselves are more permanent than he, and
may become a legacy for posterity. The proper
tillage of the field, while enriching the present pos-
sessor, also makes the same field mce fertile for the
succeeding heir. The house which is built may not
merely accommodate him who has erected it, but
other tenants, when the grave has become his sole
possession. Man's labours are, many of them, more
permanent than he is himself. To enjoy them, and
yet to carry out consciously the great scheme of
divine providence in enriching and beautifying the
world, is the part of the wise man. God wants
that we should be happy, and that we be the in-
struments of the happiness of others.

THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY.

113

AGAINST EXCESS.

A proper use of the sentiment of this passage
demands that we should not apply it to indulgence
in excess of any kind. To enjoy the fruit of
labour is very different from indulgence in gluttony,
drunkenness, riotous living, wantonness, or any in-
temperance. Any of these things will soon bring
both the labours and enjoyments of their votaries to
an end. There are diseases which attend what is
called good living, not m all in harmony with enjoy-
ment. Health and long life are not to liim who too
plenteously indulges any appetite, but to the tem-
perate man, who knows how to put a curb on his
appetite, and keeps every passion within due bounds.
If it can be proved that there is any article used as
food, or as a common beverage, which is either not
nutritious, or contains the seeds and elements of
disease, it certainly is no proper enjoyment of life
to partake of it, as, though it may gratify for the
moment, it brings misery of a much larger gi'owth,
which it will be the part of wisdom to guard against
by total abstinence from the subtle deleterious thing.
I do not now enter more particularly on (questions
of diet or drink ; only it may be laid down here as
an incontrovertible principle, that whatever tends
generally to produce a larger amount of misery than

114

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

it does of enjoyment in the use, ought to be shunned
by every wise man. Let a man only open liis eyes
consult his own personal experience, and take a
survey of the effects of any habit of eating or drink-
ing, and as he finds the evidence for or against, let
his decision and practical conduct be.

FRUIT OF LABOUR MANIFOLD.

The term, ' enjoy the fruit of all his labour,' has
a much wider meaning than can be comprehended
under the pleasures of the table. There are those,
we know, who think good eating and drinking, and
the special sociality connected therewith, constitute
the chief enjoyments of life. Most people, however,
add other pleasures, chiefly sensual ; but few, we
think, have their eyes sufficiently open to see the
cliief delights which may be derived from the
labours which man undertakes. Every work of
art has within it a source of rich enjoyment. It is
a casket which contains within it a gladsome jewel.
A well-proportioned building, a garden, a farm, a
picture, a statue, a piece of music, a poem, a well-
turned speech, and a thousand other things in
which we see the designing mind of man, constitute
the fruits of labour ; and he that has the sense will
taste and enjoy them. There is no piety, no reli-

gion-

-except deformity be a god-

-in refusing to

THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY.

115

admire and enjoy the things which are orderly and
beautiful, even though they be the production of
the mind and hand of man. One of the common-
places on which moralists and ministers rang the
changes during the preceding generation, was ' the
evils of luxury.' We rather think the ills which
they saw in luxury belonged simply to excesses, of
which there are many ; and luxury, like everything
else, may be carried to excess. It was the custom,
however, to aftirm that luxury certainly was the
precursor and the cause of the downfall of tlie
people who indulged it. It is very true that some
of the greatest nations of antiquity have been
patrons of luxury, and have also been conquered ;
but that they were conquered because they enjoyed
what may be called luxuries, is by no means apj^a-
rent. Barbarous people have been conquered who
knew nothing of luxuries, and some of the most
luxurious living people of the present day are the
most invincible. If a nation cease to labour, giving
itself over to enjoyment as the sole end of existence,
no doubt it is near its ruin ; but if it labour, and
"ujoy the fruit thereof, tliough in luxuries, that is
no evidence that its decay is begun, or that its fiiU
is near. We might ask the question. For what
l)urpose did God make those things which are called
luxuries ? Was it that they might remain in the

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116

THE AVISDOM OF THE KING.

lands which gave them birth, or that by exchange
— what we call commerce — they might become the
means of enjoyment in distant lands ? Inquire
again, What is a luxury ? Simply that which is
dear, and difficult to procure. The very things
which with us are articles of necessity, may be
luxuries to those from whom we get in exchange
our luxuries. Commerce is dependent in great
measure on that wicked thing luxury, and the
amity of nations also is dependent on commerce.
The brotherhood of the world, if it ever become a
thing of fact, will be largely indebted to what has
suffered so much railing by good, well-intentioned,
but rather short-sighted men.

;ii

OUR OWN *ABOUR TO BE ENJOYED.

We remark that man should not go beyond his
own labour for his own eating, drinking, and enjoy-
ment. In those things which are the property of
all, and cannot be appropriated by any, he, though
his labours may have had no hand in its produc-
tion, may find as much enjoyment as possible. The
fact is, there is but a very small portion of any-
thing that can become the peculiar possession of
the individual. A man may buy an estate, and
improve his domain, and cultivate his garden, and
in their produce he may have a sole claim ; but

THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY.

117

lid
id

lut

their beauties are common to aU who can appreciate
them :

* Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine.'

But then there are certain things wliich are indi-
vidual property, and no man has a right to trench
upon these. He has a right to the fruit of his own
labour, but no more. He has no right to steal, or
swindle, or to live beyond his means. The senti-
ment that the world owes us a living is no doubt
true, with certain limitations. It owes us the
reward of our labour ; and if we are not able to
labour, it owes us the means of sustaining existence.
But if any one should indulge in extravagant habits,
consuming not only the fruit of his own labour, but
the fruits of the labour of others, upon the plea that
the world owes him a living, we have to say that
the sentiment in this sense is false, and subversive
of justice in its foundation. It is a principle which
makes thieves, rogues, and vagabonds ; but which
must ever be discarded from the code of morals
professed by that very wortliy, and, we trust, not
very uncommon personage — an honest man.

FOOLISH LAWS.

We observe again, tliat we have no reason to sup-
pose that Solomon intended to make out a selfish

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118

THE WISDOM OF THE KING,

theory of life, thoi^gli lie here specially describes
only personal enjoyment. The remark which he
had made, no doubt from a wide observation of facts,
that riches laid up by the industrious man are too
often squandered by his foolish heir, is the key to
the whole meaning of his sentiment respecting what
is good to do with the earnings of a man's labour.
The whole amount of what he says lies in this, that
we may be too anxious to accumulate, too anxious
for the wealth of our children, our heirs. We may
lay up wealth, that they in whom our dearest affec-
tions are centred may have ease and enjoyment,
and may enter the ranks of gentility, from which
the early poverty of our life may have excluded us ;
but after we have given them the education and
culture of genteel society, and means to support their
position in the higher circle to which they have
mounted, it is still a question whether we have just
done the best thing for them. We know from our
own experience, that the great majority of those
who have thus inherited education and fortune, and
have been brought up to the life of what is called
high society, have turned out spendthrifts, who dis-
sij)ated the fortunes which they were heirs to more
rapidly than they were amassed. And if the fortune
was not dissipated, still it is questionable whether
])Overty itself would not be preferable to the life

H i . l l'Jnl, I J i _B !B«g

THE SENSUAL nilLOSOPHY.

119

of licentiousness which abundance enables such
persons to lead. It is, however, surely quite possible
to lay up a fortune for children, and at the same
time to train them up to make a wise use of that
fortune. And does it not seem that it would even
be a better tiling than to eat and drink and enjoy
the fruit of all our labour, if, while of course making
a rational use of the good gifts of God's providence,
men whose riches increase should set themselves
with wisdom and ardour to train their children in
the way that they should go, in industry, in truth-
fulness, in sobriety, in chastity, in charity, in piety,
in every human and divine nobleness ? True, in
some cases success might not attend the effort, and
many persons are unqualified for making it ; but stiU
it should be made, and we should endeavour to
qualify ourselves for it, so that if in the good provi-
dence of God any of us, even after eating and drink-
ing and enjoying the fruit of all our labour, should
find ourselves possessed of fortune, we may not fear
for its dissipation by those who are dearest to us in
the world. The virtues are not hereditary, except
with cultivation. The industry of the parent is not
to be found in the child, unless it be made a habit
in youth. We need to inculcate truth and principles
of right, if we would expect to see them spring up
among the young. There are, no doubt, some natures

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120

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

which do not readily take the mould. They seem
naturally virtuous or vicious. Some you can hardly
preserve from ruin, others you can hardly spoil.
But while the most fertile soil may be overrun with
weeds so that it is fit for no good purpose, the most
sterile will yield something to earnest cultivation.
And we may say that the future character of the
children of a family is chiefly dependent on the
mother. This is a general observation, and one not
among the popular delusions. The state of the
family relationship in Solomon's own experience did
not provide for the best superintendence on the part
of the mothers of his children, and probably he had
some forecastings regarding the folly of his heir,
taking their rise from the character of the wives he
had married. It is not indeed usual to find emi-
nent specimens of royal training, and certainly not
in the East. Even England has, within the memory
of those yet living, seen princes who were a disgrace
to humanity sitting on her throne, which ahnost
tottered beneath them on account of their dissipa-
tions and dishonours. The present generation has
been more fortunate. The excellence of the present
sovereign, who is respected even where royalty is
detested, is known to be the result of the careful
training of her royal mother, whom the empire yet
mourns. And may we not hope that the future

THE SENSUAL nilLOSOPHY.

121

generation shall enjoy an incalculable benefit in the
excellent training which every account testifies has
been given to the prospective heir to the throne, as
well as to his brothers and sisters, by their excellent
parents ? With such illustrious examples, we trust
the succeeding race of the great nation of wliich we
form a part, shall be found worthy to live and enjoy
the best heritage of labour which the past and pre-
sent generation of tlie IJritish people have heaped up
for their enjoyment. We also have a part in this
training. We too are labourers and careful, we too
are increasing in wealth. While we enjoy it in that
moderation suitable to our nature, and in accordance
with the laws of right, we are also bound to see to it
that not fools, but wise men and women, are trained
up to carry on the great work of civilisation and im-
provement which God is superintending on the earth.

ONLY THE PRESENT LIFE.

We may still further make the remark — a remark
which we have several times made in relation to
Solomon's philosophy of life — that he is dealing
solely with what is good for the present life. But,
in addition to this, it is to be observed that eating,
drinking, and enjoyment of the fruits of labour are
only to be viewed as means to an end. AVliy do we
eat, drink, and enjoy ? Is it that we may eat,

122

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

drink, and enjoy ? That would be an impotent con-
clusion. Some higher motive nmst animate us, or
we can lay claim to no higher title than that of a
superior kind of beasts. We have a God to glorify,
we have characters to form, we have an immor-
tality to secure. The glory of our God will be best
attained, not so much by acts of special worship, such
as praise and prayer, though these are necessary, as
by l)ecoming ever more like Him. From the high
nobility of our nature we have fallen ; but, blessed
be His name, He has given us a scheme of salvation
through which we may rise to the original state.
That salvation consists, first, in a proclamation of
pardon to the erring and siiiful — pardon to the
vilest, most degraded, most fallen, through the self-
renunciation of the Son of God — a necessary pre-
liminary to that great salvation by which we are
saved ; and while only a preliminary, yet also a great
moving cause of all the after acts and operations
of divine grace in the soul, begetting confidence in
God ; a clearer sense of His love ; a view of the
divine sonship of man ; — clearing up the way to the
cheerful and faithful performance of those duties of
life, which becoming habitual, conduce to sanctifica-
tion or holiness, — begetting also love to Him who
first loved us, and love to the brethren made like
to ourselves in confidence in God and love to Him,

THE SENSUAL rHILOSOniY.

123

and thus evermore fitting iis for a land, it may Tie,
not of rest, hiit of liiglier, liolier work than this
world affords ns any conception of For tliis wo
labour, eat, (h'ink, and enjoy the fruit of labour, — not
that we may be full and fatted, but that we may be-
come trutliful, faithful, loving, earnest for the right,
zealous for God, kind, gentle, virtuous, full of good
fruits, without partiality, without hypocrisy ; that we
may discover God in His works ; that we may reveal
God, in all His moral attributes of goodness and
mercy, and truth and love, to those who are around
us, and who shall be after us, the heirs of our labours,
as well in virtue and piety as in material wealth.

GENERAL VIEWS.

In reading such statements as those which we
have been considering, then, let us free ourselves
from the partial view of tilings which it presents to
our conceptions, and ascend to the higher contem-
plation of the whole, which we should always keep
in view. It is not by studying one star that we
will gain a knowledge of astronomy, nor by medi-
tating on one fact that we shall become skilled in
physical science. The one truth which guides us
to a just appreciation of what is best to do in rela-
tion to a supposed contingency, is ever to be collated
with the other truths which make up the whole

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124

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

?
I

science of life. When we look to the propriety of
an enjoyment of the things of this world according
to the theory of Solomon, or consider the Scjn of
man as having come eating and drinking, by no
means pursuing tlie ascetic course of His prede-
cessor the ])ii})tist, we are also to remember that the
object of His life was not that, but to seek and to
save the lost ; to teach the ignorant, to heal the sick,
to bear the cross, to exenii)lify love. There are, no
doubt, many excellent examples of those who make
Christ their example in eating and drinking ; but
he is no true follower of Christ who imitates Him
only in one thing. ' Grow up into Him in all
things,' was the idea of the apostle. The stature of
the perfect man in Christ Jesus is gigantic. It
embodies the whole of the code of duty. And not
especially in those things which Christ did in com-
mon with men of His day is He to be chiefly con-
sidered ; nor in imitating Him in that do we become
His followers, as some would seem to suppose, who,
it may be, to ease their conscience for excess, quote
Christ's example of eating and drinking. You might
as well say that you are becoming painters, or scidp-
tors, or poets, because Eubens, or Shakspeare, or
Phidias ate and drank, while you never think of
studying or imitating their great works with the
brush, the chisel, or the pen, as that you were be-

THE SENSUAL nilLOSOPIIY.

125

coming Christians because you cat and drink like
Christ. We should use the goods of providence, to
the end that we may work out the noble ideas with
wliioh our Saviour was struggling; and for no other
end must the Cliristian use the goods of this world
without abusing them. lie wants to rise in the
divine life ; he wi.shes to live to (lod, to benefit
the world, to elevate his own character : and so he
eats and drinks ; but whatever he docs, it is to the
glory of God.

ANXIETY ABOUT THE GOOD THINGS.

And another caution we need to take with us
when studying this subject. It is not to be too
anxious about our eating and drinking and enjoy-
ment. No doubt every creature of God is good,
and worthy to be accepted, if it be received Avith
thanksgiving ; but it is not good to be careful about
the goodness or exquisitencss of the things which
we use. We are cautioned against anxious seeking
* what we shall eat, or what we shall drink, or where-
withal shall we be clothed.' It is beneath the tlig-
nity of the noble mind to be much occupied with
such matters. Some people, indeed, must have their
minds occupied with them, but they are rather to
be pitied than imitated ; and those who have their
minds chiefly occupied with the needs of the soul.

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126

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

the way in which thev shall be supplied, how the
new man may grow and increase, how the depressed
and weary shall be elevated, have chosen the better
part, which shall never be taken from them. Martlia
is a very useful person, but Mary is a still higher
and nobler character.

SUMMARY.

Labour, then, is good, and the fruit of labour to
be enjoyed, and the legacy of labour to be left, and
posterity that is to enjoy and increase it, to be care-
fully cultivated, and all high and noble principles
in the soul are to \)q educated by means of the
things which sustain and comfort life, and that
which is best is to be sought and held, tlioiigh pre-
sent enjoyment should cease, and all sensual grati-
fications be denied. Each thing has its own value
— some less, some greater. The cultivation of the
mind is more important than the gratification of the
senses, and the rights of conscience are more to be
considered than either. Covet earnestly the best
gifts, — not riches, which make to themselves wings
and riy away, — not the fame of genius, which is
evanescent, l»ut the charity which never failetli,
which, while imiting us to all that is best in huma-
nity, allies us also to God our Father, and Jesus
our Saviour, whom to love is safety from all harm.

VIII.
THE KING'S DESPAIE.

' Yea, I hated all my labour which I had taken under the sun ;
because I should leave it unto the man that shall be after'nie. And
who knoweth whether he shall be a wise man or a fool ? yet shall
he have rule over all my labour wherein I have laboured, and
wherein I have showed myself wise under the sun. This is also
vanity. Therefore I went about to cause my heart to despair of
all the labour which I took under the sun. For there is a man
whose labour is in wisdom, ana in knowledge, and in e([uity ; yet
to a man that hath not laboured therein shall he leave it for his
portion. This also is vanity, and a great evil. For what hath
man of all his labour, and of the vexation of his heart, wherein he
hath laboured under the sun ? For all his days are sorrows, and
his travail grief ; yea, his heart tuketh not re.st in the night. This
is also vanity. ' — Eucles. ii. 18-23.

THE point to which we wish to direct atten-
tion, is the self-caused despairing mood in
which Solomon is in this hook presented before us.
He has sought and attained wisdom ; he has planted
and huilded, and the gardens and woods and noble
structures around him attest his success ; he has
engaged in commerce, and fortune has proved to him
no churl ; he has tried what were the charms of
pleasure, and joined in the joys of sensuality. He
has found all deceitful. Each thing thiit spake a

127

' i

128

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

word of promise to the hope, broke it to his sense.
Novelty has nothing new for him ; nay, he has dis-
covered that novelty is an old impostor, going by a
new alias. One would think that he had sufficient
reason for dissatisfaction, without seeking for fur-
ther causes of complaint. He was in that sort of dis-
satisfied state, that some change, even for the worse,
were better. He has no hope, yet this is only a
negative state ; he wants despair, that he may have
something further to C(,)mplain of, and that he may
be prevented from the disappointment of further
experiments. Every joy that with attractive light
lured him, had only left him in deeper gloom ; and
now he is afraid lest any other hope should induce
him to try other experiments in living. In a word,
he felt unha]ipy, and he was determined to continue
so. ' I went about,' says he, ' to cause my heart
to despair of all the labour wliicli I took under
the sun.'

This phase of the human character is perhaps not
very rare. Many people at some one time or other
pass through it. It is pre duced by a form of melan-
choly into which very successful persons sometimes
fall — successful, we mean, in material form, — and
is also experienced by persons with whom the world
goes hardly. We are to distinguish it from merely
dark views of human things. It is a stage of the

THE KING S DESPAIR.

129

miserable in advance of that. Solomon was afflicted
with simple and common melancholy when he, look-
ing o\er all tilings, pronounced them to be vanity
and vexation of spirit ; but the disease took a more
subtle and detrimental form when, not satisfied with
the ai)parent gloom and cloud witli which he saw
all things intested, lie was afraid of the least ray of
light breaking in upon them, and went about to
cause his heart to despair of them, — a miserable
employment surely, and one in which he is by no
means to be imitated.

HIS MELANCHOLY.

It may be useful to make an anatomy of this
melancholy, for I tlimk we can call it by no other
name. It is certainly not a perfectly sane state of
the mind, but argues a system out of harmony
with nature. God made evervthing beautiful, and
witli tlie most agreeable adaptations. The eye was
fitted to the light, the ear for sound, the mind for
d'signing, and the hand for action. The tribes of
animals are fitted for their condition of life, and man
fcr his. They being of lower order and capacity,
have given to them clothing from the gi'eat nianu-
tbctory of nature, their sim])le food s])rings sj)on-
taneously from the earth, and a den is for them a

sufficient home ; l>ut the higher powers of man find

130

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

dev(ilopment in the activities which are necessary
to procure food, clothing, and houses. I think we
must esteem it a great mistake to suppose that, if
man liad fewer needs, he wouhl be as great as he is.
The most noble and powerful races of mankind have
not sprung up where the means of life are most
easily procured. The South Sea Islands, wliere a
man having planted a single banana and a bread-
fruit tree is ensured his food for the rest of his life,
where frosts are never felt, and snow ne^er seen, —
these gardens of paradise are not the places where
man is produced in perfection ; but rather is he
likely to be found in northern climes, where he has
to wrestle with cold, and guard against hunger, and
protect himself from the inhospitality of the climate.
It is perfectly true that there is a certain amount
of cold and sterility which prevents the development
of his nature. But it is also true that the necessity
of using th.e arts of agriculture and manufacture, of
planting and building, is the very thing which de-
velopes and perfects the race of man. So much is
this the case, that you will in vain look for high
physical force and intellectual ability, except in those
places and times in which a high state of manufac-
ture and commercial activity prevails. Admitting
this, then, which we must if we are not deaf to the
voice of all history, we must also admit that the

THE KING S DESPAIR.

131

very labour, the planting and building wliicli Solomon
went about to make his heart despair of, were the
very things which were most suitable for man to be
engaged in. This philosophy of his surely is not
wisdom, but a form of insanity. Even admitting,
which we do, that these things are not of a satisfac-
tory description ; admitting that, for the purpose of
exciting man to higher endeavour and more full de-
velopment of his nature, as well as to show that
there is a higher nature in him which these things
are incapable of satisfying ; admitting this unsatis-
factoriness, is it right, is it judicious, is it according
to the mind of Him who created us witli these
activities, and the objects on which they are to be
exercised, to go about for means and reasons of
not mere dissatisfaction, but despair ? No, no. The
man of wisdom, the man of pleasure, and the man
of business, is now become the jaded, worn-out,
melancholy man. He has arrived at the issue of
the course which he pursued ; his conclusion is
the result of a diseased imagination. In a word, we
look upon him as labouring under a fit of saddest
melancholy.

I.f

BLACK BILE.

The term which we Iiave employed to designate
this state of mind in which we lind Solomon during

132

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

one era of liis life, refers it to a physical cause. The
term is compounded of two words signifying black
bile, which is indicated as the cause of those sad
and moody states, in Avhich a pall is, as it were,
cast over the beauty and brightness of the world.
Without doubt, the corruption or tlie stoppage of the
secretions of the body has very much to do with the
dark views we take of surrounding things. But
yesterday, and all was bright — the whole panorama
of nature was lit up witli a purple light, which
brought back all the freshness and feelings of youth ;
but to-day, the same world, shorn of all its glory, is
a dark prison-house. Things have not altered, nor
has fortune visited us with any stroke. The sun
shines bright and warm, and we are nearer to the
genial sunnner-time ; but yet — ah, it is as unlike the
world of yesterday as possible. The change is in
us, not in it ; a change, too, which is not dependent
on, nor does it arise from, processes of reason. The
mental change depends on one that is physical. The
health has become disordered, the nervous system
has suffered — possibly from some inadvertence, some
excess, some folly ; let us add, some sin — the sin of
ignorance, or the sin of presumption. We have
studied too intently, wrought too hardly, exposed
ourselves rasldy, eaten voraciously, drunk intempe-
rately, breathed some malarious atmosphere, neglected

THE king's despair.

133

proper exercise, or cominitted some other crime by
which we sinned against tlie constitution of our
being, violated the laws of our God, and j)ut our sys-
tem out of harmony with the world ; and now that
which pleased us is hateful — the beauty has become
ashes, and mourning succeec^s the oil of joy, and the
spirit of heaviness is worn instead of the garment of
praise. Traced to its cause, this sad state in which
we sometimes find ourselves, is found to issue from
foolish irregularities, which have engendered, not, it
may be, any decided or positive disease, but melan-
choly ; an atrabilious disposition, in which the man,
if he be a writer or a talker, is sure to rail against
nature, describing lier in pictures of woe, and with
the accents of despair.

RAILING FASHIONABLE.

Sometimes this railing at nature, picturing her in
the very saddest guise, is the natural result of expe-
rience, habit, or temperament ; sometimes, however,
it is only a fashion. We have no reason to snp])ose
that Solomon was in any respect insincere or hypo-
critical in his objurgations of a world which, through
his own excesses, had disappointed him. It is quite
otherwise, however, with many who go about railing
in good set terms at nature and fortune. They are
([uite in favour with both ; but the fashion, religious

134

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

or social, is to rail at tliein, so without feeling tliey
utter their tirades. The pulpit has not always been
free from these fashionable hypocrisies. It is a pity
that one should feel sad, but worse, in some aspects,
to pretend these miserable hallucinations. We have
an abundance of real evils, without heaping uji ima-
ginary ones. There are plenty of birds of the night.
No need that those of song should convert them-
selves into owls. We ourselves may soon enough
feel the miseries which we now pretend. We do
not know that it is wise to anticipate the discovery
that all is vanity. Certainly there is no reason in
the cultivation of a premature despair.

THE king's melancholy UNCOMMON.

But the melanclioly of Solomon was worse than
simple melancholy. His was a state of mind not
merely produced by outward impressions, but one
which he was at pains to perpetuate and deepen.
It is said that, when tlie Libyan tiger is wounded
by the arrow, it turns itself upon it, driving the
barb deeper and deeper into its own vitals. This
was the course which Solomon pursued. Stricken
by the bitter poisoned darts of disappointment, he
voluntarily strikes them deeper into his soul, and
goes about causing his heart to despair of all his
labour. A man who does this is surely quite as in-

':'^'Ti

THE KING S DESPAIR.

136

sane as if, wounded, he should tear open the gash
that the life-bhjod Miiglit flow out.

Consider his case. His proverbs arc the con-
centration of liunian wisdom, — a philosophy of life
which the world will never allow to die, and which
shall make his name famous to all generations. He
has known how to condense in terse apophthegms
the thoughts that float in the cloud-land of luunan
imagination ; but he fears that these will all die,
and no one will remember him, so he makes his
lieart to despair regarding a fatality which was
never to come to pass.

The tem})le which he built was to stand for many
generations — the place of sacrifice and prayer, the
type of Him who was to bring in a higher religion,
and a deeper philosopliy of life. And yet of this
he would cause his heart to despair too. Is it not
a sufficient rebuke to the King's folly to know that
the great purposes of Jehovah for man's redemp-
tion w^ere embodied in that structure, and that
its sacrifices and services we -e to enter into the
contexture of the religious mind through all time
to come ?

The various palaces, tlie works of art, the cities
which he reared — why despair even of them ?
They have their uses, and subserve great ends.
They are not enduring, it is true ; but why scorn

'"FTI

i'H

" I i j iii n «i«wia»

136

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

< i|

them on that account ? Thousands have been
<fladdened by them, and wliy should we account
that nought wliicli gives to the souls of men beauty
and joy ? If tlie monarch's mind has not been
satisfied with the product of his labours, and the
works of liis men of genius, how many have been
gratified by them ! Are we to consider them
useless because they are not eternal ? It will be
sufficient surely to know — why should we say find
out, as if it were some hidden truth ? — that these
things are not to live for ever, nor we either with
or by them. Not because they shall at some dis-
tant time decay, or become the prey of war, should
they be deemed useless. Despair does not become
us, if we are not utterly selfish of that which has
added a joy and glory to humanity. Though they
deserve measured praise, they are not to be scorned
and despised.

SELFISHNESS AT THE ROOT.

There seems a terrible sel^slmess in all this com-
plaint that his works were not eternal, and that he
was not likely to attain to immortal fame among
the sons of men. We recognise the beauty and
uses of that desire which is in us all — to live in
the memory of the future generations ; but we
know that this desire may take on a morbid form,

w
(f

(
o

TIIK KINGS DESPAIU.

137

and so work niin, instead of inciting to noblo action.
Alexander, that he may be fiinious, conquers the
world ; Solomon, because he fears Ids fame may die,
goes about causing his heart to despair of all he has
done. The example taken Irom the action of the
one, and the complaining of the other, are alike
bad ; for while a few may imitate either, every one
who thinks providence has not dealt with him fairly
can go about wrin'nnir his hands, and working a
great deal of small misery in his own little circle.

WHY NOT TRY WAR ?

It is rather wonderful that Solomon, having tried
every form of human action, did not, also for the
sake of experiencing a new sensation, try war also.
This abstinence, however, we may lay to the account
of his quiet natnre ; to his philosophy, which showed
him its folly ; and to tiie happy condition in wliich
he found his kingdom. We can almost forgive him
his despairing outcries, when we think that he was
of such a wise, practical disposition ; and, notwith-
standing all the praises that have been sung of war,
we cannot help wishing that the renowned con-
querors of ancient and modern times had always
employed themselves as usefully as the wise, prac-
tical, though sometimes complaining. King of Israel.

i^l

138

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

MINISTERIAL DESPAIR.

And tlie saiuc wish we ought to utter foi
selves. It is too much the case with us all, iliat
we find it easier to copy a great man's defects than
to imitate his excellences. David is far easier
imitated in sinning against Uriah tlian in singing
the praises of Jehovali. We lind it far easier to
utter coni])liiints with Solomon than to follow the
counsels of his wisdom. We are far hetter at
proving the hollowness of his mirth tluin in fleeing
from the way of fools. We are also more ready to
build and plant, with all the dissatisfactions ^' ;h
attend these operations, than to fear God and ^)
His commandments, in the keeping of which we
should find great reward. The good part is not
readily chosen. There is something in tlie dis-
ordered state of cur nature which finds its like in
the disorder around us, and consorts with it — not
happily indeed, but with a sort of elective affinity,
like the chemical elements of things. We all, like
Solomon, are guilty of our own melancholy. We
imitated him in his excesses, hence the moody hours
and days we spend ; and though we do not know
it, we go about sometimes — some of us causing our
heart to despair of all our labours which we under-
take under the sun. Probably there are no persons

i ;

THE KING S PESl AIU.

130

in the world more guilty of this tliaii ministers.
The causes are various. Isf,, Their studies, induc-
ing sedentary habits, are far more likely to produce
that peculiar form of ill healtli, which consists not,
it may be, of any orgaidc disea.se, but functional
derangement — the parent of melancholy and de-
sjiairing thought. 2ff, As it is their duty to jxtint
man to a l)etter world, and prepare him for it, tliey
are strongly tempted to de]>reciate below even its
proper wortli the value of the present and temjxn'al,
that the value of the eternal may, by the heightened
contrast, stand out more pronnnentiy, Tliis may
be all V(!ry fair, provided it do not take the form
of any ja-actical exti ivagance, which with strong,
healtliy ninids it will tot, but which it is too apt
to do with those whom nstitution or habit, or the
strokes of a peculiar providence, have rendered
hopeless and desjjairful ; and provided that it do
not engender a hypocritical habit of speech, which,
wliile denouncing all human things, is felt to be yet
unreal, or, under the pretence of taking up the
cross, commits such vagaries as commanding not to
marry, or to abstain from meats, or not to rejoice with
those who rejoice, or not to use the world. And, 'id,
Ministers are also likely to go about causing their
hearts to despair when they see so little fruit of all
their labours, not thinking that the seed they sow

140

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

may long lie in the field without much sign of
vitality, yet be only waiting to burst fortli ; and also
remembering that there are plants which God has
made which take a long time to grow, of which
sometimes the truth, morally considered, is an in-
stance. The Indiar fig only blooms once, and then
at ^he ago of a liundred years. Long it is a weak,
small plant, yet at the end of that time it springs
up in a short time to the height of twenty or thirty
feet, only to bloom for a few weeks, and then die ;
but, in dying, to give birth to a hundred plants like
itself, each to take as long an age in growing as its
parent ere a single flower may be expected. I think
some of those who are long in maturing sliL-uld be
content to wait tlie flowering time of God's provi-
dence. Then, Afh, There is also, it may be, too
earnest a desire for that fame — that lasting remem-
brance — after w^iich Solomon aspired. We would
be immortal It is all fair enough to desire fame
and lasting remembrance, when we pursue it accord-
ing to the laws of righteousness. Every man has a
right to carve his nrtme as deep as he can in the
heart of the future ; but it is surely foolish to kill
present enjoyment because we cannot catch what,
after all, is — no, I will not say a beautiful phantom
— but a glorious name. In urging that we should
not make our hearts despair of the present because

THE KmCrS DESPAIR.

141

WG cannot imagine ourselves enjoying the future,
I would not say a hard word to make man less
anxious about the attainment, through deeds of
noble worth, of a niche in the temple where pos-
terity contemplates the features of the unforgotten
dead. There is quite enough of desire for the
realization of the material ; quite enough of epicu-
reanism ; quite enough of (questioning wliat viands
we shall eat, and wliat delicious beverages we sliall
drink ; quite enough of racing for riches, and figlit-
ing for a merely transitory power, and far too little
of that desire for the lasting approbation of pos-
terity, which in the long run we take to be equi-
valent to the approbation of God. And may it not
be that, though in the silent land we shall find no
work or desire with which to engage us, we may
yet know what works are being done under the
sun, — may yet have some capacity for the reception
of joy when our names are mentioned, or of knowing
what deeds are yet being done which we initiated, or
of observing those ideas wliich we may have either
discovered or given an impetus to — making tlieir
way through the minds of the existing generations,
gladdening the world by their presence and spiritual
fruit ? The theory of the state of the departed, which
these thouglits imply, whethti- true or false, is yet of
blessed tendency. It would, even apart from the

142

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

usual view of the bliss attending the immortality of
the soul, be a spur to noble action, — would lead us
to spurn baser motives, and the lower life of the eat
and drink and die to-morrow philosophy. Sensuality
and selfishness would be all the more overcome by
the view which not only surveys our alliance and con-
nects us firmly with the humanity which now exists,
but also witli that which ever shall exist.

SOCIETY DESPAIRFUL.

But the despairful is not alone to be found Avith
ministers. You will find it in all ranks of society.
Youth is happily freed from it. We must pa.?s
through the various experiences of life ere v*e front
tliis grim image, and wait to listen to his sad and
melancliol}^ moanings. In youthful days we rush
away from any of the incarnations in which he goes
about the world. Later in life, probably, we may,
like the wedding guest, bn forced to listen to the
ancient mariner's tale of woe, being held by the
peculiar fascination of his glittering eye. But at
all stages of life we may be momentarily or more
permanently disturbed by his lamentations. There
are those who, if they have no work, complain of the
bad times ; if tliey have it, they complain that they
are wearied. Others have had disappointments, and
the foundations of socif'ty are dissolved. Success

lit

THE KING S DESPAIR.

143

has not stopped the complaints of others, who have
still many woes. We are far from making light of
the troubles and real miseries of the widow, the
fatherless, and the bereaved. We would mingle our
tears with theirs. We would sympathize with them.
When we see real legitimate sorrow, God forbid that
we should say a word to reprove its sacredness. But
when this jaded, miserable complaining in the midst
of plenty, peace, and success meets us, we woidd
desire to exorcise the unclean spirit. It is to be
met with in many beautifu^ apartments, into which
the foot of death has never intruded, where real
sickness has never entered, where, however, a regu-
lar manufactory of small evils goes forward with
unceasing din. In tlie midst of plenty, and elegance,
and ease, there is a felt misery. Books, building,
planting, have not all availed to keep away miserable
despairing thoughts. The world is all out of sorts,
for the soul is not well balanced, and the mind is
fretful, because the health is disordered, and the
person is not well, because the laws of nature have
been violated. Or it may be that the inmate has
not had the respect thought to be due, or some long-
sought success has not been obtained ; and because
that on which the heart has been set has been
denied, then all is vanity, and there is despair in
presence of the fruit of all the labour under the sun.

■■

144

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

THE VICTIMS OF DESPAIR.

There would not be so much fruit of evil, if this
despair were confined in its effects to those who
are its special subjects ; but others are often driven
almost to madness by those who, having conceived
and brought forth misery, nurse it, and bring it up
under their own special eye. In private life, chil-
dren and dependents are sometimes made miserable
by the dark views of life which are continually
being presented by parents or masters, who are ever
either reciting their own experience of misery, or
pointing out the worm in the bud of every joy. It
is all (|uite right to warn against the evils of vice,
intemperance, and ungodliness ; and, as a general rule,
there is too little of that. But there is also such a
treatment of innocent lawful enjoyment by melan-
choly minds as is calculated to sha'low and cloud
the world. And this is done l)y those who take
upon themselves the office of instructors, and plume
themselves on their wisdom ; — a miserable employ-
ment for any one, but especially for those who other-
wise are gifted witli -wdsdom and sense.

TEMPEHANCE AN ANTIDOTE TO DESPAIR.

If we would enjoy what is enjoyable in this
world, we should see that we do not by intemper-

THE KING S DESPAIR.

ance of any kind violate those laws by which it is
guided. We should not expect more from the world
than it was intended to give, nor let its troubles
master us any more than we should allow its
pleasures to seduce us. He is a poor soldier who
complains that the march wearies him, or that the
conflict is distasteful to liim. Aflliction should nut
work despair, but patience, experience, and a hope
that maketh not ashamed. So shall we escape that
mockery of piety which consists in wringing of
hands and outcrying despair. So shall we be tluis
fai worthy followers of Him who through the valley
of humiliation went eating and drinking and doing
good, and conquered death by the good-will with
whicli He gavt up life, that the deserts of tlie world
might hope to blossom as the rose.

THE WOELD SUBSERVES GOD's TURPOSES.

This world should not be despaired of, as it sub-
serves all the purposes for which it was intended.
It was not intended for the permanent home of man.
In its present state, and even in any state in wliicli
we may fancy it to have previously existed, it could
not have been the permanent abode of the individual
man. Had man not sinned, no deatli would have
intruded ; yet surely ^nust the individuals of the
human family have been translated from tliis scene

14G

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

to some other. Troubles innumerable we can directly
trace to the sin of man. As for such a being as man
now is, ignorant, wayward, sinful, it is just such a
world as is fitted for his tutelage. He needs instruc-
tion, and he needs the rod. In uninterrupted pro-
sperity his rejoicing would go beyond all due bounds,
but adversity is sent to teach him consideration.
Viewed as a being whose whole conscious existence
is shut in by the gate of death, we might show that
the troubles and misery which fall to the usual lot
of mortality are useful and profital>le. The pain
which we feel when we are hurt is an admonitory
angel, calling our attention to the danger of destruc-
tion w^e are in. Our sense of unsatisfactoriness in
the enjoyment of all, is the best schoohuastei we can
have to lead us to the learning of the high destiny
that awaits us. We do not despair of life. It is
just the primary stage in Avliich the innnortal being
should begin its upward course. It is a place of
sin and of sorrow, but also a place of atonement and
recovery, and faitli and hope, — a place in which, no
doul)t, the creature groans under the bondage of cor-
ruption, but a place from which that same creature
shall be yet introduced into the glorious liberty of
the children of God, — a place in which the glory of
all things turns to corruption, but in which also it
shall be raised to incorrui>tion, — a place of deserts.

THE king's despair.

147

of
of
it

but of deserts which shall yet rejoice and blossom
as the rose, — a place which Satan has ravaged, but
from wliich he shall yet be expelled, — a place which
at present is an hospital for the recovery of those
who have l)een wounded in the battle of sin, but
yet a place which shall become the pidatial abode
of the saints of God, — a place in which slavery,
spiritunl as well as natural, binds its captives, but a
place in which the ransomed of the Lord shall dwell,
— a place which man's moody thoughts render even
darker and gloomier than his sins have made it, but
a place which the light shed over its very tomb
illuminates for the Christian labourer, — a place with
many sorrows, but also with many joys. We do
not think, considering what man is, what his igno-
rance is, what tl!3 wdckedness of his will and the
folly of his heart are, that anything can surpass the
economy and arrangements by which God would
l)ring sinners to Himself, to happiness and glory, out
of this place of sorrow and joy. It is not for us
to despair of the great and noble world-building, nor
of the works with which man, by the constitution
of his nature, is fitted for higher things. Everytliing
is good in its season.

: PREPARATORY STAGE. .

Still, be it ever remembered that to man the chief

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148

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

satisfaction arises from contemplating the present as
preparatory to the future. Tlie scaffolding and the
loose material alone being before our mind, we may
fail to discover their fitness and propriety ; Ijut
when the noble structure rises, when tier on tier
ascends, and wlien the whole pile stands forth in the
proportions of the architect's mind, we see no reason
to complain of the means by wliich such a result
has been attained. Witli us the difficulty is, that
we only see the scaffolding of nature's great temple.
The plan may with more or less of clearness be
revealed. Yet what are we, to set ourselves to judge
of the proportions or features of that mighty struc-
ture which God is rearing out of the depths of the
past eternity, and which He shall go on building
through the eternity that is to come ? To criticise
the small portion which our eyes can survey, is
almost as silly as for the fly to pronounce uj)on the
proportions of tlie great cathedral from its observa-
tions on the small inequalities whicli its microscopic
vision had detected in the ponderous stones. Let
us not then precipitately judge, but carefully in-
quire into the fitness and excellences of all the
works of God, assured that in every rJisorder there
is a hidden fitness, and in all disproportion a hidden
beauty, and in misery itself a weU-ii,pring of joy.
Despair not of the works of thy hand. They are

TiiK king's DP:srAiR.

149

not eternal, tliey are suited to a transient state,
tliey are for a present use. But with all present
work let there be ever associated the work of faith
and the laljour of love. Though the work of thy
hands ^ierish, thou, reader, slialt never die. The
cup of cold water given to the disci^de in the name
of Christ, the cheerful word spoken, the kind deed,
the weight lifted from off the back burdened with
misery, — the rec(jrd and the reality of these are
everlasting. When despairing thoughts troop in
upon the tablets of the mind, and till the view of
the eye of the soul, the best of all things to dispel
these wild gibljering fancies, is to turn the eye of
faith to the things which God hath prepared for
them that love Him. Be it so that the sun has a
sickly glare, that thinkings which we cannot con-
quer spread a dark pall over all that was once so
bright and beautiful in the scenery of nature ; he it
so that no earthly medicine can cure the eye whose
weakened nerve sees gloom where gladness once
dw elt ; still faith opens up through all, vistas by
which we may see the New Jerusalem descending
out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned
for her husband, and a new heavens and a new
earth wherein dwelleth righteousness, where there
are neither sorrows nor tears, and from which sad-
ness and sighing have for ever fled away.

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150

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

A HARlBINdER.

It may be that this very (Ussatisfactioii culminat-
ing in despair, is al'^o the luirbingcr and ni»])i'()aching
liope of l)etter tilings. Wlien winter first sets in,
and the liglit and l)eautiful snow spreads over the
eartli lier cliaste covering, we, yet far from spring,
enjoy ourselves, and feel a charm in viewing tlie
deatli of nature. But wlien the sniol'c and the dust
have l)esmirched and begrimed the fair purity of the
pall in wliich it delights nature to invest herself, —
wlien all things look dismal and dreary, and we
begin to feel despairful, — we know that then the
spring is nearing us, and that soon the sun, wheeling
from his northern tropic, will call forth all the sweet
flowers, and awake the birds of song. Even so,
when through the long winter of discontent we have
approached llie most despairing j)eriod of the dark,
cold days of vanity, then are we nearer to the
spring-time of the new life, and then may we be
laid open to the bright beams of the Sun of Eight-
eousness, which risetli in, often, the darkest and
most dreary time of man's history, dispelling all
his despair, and gladdening him with the beautiful
graces and excellences of a new life. If any of
us have a2)proached this terrible period of expe-
rience, may we turn our eyes to Him who came

THE KINGS DESPAIR.

151

to open tlic prison-house to the captive, to bind
lip the broken-liearted, and to comfort all that
mourn ; and may God give us light in our dark-
ness, leading us to Pisgidi, tluit ^ve may behold the
high lands of hope, wliere desjjair never enters !

mwm

IX.
MATERIALISM AND MORALS.

' To every tiling there is a season, and a time to every purpose
umlcr the heaven. ' ' And, moreover, I saw under the sun the; ])late
of ju(l<,nnent, tluit wickcducs.s was tliere ; and the place of li^fliteous-
iiess, that ini([iiity wa^ there. I .said in mine heart Gud shall judge
the righteous and the wieked : for there is a time there for every
purpose, and for every work. I .said in mine heart concerning the
estate of the .sons of men, that God might manifest them, and that
they might see that they themselves are beasts. For that which
hefalleth the sons of men hefalleth beasts ; even one thing befalleth
them : as tin; one dietli, so dieth the oth(;r ; yea, they have all one
breath : so that a man hath no pre-eminence above a beast : for all
is vanity. All go unto one ])lace : all are of the dust, and all turn
to dust again. Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward,
and the spirit of the beast thatgoctth downward to tlu' earth '. Where-
fore I perceive that there is nothing better, tlian tJiataman should
rejoice in his own works ; for that is his portion : for who .shall
bring him to see what shall be after him?' — Eccles. iii. 1, 1(3-22.

NEAR A DISCOVERY.

IT is traiige how near one may be to making the
mo.st important discoveries, and yet miss them.
We may walk over the gold-fiekl, and almost toiicli the
hidden treasure, and yet be unconscions of ■ .^.
ness to untold wealth. Oftentimes ' m j
down into the earth alongside the n at l. .'OU
reward him for all his toil, or he ma^ sink i m shaft
many fathoms, and, when within a few fe- 1 of the

152

'^:l5r*^

MATEmALISM AND MORALS.

153

precious treasure, may give over and lose all liis
labour. It is tlms also with the treasures of mental
and moral science, and with discoveries in art and
philosopliy. Tlie thinker lVe([uently hits up(jn a
trutli, whicli, if stuailily followed, would lead to
most important discoveries, but, from unsteadiness
of vision or laxness of pursuit, the thread of thouglit
is suffered to escape, and he c(jntinues to wander in
the labyrinth.

A PLACE FOR JUDGMENT.

Solomon was here on the point of a most im-
portant discovery, wlien, api>lying the maxim that
for every purp(jse and for every work there is a time,
he concluded that God shall judge the righteous
and the wicked ; but he seems innnediately to have
grown dizzy with the thought, and to have rec(jiled
from the magnificent consequence, which can be
nothing less than a state of existence after death, in
which that judgment may be carried out ; for the
observation which he had made, was that it is not
carried out in this life, ' wickedness being in the
place of judgment,' — a very true observation. Since
there is, then, a time for judgment, it must be after
death, as it has had no room here ; and yet, flying
off, as it were, to the very opposite pole of thought,
he proceeds immediately to say, * I said in mine

•■^1

■f

154

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

heart concerning the estate of tlie sons of men, that
God might manifest them, and that they might see
that they themselves are beasts. For that which
befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts ; even one
thing befalleth them : ris the one dietli, so dieth the
other ; yea, tliey have all one breath : so that a
man hath no pre-eminence above a beast : for all is
vanity. All go unto one place : all are of the dust,
and all turn to dust again. Who knoweth the spirit
of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the
beast that goetli downward to the earth ? Where-
fore I perceive that there is nothing better, than
that a man should rejoice in his own works ; for
that is his portion ; for Avho shall bring him to see
that which shall come after him ? '

ti
P

SUBVERSIVE REASONINGS.

Here, then, are two trains of analogical reasoning,
the one of which is necessarily subversive of the
other. On the one hand, it is observed that for
everything and for every purpose there is a time
under the heaven, — to be born, to die, to plant, to
pluck u}), to kill, to heal, to break down, to build
up, etc. There is no purpose or desire or passion in
man, or as regards man, but there is a time for its
fuifdment or gratification. But there is one ano-
maly, that there did not appear to be any place or

MATERIALISM AND MORALS.

155

time here for the fiilfihiient of justice ; for in the
place of judgment under the heaven, ho saw that
wickedness was there, and iniqu'ty was in the place
of righteousness. The time that was for every other
pm-poso, led him to exi:)ect tliat there would he a
time for the fulfilment of judgment upon each indi-
vidual according to his deserts, just as there was a
time for him to be horn and to die, and that there
would be the same regularity about the one as about
the other ; but that war? not the case in this world,
and therefore tlie conclusion of his heart, of his
wIkjIc moral nature, wps, God shall judge the right-
eous and the wicked. He does not do it now, but
surely He will do it. The moral nature of Solomon
told him God must have a purpose to reward the
righteous and the wicked according to their deserts.
That is not done here ; yet following all analogy,
which gives a time far every ])urpose, if not done
here, it must be done hereafter. This is the one side
of the argument.

The other side of th.o argument is the apparent
brutality of man. He a]>pears to Solomon to be
only a higher kind of beast : ' as the one dies, so dies
the other ;' the breath of one is as the breath of the
other ; they all go to the earth, and both, as to their
bodies, are compounded of dust. The meaning (jf
Solomon in the seeming distinction which he makes

PI 11

Jlii-i^-.

156

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

between the spirit of the beast and the man, is, that
you cannot tell the difference here either, otherwise
the conchision in the last verses of the chapter is
singularly inconclusive, viz. that the enjoyment of
the present is his portion, and that none can bring
him to see tliat which shall be after him ; evidently
the meaning of the question, ' Who sliall bring him
to see that which shall be after him V These, then,
are two sidi s of the great question regarding the
existence of the man after death, and the judgment
which shall follow, — two sides as they presented
themselves to the mind of Solomon ; and if we were
left wholly to the gui fiance of reason, we might hesi-
tate before concluding on wliich side the prepon-
derance lay, tliough, with the full elucid'^tion of the
subject by the words and life and death of Christ,
we can have no hesitation in saying that Solomon,
in the former of the two analogies, hit upon the
right principle, the principle wliich squares all that
is irregular in the moral dispensation of the present
world, and reduces to harmony all that confusion
which induced him to pronounce everything here
vanity and vexation of spirit.

ANALOGICAL EEASONING.

Eeasoning from analogy or likeness is a very popu-
lar mode of deciding an argument, and, with due

MATERIALISM AND MOKALS.

157

precautions, is a very useful guide to truth. But
very often, from want of care in neglecting some im-
portant difference, the whole argument may be viti-
ated. Let us then see, in relation to the subject on
hand, whether Solomon did not omit some important
difference between man and the bestial tribe, wliicli
renders his conclusion regarding the future false ;
and then let us see whether his observation relative
to the unequal rewards and punishments of vice and
virtue in tliis world should not absolutely lead us to
affirm a life to come, during wliich these rewards
and punishments may take effect.

ANIMAIJTY.

Is man indeed no more than a beast ? That he
partakes of nmch which forms the brutal nature, is
quite true. The same earth and gasses enter into
the composition of his body. The air which he
breathes is the same air. His food is similar. The
vegetable and the animal alike a.pi)ease the appetite
of tlie man and the beast. Both drink at tlie same
fountain. The framework of both is of meclianical
construction. Many of tlie diseases wliich affect the
brute creation have their counterpart in the ills to
which human flesh is also heir. The same typical
forms are discovered liy the comparative anatomist
running through the whole range of animal life,

158

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

from the lowest to the higliest. They come into the
world through the same path, they pass out of it
through the same dismal gate. Tlie same senses
they have in conmion. Their desires are to a large
extent similar, as are their modes of gratifying them.
In most things there seems almost as little differ-
ence between man and some of the superior animals
as there is between these last and those of an in-
ferior gi-ade. Why, then, not at once come to the
conclusion that man is but a beast, and that as the
one dieth, so dieth tlio other, and the same destiny
of unconsciousness awaits l)oth ?

THE MATERIAL ARGUMENT, ANCIENT AND MODERN.

This is the very argument whicli is still insisted
upon by those who deny a future state of existence.
There has been nothing new advanced on this sub-
ject since the time of Solomon. But there is pro-
bably no thinker, who has ever turned liis attention
to the subject of a future state, who has not felt the
pressure of the same facts demanding that he should
infer a like fate for both man antl the lower animals.
But it miglit well be questioned wliether death be
the destruction of any of the creatures which God
has made, wliile i is quite certain that there is in
man a nature which, with all its similarities to the
brute creation, is yet of a superior order. Among

MATERIALISM

AND

MORALS.

159

other elements of superio

I'itv.

lie is canal)

le of in-

definite progress in thought, in reason. The lower
animals come to a certain stage at a very early
period, and you can teach them nothing more. The
progressive generations of beasts make no progress
in superiority over their past progenitors. But it is
not so with us; and when that part of our nature l»y
which we are allied to the brutes sickens and de-
cays, the mind, the reason, are just as strong in very
many cases as ever, showing no symptom of decay.
We might urge an argument which has been ad-
vanced by Butler, to sliow that there is no reason
to think that death is the destruction of our living
powers — our personality. We insist that death seems
really not to destroy the essential being of wliicli we
are possessed. It does destroy the frame, the house,
the tenement in which the thinking being resides,
and reiiders it no longer tenantable ; but there is
nothing in the nature of things, nothing observable,
which should lead us to infer that we may not live
and act, either by an innate force, or by means of
some other body — our house wliich is from heaven,
of which St. Paul speaks. We say that we should
do so, for our bodies are not properly a part of us.
We can afford to lose limbs, all our limbs, witliout
our consciousness being impaired. At different times
in our life, as far as matter is concerned, our l)odies

1 * *---

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; I _ - * i

160

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

are entirely different, and yet we are the same.
Wliat can we then infer, but that our essential exist-
ence is not dependent on the existence of our bodies ?
Thouirh such a view as tliis should be admitted to
be inconclusive of the fact of our continued exist-
ence, still, if it, as it does, neutralize the positive
conception which we are likely to form, that death
is the destruction of the soul, then are we left to
the due influence of the proper argument for its con-
tinued existence. We must see that a very strong
reasoning may be founded on the fact observed by
Solomon, that for every purpose there is a time, but
there seems to be no time given here for the execu-
tion of a complete judgment and justice ; and the
inference therefore remains, that in the future that
time will be granted.

THE SPECIAL PUKI'OSE < )F FUTURE LIFE.

Consider what the special purpose and work are
for wliich this future time, and existence of the
human being in that time, are necessary. The pur-
pose and work are to enact justice ; to carry out
the great principles of judgment, so that vice shall
have its due puiii=ihment, and virtue its due reward.
But is tliis evidently the purpose of God ? We
should surely say so. A thousand things here lead
us to expect that He will do right. Tlie constitu-

IklATERIALISM AND MORALS.

161

tioii of our nature leads us to expect tliut we shall
sufier puuisliinent for our wickedness, and that we
shall have reward for righteousness, AVe cannot
get over tliis feeling. AVe see that oftentimes this
judgment does take place ; hut we also see that it
is very partial in its present operation, and yet we
conceive that it should he universal. The oi)eration
of the law of retrihution, in part, leads us to think
that He who instituted the })artial process will carry
it out to its fullest extent. If we could conceive of
Him as unahle to do so, we need not draw this con-
clusion ; hut wlien we think that He is perfectly altle,
Ave have no otlier resort than to sup])ose that lie
will do it. The purpose and work, then, A\hich seem
necessary, and for which there must he assigned a
time and a place like everything else, are justice and
judgment; and since there is no time or ])lace for
such purpose and work here, they are to be looked
for in the world that is to he.

INJUSTICE F.VEIIYWIIERE.

Consider the wide-spread injustice which reigns
here, hut of which the maxim that there is a time
for everything leads u." to conclude that tliere will
be a rectification, Solomon ]ias well expressed it in
this and the succeeding chapters. ' j\Ioreover,' says
he, ' I saw under the sun the place of judgment, that

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162

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

wickedness was there ; and the phice of righteousness,
that inifjiiity was tliere. So 1 returned, and con-
sidered all the oppressions that are done under the
sun : and behold the tears of such as were oppressed,
and they had no comforter ; and on the side of their
oppressors tliere was power ; l)ut they had no com-
forter.' Here, then, is the great reason why we
affirm that there shall be a judgment to come, be-
cause in this world they who should judge the
oppressed aid the oppressors, they who should quell
iniquity are themselves too frequently the transgres-
sors ; because there is no remedy for the tears which
injustice causes to flow; because crimes stalk over
the world with brazen front, and sit on the bench
of judgment. Who tliat takes a survey of the wide-
spread oppressions, and violences, and injustices of
man against his brother man, but must come to the
conclusion of which Solomon seized hold, but allowed
apparently to escape from him, that God shall judge
the wicked, for there is a time and a purpose for
every work ?

THE INJUSTICE OF AUTHORITY.

It may be remarked of these oppressions and in-
justices that they are done under authority, under
the very eye and countenance of justice. Not only
does this imply that necessarily, from the fact of the

MATERIALISM AND MORALS.

1G3

ignorance of man, tlie impossibility of collecting
proper evidence, and the false testimony fre(piently
tendered, it is at times impossil)le for a judge, how-
ever wise and however just, to do justice; it im-
plies furtlier, that law is sometimes injustice of the
greatest kind, and that very often injustice is done
purposely in opposition to laws tliat are just. Opi)res-
sion has often been legalized, and the law has been
in many cases wrested for the inlliction of wrorig ;
and there is no redress, for on the side of the oppres-
sors there is power. It is surely a hard case when
the innocent has been found guilty, through defects
in the administration of justice ; and harder still
when the innocent are ruined through the corrup-
tions of the throne of judgment. Conceive one
perfectly innocent convicted of grave crime, and sen-
tenced to bear the terrible award. Consider that he
goes out of this world condemned in tlie opinion of
his fellows, while those wlic have l)een the guilty
means of his ruin are respected and honoured. If
there be no higher tribunal wliere tliese wrongs will
be redressed, what a sad fate is his I Consider fur-
ther the millions of tlie liuman family who have
groaned in bondage and in misery, because bad men
having power have perpetrated upon them cruel
wrongs. What shall we think of a moral govern-
ment which gives no time or place to the redress of

r ''^'!

]G4

THE WISDOM OF THE KINfl.

crying cviiiics, wliicli not at any one tinu! in the liis-
tory of our \vorl(l liavc called to licaven for ven-
geance, l)nt wliicli, ever f.ince tlio -svorld has borne
the burden of the human family, have been manifest
upon it ? Israel in ])f)n(lage, making bricks without
straw, and compelled to cast the first-born into the
river, is only a type of what at all times is going
forward in some part of our globe. Slavery, for
many ages, was the rule, not the exception, which
power made. All the great nionai'chies of the world
recognised its existence, and treated it as a thing
which was to be protected and fostered. In Assyria,
Greece, and Piome, the slave was denied the chief
riglits of liumar' ,y. For centuries the Christian
was held in slavery by the Turk, and treated as a
dog. In our own day, the Christian, so called,
covdd breed, buy, and sell man as a slave, if only a
little African blood were found in his veins. For
ages it was a crime for man who exercised his gift
of reason, to think in opposition to the heathen ido-
latries, or, more recently, the Christian idolatries of
the l*apacy. Men and women, too, have been thrown
to the wild beasts, have been cast into a hopeless
prison, have been tortured and Ijurned, for the crime
of worshipping God according to the dictates of con-
science, and the light of reason and revelation.
These countless slaves and martyrs, and other

MATKItlALIS.M AND MORALS.

1G5

^vronged ones, liiive died in the hope tliat God would
give time and place for judgment. And sluiU we
say their as})irati()n.s are all baseless and vain ? Sliall
we say that there is uu p;)\ver or purpose in (Jod to
rectify these gigantic injustices ? No ; the whole
sentiment of luimanity has ever been on the side of
the idea that, after all the judgments of this world
have been delivered and executed, there is a liiuil
court of appeal beyond the bounds of earth and time.
To the judgment whicli shall be set, and the Ijooks
which shall lie oj)ened, have the oppressed ever
looked as their great day of reckoning against their
oppressors. Thitherward has the eye of the widow
turned for redress against tlie Pharisee who devoured
her house; thitherward has the slave looked hvm
the manacles on his liands for redress against the
man -hunter who stole him from his native laud,
against the slave captor who thrust him in tilth and
sullbcation into the hold of his accursed ship, against
the master who wielded the lash over him and com-
pelled him to do his behests; thitherward does the
wronged one look for redress against him wIkj, under
the plea and guise of affection, reft from her inno-
cence and peace, and then cast her as a worthless,
withered flower on the great fetid heap of moral
abomination whicli reeks in the streets of our cities;
thitherward do all the martyred ones who shed their

,1: b

IGG

THE WISDOM OF THE KINd.

blood for relifrion and humanity and God, — all look
with a .snro hope tliat they sliall all have their wron^^f.s
redressed, and that the Jud^'o of all the earth will
do them right. Is this a vn,in hope ? Are all their
as])ii'ations oidy the fi'uitless outgoinj^rs of an impo-
tent heart after a revenge which will never come,
and a redress which no future day Avill give ? No ;
the answer of the wise man is, ' I said in mine heart,
God shall judge the righteous and the wicked : for
there is a time there for every purpose, and every
work.'

THE HOPES AND FEARS OF THE FUTURE.

So that, notwithstanding all the apparent simi-
larities between man and the beast, and notwith-
standing all the shocks of death to the idea that
we are destined yet to live, notwithstanding the dull
thoughts of despair which are liable to rise up in
view of the grave and its corruptions, the heart of
the wise man, after all probaldy a T)etter interpreter
of the designs of God than the intellect — the heart
of the wise man, in view of the crimes that not
only skulk in the wilderness or stalk abroad on the
highways, l)ut that are perpetrated under the guise
and garb of justice — affirms a place and season for
the rectification of all, after the last breath and the
closing grave.

iMATKIilALlSM AND MOUALS.

167

The heaiL of the wiso man is here the true type
of tlie heart of himiauity. For not alone does the
just man who lias been wroni^ud ho})e for the jud^'-
nient appointed, hut the wieked man who wronged
his fellows fears it ; and the great mass of our raee,
in view of the irregular dispensatioii of justiee
below, have dispassi(Uiately anticipated it. True,
there are at all times numbers of men who, being
greatly criminal, and hoping against hope, have
persuaded themselves that the earthly jiidgnu'id, is
all they have to fear ; and others there have been
who have had their minds distracted with those
views of death which Solomon sometimes at least
entertained, so that they thought the logical con-
clusion, notwithstanding the anomaly, was, that
death is the termination of the whole scene of man's
history. They confessed that tliere was an enigma
on the side of the moral government of God which
they could not solve, on the i)rinci])le that death
was the last of both the wa'onger and tlie wronged ;
but still they have liuld to the view wliich, it
seemed, tlie phenomena of death forced upon them.
The great mass of mankind have, however, felt
themselves bound to accept the other side of the
dilemma. They have held by the idea of a future
state, and in great measure they have held by it
because there seemed no other way, as indeed there

V'..i- I

1G8

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

is not, to rectify the wrongs of the workl. This
must ever he tlie main argument, if not for tlie
immortality of the soul, at k^ist iov a continaed
'ixistenc • some time after death. Other arguments
may he used hy pldh)sophy. hut this argument
a^)])eals to tlie profound consciousness of every
man. It is an argument endjodied in all religions ;
which liiis taken tlie shape of fahle and poetry, and
of which the wicked man and the just {di.''e feel the
force. It is an argument which causes Liie hand of
injustice to trendde, which has caused the he; rt
of the riuirderer to (j^uail ere he committed tlie dire
deed, and which has pursued him like the furies after
it was done ; an argument which has suffused the
face of the wronged and the oppressed with a smile,
raid enahled patriots and martyrs to rejoice in the
sulTerings which their persecutors inflicted. There
is no depth of scepticism into which the intellect
may plunge, hut int/ which tiie voice of this great
argument of moral retrihution w'lW not peal, awaken-
iuj., fearful thoughts. In the husy marts of husi-
ness, and in the gay circles of dissi])ation, it oftc.i
makes its voice heard ; and still more, when silence
reigns in tlie sick-clianil)tr, and when the ear listens
to catch some intimations of tlie eternal world to
v/hich the soul i;; hristening on, it is not likely to he
silent or unheard. Then comes with tenfold force

MATEKIALISM AND MORALS.

1G9

the ropresentatioii of the Iicvelation ; then the judg-
ment is set as before in Daniel's day, and every
one becomes a John, l)ehohliM,L'' tlie Son of man
coming in the chjuds of heaven, and the great white
throne on which He takes His seat, and tlie books
opened, and tlie judgment proceeding against every
man according to his works ; beholding also death
and hell cast into the lake of fire, which is the
second death, and seeing the new heaven and the
new earth, and the society of the blessed, from
which sorrow has for ever departed.

THE VALUE OF DEATHBED SENTLMENTS.

It has been said — and there is a certain amount
of trutli in the statement— that a time of sickness,
and wlien dissolution is imminent, is not the period
to which we should look f(jr intimation of the reality
of the things that sludl be. It is true that the
time of health, when the nerves are nnshaken, and
when reason is free from the dominancy of fear, is,
apart from other c^'nsidcrations, the best time for
coming to positive ur,". jusc conclusions relative to
the eternal world. But tliere are other considera-
tions, which n)odify our confidence in the judgment
of men in health and with the prospects of long life
before tliem. Many i)ersons are, dui-ing life and
health, under the dominancy of passions tpiite as

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17D

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

powerful to prevent the reason from coming to just
conclusions relative to the future, as fear in the
hour of sickness can be. The strong passions of
man for a present illicit enjoyment are surely as
effectual to blind the eye of reason, when exercised
about a retributive justice, as fear, when calamity
comes, can be. The truth is, neither in the indivi-
dual intellect in health or sickness can implicit
reliance be placed. We may, however, consider a
stronu; <'eneral sentiment as indicative of that wiiicli
shidl be. Humanity taken thus, as an aggregate,
is its own propliet. In this case the sentiment of
humanity and of revelation coincide ; and what we
may further remark is, that generally as death ap-
proaches to the individual, is there a stronger feeling
of the trutlifulness of this sentiment, and of the
Scripture revelation. Then more tlian ever is the
thought impressed on the mind, that God shall judge
the riiThteous and the wicked ; for there is a time
there for every purpose and for every work.

A SOLEMN SUBJECT.

This .aubjei t is indeed a serious one for all — one
not to bo dismissed wit.: a sneer or a jest — one
which should be looked sternly in the face now —
one which ought to modify our whole being and
history — one which has a relation to our every

MATERIALISM AND MORALS.

171

f»

thought, word, aud deed — one which touches us as
sufferers and as actors, — a subject lying at the foun-
dation of religion, its hopes, its fears, its rewards,
and its punishments, — a subject the consideration
of which wisdom presses upon us all. Tor though
we may have no great wrongs against our fellow-
men to avenge, and though we n)ay ha. j no great
crimes to account for, yet, since all things come in
there for review — thoughts, words, deeds — and since
in the future state the award is to every man accord-
ing to his works, there is not one of us wlio is not
interested. Most of you have never been before
any court of justice here, nor are you likely ever
to be. The only court in which your actions have
been the subject of judgment is the court of social
opinion, in Avhich all our characters are from time
to time canvassed, where, it is true, we may be
charged with crimes of whicli we are not guilty, or
honoured for virtues which we do not possess. But
whether society have done us that justice which we
deserve or not, still, for the purpose of fixing our
condition in the eternal world, God's tril^unal is also
set, and before it we must ai)pear, that we niay, in
the powerful and pertinent language of Scri})ture,
* receive the deeds done in tlie body, wlu3th(.'r tliey
be good or evil.' TbiG > .oom may be eluded while
"--■■ on earth. Conscience which in some is the terrible

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

avenger of crime, may be drugged to sleep in this
life, nor awaken till in tlie future world it is roused
up. There are instances in this life where there
appears to be no remorse, no sting left for liim Avho
has perpetrated the most cruel crimes. The furies
do not here take vengeance on evc.y murderer or
tyrant. Nero could enjoy the burning of Eome,
which he had caused, to the sweet tones of the lyre.
But th3 time is appoirited for the av/akening of that
moral nature which tlie criminal lias violated, and
then shall the soul know no peace or rest.

Tile exact nature of those punishments which
await the wicked, or of those enjoyments which are
to be the reward of the righteous, w^e cannot under-
stand. Scripture represents them in language calcu-
lated to give us the highest idea of the misery of tlie
one, and the bliss of the other. Fire, as the most
terrible destructive agent here known, is the repre-
sentative of the one; and a place where there is no
sorrow or tears, but where song is the chief occupa-
tion, symbolize? the other. The award is summed up
in these words : ' These shall go away into everlasting
punishment, but the righteous into life eternal.'

THE PERMANE\CE OF MISERY.

The great mystery which yet remains in the
thought, that misery is to be a permanent thing in

MATERIALISM AND MOUALS.

173

the universe of God, we do not profess to be able to
solve. There are reasons wliicli may be ui'^cd wliy
the wicked, as they ever remain so, should also be
for e^'er miserable. In the meantime, let every one
secure the good part which shall not be taken from
him. As we now live, so sliall eternity be to us.
IMay we seek that repentance ^^]lich is the gift of
God, — tliat renewal of our nature now in the day of
grace, wliich is the groundwork of all true ])eace
and happiness, and whicli shall be tlie test ir

fitness for the heaven of God. We may be urcd,
if any of us are lost, it must be l)ecause we ^\ ill not
now come unto that God who hath no })leasure in
the death of the sinner, but ratlier that he would
turn and live. If we are lost, it will be because we
transgress the laws of His gracious salvation ; and
if through eternity we suffer, it will be because the
necessary laws of the providence, and even grace of
God, recpure it. Let us live, then, in view of the
great white throne. ' He hath showed thee, O man,
what is good ; and what doth the Lord rccpiire of
thee, but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk
humbly with thy God ? ' So shall we not fear for
the judgment tliat cometh, and foi' which God hath
fixed a time, since for every work and pui'pose there
is a time prepared in the pre-arrangements of the
almighty Creator and lledeemer.

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EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE?

' So I returiieil, and considered all tlie oppressions that are done
under tlie sun : and behold the tears of such as were oppressed, and
they had no comforter ; and on the side of their opjiressors there
was power ; but they had no comforter. "Whcnsfore 1 praised the
dead which are already dead, more tlian the living which are yet
alive. Yea, better is lie than both they which liatli not yet been,
wlio hatli not seen the evil work that is done under the sun.' —
EccLKs. iv. 1-3.

TIIK LIVINC} AND THE DEAD.

r 111 EAT ill Solomon's day tliey mIiu had gone to
A their graves were better off than those who
liad still the warm pidse of life heating in their
bosoms, and that those who were not yet born were
in a better case than either, are the two sentiments
to wliicli the wise man gives utterance in these
verses. Plow far he was correct in these opinions,
it may be worth our pains to inquire.

STATE OF SOCIETY.

These two sentiments are founded upon certain
observations whicli he had made concerning the
state of society, especially in regard to the unecpial

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EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE ?

I7i

dispensations of justice in liis own day, tlie op-
pressions whicli were exercised, tiie sorrows which
were borne, and the comfortless state of each chihl
of affliction; and his conclusion is, that it were
better all were dead, or that they had not yet been
born, — a very wide and far-reaching conclusion,
including not only the oppressed but the oppressor,
the subject and also the sovereign ; the poor man
who sought justice, and the judge who denied it ;
the man up(jn whom the weight of sorrow rested,
and his brother who either lied from his presence
that he might not be troubled with his tale of
sorrow, or felt that he had no words of comfort but
such as were empty sounds, and incapable of light-
ening the load that pressed down the soul of his
companion with intolerable grief.

AN EXCEPTIONAL TIMK.

Now it may be ashed, Was Solomon's time excep-
tional, or rather, was it not one which was, upon the
whole, rather a happy period ? In his days wars
had ceased. His people were at peace with neigh-
bouring nations. It was a time of reconstruction.
The arts were being developed, connnerce had re-
ceived a grand impetus, palaces were being erected,
the glorious temple of (iod was reared — the glory
of Israel. To Solomon's day the Jews looked back

17G

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

with pride as tlie ciiliiiinating period of Israel's
greatness. The iKiighbouring nations, too, were free
to ])ursue their avocations. The great seafaring
people of antiquity were spreading tlieir sails, and
])loiig]iing unknown seas. From India was brought
whatever could contrilnite to luxury, or deck witli
beauty. Tlie ivory and the gold, birds of beautiful
plumage, and animals curious and rare, stocked their
aviaries and menageries. Tlie great King himself en-
gaged in trade and manufacture and commerce M'ith
the avidity of a merchant of modern times. Ilis
ships, in company with those of Tjve, came home
laden with all the spoils of the East. What period
of the world's history more, or even so ])rosperous ?
And yet, with all these evidences of what might in
the language of our day be called progress, Solomon's
observation was : ' I considered all the oppressions
done under the sun: and behold the tears of such as
were o])pressed, and they had no comforter ; and on
the side of their oppressors there was power ; but
they had no comforter. AVherefore 1 praised the
dead that are already dead, moi-e t^^.tu the living
who are yet alive.'

THE COXTHAST.

We dare say that to a large extent he was right ;
for what, after all, did this wide prosperity do for

EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE ?

177

the great masses of the people who were engaged
in labour under liard taskmasters, or "svlio were
d(jmineered over by the lords of tlie soil or the
owners of capital ? When we look at the line build-
ings erected, the noble ships constructed, the vast
trade i)ursued, the piety evinced, we might think
that the world had entered on a foretaste of the
millennium — that all was bright and glorious and
happy. This, however, it would appear, would be
a great mistake. Solomon, who lived then, tells us
of another world than this prosperous one of the
general historian. There are other things than
palaces and temples and connnercial gains to be
looked to, but of which history in its eulogies takes
no notice lest they should mar its picture — viz.
those who build these structures, hew stones, carry
mortar, hew its timbers, pay the taxes which sup-
port all this magnificence. Almost all these Avork-
men are little better than slaves ; many of them
are so. The liberty of the subject, too, is badly
miderstood, and the laws are badly executed. There
are in the judgment-seat men who are corrupt, and
near it are corrupters. You may .see bribes passing
from these to those, and the cause of the poor, when
it comes np, is dismissed. These things, which
sometimes happen yet as rare occurrences, were
then usual. AVhether Solomon ever, like the "reat

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17.S

THE WISDOM OF TllK KINO.

HiiT-MU-al-Itaseliid, disguisod liiniself thai ho might
find out the villaiiies wiiich were being perpetrated
in Jerusalem, we know not. Ho had some means
of personally obsoiving them, which seem to indicate
that he had veiled the glories of the king while his
eyes were permitted to look on sucli scones. On
these incognito journeys ho could see what sorrows
were those which labour suffered, perhaps from his
most trusted servants and most honoured judges.
But however he became ac(piainted with the state
of the poor, we can well give him credit for liaving
made correct observations ; for do avo not still to
some extent see the same things, — poverty beside
wealth, S(pudoi' beside elegance, misery raising its
wail near scones of joy, the back lane hovel abutting
on the grand palace, and want wailing bitterly for
bread near profusion of feasts and banipiots ? These
things, wo know, have a tendency to meet in cities,
which, as they arise in grandeur, descend in mean-
ness and filth and squalm'. The village ma\' con-
tain little splendour, but there is hardly to be found
in it a misery which is not alleviated ; but the city
which proclaims its greatness, also conceals sinks of
crime and dens of misery. But, bad as some of our
modern cities are, we have no doubt they are vastly
superior to those of ancient Bagdad, Nineveh, Babylon,
or Jerusalem. No attempt was then made, as now.

EXISTENCE on NON-EXISTKNCE ?

179

to inij)rf)vo llic sanitary condition. JurispriuliMice
tiien was almost unknown. Justice was (lis[)L'ns(id
by favouritism. Kiii;j,'s and their followers were
everytliin*^' ; peoples were only tlic ministers of their
wants and ])leasures. On the side of the oppressors
was power, and the wail nl" misery and the cry for
ven,neance M'enl up imi)()tently to heaven; while the
j;reat men of the day, seein;^ no deliverance; from
above for those who on earth had no helj), be^^an to
think there was no I'ion idence to notice, and no
Crod to save those whom they oppressed, robbed, or
destroyed.

Now, seeing all this, by whatever way of observa-
tion, Solomon was so affected that he thought those
dead were better than those living, and those not
vet born better than either.

SUFFERING.

With regard to the first observation, we may say
it was very natural. When the mind is fresh from
the contemplation of some picture of distress, how^
natural to think that it were better that its subjects
should cease to be ! Better they were dead, we say,
than suffering so. When we have pictured to our-
selves the Israelites in Egypt, we can understand all
that is meant by the statement of the historian,
that they made their lives bitter with hard bondage

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180

THE WISDOM OF THE KTXrj.

in mortar and brick, and in all manner of service ;
all their service wherein they made them serve was
with rigour : we can imderstand how the Algerian
captives pined for death — how at the slave block, or
in the slave pen, men conld sigh for deliverance
whicli was to take them a\vay from a suffering
whicli was too liard to bear. And thinking still
further of the sufferings wliich are the lot of most,
at one time or other, from disease and poverty, we
can liave little hesitation in applying the observa-
tion to them, that it were almost better tliey were
dead than living. Coming away from such scenes,
Ave might very naturally come to this conclusion ;
yet w^e nmst consider at the same time, first, that
we should not permit ourselves to extend this senti-
ment to the wdiole of the race, as that would cer-
tainly I'eflect on the goodness of God, who made the
world, and governs it ; and secondly, we should take
notice of the fact that in all suffering, where not
punitive, there is an element of goo<l wliich, if well
used, might be found largely to compensate the pain
o,nd the woe. Upon the wdiole, we do not agree
that there is more of suffering tlian enjoyment, now,
nor when Solomon made the observation. T tliink
we may say that a sovereign dandled in the lap of
luxury is not the best judge on this point. No man
can tell what the experiences of the labouier, even

EXISTENCE OK NON-EXISTENCE ?

181

though a shxve, are, save those who liave come
throiigli them. To kok on a man digging drains
or driUing rocks from early morning till late eve,
one would say. What enjoyment can he have ?
And yet, if you will examine the matter fully, you
may find that h6 has almost as much as you. It is
only when one has come dow.. iu '.e world, that
hard lahour pinches ; and even then, oftentimes,
those hrought up in luxury and idleness will tell
you tliat it Wiis not till they were compelled to
work hard that they knew the keen zest and en-
joyments of life. And if we turn away from labour
to consider the sorrows of disease, we may aflhin
that, except in very extreme cases, the enjoyments
of life have far overbalanced the misery. Health
is the rule, sickness is the exception. A few days
or weeks of suffering cannot be held to outweigh a
long life of health's racy enjoyments. Most suffer-
ing, too, is remedial ; and, geuendly, disease ceases
to produce suffering when it could be no longer
necessai}^ in calling attention to the organ for which
remedy w'as needed, wliile it gives us opportunities
of exhibiting the highest (pudities of our nature in
patience and sympathy. "We cannot, therefore, look
upon sufferings as a reason for the affirmation that
it were better that he who suffers had not been
born. , ,

182

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

IN.IUSTICE.

Neitlier can we say that the fact that good men
sufler many injustices, is a reason for the assertion
that it were better the men who siifter them had
not been born. It was observed by the heathen
philosopher Socrates, and approved by Plato, that
the man who did the injustice was in a far worse
case than he to whom it was done. These philo-
sophers made this afhrmation without taking into
their estimate that there is a future judgment,
though with some perception of the fact implied
in that account. Let there be an immortality
given us, and it Vv'ill appear so at once ; for while
injustice may harm me in property or person, or
by the aspersion of character, he who does it is
harmed in his most interior nature. There is by
it a spot ingrained in his soul which the eternities
will not wash out. He feels himself to be a villain
— to be under the ban of (!rod. Fear follows him ;
guilt is heavy on him ; and of him alone it may
be said. It Avere good if that man had not been
born. Leave all the poor, miserable, sorrowful
ones to tlieir comfort, — they will not believe you,
O Solomon, wise though you be, tluit it M'ere better
for them to be dead, — at least till the time comes
when the good CJod by His messenger says to them.

EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE ?

183

Come away out of tlie world of trial to the world
of rewards. Tliere is no real evil but that which
is also guilt. Sin alone is the great sorrow which
we need removed, that it may be said to us even
in suffering, ' Be happy.'

THE PAST AND PRESENT.

The other sentiment of Solomon is one with
which we have not so much fault to find, — that at
that time — we might almost say, at any time —
better is he who hath not yet been than both they.
Ill other words, the experiences of those who come
after iu the various stages of the world's history,
are advances on those which precede. ' Say not
the former times were better than these, for thou
dost not wisely impure concerning Uiis matter.'
After paradise the world collapsed. ]\Ian fell to
the bottom of his degradation. It was no slow
or gradual descent. From the great depths of a
brother's murder, from wild crime, from tiie wants
of barbarism, man had to begin the ascent to
brotherly kindness and civilisation. Through the
centuries this progress has gone forward. If we
go back far enough, we shall find everywhere
barbarians. The Jew is the first of civiUsed
people ; and how much is there :n their history to
show us that that civilisation was, notwithstanding

184

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

revelation, at first nought, and always low ! Jacob's
life and morals were by no means praiseworthy.
He is a circumventer and a deceiver. We can
imagine nothing worse than the general conduct of
his sons. Thougli, under the guidance of Moses,
Israel was restrained from much evil, in the days
(jf the Judges conduct crops out, showing them to
be without any standard of morals save that of the
most barbarous kind. The law did much to civilise
them; but from the accounts of i^rophets, they
generally despised it — its moral parts fully as
much as its ecclesiastical recpiirements. We can
hardly refrain from thinking that their desire for
idolatry was strengthened by the freedom from
purity and justice which it afforded. The pictures
of them given by Isaiah and Ezekiel are very sad
to contemplate, and fully bear out Solomon's senti-
ment, that the judgment-seat was the citadel of
injustice, and tliat on the side cf the oppressors
was power. ' How is tlie faithful city become a
harlot ! ' Jerusalem was so full of injustice, that
not one was to be found who would seek truth or
execute jiulgment. And if this was the case with
Judah, Avhat was the state of the surrounding
nations, where they had none of the advantages
which Israel possessed ? A religion base and vile,
and a morality that was as low as their religion,

EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE ?

185

whose gods were i)ersoiiifieations of the worst
passions, and desires of man, and who naturally
produced worsliippers like themselves. The state
of the people., as far as we can learn it from such
passages of aistor/ as give us a "\'iew of those days,
was dreadful. Tlit people were superstitious, en-
slaved, vile. Assyria Bahylonia, Egyi)t, were all
the same. Only in Greece and Ifonie did men
emerge from the lowest state of morals and religion.
Only in one of these two states of all the ancient
world, and during a short period of their existence,
would any of us wish to have lived. A hundred
years cover all the time in Greece that one could
have wished to be horn. Of Rome, hardly more.
It is true we have many fine things written of
the administration of justice, at least of its theory.
It is reported of the Queen of Sheha tliat she said
to Solomon, ' God halli made you king over His
people to the end that yon should judge them, and
render justice and judgment unto them ;' and yet
we see what Solomon's own opinion was of the way
in which justice was administered. We learn also
that the kings of l*ersia were accustomed, to admi-
nister justice in their own ^^ersons, and, to ijualify
them for this work, they were instructed by the ]\fagi
in the principles and rules of justice ; but we well
know how such justice is likely to be administered

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18G

THE WISDOM OF THE KINO.

by all irresponsible power — save in the case of a
very wise and incorruptible king. Under a Moses,
a Solomon, or a Cyrus, justice might be faithfully
enough administered ; but under others wlio are
generally ignorant — the slaves of passion, sur-
rounded by crowds cf flatterers, and ndnisters to
pleasure — what could be expected but that all
kinds of injustice should be perpetrated ? And they
were. If a man committeu an offence, he, with
all his family and relations, had to pay the penalty.
Satraps were allowed to perpetrate the worst of
cruelties on the people of the provinces ; and
everywhere the people groaned. Those who were
yet to be born could hardly light on worse times,
and they might await better. No doubt, times as
bad ha"«'-3 frequently occurred since. The period of
the decadence of the Roman Empire, and of the
dark ages, was a miserable time for one desirous to
see good to live. The period of the Eeformation
was one of grievous suffering to many ; but it was
a period of bright prosperity and cheering hopes.
The people of this land are now the most happy,
we think, all things considered, that ever lived.
There are evils now, and still will be ; but they are
fewer, and are lessening. We say it is not better
to be dead. Wrong judgments are sometimes pro-
nounced; false witnesses may sometimes take away

EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE ?

187

the property we should possess, damage our repu-
tation, or even, on very rai'e occasions, sacrihce
innocent life. The robber and the murderer still
stalk among iis. r)ad men foment disturbances,
and there may still be in our politics and consti-
tutions the seeds of wars. Pestilences still adlict,
especially where men neglect tlie laws of health.
Vices — social vices — are still among us. JMornlity
is loose, and the foundations of religion are being
shaken, and with them the i)rinciples of morals.
Tlie reforms from which so much has been antici-
pated, have not fulfilled their promise. Intemper-
ance still steals away the senses, poisons the
springs of thought and action, bloats the face,
makes reason reel, and wise men talk folly, intro-
duces discord into society, destroys family peace,
decimates our numbers, digging for great numbers
early graves. The education of intellect has failed
to make the nature holy, and has become an in-
strument of power to the evil ac well as to the
good. The sciences Jiave led men away from God,
as well ■ ^Tom superstition. Tlie critical philo-
sophy ha,, not only borne away the accretions of
error, but sapped the foundations of truth. Thi.<^
at least it has done for many who, dazzled and
dizzied, have Mien into the great chasms which
have been opened by the volcanic thoughts which

188

THE WISDOM OF TIIK KING.

uj^dtatc Opinion. From one jioint of view, we liave
fallen on happy times ; from another, on times very
disastrous. We believe tliat out of all tliis ^vi^
j^row a higlier and fairer fcjrm of society, in ^vhieh
the religion of Jesus will be the ruling power,
taking liold of men's souls, and pervading them as
it has never yet done, a.nd producing a higlier form
of morality than the world has yet seen — the
morality of love rather than of law — working in
and througli the various a])pliances of civilisation
yet in its infancy, of science to be yet developed, —
to tlie uplifting of the low and toiling, making them
also partake in blessings whicli tliey have so far
only procured for others, but hardly tasted them-
selves. And with these views we would almost
say. Better is he that is not yet born. Tlie proba-
bilities are, that he will see a better state of things
than yet has obtained in the world. The kingdom
of heaven and eailli will, we trust, be largely
advanced. And although there will still be much
sorrow, and although disease may exist, yet will
there also be many alleviations of earth's miseries.
Although all is preparation for war, ^^•e yet trust it
is preparatory to tho period wdien they shall learn
war no more ; and although the vices which sur-
round us still are appalling, yet we trust to see
them, in large measure, rooted out of the world,

EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE ?

189

and that tlio wliolo earth will hecoino one garden
of God. Were choice given to souls before coming
into the world of the time when they should be
born, the wise ones would always say, Let us wiiit ;
oidy the foolish, to wIkjui curiosity is a failing,
would have made their appearance so far.

COLUMBUS AND THE PUKSENT.

AVhat woidd Columljus not give to see tliis great
continent, which his far - seeing eye gave to th(;
enterprise of the Old World, as it is now, — with its
woods transf(3rmed into rich farms, its prairies wav-
ing with goLler wheat, its rivers and lakes traversed
by steam-ships, its thousands of miles of rail, the
long trains of merchandise and travellers hauled by
the wondrous locomoti\'e, its harbours filled with
ships of construction and size such as he never
dreamed of, its towns equalling in size and po})ulation,
nay, many times greater tlian those which he was
accustomed to — tlie then capitals of S])ain, England,
Portugal, or France ? I would almost ailirm that
he ^^'ould give up his glory as the discoverer, if he
could only live on this translbiraed continent for a
few years. And, doubtless, it would still be worth
waiting t(^ see what shall be the future history of
those states and of the colonies in the great Con-
federacy wliicli the politics of the times are shaping

inn

1IIR WISDOM or TUK KINT,.

for ourselves aiul our (Icsccndaiits. Witliout doubt
there is a grand futuro before us. We refuse to be-
lieve that the cud lias come, and that the consum-
mation of all things is near, though \vu do believe
that there is an applicability in the announcement,
'The kingdom of heaven is at hand,' not less im-
j)ortant, though in a different sense from that in
which it was u>.<ed by John or Jesus. Whatever
we may think of the success or failure which shall
attend tlie working out of the problems which old
world civilisations have to deal with, there is no
doubt that, for centuries to come, great and glorious
developments of society will be made on this con-
tinent, and in other places, where our race, our re-
ligion, and our civilisation having been transplanted,
have begun to grow and flourish. The fairest and
mightiest trees of the future forest of nations may
be those which now are only saplings.

MILLENNIAL DAWN.

While it is pleasant for innocence to think of a
Judgment where wickedness shall have its reward,
it is also more pleasant to think of a state of society
which would hardly need such a tribunal, — where
liberty was given and appliances prepared by which
man — each man — could do the very best for him-
self, — could become most intelligent, most moral.

EXISTENCE OH NON-EXISTENCE ?

101

most religious, iiio.st liappy. Wo think we miiy say
we are a])])roacliiiig such a state. There are, no
douht, many tilings wliicli bode evil. The natural
depravity of man still manifests itself in many ways.
Intemperance, and debauchery, and loosene.ss of n;-
ligious views, as we have already said, obtain ; but
by the use of means, by the religion of the cross, by
tho power of the truth, these things may be cor-
rected, and the nations may be regenerated. Such
views are cheering to those wlio have any interest
in posterity; and we all have. Abraham and Isaac
and Jacob were not filone in tlieir joy at the pro-
mises of God, tliat they should be the fathers of
liappy nations, having po.^session of lands ilowing
with milk and honey. Thougli Christianity con-
centrates the attention much on self, that it may be
renewed, .and that it may be tlie subject of our
special cares — striving with all our ])ower to enter
in at the strait gate — yet does it also unfold to us
bright and glorious prospects, for our encouragement
as well as for the honour arising therefrom to Christ.
And so the New Jerusalem descending out of heaven
from God meets our vision, and we are cheered by
the prospect of new heavens and a new earth, — a
new earth which shall indeed be the abode probably
of men in the flesh ; and a new heaven, where, too,
if we by faith in Jesus are purified, we may yet

192

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

enter and enjoy the Imppiness of that state which
God hath prepared for them that love Him.

THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE DEAD.

It may he tliat there are some means by which
the dead are acfpiainted witli what is f^oing on in
this world, although we have no means of verifying
the conception. If this be indeed so, the earlier
inlialjitants of the world liave not so much cause of
complaint that their earthly being was not reserved
for a later period in history. Still it must be sad-
dening, if sadness can be theirs, that they had not
an experience of the better day. Those wlio for
want of light erred, may say, AVe would, M'e could
have done better, if we had lived during the days
of Christianity and of civilisation. We would not
have been so formal, nor so superstitious, nor so
regardless of the high behests of conscience ; we
would not have been led to call good evil, and evil
good, as we oftentimes did while we were on earth.
We would not have been stained with crimes Avliich
we connnitted through error and tlie darkness of tlie
world. Men who thought, for instance, that by
persecution they were doing (Jod service, and who
after all may have been paidoned, will lament that
they did I'ot live wlien civil and religious liberty
were understood, and when they would liave been

EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE ?

103

saved from the terrible blunder of trying to compel
men to think by the rule and authority of the self-
constituted judges of truth and opinion. Men who
were the victims, too, of op])ression, might surely
desire that they had fallen on periods when they
could have enjoyed the labour of tlieir hands, and
the comfort of their own tliouglits. And we, too,
although our condition on the Avliole is very l'iap])y,
may yet, in the far future, if it is given us to know
wliat takes place in the world which we have
left, sigh that our lot of existence turned up so
soon. We would wish it hail been cnirs to know
the discoveries which are awaiting announcement,
but which we cannot wait to hear, — to see tlie ad-
vance in art which we yet may never behold, — to
live in that future when the complete emancipation
of mind from error shall have taken place, when
truth shall stand ibrth in fuller and fairer propor-
tions than ever yet she has been beheld in. It may
be, indeed, that tliere are dark and dismal days in
the world's future history, which shall cause its in-
habitants to exclaim, ' The former times were better
than these.' It may be that thore shall be a de-
cadence of civilisation and an uprise of l)arl3arism
which shall destroy the fair fabric which has been
rising during the past centuries, and t)iat Euroi)ean
and even Ameiican pi-ttgress shall become retrograde,

I'M
? t

»•-

I-

.194

THE WISDOxM OF THE KING.

— a time when the lot of men shall be most sad ;
but \vc believe that, under the providence of God,
our world is sweeping onward to a brigliter day, and
we can think that the cliildren yet to be born shall
liave even more peace, virtue, and happiness than
we ever possessed. May it so be, though our eyes
should never see it, and though we have no part or
lot in anything that is done under the sun.

THE DEAD IN CHRIST.

We have not here thouglit of inquiry into tlie
comparative condition of the dead in Christ, or into
the sentiment of Paiil, that it is better to be with
Christ than here. Our inquiry is not as to the com-
parative merits of the people of God in heaven and
on earth. Without doubt, if we are His, it will be
of but little comparative moment when we have lived,
or when we have died. And yet we can imagine
Old Testament worthies wisliing that they had lived
in our day. And is not this the meaning of our
Saviour wlien He tells us that many jirophets and
righteous persons had desired to see and hoar the
things wliich the disciples and Jews saw and heard,
and had not been permitted ? We may then, while
admitting the fcdicity of these departed saints, still
think of the happier state of the dispensation of
Christ, and bless God that the present is, of all

EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE ? 195

other ages wliicli the eyes of man liave seen, the one
which IS the most happy, though what God hath
yet in reserve for them tliat love Him on earth may
be far more bright and glorious than even our
blessed and glorious day.

itil

THE ENVIOUS MAN.

' Again, T considered all travail, and every right work, that for
this a man is envied of his neighbour. This is also vanity and
vexation of spirit. The fool foldeth his liands togetlier, and eateth
his own fi?sh. Better is an handful with (juietness, than both the
hands full with travail and vexation of spirit.' — EccLES. iv. 4-6.

CONNECTION OF SENTIMENTS.

ONE would at first sight tliiiik there was little
connection between tlieso three verses — that
they were separate proverbial remarks. They are
not so, Init are closely related. The working, suc-
cessful rich man is envied, because he has had suc-
cess ; but by whom is he thus envied ? Why, by
the fool, who folds his hands together, and, in lazi-
ness and misery and poverty, eats his own fiesh :
from wliich the preacher deduces the reflection, that
tlie best and happiest condition of life is not that in
wliich a man is by the success of his labours set on
high among his fellows, the mark lor their envy and
covetousness, probably breaking out on facile occa-
sions, to take from him all that he has accumulated ;
but that the easiest and most to be desired state is

196

THE ENVIOUS MAN.

197

that in wliicli a man lias just enough — sufticient for
his needs. With one hand full there is a present
content ; bnt with both hands full there is anxiety
a.id care, and a fear of the bloodshot eye of want,
and the stealthy tread of the thief, and the dagger
of the assassin robber. The same medium state of
worldly condition is in Solomon's eye here as in that
other passage, though with different reasons for its
excellence, where he makes Agur say, ' Give me
neither poverty nor riches ; feed me with food con-
venient for me : lest I be full, and deny Thee, and
say, Who is the Lord ? or lest I be poor and steal,
and take the name of God in vain.'

The tliree classes into which the world may be
divided are :

1st, The rich, who have become such through

their own labours, or tliose of their ancestors or

friends.

2d, The poor, who are so through neglect, want

of industry, or misfortune ; and

3d, Those who have attained the happy medium,
in which they have enough for all proper wants.

Of course this division is more convenient than
accurate, — what would be poverty to one, being
abundance to another ; but still, these things hav-
ing due allowance given them, the division may
pass.

108

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

But we are not called on here to view all man-
kind. Eatlier our attention is called to some out
of our great multitudinous mankind. And here
Solomon calls our attention to those of them who
may be taken as special instances of, 1^^, Highly-
successful labour ; 2d, Criminal want ; and 3(/,
Moderate abundance. The second of these envies
the first ; the third is more likely to have peace,
neither envying nor envied.

Let us consider the annoyances which a man
experiences from the evil-minded, who envy him
his success. These are twofold. There is a con-
sciousness that he is thus envied, which takes away
the zest of his enjoyment ; there is danger from
them that his riches may be taken away by theft,
robbery, or the revolution of things.

TO BE ENVIED, UNPLEASANT.

It is a very unpleasant thought to any man that
he is envied of his fellows. To think that our
fellow-creatures are in sympathy with us, is one of
the highest of earthly enjoyments. We A^alue their
opinions and sentiments when they are favourable ;
and though our purse be full, and our houses luxu-
riously furnished, and our table groan beneath
abundance, and all our outward circumstances and
appointments be grand and costly, Ave do not like

THE ENVIOUS MAX.

199

the thought that for all this we are envied of our
neighbours and friends, and ^ve consider ourselves
badly treated. Though tliere may be an inward
satisfaction that we are better off than they, yet we
do not think it riglit or good that they should
indulge hard feelings towards us therefor. Tliis is
so, although we may even take a satisfaction further,
in showing off our advantages through pride, and
in order that we may increase their envy, which,
though annoying to ourselves, we yet thiidv is far
more so to them ; for it is a\ onderful how we are
ready to suffer, if we can only make others who are
at enmity with us suffer more. It is not uncommon
for us to hear people say they would go to any ex-
pense to have satisfaction upon some one whom they
dislike, or who has injured them. A man will go
to law, though he knows it will cost him far more
than the matter in dispute is worth, if he only can
injure him who has done him the wrong more tlian
himself. Vain people, too, will launch out into
expense, that they may attract more eyes to them-
selves than their rivids in display. We are not
sure but that the feminine portion of the comnninity
like magnificence of dress fully as much that they
may excite the envy of ethers, as for any real love
for the beauty and excellence of apparel ; and it
would be painful to inquire how much study in

200

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

scholars, how much benevolence in philanthropists,
how much earnestness in Christians, may uc infected
with the same taint of vanity, trying to overcome
others in the manifestations of similar excellences.
We do not know that it wo aid he jDrojJcr to con-
demn that principle of rivalry, from wliich is evoked
so many excellent results as spring from it to the
world ; but we may at least remark, that we should,
as far as possible, act in all these things from higher
motives than envy, or a desire to excite it in others.
We should work, because God has formed ns for
activity ; we should beautify existence, because God
has placed in us tastes to be gratified ; we should
adorn the home, and even the person, within due
measure, for thus we are carrying out the design
of God, who made the world beautiful ; we should
be benevolent, because we should endeavour to
drive out that evil which lias somehow made a
temporary and partial lodgment in God's works, and
thus be fellow-workers with Him ; we should strive
to establish the kingdom of Christ, in those forms
which we think are most excellent, and in accord-
ance with the principles of truth and right : but in
all this we should take care not to excite envy nor
to gratify pride ; we should try to help those who
are engaged in the same great works for the general
benefit, nor for a moment cast a stumblingblock in

THE ENVIOUS MAN.

201

the way of those who are God's fellow-labourers and
ours ; but if we do so, we Avill consider it hard that
others sliould continue to envy us any success we
may have had ; and thougli we may forgave them
for it, something of the feeling of Solomon will be
expressed by us : ' That for all this a man is envied
of his neighbour. This is also vanity and vexation
of spirit.'

ENVY WORKING TO OUR HURT.

But as every sentiment cherished by man is
likely to embody itself in action, the feeling that
our neighbours envy us our success has a further
tendency to our discomfort. Although we may not
be able to brave its operation, we feel that the envy
of our neighbours is in some underhand way work-
ing for our hurt ; and it is impossible to say what
course it will take, how it is about to manifest itself,
and what disadvantage it may bring us. It nuiy
come out in the spread of insinuation and innuendo,
in the distortion of truth, in the unfounded tale, in
the downright lie, which may sap the very founda-
tion of that success which we have had. When
envy once finds a home within the heart, it will go
to great lengths, nor be at all scrupulous about
means.

202

tup: wisdom of the king.

DISAFFECTED CLASSES.

All this goes on in a settled state of society,
but more so among disaffected classes. Continually
there are to he found those who live on the indus-
tries of others. They liaA^e not, and they cannot
want. They will not dig ; to beg they are ashamed,
and they will therefore steal. Their envy produces
a desire to attain wealth ; and as they are too in-
dolent to work for it, they fall into the snares of
the devil, who leads tliem to theft and robbery as a
means of possessing what they so earnestly desire.

Add to all this, that in many places where the
means of life arc difficult of attainment, there is a
constant fear of revolution upon the minds of those
who are the possessors of property. In these lands
it is not so, but the time may come when hungry
mobs shall be found scaring the rich and comfort-
able.

INDOLENCE AND ENVY. '

AVe may say that this is the natural result of the
envy wliich is so universal among men, together
with that indolence which Solomon alludes to in
the fifth verse. If either of these were alone the
possessor of the individual, the matter would not be
so bad : idleness alone, without envy of industry.

THE ENVIOUS MAN.

203

might not be so annoying to those who are well off ;
but where one knows that tlie idle, careless fellow,
who is eating the flesh off his own bones, would also
take all that ycu have, covets earnestly your choicest
treasures, he becomes unbearable.

HOW THE 8UCCESS OF OTHERS SHOULD AFFEl.'T US.

Instead of the success of others being a matter of
envy, it should be used as an exam])le of promise to
us, inducing us to go and do likewi.se. The life of
the great man teaches us that we also, beiug brother
to him, may become, in a measure, great. There is
wealth, too, to be had, without robbing any man of
what he has. It is always to be found in economy
and work. For long enough this doctrine was hid,
even from the wise and i^rudent. Even yet we try
to find it anywhere but in honest labour, — in gold
mines, or in speculation, or in gambling, — and we
may chance to find it laid up in seme of these ; but
it has all come from industry originally, and, in most
places, it can be got there in a fair measure still.
At any rate, it cannot be got in idleness. We may
cherish envy of him who has succeeded, and fold
our hands till it eats into the very marrow of our
bones, but we shall be no nearer the attainment of
fortune than when we commenced the operation.

204

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

THE IDLE FOOL.

Solomon calls the man a fool who thus folds his
hands and sits down discontented and idle ; and so
he is. What greater folly can that man be guilty
of, wlio, endowed witli hands whicli were made for
work, folds tliem in quiet rest ? God gives no talent,
no faculty, to be rolled up in a napkin. For every
sum that you borrow, you must ])ay interest to your
banker ; and for every talent which God gives you,
you must return the usury. You may not be en-
dowed with a grand intellect, you may have had a
poor education, you may have no fine perceptions of
the beautiful, but you have got hands, and they
certainly were given you to work ; and woe to the
man who does not work as God has bidden him.
Sometimes the punishment comes upon him in this
life. ' Yet a little sleep, yet a little slumber, yet a
little folding of the hands to sleep : so shall thy
poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want
as an armed man.'

USURY FOR TALENTS.

We have said that God requires usury for His
talents. Not, however, that He may reap all the
advantage from them. No ; but that the man him-
self may reap all the advantage. See how the

THE ENVIOUS MAN.

205

man is rewarded for tlic just use of his ten talents :
\vliy, he is placed as tlie <^rovernor of ten cities.
What is this but to teach us that (Jod will advance
and raise and glorify him who acts according to the
laws of his being, emjdoyiiiu' liis tahuits for wise
and useful purposes ? (lod always does so, and,
in glorifying Uod, we are securing (tur own best
interests. Some may tliink, W(dl, l)ut surely you
do not mean to say that this hand-work, this in-
dustry, is related to the right use of talents with
which God has endowed us ? We think it is.
We do not say it is the highest form, but it is a
form, of employment of talent, and, as far as it
goes, it is acce])table to (lod. Some people may
think that Clod has no care for such tilings as
the way in which people spend their time, — whether
they ^.ic idle or industrious, whether they are en-
gag'jd in increasing or diminishing the world's wealth
and comforts ; that is, whether they are making the
world, as far as material things go, worse or better.
God attends to far smaller things than these. He
careth, in some sense, even for the ox that treadeth
out the corn, and He careth that a man be diligent
in his business. No doubt He desires to see man
occupied with higher thoughts, and engaged in nobler
works — that is, in doing justly, loving mercy, and in
walking humbly with his God ; but what man can

ill

91!

206

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

do any of these higher things without also perform-
ing the lower ? No lazy, idle, envious man can do
any of these things. A man may he industrious
without being just or righteous or pious, but he
can liardly he a good man, or a pious man, who is
not engaged in some work by whicli man can be
bettered. Each man, when he comes into this world,
enters into the great copartnery of humanity, where
there are reciprocal obligations by each member to
every other, and, upon his leaving the world, we
may fairly inquire, ' Well, what have you done for
our good ? Did you only enjoy ? Vfeve you a
drone V As this question is answered, so will the
state be.

HAND, HEAD, AND HEAllT WORK.

Wo do not require tlie literal work of the hand
alone. Some men benefit society a great deal more
by the head than others by the hand. Nay, we be-
lieve we may work with and by tlie aflections and
heart more for humanity than with the iiand. A
man who writes good books, makes good speeches,
institutes good schemes, may do more for tlie good
of the species than with many hands. In the divi-
sion of labour the hand must be used by some, the
head by others, and we may say that the heart is
the great instrument by which some work and benefit

THE ENVIOUS MAX.

207

their kind. But all have some faculty which may
be figuratively called their liaud, — that by which
they can benefit tlie people among whom tliey dwell
most ; and in the use of this lies man's duty, with
this intensive direction : ' Whatsoever thine hand
findeth to do, do it with thy miglit.'

We have heard of people burning their caiuUo at
both ends, No man does this more effectually than
the person described here. He sits and folds his
hands till poverty comes upon liim, and lie j)iiitis
away with envy till he gets tliin and miserable. His
candle is burning at the end of both property and
person. While his substance is wasting through idle-
ness, his flesh is wasting away through the consuming
fire of envy which has fevered his whole soul, so
that the flesh itself consinnes, and the whole man be-
comes shrivelled and blasted. I don't think this will
be esteemed any mere fancy picture by tliose wlio
have looked on men around them. We think you
will find many such, — careworn, careless, idle, envious
specimens of luimanity, wliose chief delight — whicli
is also their misery — is to talk and grind tlieii' teeth
against those who, having been successful in their
labours, and who also, in the inuiginations of these
misfortunate ones, appear to have been in some
strange way the authors of tlit^ir poverty iuid ruin.
I'eruaps the fortunate — that is^ the industrious, clear-

; ^-

ijT"

f1l

I !

208

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

minded, successful — man lias got some property of
the idle one for which he has been duly paid ; but
no matter. The idle fellow will say, ' Ay, I set him
up ; he got rich by me.' So the man who did well
is made answerable for the misery which tlie idler
sliould attribute to himself. Tliis is an evil, but one
not likely to be got rid of till many people become
more industrious or less envious. -

I :

ENOUGH BETTER THAN PLENTY AVITH VEXATION.

We may now, however, turn our attention to the
statement by Solomon, that a man who has just
enough for his wants is in a better condition than
he who has both liands full of the world's goods, if
any vexation prey on liim. We nuist take this in
connection with the previous one, and say he is
better off, for one reason especially, \\y.., lie is not
subject to that envy which follows the very success-
ful man. As a matter of fact, we know that this is
so. A man that has just enough, able to siqiply all
his wants, whose industry lias procured liim food
and raiment, and a home and comforts, is above want
and beneath envy. He is neither watched by bailiffs
nor by thieves. The man of grand success, looking
back to the time wlien lie wiih in just such a posi-
tion, may sigh and say. My former days were better
than these. I was something like happy then. I

THE ENVIOUS MAN.

209

am not so now ; I have to bear the envies now ; I
have too many cares now ; I have not merely to
work — my mind Labours ; I have travail.

THE CASTLE AND SKELETON.

The doctrine here is, riches, success, magnificence
are of less worth than a medium condition, if one
can at the same time secure content and freedom
from excessive toil. This doctrine will be accxuiesced
in abstractly, but by no means as a practical faith.
Most people will hola by the grand castle, whatever
skeleton may be within some of its chambei's. Any
amount of disccntei^t we will bear and any labour
endure, if we can only make a sensation. Why,
even the poor miserable fellow who folds his hands
and eats his own flesh, tliinks that he woidd do great
things — no doubt he actually would suffer many
things, for he is used to that — if he only were in
the grand condition of him whom lie envies. The
contented man who has only plenty would hardly
make a bargain to sacrifice his content for the show
of grandeur, but he would risk the change with the
hope of retaining his peace along with the newly
acquired riches, — and he might. Many lo. jMore
do not. But in regard to those who do not, we may
certainly afiirm with Solomon, nor will it be seriously
denied by any, that 'Ijetter is an handful with

j-r-f

( i

210

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

quietness, than both hands full with travail and
vexation of spirit'

The whole teaching here may he summed up in
a few words : Successful labours do not bring un-
mixed happiness, for they excite envies ; idleness is
still worse, for it is followed by poverty, and prepares
the way for envy and other bad passions to prey
upon the soul. The happiness of our condition is
not dependent for increase on the increase of this
world's goods. One man who has content with little,
is better off than another who has much without it.
Travail when excessive is not remunerative, though
it should be paid the wages of abundance. And we
may come to the conclusion, that no outward state
is indicative of inward happiness : that is a phmt
which is neither sown by labour, nor cultured by
commerce, nor developed by riches. It wiU grow
as well or as badly in the cabin, the cottage, and
the castle. It is rather a plant of the heavenly
Father's planting, of the culture of Christ, growing
under the influences of the Spirit.

Ah ! we are surely going too far and too fast.
WeU, perhaps we are for any premises laid down so
far in this discourse, save that, as we were made for
happiness, and we do not seem to get it in the world
of riches, we might probably conclude that we shall
have it from that other world, that kingdom of grace

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and of God which has come down among us. But
as this might be thought too mucli to infer, let us
remember that Paul spoke as though he had iu this
way found content ; for we find him saying, ' But I
rejoiced in the Lord greatly, that now at the last
your care of me hath liourislied again ; wherein ye
were also careful, but ye lacked opportunity. Not
that I speak in respect of w^ant : for I liave learned,
in wliatsoever state I am, tlierewith to Ije content.
1 know b(jth how to be abased, and I know liow to
abound : everywhere, and in all things, I am in-
structed both to be full and to be hungry, both to
aljound and to suffer need. I can do all things
througli Christ wliich strengthenetli me.'

Those who luive their all here — who have no
faith in immortality — while they must seek above
all things that tliey may enjoy, the very fact that
they are so earnestly pursuing pleasure will hurt
their enjoyment of it. It is possible to be calm and
C(jntented for a little time if we have an eternity of
bliss before us; but if (.)nly death or misery, who
could be content i In view of the uses of affliction
as preparatives for heaven, we may m'cII say, ' Our
light affliction which is but for a moment worketh
out for us a far more exceedintf and eternal weiicht
of glory.'

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THE WISDOM OF THE KINO.

RICHES OF SOUL.

There is a kind of riches of which we are very-
careless, and but little envious, — the riches of the
soul. The riches of the soul ! To be lieirs of God,
and joint lieirs with Christ, to have citizenship in
the city which hath foundations, whose builder and
maker is God, to have assurance — not the assurance
of bonds and leases — that eternal life is ours, to
have in our very possession the foretastes of tliat
happiness which springs from connnunion with God,
the certain seals of His love, to know that the life
we are living is that divine life, the principles of
which have been produced in us by the very pre-
sence and Spirit of God ; to be thus assured that we
are rich, though we have not where to lay om* head ;
to be God's anointed kings and priests through
eternity, — this is indeed to be very rich. But how
little care do we give to these things, and how little
do we value those who possess them ! And yet
here envies sometimes invade. Those who have
such riches are sometimes treated as mere spiritual
pretenders. We have the excuse for this, that in-
deed there are many hypocrites in the world. In
sad experience that is true. You will see men who
pretend to the possession of these riches, nut only
eager for the possession of this world's goods, but

THE ENVIOUS MAN.

213

acting unjustly and untruthfully that they may gain
them. The days of Jesus had no monopoly of the
devourers of widows' liouses, nor of sepulchres whited
by the shows of piety, enclosing the bones of the
dead. We have still a goodly number of such in
our churclies. From time to time the fair seeminiis
of religion are shrivelled up, and the ghastly realities
of vice made visible. The cloak is still an article
used in religious dress, to cover the rents in the
interior vestments of cliaracter. Many a man of
pretentious piety is trading on fictitious capital.
Many a one of our religious swells makes his appear-
ance on the income of forgery. We admit all that
can be said against such. We admit even that it is
right to scrutinize all profession. ' Beloved, believe
not every spirit, but try the spirits whether tliey be
of God.' But we need not carry our scepticism so
far as to suppose that there is no real piety because
there are many pretenders. There are honest men,
though there be many swindlers ; there is real capital,
though there be many bogus schemes ; and so is
there a large number of those who are possessors of
heavenly riches, — men of knowledge, and Christian
experience, and piety, and prayer, and trutli, and
benevolence, — men rich in faith and the labours of
love, — men whose souls are beautiful and wealthy,
and who never can be made poor, even in the re-

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

volutions of ages. Now, do men envy sucli? Well,
they do — in this way. They don't want their riches
— not theA^ If they did, tliey might have them,
for the capital of pious, lioly character is capable of
unbounded increase. There is only so much gold
and property in the Morld. But the Bank of
liighteousness is unbounded in its acconnnodations.
Still, no doubt, there is application re(piired, and a
use in spiritual connnerce to be made of the heavenly
treasure. But not only is there an antijiathy to
labour, there is no desire for the spiritual pro-
ducts. Why, then, should the spiritually rich know
envies ? Because they are a standing rebuke t<j
those who are spiritually poor. Every good man is
himself a rebuke to every bad one. The benevolent
man does not need to open his mouth in reproof of
the stingy, covetous one. He has only to give, that
lie may earn the mean man's hate. The man of true
heart is in some sense the scourge of the selfish.
Purity throws a light which reveals the hideousness
of all vileness. It is easy, then, to see how, although
men are not envied for their sj^iritual liches m the
same sense as the rich in this world, that yet in
another they vllQ. The wicked, the irreligious, do
not like to see the splendours of character which
show the dinuiess and meanness of their own. This
envy had as much to do with the crucifixion of the

THE ENVIOUS MAN.

21,

Son of God as all the charges on which He was i)ut
to death. These were but tlie occasion of His
crucifixion. What did Annas and Caiaphas care
though He sliould become a King ? wliat fear had
they of the ruin of their l)eautiful temple ? what
even did they care for His blasphemy, that He was
the Son of God ? Wliat they disliked worse than
all was, that He was indeed a King among men,
dwarfing all who were annuul Him into littleness.
What they disliked was His divine life, evidential
of His divine Sonship. It was His purity that
raised their envy, because it illustrated their unholy
deeds ; He was guilty of showing that all the i-iches
of temples profaned, and priesthoods that were
venal, and pharisaisms that forgot the great matters
of the law to attend to miiuite points of observance,
were worthless trash. Now, no man who fancies he
is rich, and passes for rich, and has the respect aris-
ing from being rich, will be much obliged to you for
revealing the hideous secret that he, if all were
known, is a miserable beggar. But this is what
Jesus did, and this is what in measure the ajjostles
did, and so earned their martyr's crown ; and this is
what every good, holy man does, who comes into
contact with baseness and unworthiness. The truth
is, we are all angry with those who are spiritually
rich, till we have determined by the grace of God to

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become spirit\ially rich ourselves. When that is the
case, there may still be the lurking jealousies and
envies which belonfj to our human nature while
here, as tliough we did not get our (hie apprecia-
tion, whicli is quite likely ; as though we liatl not
an api)ro})riate place in the honours and respect of
our feUow-men ; and hence tlie l)ickcrings and
envies and liarsh judgments among tliose wlio are
confessedly religiois. It indeed argues a very high
attainment in the divine life, to be able to say, like
John, without even a spice of envy, ' He nnist
increase, but I must decrease ;' and like Paul,
' So then, whether in pretence or truth, Christ is
preached ; and I therein do rejoice, and will rejoice.'
To this spirit we would desire to attain. All low
ambitions we would bid awav from us. But to be
rich in faith, love, and holiness, we would bend all
our energies, that should we even altogether fail in
this life, we may yet be received into everlasting
habitations.

XII.

THE LONELY ONE.

' Then I retiirru'd, aiul I saw vanity under the sun. There is
one aU)ne, and there is not a second ; yea, he hath neither child
nor brother: yet is there no end of all his hihour ; neitl"'r is his
eye satisfied with riches ; neither sailh he, For Avhom do I labour,
and bereave my soul of good ? This is also vanity, yea, it is ii
sore travail. Two are better than one ; because they have a good
reward for their le.lmur. For if they fall, the one will lift up his
fellow : but woe to him that is alone when he falleth ; lor he hath
not another to help him uj>. Again, if two lie together, then they
have heat : l)ut how can one be warm alone ? And if one prevail
against him, two shall withstand him ; and a threefold cord is not
ijuickly broken.' — EccLKs. iv. 7-12.

THE wise man returns from Ids last mental
excursion, in which we accompanied him, in
viewing the vexations of envy and poverty, to con-
sider another phase of vanity under the sun, — that
of the lonely man labouring, not for wife or child
or friend, l)ut for self alone, fearing expense, laying
up wealth, increasing his goods, but all this aj^pa-
rently purposeless and objectless. ' Neither saith
he, For whom do I labour and bereave my soul of
good ? This is also vanity, and a sore travail.'
The loneliness of the wifeless, childless, friendless

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man lioverinj^ over liim in liis work, tlu3 olieerless
iiiiluiu of liis 8iirrouii(lin^f8, the privation to which
he vohmtarily .siihjected liinisclf, led Soh^nion natu-
rally to sj)uak of the advantages of copartnery in
the various afl'airs of life, — a hetter reward for lahour
in cond)ination than on the individual plan, assist-
ance rt!ady in cases of accident or distress, comfort
and counsel to warm in a cold M'orld, hel]) in war ;
— all this bein<,f presented in the simplest form of
comltination, — the nnion of two, and yet n further
complexity Iteing anticii)ated in the threefold cord.
This is the nsual form of social life, — in marriage,
in husiness, in friendshij). Companionship is every-
where sought by man ; counsel is everywhere needed.
No man is in himself complete. He needs some one
to supply deficiencies which he feels, and is ready
to repay the kindness by supplying the defects of
others.

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CAUSES OF LONELINESS.

The case of the solitary man is indeed sorrowful.
It is only when we are in nnamiable moods that we
would be mncli alone. There are, of course, times
and seasons, when private meditation is useful and
sweet ; but continuous retirement, avoidance of
society, betrays the unbalanced mind, the growth of
a rooted sorrow. Each case of melancholic abstrac-

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210

tion has its own cxi)laiiiitl()n. Soiiu^tinies it is inhe-
rent in tlie constitution from cliildliood, has not l)t'en
striven a^^ainst, ratlier lias been cherislied, throuj^h a
feeliii;;' of pride or vanity, tliat tliose around are not
80 g(»od as the nio])in}^' creature. Sometimes it has,
after birth in constitutional vanity, received its
baptism of sufferiiiLf from some minister of disap-
pointment, — a bliglited liope, an unreturned love ;
sometimes it is nurtured by some criminal liabit ;
sonuitimes friendship lias betrayed, and left only
wretchedness behind ; sometimes death has taken
away the joy of the heart and the deli^lit of the
eyes ; sometimes a f^reat misfortune has come like
an avalanche, thundering on the honse, out of which
he has just l)een able to crawl with life, regretful
almost that life has been preserved ; sometimes it is
Job sitting in his ashes, when his jn'operty has been
swept away, when his children have been slain ;
sometimes it is Al)salom, who has no child to per-
petuate his name, expending his fortune and affec-
tion on a pillar ; sometimes it is a (loethe or a
Byron pouring fijrth sorrow in song, and hui-ling
anathemas against a world, some member or two of
which may have wounded their i)]'i(le, but which, as
a whole, has done them no wrong ; sometimes it is
an old father who has cut off his only son, who has
in some, perhaps not very criminal, particular dis-

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THE WISDOM OF THE IGNG.

obeyed him, and who now goes to endow an hospital,
not so much as a work of benevolence, as a way in
Avhich he may wreak his vengeance on him on whom
he had previously lavished all his love. This is he,
— tliis ciiildless cliild of sorrow, this solitary one,
who has given himself to labour, to lay up, to secure
the power of riches, without the ability to use them
for any useful purpose, — whose case Solomon com-
miserates, whose example furnishes him with anotlier
reason for crying out against the world as a scene
only of vanity and vexation of spirit.

NECESSITY OF OCCUPATION.

It is very frequently the case when a person has
met with a great disappointment or suffered a great
loss, a loss that was irreparable, a heart loss —
for wliat are mercantile losses and l)ankruptcies to
those which bring insolvencies of the affections ? —
that, the heart being necessitated to set itself on
something, he seeks in labour to deaden memory ;
is probalily more laborious than if he had not expe-
rienced the loss, though now he has no one to toil
for ; and tliough he has far more tlum is necessary
for self, still he works and accumulates, as thoufxh
he had never so many dependent upon him. How
is this to be explained ? What shall be said if we
should affirm that it arises from the necessity of

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occupation, — a necessity to liim who would be liappy
in any case, but one which increases wdth him Avho
has no one to care for ? Pie who has some one to
love may endure to be idle ; he who is all alone
must have every minute filled up. That toil which
love undertakes to suppcjrt the being loved and
trusted, is endured and intensified by the desire to
fill up the great desert which desertion or death has
niade in the soul. Xo one can be happy without
action, but especially can he not be happy without
strict employment who has anything to l)rood over.
You may for a while keep your windows sliut, and
close the door of your chamber against all intrusion,
and make the week a continuous Sabbath ; but if
you should, because the stroke is great and the
sorrow overM'hclming, continue tliis isolation and
inaction, you will be on the fair road to tlie domains
of insanity. Better let in the blessed sun to cheer
your eye and heart ; better go forth into the world,
and see if tliere be not in it something to cheer you
— sympathetic voices and kind looks ; but especially
try if there l)e not some good useful employn'.ent
for wliich you ra'C fitted. It may l)e that you have
no occasion to do so fcr any advantage which further
acquisitions will be to you ; but if you find advan-
tage in tlic employment itself, tliat is a sufficient
reason for activity. God has formed us fur action ;

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THE WISDOJI OF THE KIXG.

and we will find, in complying witli the designs of
heaven, peace and contentment.

We are to observe that Solomon thought the case
an evil one, not so nmch because the man was liibour-
ing and underfjoing toil, as depriving his soul of
good, and all for no near or dear relative or friend.
We have to speak a little to these two points.

ASCETICISM.

There is an amount of deprivation of the soul of
good which l)ecomes an evil. It is (£uite right that
a man should enjoy the fruit of his labour. Those
who have made vows of poverty have often found
that they have made a theoretical ndstake, which
they were Ijound practically to remedy, by taking
as much enjoyment as possible. But at the same
time abstemiousness adds to the zest of enjoyment.
The true epicure is the laborious temperate man.
Your iiourmands nuss the hidiest luxuries of the
table ; your men of pleasure are generally the most
miserable men on earth. Your hard-working, tem-
])erate man has the l)lessing of a good appetite.
The taste of all is to him good. In depriving tlie
soul of good, we sometimes attain good. True, we
may go too far. The poor man may suffei' liarm
i'rom want, and the miser may suffer privation from
will. Some miserable self-starver, probably, had

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223

met Solomon's eye ; but it may be tliat he tlionglit
more deeply of privations than there was any ne-
cessity for. We all know that our requirements
very much depend on our habits. A king must be
greatly puzzled as to how not merely poor tenement
liuuse people live, but how respectable peasants and
sliopkeepers support life on small pittances. Tlie
secret lies in habit. But very little is required to
support nature — ay, to feel all the highest delights
which food and raiment afford. We have eaten
and drunk and slept as comfortably in a log hut
as in the finest house we ever sojourned in ; anil
tho.se who are accustomed to such things have keen
enjoyments.

THE LONELY MAN S LABOUR NOT LOST.

])Ut what struck Solomon as hard was, that he
should deprive his soul of good when he had no one
to enjoy it for him, eitlier at present or prospectively
— neither friend nor heir. It might have suggested
itself to him that this man might do much good to
society by his activity, and that his labour was not
all lost. What he had acfpiired, the wealth which
Ids labour had accunudated, would remain for the
good of society in some foi-m, and would pass into
other hands. In this point of view the evil vanishes.
Each man in the nation is like a bee in the hive, as

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THE WISDOM OF THE KIXG.

far as work goes. Many may work in construction
of the house or the cell. The only difference is,
that among mankind each one aims at having a
home for self and family. Yet by this mode the
general result is the same as in the colony of the
bee. The advantage of one becomes that of all.
We might also observe, that any one who is never
so lonely may make life full of good works. We
do not know any one who is in such a grand con-
dition t(j benefit the world as tlie lonely maii. He
lias nothing to prevent his sympathies from taking
their course to the worthiest objects. And indeed
we find that many of those who have done the most
important work for man, have been men who had
neither wife, child, nor brother. Gibbon, the writer
of that great work. The Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire, and Hume, who wrote the History of Emj-
land, were both childless. Columbus, if I mistake
not, was witliout family. Pope, Coleridge, and
Wordswortli ^\•ere unmarried. AYe find that mai^y
of those wlio have done the world rich service,
were men who were alone. Their woiks, however
great, were done for and on behalf of humanity.
We think that it is a good thing for some active
men to be alone. It would seem as though it were
less hard to do the right, if one had no fear for per-
secution of others on account of it. It is said that

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225

when a man lias a family, he has given pledges to
society for good l)ehavioiir ; that is, a man will be
afraid to do what may bring him under the ban of
law or society, lest his family should suffer as
well as he ; and so the ties of family, too, will
make it in certain circumstances less easy for him
to speak unwelcome truth. It is easier to follow
Christ when one has no wife or sister or brother,
whom he may be called on to hate for the sake of
the gospel.

JESUS THE LONELY WOKKEH.

In this connection we cannot forbear to observe
that Jesus Christ, upon the principle of judgment
laid down in this observation of Solomon, in His
deprivation of His soul of good, in His great and
incessant labours, must appear an inexplicable cha-
racter. All nmst seem vanity and vexation of
spirit that He did ; and yet He in His loneliness
redeemed the world from vanity. Oh I what a
glorious life was His ; and all the more glorious
because He had no selfish object to serve. TIk;
very fact that He did not work foi* inheritance to
be left to children, but for the good of man, — that
His labours were for the labouring. His sorrows
were for the suffering. His death for the dying, and
His life that all might live, — is the grandest thing

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

in all our world's history, procuring even the re-
demption of man from ruin.

But it is apparently from a selfish standpoint
that Solomon views tins matter. That a man be
able to enjoy fully, he nnist have some objects for
whom he may work and suffer. Solomon thinks
the man must be unhappy if he have not these,
the usual appanages of life ; and so, no doubt, he
will l)e, if he be not able to find objects of kindness
whom he may take to his heart ; or at least so fill
up his life with work, that he will not have time
for vain regrets.

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UNITY OF THE RACE.

How beautiful is that arrangement of Heaven by
which the whole human race is formed into a unity ;
by which the father, by his interest in his child,
becomes interested in futurity ; by which friendship
tends to cement society ; by which, in the division
of labour, men become heli)ful to each other; by
which weakness finds aid in strength ; by Avhich
coi^artncry builds up business, and combination de-
feats enmity ! In the panorama of life, how sweet
to point out beauties to a sympathizing mind ! In
its journey, how it increases confidence and dissi-
pates fear, to have one near to help if dangers
threaten, or difficulties are to be surmounted ! In

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227

all this we see the benevolence and the wisdom of
Him who made iis. Such arrangements as these
redeem the Avorld from the charge of vanity. It
is the disarrangement of this order that produces
vexation of spirit. Man, by breaking up these
arrangements, sins and suffers. We do indeed find
these arrangements more or less broken, so that we
may say that man, in his best estate, is altogether
vanity, when considered with reference only to
time ; but Avhen we take in his whole being, pro-
spective as well as present, when we think of the
present as preparatory to the active being which is
to be active for evennore, vanity ceases to be our
thought of it. We see a tiny plant hardly able to
resist the cold of the coming winter, but destined to
become a tree of the grandest proportions, and fit
for some gi-eat and noble work. And although
death may come, M-hat of that ? ' For if mo bo
planted in the likeness of His death, we shall be
also in tlie likeness of His resurrection.'

COMPANION.SIIIP.

Companionship is good. If you are travelling,
one is able to lielj) the other up if he falls. AVe
know Avhat it is to go through the wood alone in
the night ; by the grounds su])posed to be haunted
alone ; by the lair of the wild beasts alone. We

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would rather have for company the coarsest man,
though a mere stranger, when the darkness is dense,
or the storm has overtaken us, tlian be ah)ne — pro-
vided we do not think him a thief or a rohber.
We know not liow soon we shall need help — and
to have help at hand ! Tliere are some great perils
in whicli, indeed, companionship brings no comfort
because it can Ijring no help — as when the ship is
about to sink with its hundreds of human beings,
and tliose wild waters are about to take by the
throat and mercilessly strangle every one. But
while there is yet hope of saving the sliip, what
comfort to have many brave hands at tlie pumps,
and voices to encourage us to w(jrk ! Companion-
shi]) here is good ; tliat is, still provided those who
are with us are not craven, fearful creatures, fit to
paralyse, not to work. Yes, companionship is good
if the companion be good. Everything has its dark
as well as its bright side, and so has this subject-
Tlie fearful heart causeth fear. Hence, in providing
against the perils of loneliness, we need to be watch-
I'ld and wary. In tliis world there are bad men
and cowards. Both are to be shunned on the
journey of li^e. Better, if we fall, to rise u]) by
our <iwn power, than be strangled (»r robl)ed by
the hand that has helped us up.

Companionships, too, need to be formed, not only

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with a view to pliysical helji, but moral and spiritual
aid. The good or the evil which they do us physi-
cally is as nothing comparatively. One may assist
another hy adding his strength, hut we can actually

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give, and do connnunicate our i
tliose with whom we associate. We give to those
who love us our (qualities, our ideas, our hal)its.
The basis of (jur original nature may remain the
same, but all else has been taken up from our sur-
roundings, and become incorporated into our being.
We are to a laige extent what we have been made,
and we may see our work in the web of other men's
character, 'No man liveth to himself.' You can-
not sit down to the loom of life, and say, Now I
will weave me a habit in which shall be nothing
of other men's views and opinions. No ; a thousand
threads of various texture and colour, spun by many
hands, you find sj)eeding across, and mingling them-
selves with what you thought was your own jiecu-
liar manufacture ; and M'hen the varied pattern is
completed, the lights and shadows will ajipear to
have been dyed by other hands than our own. It
has been said tliat Pandora had a gift given her by
each of the gods ; but more truly may we say of
those with whom we associate, we are endowed
by them. From one we have this wisdom, from
another that folly. How important, then, is com-

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panionsliip and sinTOundiiigs ! We would therefore
ask, Lefore we decide that companionship is good,
Who are they that are to form the list of friends ?

TILVDE PARTNERSHIP.

In regard to copartnery in trade, it is the same.
If I join in a partnershij) with a man who is a wild
speculator, or who is careless in his business, or idle,
I shall surely come to grief. Instead of having a
better reward for my labour, I shall have a worse.
It is so, too, in moral and spiritual matters. Wild
speculation is a vain thing, and those should be
avoided who embark in it. But we would not be
misunderstood. Legitimate speculation is always
good and necessary to the merchant, and so it is
to the moralist and the Christian. There is nothino-
worse than stagnation, either in trade or religion.
The sailor would rather have a storm any time than
that dead calm when the sail flaps idly against the
mast. It is always good to think — to think for
one's self — to think, not as the market thinks, but
as the state of affairs warrants ; and it is good to
have those about us who think, who do not fear
to fnce trutli, and look into her calm eye. But we
may meet with those who will direct us away from
her, and under pretence of freedom may lead to
licentiousness. All copartnery with such is to be

THE LONELY ONE.

231

avoidod. It will be of small account to us that we
should be upheld in our stuudjling by some one
who would lead us after every ignia fatuus of
speculation. Small profit, too, is there in such
searches. But no companionship is more profitable
than that which M'ill direct to the discovery of
noble truths, and give us the necessary guidance
and help while we are in quest of them. Even
with such, we must seek direction from that Spirit
which leadeth to all truth, and discovers to us truth
by making us pure and good, by rendering us like
Him.

The society of the careless and of the idle, too,
should l)e avoided in all such com})anionships,
whether in the things of the world or of rcliuion.
Diligence in bvtsiness should go with the sei-vice of
the Lord. Partnerships made with the idle and
negligent, will bring even the industrious to grief.
In married life, extravagance or carelessness on the
part of one may destroy tlie prosperity of both. If
one blade of the scissors be blunt, no sharpness of
the other will make a clean cut. One broken wheel
will mar all the going of the machine. We must
see, then, to the edge and force of those with whom
we associate, or our exertions may be all vain.

And another thought. Let us live so that
others who are wise may seek us as their com-

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232

THE V;iSI)OM OF THE KING.

panions. T.ike gravitates towards like. The coiri-
panioii of fools is so because lie is himself a fool.
As the rich seek the company ^e rich, and the
poor consort with the poor, so ti ^e of good morals
seek those of sterling worth. Renieml»er, too, that
while the winds scatter the chaff, the wheat lies in
the golden heap, ifuin is the end of folly, hut
God's garner is the place where tiie good and wise
ultimately repose.

This toil, then, is good, and this sorrow is the
sphere of sympathy, and whatever aids this tcjil and
lightens this sorrow is also good ; and among those
things which do so, we have rf "nTcd to marriage,
friendship, copartnery. With "d to the first of

these, Ave shall quote a short pucm recently pub-
lished, showing the helpfulness of that blessed re-
lation :

' Side Ly side, in tlio bright mom of diildliooil,
Wlieii wo weie youii.tf,
And, sliiiring grief I'or a belovud one tukcn,
Her re([uiem sung.

' Side by side, when riper years advancing
Bid graces bloom,
And from the dead a bud of life uprising
Flowered o'er the tomb.

' Side by side, in the dark hour of trial,
To help and cheer, —
The sorrow-freighted barque o'er trouble's sea
To guide and Si.oer.

THE U)NELY ONE.

' Side by side, in the f^lad scenes of pleasure,
(^iir joj's to sliiire ;
Dissevered, ever gi ieviii-,' ; ]»ut united,
All yliidness tliero.

* Side by side— our hearts together twining,
Mingle in one ;
One aim, one ohjeet, and one expectation,
One, only one.

' Side by side, in adoration kneeling,
One jiiaycr ascends ;
One Everlasting hears, and in His nierey
One answer sends.

' Side by side, throughout life's day declining,
Till sinks our .siin,
Through good np./rt and evil, ever trusting —
Our hearts still one.

' Side by side, within the grave's dark chamber,
Waiting to rise,
'V'hen the l"ud trump of universal waking
Shall rend the skies.

' Side by side, in everlasting union
"With saints above,
Hymning the pa>an of eternal goodness
And deathless love.'

233

it;

ill

XIIL

THE WISE CHILD AND THE FOOLISH

KING.

' Better is a poor and a wise child than an old and foolish king. ' —
— EccLKS. iv. 13.

THE custom of Eastern sovereigns, 'vvlio, as a
safeguard of power, kept the prospective heirs
to their thrones in places of confinement, lest by
factions taking advantage of discontents excited by
tyranny, they should find themselves dethroned, and
some other of the royal blood elevated in tlieii' room,
is here referred to. David seems to have treated
his cliildren liberallv, and hence the rebellions of
Absaom and Adonijah. We do not find from the
histories of the subsequent kings who reigned over
Israel and Judah, whether tlie custom was much
attended to or not. It probably was. No doubt
Solomon had many examples among the neighbour-
ing potentates, of a strict surveillance, amounting to
imprisonment, of those who were so related to the
sovereign that they might fairly aspire, if oppor-
tunity offered, to reign, when any series of impru-

234

THE WISE CHILD AND THE FOOLISH KING. 235

dences rendered the reigning prince obnoxious to
the populace, — some examples, too, of the bad effects
of such seclusion from the world of those who were
afterwards called to reign, in their folly and impru-
dence, and resistance to salutary advice. He thinks
a wise child is better, has a oetter lot in life, is of
more advantage to society, even tliougli born in a
humble station. The one, so far from fultilling the
objects for which thrones are erected, subverted all
those objects, producing poverty in his kingdom,
preventing progress among his subjects by his foolish
and tyrannical rule ; the other, having when young
attained a wise disposition — a disposition to acquire
knowledge, and to make his life useful — was pre-
paring to do good to society, to add to the world's
wealth, to set a good example to others — an ]iono in-
to his parents, and a blessing to all. ' Better is a
j>oor and a wise child than an old and foolisli king,
who will no more be admonislied. For out of prison
he cometh to reign : whereas also he that is born in
his kingdom becometh poor,' — that is, througli his
misrule.

GOOD OR EVIL IXFLUEXCE OF RULERS.

The prosperity of nations is largely d(^]»endent on
their rulers. Thij is especially the case witli nations
governed by despots ; but it is also so in a measure

III

M 1

23G

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

witli even the most limited monarchies and tlie
most enlightened republics. Hence the histoiy of
the world is in great measure that of its rulers.
They are the springs of national life, or dead seas
in which onl}'- noxious things can breed and live.
Tliey send refreshing rain, or burn into sterility the
fertile soils?, — mainsprings moving to evil or to good
tlie national macliinery, — now grinding out for it
the arts of peace, now breaking it up by futile wars,
— then, l»roken themselves, leaving the wheels of
social life to go on with their reserve power, till
they may again be driven forward with a new regal
force, or fall into hopeless inaction v* itiiout it. The
king's iniiuence, felt particularly by his courtiers and
officers, is by tliein communicated to other circles,
till, passing away from peerages and landed proprie-
taries, it touches with its virtues or its vices the
remotest peasantries and labourers. Men, women,
and little ones, all are affected. Saul is wicked
and foolish, and Philistia triumphs, not only over
him and Jonathan, but over Israel on the mountains
of Gilboa. David, who is in the main wise, and
under whom Israel is built up, is in some things
foolish, and the people suffer from the angel of the
Lord. Solomon is a man of wisdom and of peace,
and under him the arts flourish, and the temple is
built, and commerce spreads her sails as far as India.

THE WISE CHILD AND THE FOOLISH KING. 237

rielioboam is foolish, and Israel is divided ; tlie two
parts weakening one another by war, and becoming
in turn the victims of Syria, Assyria, and Babylon.
AVe may say that the captivity was the result of the
folly of liehoboam. History is full of such examples.
England has been raised high by the wisdom, and
brought low by the folly, of her sovereigns. The
wise counsels of Elizabeth gave birth to a strengtb.,
prosperity, and enterprise, which the folly (jf the
Stuarts could not wholly subvert. Tlie wisdom and
energy of Ciomwell came to stay the falling state,
and of William to prevent that ruin to which tilings
were fast tending, through the madness of the second
James. The mediocrity of the first of the Georges,
the obstinacy of the third, and the libertinism of the
fourth, have been prevented from accomplishing the
whole evil to which they pointed, by the virtues,
the womanly and motherly qualities, of a Victoria,
and by the concealed wisdom of an Albert. The
prosperity of certain periods of national life is thus
very dependent on the wisdom of the sovereigns
who may direct its affairs. The average power and
ability of the nation arc mucli tlie pame, but the
power of the hcadshij) is very various. A long
succession of foolish princes will indeed saj) the;
virtues as well as the pi-os[)erities of a i)eople, and
then ' a long farewell to greatness.' Under misrule.

I's

'W ?

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•h

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238

THE AVISDOM OF THE KING.

Greece, the original home of poetry, eloquence, the
arts, war, glory — everything tliat can elevate — has
for many centuries been dead, sepultured, covered
in with baseness, though it is indeed waking up
latterly, but only througli a galvanic action from
the batteries of liberty and seething intellect all
around. Spain, once so rich, so cliivalrous, has by
misrule descended into beggary and baseness. Over
the far-off generations kings hold their sceptre, — if
golden, enriching them ; if leaden, oppressing them.
They are the fates who spin in succession the
threads of destiny for the nations. Well might
Solomon say, ' Better is a poor and a wise child
than an old and foolish king.'

The king is the fiither to the people, the past is
father to the present, and the present is the father
of the future. Adam is the first king, ruling us
as he ruled himself — badly. He, the first, is still
being developed in us, the middle, and Mill go on
tn fhe last.

INFLUENCE OF THE FAST UFON THE PKESENT.

The ages gone ])y are responsible to us, and we
are responsible to the coming centuries. But those
to whom it is given to mould society, to give it
fashion and colour, are specially responsible. Not
kings alone, but priests and scholars and pliilo-

1 ■?

THE WISE CHILD AND THE FOOLISH KING. 239

sopliers, who also are in tlicir way kings, are respon-
sible to the present and to the future. See what
Moses did for Israel, and for us. We still feel the
influence of Solomon and of Isaiah. The thinkings
of Jewish prophets mould our thouglits. Take away
the apostles, and what a blank ! Suppose the King
of truth never to have come, and wliere should we
be ? Somehow we are but Judah and Israel de-
veloped, with some nungling of Greece and Eome.
Talk of blessings and curses descending to the third
and fourth generation : tlicy descend to the fortieth,
and four hundredth. We yet hear the hiss of the
serpent — -the great fiend laughter that burst upwards
from the pit when our ancestor feU. Thus Calvin-
ism stares at us everywhere from tlie windows of
the antique towers of history : S(piare and angular,
gliostly and ungainly, but yet a reality that will not
stand out of view. It has a lesson, too, for us. It
is saying, ' No man livcth to himself, no man dieth
to himself.' It bids us put aside that fiction, that
' the foolish man harms no one but himself The
voices that are waiting in the dim vestibules of the
future try to say, ' Do us no harm.' Thus speak
they specially to kings and other great ones, who
think they were born with substantial royal rights,
but ith abstractions of duty, — for enjoyment
fjimply. God has said to tliem, 1 have giAen y(ju

,i.i,

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mmmm

240

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

great honours, riches, glory, state, as rewards tor
great and nohle toil. You are charged with the
destinies of the generation living and of tliose un-
born, and to support you in the royal work I give
you royal rewards. Be not foolish, but wise. Hear
the admonitions of wisdom. In you are the des-
tinies of posterity.

H,i

PERSONAL llESl'ONSIBIUTY REMAINS.

Our destinies are thus so dependent on our
ancestry and nationality, tliat we may be almost
tempted to deny all individual resjxjnsibility. Wlien
we see great armies put in motion to carry fire and
sword into the midst of an unoffending ])eople, the
soldiers having no election of their own in the
matter, we conclude that it were hardly possible
to bring responsibility for the conduct or crimes of
the war home to any of that vast array — at least
for anything done 1)y the commands of superior
officers, although it may not be hard to bring
home to individuals the crimes tliat are done con-
trary to order, or without order ; aiul when one is
surrounded with iuHuences, in infancy moulding
the very fundamental principles of morals, and by
inlluences during the whole time that our character
is being built iip, when parents, teachers, rulers, all
combine to make us what we are, whatever we ailirm

THE WISE CHILD AND THE FOOLISH KING. 241

of particular responsibility, certainly wc must make
very great allowances and distinctions. The man
who is, bv antecedent and snrroundinj:^ nood influ-
ences, kept pure and right, what is the amount of
deduction to be made from his merit ? The man
who has, by shnilar depressing influences, been made
evil, what amount of allowance should be made for
him ? Probably we may say Ave need not go into
that question at all. Some may be inclined to take
and treat men just as they affect us, without the
slightest reference to responsibility, or its opposite.
We love birds of beautiful plumage and sweet song,
but we hate beasts of prey and birds of rapine ;
although there is no merit on account of his plumage
to the peacock, or of his voice to the thrush, and
although necessity compels the tiger and lion to
rend their innocent prey. We love those beautiful
harmonious birds, and we trap and pet tliem ; we
fear and hate these things with dreadful fangs and
claws, and we Idll them. But can we so class men,
and then, according to their nature, honour them or
kill them according as they manifest a nature suit-
able to our delights, or contrary to our interests ?
No, we always go deeper than that. AVe say to the
man, You did wrong, you should have done right ;
or, You have done well, we honour you. We never
think of bringing home conviction to the conscience

§\

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242

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

of the lion. But are we right in doing so in tlie
case of men nurtured in crime, and taught to call
evil good, and good evil ? Yes ; for with regard to
the great questions of morals, no amount of teaching
will make a man really blind to their fundamental
distinctions. Eight will assert itself as right, and
wrong will slink into the darkness as wrong, wliat-
ever may have been our teachings. It is simply
not possible to subvert their radical nature. In the
haunts of bandits men contimie to see moral subjects
pretty much as in states and kingdoms. We also
find that the truth in regard to moral (juestions lias
a tendency to show itself to him who seeks it, liow-
ever others may have tried to hide it from tlic soul.
Our depravity shows itself in the rejection of
the truth when exhibited, not in the dilliculty of
discovering it in the darkness. Evermore, not-
withstanding all antenatal and contemporary influ-
ences, the true relations of things get themselves
presented to the soul for approval ; jind according
as they are received and approved, or are rejected
and trampled upon, is the moral state of that soul.
Men in a dark age and in a dark country may be
held as irresponsible for many of their evil deeds,
but in regard to many more they see their crimi-
nality ; their thoughti accuse or excuse them. Each
man that cometh into the world is enlightened with

THE WISE CHILI) AND THE FOOLISH KING.

243

ith

a siglit of the true light, and the condomnation is,
that men love darkness rather than liglit, because
tlieir deeds are evil. There is no misrule of persons,
no falsities of teachers, no universality of custom
that can altogether prevent the soul from sometime
beholding the beautiful forms of truth and virtue,
and from making a personal election, or rejection of
tliem. However nnich we may })ity the ])eople whom
ages of misrule have not (jnly robbed of material
wealth, but of just preceptions of truth and virtue,
still we hold that some capacities are left them of
recuperation and of responsibility. Each man feels
this. We suppose tliere is no savage that can divest
himself of it. All thiidc they could be better than
they are. Are they wrong in tliis conception ? We
trow not. We are not, then, mere liid-cs in a cliain
of destiny forged by the hand of circumstance. ^X^'.
are links, but wc have sometliing to do with our
own weight and strengtli and tempering. Others
may have built the forge and su))))lied the fuel, and
procured the ore, and puddled it, and rolled it into
the bar. All tliis has been done for the smitli ; but
the time comes when he is to act for himself, to
blow the bellows, to see that the iron is duly lieated,
to hannner it, and Mcld it. is the smith not re-
sponsible for the link ? Tartly, you say — indeed
in great measure ; not for the whole cprality, but

I )

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

still for its strengtli, as far as that dopcndcd not on
the anterior excellence or badness of the iron, but
for the heating and hammering surely. Let us do
him justice. Let us do ourselves justice too. Much
has been prepared of the basis of character, and yet
the heating and hanmiering are our own. While
we condenm or appLiud our teachers, our kings, our
ancestors, let us see that the duty still incumbent
on ourselves is so performed that our link may be
good, capable of bearing the miglitiest strain, not a
poor rotten thing, deceiving that entrusted to its
holding, wrecking great causes.

WE HAVE NO EXCUSE.

In the present day we are enlightened. The men
of royal intellect liave been wise, and our kings, to
do them justice, will bear fair comparison with those
of past days. While the wisdom of sovereigns,
politicians, and philosophers has illuminated our
paths, we shall be all the more guilty should we
fall. What excuse shall we make if we become not
wise and strong and free ? It has often happened
tiiat r.ations did not improve their privileges. The
candlestick has been removed from the castle of
indolence. The fetter has been forged for liberty.
Eeligion despised has gone in sackcloth through
the land weeping. All this has come sometimes,

THE WISE CHILI) AND THE FOOIJSH KING. 245

not from the follies of its kings, but from the mad-
ness of its people. History teaches us that, while
rulers have been wicked, sometimes peoi)le have
been unworthy of their guides. Tlio princes of
wisdom have been frequently slain by tliose wliom
they would educate and save. An old and ol)stinate
people that will no longer be advised, is worse than
an old and obstinate king. There is ruin before
both. Better, however, that the king should perish
tlian the nation.

THE WISE CHILD.

Let us leave the aged king and his court, that
we may seek the wise child in the cottage. We
have made a change — from the glare of the palace
to the green fields and the lilies. Pei'haps so ; but
we may not have wandered so far. In the lawn
abutting on the royal grounds are plenty of children
trying to play. There are some of them that we
would say are sharp, with great insight into things.
Some are bad — already bad. Perhaps you have
seen gardens amid many chimneys. When the
manufactories w^ere dense, the smoke and the colly
had covered the flowers. Tliere were roses and
tulips ; but oh, how dingy ! Everything had an ashy,
mourning look. It seems lost labour to try to grow
flowers here. Yet it is sometimes done ; and it is

:mM

2-tG

THK WISDOM OK Till", KIXC.

very clicerinj,' to those Immaii crcfitures that must
ttlso live among the cliimneys. And so tliose uhil-
(liL'ii g];"l(loii the eye, even vvlioii we pass through
the streets of the great eity where also the obstinate
old king holds his eourt ; and now and then you
will find one singularly bejuitiful soul in the fresh-
ness of youth, which even the sooty moral atmo-
sphere has not besnurrhed. It is wise — has need
of wisdom ; for perhaps some near relative is a fool,
a drunken fool, and the little child leads him from
druidvcnncss and misery and death. We have
many such instances. A child jit Sabbath scIuhjI
has become wise with God-given wisdom, and has
made wise foolish parents. Their own little child
has led them — away fnun the dark ])itfalls, away
from the haunts of sin, away from bittei- quarrels,
to family peace, family enjoyment, l<» the peace of
God which passeth understanding. And the child,
having \vith its own sweet disposition, and open
truthfulness, and infantile feai-lessness, and innocent
courage, brought back those who had given it birth
to a new liA.', has been also taken nway by death.
Its life is given for th'^ h' id in which it

moved, and whi ' '• ost say it has

saved. It was pi uul . ls ^ ^dom it has made
many rich. Better than m old foolish king ! We
should think so. He c iirses nations ; the child

THE WISE CHILD AND THE FOOLISH KINfl. 247

blesses some poor pettple. He sows tbe land with
poverty ; the [)oor child cultivates the fruits of divine
gi'ace and love in a little blighted corner of hu-
manity, making it rejoice and blossom as the rose.
Let the good child, the wise child, come fcjrth, that
we may do it reverence, out of the low, dark cabin,
into the sunlight, out among \ho ilowers. The ])oor
child is badly dressed : that is nothing. She is the
daughter of the King, all glorious within. The
garments of her character are wrought with em-
broideries of gold. Slie has a crown that shall shine
with gems when all earthly sceptres are broken ;
and tliere are many little wise children, her com-
panions, who are following her to t)ie })rcsence of
the glorious King of kings, who said of them when
Pie was down here, ' Of such is the kingdom of
God.'

So wisdom excelleth folly as light excelleth dark-
ness. One ray of the beautiful light is worth a
whole kingdom of darlcness ; one gleam of wisdom
is worth a royal life of folly ; and the good disposi-
tion is better than any amount of despotic power :

s!-i

;

' Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood. '

. i

Thus it appears that no station in life can pre-
vent us from attaining worth, and doing good, and

pii

248

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

winning fame. It is easy, apparently, for princes
and great ones to become nsefiil : perhaps all is not
easy that looks easy, and all is not hard that looks
difUcnlt. In lowly life there are things worth
lookinf after. It was once supposed by novelists
that high life alone was worth notice. Those who
have gone down to the lanes and cottages, have
fared best latterly in that line. They have found
there not only vices, but virtues. If they have
found poverty and suftering, they have sometimes
found a wealth of affection and rightheartedness
they had failed to meet in many grander scenes.
Poverty does not always blight the soul. Xo doubt
its tendency is tliat way, and such frequently are
its effects. But this tendency may be resisted.
Say not, ' Because I am young, what can I do ?
because I am poor, what can I do ? ' If you are
young, you have many advantages, which will all be
taken away by the coming years — youth's inno-
cence, its ingenuousness, its contidiiigness. Improve
these before experience comes to blight them. If
you are poor, your natural place is where there is
much suffering to relieve, and mucii good to do.
Tlie conventionalities of society do not shut you out
from the circles of misery. Do not grieve that
your way is not open into circles set, — where all
that is visible is showy and false and hollow —

.^1

THE WISE CHILD AND THE FOOLISH KIXG. 249

where tliey lie to one another, and call it compli-
ment — where they lie al)out one another, and yet
are dear friends. You may have much liappiness,
you may do much good, and you may he a true
follower of Jesus, though you have not wliere to lay
your head. The poor child may thus overtop the
a^ed kinfj.

o o

DUTIES AND PRIVILEGES OF YOUTH.

Tt is a sad reflection when we begin to get old,
that we have lost the morning of our day and its
noon, or at least that we have spent many of its
hours idly, or to poor advantage. And there is a
sadder reflection, viz., that we have not been fitting,
but unfitting ourselves for the true duties of life ;
that we have been building our character on false
foundations, which we find are sinking, and tlms
rending our M'liule structure. Tliat the young may
not have future unavailing regrets, let them now look
well to it that they build on the foundations of
true wisd» ;n. "VVe do not mean learning, for a very
learned man may be a very great fool. It is not
the knowledge which we have, but the knowledge
which we turn to practical account, that becomes
wisdom, — to such practical account that v^'g shall
not be stripped of the fruit of all our labours, l)ut
shall have our good works following us, not to the

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250

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

grave as mourners, but going with us rejoicing u}»
to the throne, and into the inheritance of the
blessed.

And once more let us observe, that fitness ior
office is that which constitutes its orncnient. The
king is not honourable because he sits on a throne
and holds a sceptre, and has palaces and guards, and
can do his wliole will. He is honourable only as
lie is fitted to discharge his duties well. If he be
not fitted for government, far better he were not
called to a throne. Let no man believe in his
capacity to deceive — to make men thhik he is what
he is not. Men will give you credit for a while ;
but the day for payment comes round, and woe to
him who allows his bill o^ character and capacity
to be dishonoured ! l^repare yourselves to pay that
you owe, — if you are in business, with business
capacity ; or in trade, with good honest work ; or in
teaching, with instructions for those who enii)loy
you ; or if in trust of any kind, with honesty. You
may stick to office, and derive its emoluments ; but
you will be bankrupt in the good opinion of others,
and worse — in your own opinion.

LOSS OF THE WISE CHILD TO SOCIETY.

Finally, the loss of a poor wise child to society
is a greater loss than that of a foolish old king l»y

THE WISE CHILD AND THE FOOLISH KING. 251

-1-^ —

death. The noise it will make will be very dii-
ferent. Lucien represents mankind as all hanging
by the threads of late above the earth, — some about
touching it, others lifted a little way up, some
higher, and so on till the last and highest stage,
which is that of kings and other great personages ;
and so it comes to pass, that when the fate cuts tlie
thread of any one, he makes a noise in proportion
to his height : this one slips down without a sound,
fur his feet touch the earth ; but there is another
who makes a mighty noise, he has fallen so far.
But tliu noise is in no proportion to the vidue of
the life that is gone. The old king is well gone, if
the nation do not come by a worse one ; the poor
man will lie sadly missed by his widowed wife and
orphan children ; and the poor wise child wiU b(^
badly missed, when its place is empty and its guid-
ance is gone. Oh, there may be sincerer gi-ief going
to its grave than follows some grand court mourn-
ings ! And it is right there should, for tliere is more
real loss to humanity. T>\it one thing is gladdening,
that the blossoming child -wisdom will blow and
bloom in a bright and glorious land ; and tliougli a
little obscure corner of the earth is in muurniuir,
there is joy with the angels, who have borne her
away to the beautiful lands above.

XIV.
SNAPtES IN THE TATH OF PIETY.

' Keep tliy foot when thou goest to the house of God, and be
more ready to hear tlian to give the saerifice of fools : for they con-
sider not that they do evil.' — Eccles. v. 1.

DUTY AND DANGER.

THEIiE are two tilings to be noticed : Isf, Danger
connected with duty ; and, 2d, Duty to be ful-
filled in danger. The duty here referred to is that of
attendance upon the house of God with a view to
instruction and worship. The danger is, that we
may, in this way of duty, yet slip and fall, and,
even in our anxieties to fulfil one obligation, fail in
the performance of another not less, if not more,
important.

The way of duty is never unattended with danger.
We may do too much or too little ; we may err in
ignorance, we may err also through presumption.
E ty may 1)0 performed in an oftlcial way, or in a
spiritless way, or in an unspiritual way, or in a
careless way, or in a formal way. It may be
engaged in from an unworthy motive, as to make a

252

SNAKES IN THE TATH OF PIETY.

253

name, or to gratify an anwortliy passion, or to make
God our debtor, or to lay our fellow-men under an
oliligation. The modes in wliicli it may be vitiated
are numerous. If it escape tins taint, it may feel
tlie breath of that poison. Its path is ann'd gins
and snares.

We might suppose that in tlie house of God one
was not only in the way of duty, but in the way of
safety. Not so. Snares lie in tlie path of him who
would worship God in His own house. He cannot
take a step whicli is wholly free from danger. As
he goes thither, he may be beset witli tlioughts un-
worthy of hi3 character as a worshii)per; when he is
in the very exercise of praise, oi' of [)rayer, or of
hearing, what difficulties will ho find opposing the
full exercise of his faculties in tlie worship of his
God ! If we were to attempt to analyze the feel-
ings and views of the worshippers of any congrega-
tion on any given Sabbath, we should j^i'esent you
with a strange medley — something like the stuff of
which dreams are made, so incongruous, so absurd,
that you would wonder how God could indeed so be
worshipped. Look at the outward manifestations, and
a glance at the inner field of thought and feeling.

We suppose it is hardly possible to avoid taldng
a quiet look round when we are seated, to see who
is there and mIio is not there, and why such pews

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

are vacant, and what such and such persons of our
acquaintance have on — whether an old or a new
dress, whether also the old one is shabby, or the
new one in good taste, and becoming. Still it cannot
but strike one tliat this is not any necessary portion
of the worsliip of God, and that the person who can
avoid all this series of observation and remark will
not be a less acceptable worsliipper on account of
the omission. Indeed one will rather be inclined
to conclude that, if this line of observation is in-
dulged in to a large extent, especially after the
regular service is begun, it cannot fail to be detri-
mental to the s})irit of true piety. I would also
suggest to all such as maybe inclined to this species
of remark, that they ought to encourage early attend-
ance on the service, that at least all this kind of
critical mental exercise may be brought to a conclu-
sion before the worship of God commences, for cer-
tainly on no account shoidd the practice be tolerated
wliile that worship or any of its parts is proceeding.

I'RAI.SE.

When we are engaged in tlie exercise of praise,
there are the following things observable. Critical
ears and close lips, in some instances ; in otlier
cases, little correct comprehension of the meaning
of the words, sound having taken the place of ideas.

SNARES IN THE PATH OF PIETY.

255

instead of suggesting them and expanding them,
and so raising onr minds u]) to tlie Clod of our praise.
The divine song is a lullaby, accompanied with
dreams of various things which should not be per-
mitted to mingle with our thoughts on the solemn
occasion. God, His attributes, His perfections. His
doings, His mercies, His love, are in the psalm, but
they are, in many cases, not in the mind or the
heart. During this portion of woiship, the same
observation on dress and manner and person of co-
worshippers W'hich was connnenced at the entrance
is still carried forward. We have need to keep our
feet here, lest we fall into any of tliese errors, of
criticism, of vacuity, of worldly thoughts, and of
observation. Each of these things will vitiate our
praise, and render it unacceptable to God.

'.I

PRAISE SHOULD BE SCIENTIFIC AND ItELICIOUS.

We may with much propriety consider in wiioi
way tliis exercise should be engaged in. The headers
in this department of worship should be children
of God, fully imbued with a sense of the sacredness
of their calling. Science in the music we hold to
be highly valuable, and indeed to some extent essen-
tial to <i, jjiopei" leadership. Without melody and
harmony the well-cultivated mind cannot be satis-
fied. We believe firmly that God loves the melo-

i '

256

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

dious and the harmonious. He did not constitute
the laM's of music that they might be set at defiance.
lie did not render us capable of knowing- them, and
of feeling their powei', witliout also intending that
we should observe them, and that we should espe-
cially observe them when engaged in the praise of
Ilim wlio constituted them. Knowledge, then, at
least in degree, is essential to the form of praise.
But there is another thing more deeply essential : it
is, that tlie soul Ijc in harmony with the exercise.
That the soid be in harmony with the praise of
God, it should be in harmony with God ; it shouhl
be reconciled to Him ; it should be in the present
exercise of reconciled feelings to Him ; it slioidd
be in liarmony Avith the special subject of His praise
which is emljodied in the psalm, having a complete
understanding of the same. Without tliese elements,
it is impossible that the worship of praise can be
acceptable either to God or to the true Christian.
There will always be a felt inconsister cy between
the performance and the spirit of the performer.

ONE LAW FOR ALL.

There is but one law for the leader, and for those
who are led. The precentor should be in as full
liarmony of soid with God as any of those wlio join
in the service. There should be quite as much

SNARES IN THE PATH OF PIETY.

257

-' -*■,

propriety of behaviour in the choir as in the \)G\\'.
Nay, if anytliiiig, it is more essential that the
leaders of the service should he iuil)ued with a
spirit of devout reverence, than that it sliould be
found clsewliere. Those whose es])ecial oHice it is
to lead, also give a tone to tlie whole of this ser-
vice, and others will fall into the same spiiit with
that manifested by tlie leaders.
"• All music wliieli is merely studied as a science
— that is, as a tiling of concord and the movement
of time — is essentially defective. There must also
be the corres])ondeiit harmony of feeling. Those
singers who merely tiy to render their singing
scientific, will ever fail to aftect the hearts of the
people. It is when feeling, sentiment — the feeling
and sentiment of the words of song — are rendered
in union with harmonious movement and concord
of sound, that the performance attains to its true
elevation. Every one sliouhl endeavour to become
imbued with the deep meaning and spirit of the
song of ]»raise, which should also lie rendered
according to the laws of harmonv, and then will
we have true praise. Even the dead keys of the
musical instrument can and ought to l)e made to
feel, so to speak, and ex]iress the sentiments of the
living soul which ins})ires the hand that touches

them.

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

Our conclusion is, that wo should learn the laws
of music, and that we should also be imhued with
the spirit of praise. The youthful generation
should all he taught to praise God according to
these laws, and at the same time should also culti-
vate feelings of devout reverence to that God who
is the object of our praise.

THE SILENT ONES.

Some people do not themselves audibly sing. If
tliis abstinence arises from a feeling tliat they are
not rpialified, either from want of voice or ear oi'
cultivation, we have not nmch to object, provided
they endeavour still to praise in spiiit and truth.
Otliers, however, who are well ([ualilied, abstain
that they may have opportunity to criticise. This
is wrong. They are ready to hear, but the pur-
pose is not good. It may be admitted that, to
the highly cultivated musical taste, any violation
of the laws of liarmony is disagreeable; but when
engaged in the service of God, this critical feeling
should, as far as possible, be suppressed. There
should be more attention given to the matter of
the praise than to the manner of its utterance.
The soul should try to get itself into harmony with
the God of worship, rather than to feel offence
against the mode of its performance; just as, in

SN.^.UES IN THE PATH OF PIETY.

259

»J^

!!'

hearing the preacher, tlicrc slioiihl bo more atten-
tion to the weight of the truths uttered, than to the
tones of voice, or the gestures, or the eh^gance of
the expression. Wo are all liahle to fail in our
praise, from this critical spirit.

CRITICIS^r IN CAPTIVITY.

It is a grand tiling to have such music in the
service of God, that not only are the ignorant
charmed, but the critical s])irit is led captive, made
to feel, by the power of the music, the sense of the
presence and nearness of the infinite — our relation
to the spiritual mystery of the divine. No form
of mere words can do this as mvisic in its higher
efforts can. There is much, indeed, of what passes
for good nmsic, v/liich will altogether fail to do
this ; but the reason is, that, after all, the music
is net good. It may be good in regard to time
and tune, and yet fail in some other respect.
Sometimes the simplest form of mnsic is the best ;
just as simple language, in monosyllables, will come
home to the understanding better than high-wrought
periods in long M'ords and sonorous sentences.
Simple music, as simple words, is generally the
best. It is bad taste which leads ns to seek the
complex in singing as in speaking. Songs and
psalms and hymns which are not simple, are not

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200

THK WISDOM OF TlIK XlNCi.

litted for .singing-, uiul will not be poriuaiitiiitly
])opular; and tunes which are not simple will
have then- brief day, and then die out of the affec-
tion and memory of men. The old airs which have
lasted for centuries are all simple. The sublime is
always simple.

THE OLD IS BETTEI!.

I coidd wish that we had an iuni»lc collection of

the old tried tunes which appeal to the heart, and

that every one of us could sing them with propriety.

The books of music which continually come to us

from our neighl)ours, are full of impertinences and

bad taste; novelties which, like the fashions, are

soon to become obsolete. It is a great ])ity that

we could not keep clear of them. As not one book

in every hundred is worth reading, so not one tune

in every hundred is worth singing. It reciuires an

inspired man to write a tune M-hich is worthy to be

w'edded to our jjsalms. I would almost as soon be

tied up to the old original twelve tunes, as be bound

to hear many of the tunes in the collections of

modern music repeated the second time.

PSALMS AND HYMNS.

I may here incidentally notice that, while some
of the psalms are, from their references to local

SNAHKS IN TIIH PATH OF PIKTY.

20 L

some
local

events, not ap|)ropri{iti! to bo sung coninionly by ns,
except witli due ((X])laniition, and, as it were, trans-
lation into s])iritual languiigo, it is, in my mind,
luitter to liold l)y tlicm, mid liy tlio ])nra])ln'ases in
our colloctiun, than Iiave anytliing to do with the
collections of hynnis whicli arc in common use in
many churclies. There is in these liymns and
so-called i)salms so much inanity, and in some
instances so nmch profanity and false doctrine em-
liodied, tliat I feel almost content to al)ide l)y our
own psalms. Tliere are, indeed, ol)scure allusions ;
there is much l)ad versification, obsolete words, etc.,
whicli mar their l)eauty ; yet, upon the whole, there
are no vehicles of praise equal to thorn. 1 would
not have you to be oi)posed to a smoother rendering
of these psalms, nor to be o])[)osed to the singing
of other passages from Scripture, either versified or
in the prose form; still, if this cannot be attained,
I think we are better to hold by our time-lujnoured
collection, than to run after the hymns which are so
common.

We will need to take care, in singing the psalms
of praise, not to exercise a critical or censorious
spirit, but rather to become imbued with the deep
feeling of piety which animated their authors ; and
if we do so, we shall find our religious nature bene-
fited, and God, through the exercise of our praise,

1' H

it;'

2G2

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

v/ill bless US, and cause His face to sliine upon us,
and so aid in saving us from the sins which Leset
our souls.

yji:

f;l

SNARES FOR PRAYER.

There are also dangers besetting us in prayer.
We find among these dangers an irreverent de-
meanour, wandering eyes, irrelevant thouglits — pro-
bably on pleasure or on business — thoughts about
the prayer, rather than t'.ouglits engaged in prayer,
— critical thoughts, censuring the manner or words
or order of the leader, or, probaljly, approbative of
these, p thing not much less foreign to the exercise
and destructive of its true spirit. How many ave
the ways in which we luay here sin against Goci .'
Nothing but a stroug effort of the will will stay the
wandering thoughts, \»'ill call home fancy from her
excursions over many fields, will stop the trenchant
S"" 'ovC of critical thought. Keep thy foot here, for
there are stumbling-stones and rocks of offence on
all hands.

As dogs which have not been trained, when
taken to the chase, instead of piu-suing steadily the
game, fly after everything which starts up before
them, careering far away over hill and dale, so our
thoughts in prayer, if not truly schoolod to the
exercise, lly after every upstart fancy far away from

I, I*

SNARES IN THE PATH OF PIETY.

263

tlio object which we had in view wlien we coin-
menced the exercise ; and, it may be, scarcely get
a glimpse of the great God whom we propose to
W'orship, or of the sin which we should confess, or
of the blessing we should seek.

THE DOUBLE TRAIN OF THOUGHT.

It is possible in many operations to pursue a
separate train of thought from that which the work
we are engaged on requires. This is especially the
case in regard to mechanical employments, in which
habit seems to supply the place of thought, leaving
the mind to wander at will. There are also persons
who can carry on two or three processes of thought
at the same time, where thinking is the matter of the
exercise. Some can write original literary produc-
tions, and carry on an intelligent conversation. Some
have been able lo dictate to t"svo or three amanuenses
at the same time. Tlieir thoughts on each of the
subjects are so metliodized, that they can, without
confusion, or letting slip tlie thread, give tlie sepa-
rate seri ';:• all the attention that is rcfpiired. fi
must he confessed, however, that this gift is rare ;
and indeed, where original thought is recpiired, the
whole attention has ever been found necessary even
by the highest geniuses. We think tliat ]'ra\er is
one of those things which rei^uire the mIioIc nd,

U ■

•J s

■ li

^IM

i4l

11 :

i I i

^ITgjS^^SSwiaBSI

nil

2G4

THE WISDOM OF THE KING,

mind, and will. It is possible to give a dreamy
attention to the words, and even order ol tliouglit,
of the leader in prayer, while at the same time pur-
suing a separate chase ; but it nmst be admitted
that true engagement of the soul in prayer t(j God
cannot consist with much wandering.

I!!

PERFUNCTORY PRAYER.

There is a habitual and an oihcial kind of prayer,
which may be followed without much effort of either
mind or will. Words connecting texts, so assorted
that they follow one anotlier in a certain order,
petitions so associated that the one is suggestive of
the other, not less than written or printed prayers,
may all be very easily managed both by the leader
and the congregations without much of the soul or
heart; but it is ever to be observed that this is jirayer
in its lowest form. The higher form is that in which
the whole soul goes forth to God in earnest over-
whebning desire for the blessing, and in this high
form of the exercise the whole soul will evidently
be required. The wliole heart, mind, and strength
require to be concentrated on the one thing. Here
Taul says, I will pray witli the spirit, I will pray
witli the understanding also.'

SNAKES IN THE PATH OF PIETY.

265

THE SPIRIT WILLING, THE FLESH WEAK.

In urging this undivided attention upon you, T
feel that it is all the more needed, from the faults
of manner of which the minister may be guilty.
His thoughts may he disturbed, his si)irit may be
faint, his words may be i. orderly, his tones may
grate on the ear. A thousand things may present
themselves for criticism to the fastidi )us taste. Tin's
only shows how much more danger we arc in, than
we might under other circumstances be. If a man
have a great many temptations to swear, he just re-
quires to have the more guard over his temper. If
the solicitations to evil are numerous, he requires
all the more to resist its every appearance ; and if a
congregation have a poor minister, they had need to
be doubly watchful, to keep their feet when they go
to the house of CJod.

PREACHING AND HEARING.

In the other exercise peculiar to the house of
God — that of listening to instruction — dangers still
abound. It may be admitted that };.>Te tlierc is to
be more freedom of thought, a wider range. 'Believe
not every spirit, but try the spirits whether tliey be
of God ;' ' "•" ^,iiak as unto wise msn ; judge ye what
I say,' and uch like injunctions, imply that the criti-

- 1- —

! I r- - «

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266

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

cal faculty is here to be exercised. It may suit
very well those who believe in an infallible church
to renounce all private judgment, and to give up
their minds solely to the reception of the statements
made, but such a rule cannot be imposed upon as.
On the contrary, the judgment and the reason should
here be fully exercised. The doctrines announced
should be brought before tlie bar of every man's
conscience in the sight of God. While, however,
the critical faculty is thus to be exercised, it should
be more exercised in regard to matter than manner
—more as to the truth than its form. There should
be a serious appreliension of the great importance of
truth as truth, and an application of it to the heart
and conscience.

BAD SERMONS AND BAD TEMPERS.

Some of you may be in danger of falling into
bad tempers when the truth is presented in an un-
satisfactory way — when there are many words, but
nothing said after all — when falsities are, through
Ignorance, enunciated, or truths presented in exagge-
rated forms. It is wonderful how mucli sin a poor
sermon may cause you to commit.

GOOD SERMONS AND BAD APPLICATIONS.

But you may miss your foot, even when truth is

SNARES IN THE PATH OF TIETY.

2G7

fuitlifiilly and well spoken, by a variety of ways.
You may do this by falling asleep ; or yon may miss
some point necessary to the elucidation of the whole
subject by a minute of inattention during some of
those excursions which the mind sometimes takes
after foUies and fancies ; or you may be disgusted
with some trutli which reproves your daring sin, or
which is opposed to your cherished prejudices ; or,
while approving all that is said vou may yet be
disgusted with it because it is >r threadbare, or

perhaps because it is new, anc' >t (|uite in harmony
with, as you think, some dogma which is also true ;
or, what is worst of all, you may set your minds to
a stern resistance of the conviction "^^■hich the truth
brings, — a resistance of the duty to which the truth
leads. This is the mosi terrible of all failings of
the worshipping people of God. It is their con-
demnation. The light they do not I'cceive, the
darkness they love ; tlieir evil det:ds cannot bear the
light, Ijut like owls shrink into the night, and prowl
about after tlieir prey, amid the kices and iniipiities
of life.

There is nothing so terrible, so hardening — so de-
basing I had almost said — as this resistance to the
truth. Those who have long li.stened to tlie gospel
sound without its producing any converting effect, are
in a situation ten times worse than those who live

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:* E/'-*

lil

2G8

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

in regions where it lias never Ijeen heard. Thougli
ignorance be not bliss, yet knowledge of itself is not
liappiness. Knowledge is the name of liappiness,
but, if despised, it will become misery.

DANGER IN AND WITHOUT ORDINANCES.

Let us consider that, thougli the attendance on
ordinances is thus beset with daiif^ers, vet that
attendance is not to be neglected because of the
tlangers. ft might be said, if so many dangers sur-
round the path of the worshipper, we would do well
not to worship at all. You cannot escape from duty
this way. The path of duty is always the path of
danger.

There is no species of life in which a man is not
exposed to danger. We are surrounded with tempta-
tions on all hands when we go out in the way of any
duty. Business has its perils, but it must still be
done. We are always liable to temptations, but the
duty lies not in striving to avoid all places and cir-
cumstances where we may meet them, but in giving
a steady resistance to them whenever they assail.
It is thus that we become strong, morally and spiri-
tually strong. He is not trusted who has not been
tried, any more than he who has fallen. It is he
who, having been tried, has been found equal to the
peril, that has our confidence.

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SNARES IN THE PATH OF PIETY.

209

S(i it is, my brethren, in religion. We are triud
in the worship of God, that we may become strong
to worshi]) Him aright witli fulness of devotion,
with our whole nature. We are tried with wander-
ing thoughts, vuth drowsiness, and with weariness,
that we may surmount these evils ; not that we
should renounce the worship (jf God, but that we
may not worship Him badly.

Those who have followed on, resisting the evils
and perils of worsliip, have been al)le to overcome
all its temptations, and to become strong men in
Christ Jesus. ]\Iay it l)e ours to worship Him in
spirit and truth to whatsoever temptation we may
have been subject, and not descend to the mere
form of worship which is so common and so de-
structive to our high spiritual nature !

XV.

THE VOW.

' Be not vash with thy mouth, and let not tliine heart be hasty
to utter anything before God : for God is in heaven, and thou upon
eartli ; tliercfore let thy words be few. For a dream cometh throurfh
the JTiultitudo of business ; and a fool's voice is known by multitude
of words. Wlien thou vowest a vow unto God, d< f'.ir i.ot to pay it ;
for He hath no jdeasure in fools : pay that which thou hast vowed.
Better is it that tliou sliouldest not vow, tlian that thou shouldest
vow and not paj'. Sull'er not thy mouth to cause tliy llesh to sin ;
neither say thou before the angel, that it was an error : wherefore
shoukl God be angry at thy voice, and destroy the work of thine
hands?'— Ec('M:.s. v. 2-6.

A FORM OF PRAYER.

ri^ITE VOW is a form of prayer. It is a prayer
JL with an obligation. The worshipi)er wants
sometliing, and, either that he may get it or tliat
he may show his gratitude, lie resolves to do a
certain tiling. There is nothing inhorentlv wroncr
in the vow, otlierwise so many Old TcstanKMit
worthies would not have come under such obli-
gations, nor would regulations have appeared in
divine Avrit approbatory of such things. At the
same time we are warned against all rash vows.
It is better not to vow, than vow and not pay,

270

THE VOW,

271

save when the vow is itself unlawful ; in which
case, as it was wrong to make it, it must be wrong
to fulfil it. From the V)eginiiing, a vow is uiiLuvful
wliicli contemplates the possilile violation of some
known law of morals. Jephtliah's vow was so. It
was monstrous in him to carry it out, as the record
would seem to affirm that he did, but without fdviufj;
any approbation of it. If not unjust, it is good to
pay the vow. The Avord of man should be held as
sacred by him, even when passed to a fellow-man :
how much more to God ! There are few greater
evils that a man can be guilty of, than to say what
he will not do. It is a discord which jars all tlie
nerves of our moral being. This is true of religious
things especially. To say what we mean not to do,
is hypocrisy ; to refuse to do wliat we said we would
do, is dishonesty. If you vow, pay. It is l)etter not
to vow, than vow and not pay.

All God's promises are yea and amen. He never
takes back what He uttered. If the promise be
absolute, you may expect it to bo absolutely per-
formed ; if hypothetical, then on the performance of
the duty we may be sure to have the blessing. God
would have us to be like Him in this as in other
things. Indeed, common honesty will suggest that
such is the requirement in every case.

In the Old Testament economy the vow was a

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THE WISDOM 01)' TIIK KING.

Hi kP.

coininoii form of worship. Wo should not judge
those who made tliem too strictly. They were
generally made in view of tem])()ral blessings. Jacob
sought jirotection fron) God, and vowed that, if he
had it, Ckxl should l}e his God, and the place of his
vision sliould be the jdace of his worship. Jephtliah's
vow was made, that he miglit procui'c success to
his arms. Saul laid the peoj)le under obligations
likely to produce disastrous results. David seems
to have made many vows — all springing from his
deep piety, i-ather than for the procurement of blass-
in^s. ' Thy vows are upon me.' Hannah, the
mother of Samuel, vowed him to the Lord. It is
worthy of remark tliat, in the New Testament, the
vow is oidy mentioned twice, — that in the case of
Paul, who had made a vow while he was a Jew, and
that of some other Jews \\ho had a like obligation.
It woulil seem as though the vow was, like fasting,
sacrifice, and other ceremonial things, to becom.e
obsolete in the Christian disp(3nsation. There was
something in it suited to those lower and feebler
views of God which obtained in the infancy of the
Church. The chief objection to it is, that it lays a
man under a bond to do what should always spring
from love , that it is likely to be put as a full satis-
faction for the religious obligations of the Christian,
Avliich yet include the whole life and being; and

s a
ing

tis-
lan,
and

THE vow.

273

that there is in it an assumption that, if wg do not
make the vow, the obligation on our ])ai't is not
incurred; wliereas tliis is not so, fur I may say tliat
wiiatever is lawful for us to vow is always ri[fht for
us to do, even if we had not made the vow. Tidvo
the case of Hiinnah's vow rej^ardinj; Sanuiel : she
determined that the child ffranted to her prayers
should he the Lord's. It was ri^^lit that Samuel
should be so dedicated, from the fact that he was,
even from his birth, a religi(nis character. There is
one view which would make it good in our estima-
tion to vow such a vow, viz., the ell'ect it had on
her own mind and that of the chihl. ^Ve doubt not
but that such relirdous views and thoughts continu-
ally directed to one object had a strong tendency
to fulfil the intention of the })ious mother. The
tempers of mothers are very influential on their
children. The surroundings of childhood are the
soil from which the plant of life derives its nourish-
ment, and will go far to make it true, good, and
healthful, or its opposite. AYhat we fear is, that
there might be an attempt to cai-ry out a vow of
dedication where there was incompatibility and uu-
suitableness. Otherwise such dedication is good.
The earnest wishes of excellent mothers, and tlicir
prayers, have great and blessed effects on their chil-
dren. Still we think, in any case of dedication,

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

there should be no absolute vow that should be
carried out, if found to be unsuitable. Eashness
and inconsiderateness should not lead us to make
any vow, either wliich we cannot keep, which we
will not keep, or which it would be unlawful for
us to keep, for such, translated into our language,
is no doubt the essential meaning of those words :
' Suffer not thy moutli to cause thy flesh to sin ;
neither say thou before the angel,' — tliat is, the
messenger of God, the minister, the priest, who
was cognizant of tlie making of the vow, — ' that it
was an error : wherefore should God be angry at
thy voice, and destroy the work of thy hands ?'

VOLUMINOUS PRAYERS.

We are cautioned here not only against rash vows,
but against unconsidered and voluminous prayers.
Be not rash nor hasty : let thy words be few. Our
Saviour cautioned against vain repetitions. Several
gross vices in prayer are here indicated. First, volu-
minous prayer is to be gujirded against, — the utter-
ance f)f tlie same retpiest in many forms, as though
God sliould be affected with the variety and quantity
of speecli ! Tins, when done as a duty, is an evil ;
when done for pretence, is a liypocrisy. There is
great difficulty in making judicious remarks here ;
anything wliich we might say in restraint of the

THE VOW.

275

•il;
is

vain repetitions of prayer, having perhaps a ten-
dency to damp the ardour of true devotion, and any-
thing said by us against hypocrisy in prayer, Leing
possibly felt, though not intended, as spoken against
that true devotion which leads to fi-equent com-
munion with God. We would, however, say that,
when we go to God, we sh. i"" 1 ^'o with some petition
which we want granted. Wo 1 uld know wliat it
is ; and if we have many petitions, we should have
them arranged in proper order, and we should express
them simply. There is much prayer without desire ;
and if God would grant many petitions which are
offered up, many a worshipper would be greatly
amazed, and sadly disappointed. Tliese petitions
are offered up as matters of course for things proper
to be desired, but things which really are not desired.
Take for instance our prayers for a new nature, for
spiritual - mindedness. Well, we are afraid that
there are prayers lying at the back of these peti-
tions giving them the negative. The petitioners do
not think there is not a good and a benefit in these
things, but they do not want them for themselves,
at least not now. A new nature is just what they
do not want, but a little more indulgence of the old.
They are as full of worldly-niindedness as they can
be, and do not wisli to have it destroyed. A^''hat
then ? Should we cease to offer up such prayers ?

? r

276

THE WTSDOM OF THE KING.

No ! But what we should do is this : try to get
such views of the nature of things sought to be got
rid of as shall lead to earnestness in our petitions
against them, and to get such views of tlie blessings
prayed for as shall lead us really to desire them.
All preaching is for the purjjose of giving such
light, as all revelation is. The duty of prayer is
implied in the caution against its improper exercise.
We require to study, that our prayers be of the riglit
kind, — that they be not mere verbiage ; and, as in
going before men for any favour, our words should
be few, and M^ell ordered.

FORMS AND FREE PRAYER.

In speaking on such a subject as this, we cannot
avoid referring to the comparative merits of forms
of prayer and free prayer. There are some very
extreme views on this point. We once heard a
professor of divinity advise his students to note
down the various things for which tliey should in
public service pray, and the order in which they
should be taken up. Some of the more enthusiastic
but weak-minded thought, and in private discussion
affirmed, tliat this was wrong advice^ — that the
course indicated limited the spirit, and was destruc-
tive of true prayer, which should 'always be spon-
taneous. We have heard some of those who took

THE vow.

277

exception pray, and certainly there was no strong re-
commendation of their opinion in their example, —
their exercitations being weak, disjointed, spasmodic.
There is very nmch of this everywhere. On the
other hand, tiiere is much of what seems mere repe-
tition. This is the case not only with what lias
been called, but wrongly, extemporary prayer ; but
in written formulas there is much danger of falling
into formality. There is also in forms of prayer,
when used alone, no allowance for the introduction
of petitions which the soul would offer up sponta-
neously, but which are not found within the printed
or written form. AYe are encompassed on all hands
with difficulties in the discharge of our duties ; and
the highest duties of our life are probably those
which are encompassed with the highest difficulties.
But that is no reason why we should shirk these
duties. This world is a place of discipline, and
difficulty is in every lesson which we are taught ;
but the surmounting of the difficulty makes us
better than before. About the exercise of prayer
there are great difficulties, which can only be sur-
mounted by previous study, by constant watchful-
ness, and by a simple reliance on the Spirit of
God, as the source from whom all our inspirations
flow.

■^LV

278

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

rUBLIC PRAYER.

The passage before us seems to contemplate espe-
cially public prayer. The house of God here, no
doubt, signified the temple. But it is the prayer of
the private •\-, orshipper in the public assembly that
seems specially in the view of the l*reacher. We
do not know that there was any public prayer
proper observed in the temple or synagogue ; that
is, prayer by the leader of the services. Tlie Psalms,
and portions of the Law arid Prophets, were read ;
but we have not any grounds for supposing that
any particular office-bearer read other prayers than
those contained in the Scriptures, or offered ex-
tempore devotions in leading the people. Christ
read and expounded in the synagogues ; but we do
not find that in connectiou with tliese He prayed as
part of the service. But it would appear that it
■was quite usual for individuals to pray their own '
prayers. The Pharisee and publican made the temple
the place of their offerings of prayer. The Pharisees
were in the habit of praying at the corners of the
streets, that they might pass for very pious persons.
Christ, while disapproving of their motives, yet ap-
proved of the act of devotion. In order to avoid
ostentation, He advised His disciples to pray in
secret. ' Thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy

W 1

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THE VOW.

279

closet.' That they might avoid the verbosity and
incoii [deration often manifested in prayer, He gave
His disciples a form, which is very short and very
comprehensive, and which might serve as a guide to
them. He miglit have specially in His view this
direction of the Prenclier : ' Let thy words be few,
and well ordered. How few and beautiful and
all-compreliensive are these words ! Addressed to
tlie Father in heaven, tliev seek the honour of His
glorious name, the stability and enlargement of His
kingdom, the fulfilment of His will, tlie daily bread
on which both poor and rich are dependent, the
forgiveness of sins for the forgiving soul, freedom
from temptation into which the weak one, feeling
his weakness, might fall, and deliverance from the
evil which is on every side — the whole l)eiug for
His glory, power, and kingdom. Sometimes we
think, on reading this beautiful form of devotion,
that if we could just get into the spirit of it, and
apprehend its grand and glorious ideas, we should
need no other liturgy. The great dilliculty is to get
thoroughly into its spirit A story is told of a
certain actor, who, in company with a number of
ministers, was asked the reason why he, an actor,
could move audiences with fictions, while they, with
the grandest realities, could do so little. He replied
that he and his co-actors spoke their fictions as

s: I

280

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

realities, but they, the ministers, uttered their glo-
rious trutlis as though they were fables. As an
illustration of what he meant, he repeated the Lord's
Prayer, and in such voice and ih 'inner and earnest-
ness, that the whole company wore melted into
tears, declaring that they had never seen the beauty
and sublimity of that prayer till then. The reason
why the actor is successful, is because he studies
his subject, brings out all the ideas embodied in the
words he utters ; but we speak th.em perfunctorily.
There is no better study than that of this prayer.
If we can only get filled with its spirit, if we can
get a comprehension of its ideas, we .shall indeed d.>
well. We do not indeed jiropose tliat we should
keep always to tliese words : tins is not the inton-
tioix 01 Christ. It is only as a model of that order
and comprehensiveness whicli should be infused into
all our addresses to a throne of gi*ace. Nor should
we too strictly co2)y even these great qualities. The
spirituality of the religion which Christ left us,
requires tlie utmost spontaneity in our devotions.
He left us His own prayers — especially that in
John for His disciples — as examples of that variety
and earnestness which He would have us to culti-
vate. He also imbued His Church with a spirit of
dependence on the heavenly Father, and of faith in
His name as a power with God. ' Ask, and ye shall

THE vow.

281

receive ; seek, and ye sliall find ; knock, rmtl it sliall
be opened unto yon,' etc. Men ought always to
pray, and not to faint. It is only the narrow mind
which sees any discrepancy between directions to
importunate prayer and cautions against vain repeti-
tions. Not repetitions, but vain repetitions. What
analogy is there between the mere reciter of phrases
and the intense seeker, whose whole soul is earnest
with the thought of some needed blessing ? Avoid
vain petitions ; yet you may with Christ, desiring
to have this cup of sorrow pass without drinking,
pray often, using, like Him, the same words. It is
the spirit in which the petition is uttered which
makes all the difference. The repetitionary form
is a dead corpse galvanized into spasmodic utter-
ances ; the earnest desire is a spiritual being, in-
stinct with life, and beautiful to the eye of the
living God, who, through it, holds communion with
the man after His own heart, and with whom He
dwells by the inhabitation of His own Spiiit.

THE HOUSE OF GOD.

Tlie ise of God is spoken of as the scene of
prayer. ]>ut now the house of God is where two
or three are gathered in His name. The chamber,
indeed, containing only one man of God with the
door shut about him, is God's own house. ' Your

U Si I

282

THE WISDOM OF THE KINO.

body,' RpoakiiijT of the Clirislian, ' is the temple of
the living God.' Tlie same rules apjdy there as
in the family, or the more immeroiis gatherings of
the people of God in their public places of devotion.
Our duty, rather our ])rivilcge, calls us there. We
would say more, even place is nothing. All ])laces
and times where a true, believing soul is, is the
house of God. llather the believer being that house,
place and time are as nothing in worship. He should
have his seasons and places of special devotion, and
yet the direction, ' Pray without ceasing,' consecrates
all place and time to him. Nor is this direction,
rightly understood, impossible of fulfilment. If a
Christian is engaged in business or in ])leasure, he
feels at the same time not the less ^vith his God.
As Jesus said of the Son of man, that He was in
heaven, so may each son of God, made such by
Him, afhrm in a sense the same fact. He is in
heaven; — he dwells with God, and God dwells Avith
hini. Nay, he is in God, and God is in him. Tliis
is no mystery, but fact. You may meet with those
who deal with you, who speak the words of friend-
ship to you, and avIio, almost running parallel with
their outward transactions, are carrying on connnerce
with God, and conversing witli Him, — and all this
without any of those faces or forms or shibboleths
which characterize the Pharisee. And it ought to

THE VOW.

283

be the aim of each individual believer to have this
pennanoiit cominniiion with his Fatlicr wlio is in
heaven. Then will he indeed find tlie ]n-()nuse
vei'ilied, ' We will come unto him, and dwell with
him.' .

TIIK T'HAYEU AND TIIK I)1!EAM.

There is an analof^y instituted l)etween vohi-
minous prayer and tlie voluminous dream. T\h\
dream arises out of the various transactions of l)usi-
uess, and the fool's prayer springs from tlie variety
of his vocabulary. Confusion is the characteristic
of both. They are produced by extcnal influences.
The soul as a directing rational powe^- is asleep.
Dim memories of things mingle in a wild phantas-
magoria before the closed portals of tlie sense of the
dreamer. It is just so with the worshipping word-
monger. The nature and character of God, the
promises, Scripture language, are floating before tlie
closed vision of the pietistic dreamer, and his
prayers are a jumble of disjointed things. This
will always be the case with him who gives himself
up to the external influences. Hence Paul says in
reference to those who spoke and prayed in un-
known tongues : ' What is it then ? I will pray
with the heart, and I will pray with the under-
standing also ; I wiU sing with the spirit, and I will

i . v

284

TIIR WISDOM OF THE KING.

r
, I.-

! p

K
I

sing with th(3 understanding also.' He would not
have men carried away by enthusiasm. lie would
direct enthusiasm. The spirits of the pro})hets
were subject to the prophets. All tilings are to
be done decently, and in order. The ])lGa of en-
thusiasm is no apology for disorder. The coursers
of enthusiasm are to be guided by the hand of
reason.

But as it is better to dream than to be dead, so
is it always better to pray, even disjointedly and
wildly, than to be without that breath of the
spiritual life. The mere enthusiast, guided by no
reason in his devotions, may be brought under its
direction ; but how shall uu^re reason become en-
thusiastic ? We answer, by the action of the Spirit
of God on the soul. What we need is this S})irit.
We can prophesy to the dry bones, and v-lothe them
with flesh; but the Spirit of God is needed that they
may stand up and become an army of God. ' Come,
O breath, and breathe on those slain, that they may
live,' is to be our prayer. When we have got the
answer to that petition, we shall be living, loving,
active Christians. May God hasten its accomplish-
ment ! May God convince the hypocrite of his
hypocrisy, the vain word-petitioner of his vanity,
the rationalist of the inefficiency of his cold deduc-
tions, the irreligious of the necessity of religion, the

THE VOW.

285

sinner of his sin, the soul of each man of his al)so-
lute need of God ; and may each one pray af:fainst
the sin, wliatever it is, that easily hesets, not in
words, hut in earnest, fervent j)leadin«,'s that God
may come down to us and pour out His convincing,
converting, directing, counselling, consoling Spirit —
making us feci religion as a reality, and leading us
to the only vow which Christians recognise, at least
the vow which alone can make any other vow
worthy in the sight of God — the vow of s(3lf-dedica-
tion, the surrender of the whole being as a ' living
sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto God, which is
our reasonable service !'

i ii

' I

■ I

3
f

XVI.
EICHES.

' If thou seest the oppression of the poor, and vioU'iit perverting
ul' judgment iuid justice in a province, marvel not at; the matter:
for He that is higher than the higliest regardetli ; and tliere be
liigher tlian they. Moreover, the profit of the earth is for all : tlie
king himself is served by the held. He tiiat lovcth silver shall not
be satisfied with silver ; nor he that loveth abundance with increase.
Tills is also vanity. When goods increase, they are ir' "eased that
eat them : and wha^" good is tliere to the owners thereof, saving the
beholding of them with their eyes ? The sleep of a labouring man
is sweet, whether he eat little or niueh : but the abumlance of the
rich will not sulfer him to sleep. There is a sore evil wliich I have
seen under the sun, namely, riches kept for tlie owners tliereof to
their hurt.' — Eccles. v. 8-13.

THEIR ORIGIN.

RTCTIES are either the spontaneous gift of nature,
or the product of labour, or of both com-
bined. They spring from tlie fiehl, which yet labour
]'e(£uires to make prolific. There is no glebe which
will render its fruits without the invocation of toil.
The garden must be dressed, the field must be
ploughed, the tree must be planted, the seed must
be sown, the harvest must be reaped, the grain must
be threshed and ground, that man may eat. In a bar-

EICHES.

287

barons state men may live by hunting, and gathering
what the earth spontaneously produces, but precari-
ously and in danger. Nor is labour M-anting even
to the chase. It is, however, when civilisation Ije-
gins tluit labour expands and becomes complex.
Each new recpurement brings some new toil. Work
is the antithesis of want. It is the desire of the
heart tliat sets the hand in motion. The field is a
casket of treasure, which the hand of industry must
unlo'^ik. The world of liumanity awaits its opening
that it may eat and be clothed. All classes, all
ranks, the peasant and the king, are served from the
field.

Very various are the products of nature and work.
Each zone has its specialties of fruit. Here are
mines of coal, there of lead or iron, — all that man
fabricates for comfort or ornament. Each nation
has its industries. These require to be transported
to other climes. Trade becomes a necessity. The
merchant nuist or<^anize the means of distribution
through the various countries where tl.'e i)roducts of
art and labour are wanted. I'x'otection of these, too,
is needed. There aro thus not oidy farmers and
shepherds, but artisans of all sorts, and tradei's and
merchants, priests, lawyer.s, politicians, and rulers, —
all, however, whatever may be their laisiness, ulti-
mately dependent on the soil for sustenance. ' The

288

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

profit of the fi,eld is for all : the king himself is served
of the field.'

Wlien we first hegin to think of the matter, we
are amazed that all this wealtli which we hehold
should have its origin in the fields. "Wealth is held
by political scientists to have its origin in labour.
We hold that its origin is in the field. Labour is
rather the channel through which it flows to the
great confluence of riches. The produce of the field,
converted into the machinery and powers of human
nature, lies at the basis of all. These powers and
machinery are, indeed, a gain used to evoke other
products of the soil. From the farm and the garden
and the mine — we need not forget altogether the
submerged fields of the seas — through the labours
of thousands of hands, comes all that wealtli which,
in the great city, amazes us, filling the homes of
princes and the palaces of kings. The whole of this
untold treasure has come from the field, tilled by
the sweat of the husbandman, from the mineral
dragged from the bowels of the earth, or from the
fruit of peril by tlie ' toilers of the sea.'

One tiling may be noted, viz., that while all have
their profit from the field, those most directly engaged
in the contest witli nature, com])elling her to render
up her treasures, have generally the least reward.
The profit has always a tendency to flow away to

EICIIES.

289

where commerce spreads her sails. There capital
concentrates itself, and grows to liuge proportions,
"wdiile labour remains poor and shrunken. What
fortunes and cities are to grow to, who can tell ?
To what depths of misery congregated populations
are to sink, who can say ? One seeks for some
means of equalizing the profits of industry in vain.
We M'ould like to see riches more generally distri-
buted. Is it not harrowing to think that, while
wealth is a burden to one, poverty sucks out the
life-blood of another ; that untold luxury in the
street stands hard by the hovel, where dry crusts
would be welcome fare ; that surfeiting and famine
live near neighbours, and hardly know it ? Think,
O ye children of wealth, of your lowly brethren,
the sons and daughters of toil, and, while ye reap
the fruit of their labours, think of some way by
which these may be lightened. * Look not every
man upon his own things, but every man also on
the things of others.'

WEALTH AND POVERTY.

We suppose there is a hard necessity that there
should be in our world this contrast of wealth atid
poverty. It is the order of Providence, established
not without good reason in the commercial as well
as the moral and spiritual world, that to him that

\:l

I I:

290

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

S 1

\i I

hath shall be given. The equal distribution of
wealth would defeat its use ; for who would work
who had abundance ? Yet abundance itself would
become want without work, and riches themselves
would be no more valuable. Poverty is God's task-
master, and, to get free from his lash, man "nust win
his liberty by labour. But there are evils of poverty
which may be lightened, and oiit;'ht to be cured. The
rights of the poor are frequently violated. Wealth
makes laws in its own favour, and administers them
to its own advantage. ' If thou seest the oppression
of the poor, and violent perversion of judgment and
justice in a province, marvel not at the matter.'
This ought not to be ; and it is tlie duty of tliose
who are set high in authority to take note of it, as
God, who is higher than the higliest, does. We need
not wonder that wealth should be selfish, or that
power should be unjust ; but we may bo satisfied
that God, who is guide and director of all, will bring
good out of evil and equality out of injustice, which
shall have its due reward in that universe where
a time is ai:>pointed for everything, — ever for the
execution of just judgment, and the conviction and
punislnr.ent of each crying injustice.

PROFIT OF LABOUR.

There is, however, a fair profit on labour which

RICHES.

291

ied

licli

may be husbanded and amassed. This may become
very great ; yet, great as it is, it may fall far below
the aspirations of its possessor. The desire for
riches is generally far in advance of their acquisi-
tion. We question if the richest men are in any
degree more satisfied with their wealth than any
moderately well-to-do man with his slender means.
The sleep of the labouring man is sweet, whether he
eat little or much ; but the abundance of the rich
will not suffer him to sleep. Still we do not sup-
pose that the rich are the most avaricious. Greed
is sometimes closely allied to poverty. We may
say, without respect to amounts of fortune, the ava-
ricious man is incapable of satisfaction. ' He that
loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver, nor
he that loveth abundance with increase. This is
also vanity.'

The observation, that when goods increase, they
are increased that eat them, is quite true. The more
a man has, the more he luis generally to provide for.
Hangers-on and parasites will be found in abun-
dance on the rich man's fortune. Capital also seeks
investment and the aids of labour, whereby it may
further increase. Thousands live by the Avell-spent
accumulations of one. There are evils connected
with all manufactures, but still by them thousands
are fed. The great good in the accumulation of

'til

292

THE WISDOM OF THE KINTt.

wealth lies in this, that by proper outlay the mem-
bers of the hiiinaii family may be increased, and
God's command fulfilled. ' When goods increase,
they are increased tliat eat them.'

GOOD TO THE OWNEKS.

There seems to be only a very partial statement
of the benefits of riches in the question, ' What
good is to the owners thereof, saving the beholding
of them V .iih their eyes ? ' This is the only satis-
faction, indeed, of the miser ; but men are not all
misers. There is a satisfaction in being the means
of communicating sustenance and enjoyment to
others. It is happiness to make others happy, to
see others happy. The good enjoy only while
blessing others. Like lakes and seas, rich good men
spread their abundant riches that they may be
absorbed by the strong sun of benevolence, carried
away over the liills and valleys to descend in refresh-
ing showers — all returning to the source whence
they sprung — with abundant happiness.

EICHES NOT EASILY KITT.

One sore evil Solomon saw, — riches kept for the
owners thereof to their hurt. It is hinted, too, that
they cannot be long so kept, — that some evil travail,
some unprosperous work, will blot out the results of

«i

EICHES.

293

all their toil, and poverty will sweep out riches and
take possession of the house ; so tlie rich man shall
become as poor as the new-born cliild. Of course
it is not always the case that riches, which should
have been spent, make to themselves wings and
flee away ; yet it is an observation which has been
made by more than Solomon, that it is very hard
to keep what duty would require us to liave spent

or given.

SHALL WE DO WHAT WE WILL WITH OUR OWN ?

There are various ways of viewing this question
about the due employment of riches. The general
view is, that each man may do what he will with
liis own, and that there is no one to call him to
account. This is in some aspects true, in others
not. In the first place, the question would need
settlement : What is man's own ? The tax collector,
in various forms, diminishes the sum-total consider-
ably. But after all legal demands have been satis-
fied, is it just so clear that a man may do what he
likes with what is left ? No man has any riglit
with it to support what is vile or vicious, or in any
way detrimental to tlie morals or health of the com-
munity. The law may permit liim to do it, but he
does it at the peril of his soul. Ko mun wlio (U)es
anything of this kind — employs liis money or caj)ital

204

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

for the support of anything that is sapping the
healtli or morals of the community, having suflicient
means of knowing that he is engaged in an evil
work — can he a Christian. He may be in tlie church
an olHcer, in society respected ; but he will have to
be converted with such a conversion as will make
him leave his sensual life before he can hope to enter
the kingdom of heaven. No man has any right with
his riches to throw temptations to evil in his brother's
way. This statement seems pointless, and yet it
may be so sharp as to wound a great many. May
the Spirit of God make it do its work ! It will have
done its work when it makes each one think — Am
I engaged in doing that which is good for my fel-
low-men with that wealth wdth which God has
blessed me ? ,

f 'I il

RESrONSIBILITIES OF KICIIES.

But besides, are there not responsibilities attend-
ant on the possession of wealth which cannot be got
rid of, which ought to be held sacred, — responsi-
bilities in regard especially to education and religion,
which if not fulfilled, there will follow terrible evils
to the possessors as well as to society at large ? These
two things are combined, yet we may speak of them
as put separately, and then in connection.

RICHES.

295

RICHES RESPONSIBLE TO EDUCATION.

I need liardly pause to show tliat tlie education
of youth is of vast importance as a preventive of
crime, or that the ignorant chxsses are the most
criminal. If education will not cure moral disease,
it will at least greatly palliate it. It will do much
to reduce murder and theft and roljhery from the
huge dimensions they will without it attain. The
great expense of government is owing to the means
necessary for the repression of crime. Wtsalth has
to support the depredations of crime, and then has
to contribute to its suppression. If we could do
without jails and police and criminal courts, we
should have heavier pockets. We iniglit reduce
these expenses to a minimum, if we could only get
the people educated and moralized up to the right
point ; and the nearer we approach to that point,
we will have these expenses of protection to life
and property lightened. Wealth kept which should
have been expended in education, will have to pay
with compound interest in the repression of crime.
This will be ' wealth kept by the owners thereof to
their hurt.'

NEARING THE RAPIDS.

In the present day, when the franchise is ex-

29G

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

tended, when each man has a right to aspire to the
highest ortice in the state in virtue of the sniullest
income or property, and when all things tend to
manhood — not to s.'iy womanhood — sufl'nige, there
is need of education to the masses, or terrihle evils
are innninent. Without education, society is ]H>\i-
tically approaching the rapids, in which it will find
it hard to live without woful disaster. In our great
cities are found the most notahle examples of what
society is coming to under the reign of ignorance
and corruption. The most ignorant and vile in the
comnumity plunder it at pleasure. Civic oilicers
are often in league witli thieves and murderers.
Wealth often is so gigantic, that it is still ahle to
afford these depredations. But wealth is heginning
to awake to its perils and duties. Whatever educa-
tion can do, must he done. It has to contend with
a gigantic system of religion in many places, which
is the ally of ignorance, and so its efforts may be
jDartially neutralized ;. yet it is to he hoped that the
greatest and wealthiest cities of modern times will
deal successfully even with that. But nearer home
have we nothing to fear ? While our neighbours all
around are making the greatest efforts that the best
systems of education shall be used in their lower
and higher schools and colleges, we are lauuinfr
behind. Other lands are far in advance of us.

EICIIES.

297

They have neither hetter men as teachers, nor more
intelligent children as scholars, but their systems
are better, and their hearts are larger. There are
yet towns we know of, whose school houses are their
disgrace — whose loose, undefined system of teaching
will long be their hurt. ('Iiildren are growiug up
only half educated in consequence. They will lag
behind in the race of commerce and art and science.
Legislators and people are alike in fault, where edu-
cation is neglected. Legislators may be afraid to
impose a tax on the people for the education of their
children, lest they should lose their next election.
They dare not do the ignorant masses this great
benefit. They wait till a general election shall have
secured them a new tenure of power, ere they dare
to move in this matter. But in the absence of law,
why is benevolence asleep ? Why is wealth dream-
ing of continued prosperity, while ignorance every-
where sends up its dank weeds ? Would it be too
much to ask of wealth that it should tax itself to
build and endow decent academies and colleges ?
And yet, if a public meeting were called for such a
purpose in many places, how many would attend ?
We have not got a liberal education. We have been
educated in the school of selfishness. We have not
learned ' to do good and connnunicate.' We beloiifr
to the past ; we are fast becoming fossils. We are

11}

298

THE WISDOM OF THE XING.

perpetuations of the old hedge-schools of thought.
We have liad our slender education, and made money
out of it, and we think our children should succeed
as we have done. Ah ! the times are altered, and
we are not changed. Do you think that our igno-
rance shall be able to compete with the learning of
our neighbours ? It cannot 1)C done. They will
beat us, and trample over us. We will be half, and
they whole men — miserable specimens of what man
was intended to be — workers at the mill of life, or
perhaps money grubs, without knowing the use of
money, if not rather machines, out of which edu-
cated men know how to grind wealth and taste and
enjoyment for themselves. Our riches kc]it from
the cause of education will be kei)t to our own hurt,
and to the hurt of society, to the hurt of the rising
generation.

MORAL AND SPIRITUAL EDUCATION.

But education which deals with the intellect alone
will not be sufficient. We nmst address our in-
struction to the moral and spiritual in man. If we
could only make the youthful generation conscien-
tious, truthful, upright, and pious — doing justly to
God and man — then would wealth be safe, and
society secure. The thief would be a myth, and the
jailor useless. Is this Utopia ? Well, we will admit

RICIIDS.

299

that it may be loii"; yet till realization, but it beloiif^s
to the future. ' ]>elievest thou the ])ro})liets ? T
know that thou believest.' ' There shall be nothin,ii;
to huit nor destroy in all my holy mountain.' IJiit
we shall rise to this coTidition l)y successive sore
and toilsome steps. We are yet at the base of (Jod's
mountain of justice and I'ighteousness. Wealth and
benevolence nuist help our humanity to climl) its
steep ascent. Society may get a little way up the
hill, even in our day and by our aid. Certainly
there will be no profit in our staying down where
we are. Crimes now waste our wealth. jNlight not
wealth kill out some of tliese wasters ? It is worth
some thought. When foreign missions are spoken
of, we hear from those chiefly who do not want to
give, that we need missions at home. True. Well,
then, why not have them ? Why not have refor-
matories and schools of industry ? Wliy wait for
some old man to die before anything can be done ?
Why not support young men's associations, and for
that matter young women's associations, whoso
business it should be, in their spare hours, to aid
those needing help to light the battle which so many
are trying to wage against temptations to evil ? I
do not speak of benevolence as a reason for this
action on the part of wealth. 1 address wealth
through the ear of the ];)0cket. You think, wealth,

i ■

■• -

!. t!

300

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

that when you have, by some miserable subter-
fuge — some lying plea that ycu cannot give, or that
you have become depleted with giving — some whin-
ing story about the amount of benefactions, — when
by such means you have got rid of some charitable
beggar, asking money not for his use, but for God's
use, for the neutralization of crime, for the safety
of society, the protection of morals, — you think,
wealth, you have done a fitting and jiroper thing !
No, you have refused to pay for your own protec-
tion. You are like Nabal, whose flocks and goods
had been protected from the robbers by David, dis-
missing liis application with contemptuous words.
' Who is David, and wlio is the son of Jesse ? The^ ^
be many servants nowadays that break away every
man from his master. Shall I then take my bread,
and my water, and my flesh that I hitvc killed for
my shearers, and give it unto men whom I know
not whence they be V while the young men's account
was : ' The men were very good unto us, and we were
not hurt, neither missed we anything, as long as we
were conversant with them, when we were in the
fields. They were a wall unto us, both by night
and day, all tlie while we were ^\•itl^ them kee])ing
the sheep.' lUit this is the reply which the Nabals
of wealth give to the Davids of education and reli-
gion, who protect the riches acijuired from the wolves

RICHES.

301

of crime. In a dim way this is seen, and falteringly
acknowledged as a general fact, — true in regard to
our neighbours, but not as to our personal selves.
Oh no, we never are stingy ; we are so charitable,
tliat we fear the poorhouse is going to be our fate !
Well, there are such persons, strange as it may seem,
who as a matter of fact are too charitable, — no, but
who by their charities shame our meanness, if shame
were in us, — poor men giving dollars where rich
men give mites. When we look at our towns ;
when we think of their riches — of our rich men ; when
we see the meanness of our means of education, and
the magnificence of our private establishments ; of
how much we spend on bodily comfort, and so little
on soul furniture ; on our luxuries of the palate, and
the miserable mouldy crusts on which we starve
mind, — and think of the little, shrivelled, atro])hied
tenants of the brain, in those grand, finely dressed
persons, — we almost lose patience with .Providence,
and are ready to speak very unadvised words. AVe
dare not speak thus, save in a general way, as no man,
however mean or stingy or unjust in his charities,
wdll ever take the words to himself Oh no, we are
perfectly safe. There is hardly a rich man in the
city who does not believe — and some of them justly
so — that he has discharged his obligations to educa-
tion and religion ! But while some have done so.

^mm

i I

I il

302

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

the greater part have an enormous, ever increasing
deficit in their account, which they ouglit to set
themselves as soon as possible to discharge. They
are keeping back their riches to their own hurt.

A MEAN AKGUMENT Willi A MEAN THING.

But this is a very low ground to take. Very
true, but tlie pocket is a very mean thing ; that is
to say, when you are dealing with it, you are deal-
ing with a set of very mean sentiments. And yet
there is in all, in the veriest miser, a higlier nature,
a heart, a soft, tender sentiment, if we only knew
how to approach and wake it up to beautiful action.
You do not see the appeal to you from tlie side of
justice and selfish consideration, but you may from
some higher motive. You do not merit tlie protec-
tion of your riclies. They may be swept away.
AVell, let them go. You suggest, too, that they may
be swept away from your coders by the educated
and by the religious — so called, so esteemed ; and
wliy, then, shoulil you aid religion and education ?
Without pausing to show that tliis fact of the dis-
honesty of the professor of i)iety and the well-edu-
cated is rather exceptional, and that the great fear
is of the irreb'gious and ignorant, I would present
another form in which riches may be kept to the
hurt of the owners. They hurt their owner's kind,

KICIIES.

303

gentle nature, when they make it grow hard and
avaricious. They hurt the luminous souls of their
possessors, when they blind them to the beautiful
effects which might be produced by the expenditure
of riclies in the works of education, religion, charity.
Only keep them — keep all of them — button your
pockets tiglit — add field to field, add house to house,
add thousand to thousand — save, scrape, accumu-
late ; and if you don't end with having the most
miserable, starved, blind atom of a soul that ever
had the misfortune to go sneaking about the world,
then we have no knowledge of what an avaricious
course is capable of effecting. Better for a man a
thousand times to have a dozen of soft hands, of
wife and children insinuating themselves into his
pocket and leaving only emptiness behind, than to
have a grand abundance which only goes on to accu-
mulate. If a man has not these to take from liim
all he can earn, he should accustom himself to give
for the good of others, for charities in all soft and
winning forms, that he may preserve his nature fi'om
selfishness and miserliness, and his poor soul from
becoming a beggar in the world to which we are aU
fast going,

WHAT WE KEEP, ESCAI'ES ; WHAT WE GIVE, WE KEEP.

Oh, there is a profound, a solemn truth in that

hi!

304

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

statement, that a man really possesses only what he
has given away ! All the rest of his riches he must
of sad necessity leave, — he can take alone wliat he
has given. His works do follow him. His acts of
kindness have become angels. They sing him
sweet songs. They fan Ids spirit with odorous
wings. They drive away all the sad, despairing
thoughts which hover around the dark, selfish soul,
as, clogged with carnality, it sinks into the abysses.
Make, then, to yourselves these beautiful friends of
the mammon of unrighteousness, that, when you
fail, they may wait on and conduct you into ever-
lasting habitations.

I |!

i '!

WE MAY KEEP WORK, THE INSTKUxMENT OF WEALTH,

FROM GOD.

Perhaps it may be thought that this subject has
application solely for those Avho have amassed
wealth in the shape of money or lands. It is of
wider sweep. We all are wealthy. We have hands
of strength which are wealtli ; we have brains which
are wealth, afl'ections which are wealth. The hand
that gives the cup of cold water, the feet that carry
us to visit the sick and the prisoner, the pen and
voice that advocate the cause of the poor and needy,
are all expending wealth in the cause of the sick,
afflicted, and ignorant. Do you think a Sabbath-

RICHES.

305

school teacher who attends his class in the Sabbath
school regularly, gives nothing because he gives
only his toil and brain and heart to his work ?
Ay, he gives vastly more than the richest man in
the Church does, in the shape of money, to all the
benevolent objects to which he is called on to con-
tribute. What would one of our men of fortune
take to sit and toil with his brain and tongue, after
he had studied the subject during the week, at any
board two hours a day, for fifty-two days in the
year ? Would he not think himself poorly remune-
rated if he had only a guinea for every day in
which he was so employed ; and would he take
that if he were not attending to his own interests
at the same time ? Supposing a young woman
would take a couple of hours each week to visit the
poor and distressed in her neighbourhood, wouhl
she not give more than any man of wealtli in the
city gives for the cause of the distressed and fallen?
You know she would. Do not, then, you who give
liberally of your money, think you are the only
ones who abound in charity ; do not think you are
at the top of the list. Xo. Our young friends
who engage in the work of instructing the ignorant
and relieving the distressed, are giving far more in
their poverty tlian you of your abundance. You
wiU need to be far more liberal than you have ever

306

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

been, before yon can hope to approach their figure.
Do not be disheartened either, you of the Sabbath
labours, or you of the week-day visitation, because
you have no money to give. You are ah-eady doing
far more than your share, though you should never
have a sliilling to spare. You are giving your
dollars and guineas in the form of good substantial
work ; and we well know that, if God blesses you
with substance, you are the very ones who by your
liberality will put to shame the so-called liberality
of wealth, which gives only its dimes where you, if
you had the means, would give your pounds.

i ''i\

i t

SPHERES OF USEFULNESS.

But there are many who are not able to give
money who do not give labour. Well, you ought
all to think of the duty which is now plainly set
forth. If all the strong, active young men and
women of the Church would only engage in the
works and labours of love for Christ, for His cause,
and give an hour or two weekly thereto, what
miglit not be done ? There are the outcast, who
might be brought in ; there are the sick, who miglit
be visited and comforted ; there are the ignorant
children going about our streets, who might be
brought in ; the Sabbath school nnght be overflow-
ing; the church might be filled; the work of God

EICIIES.

307

tod

might be flourisliing ; the gates of liell might
tremble. You have a vast store of riches with
which you have been endowed by God, in your
strengtli, your education, your kind, charitable feel-
ing. Do not keep them to yourselves ; you will do
it to your own hurt. These talents, so far, you
may have hid in a napkin in the earth. Bring
them out. Let them be used. Wo propose to
show you how. We propose to give you a sphere
of usefulness. We propose to make you rich con-
tributors to God's cause. Come to the Sabbath
school : we will teach you if you need teaching ;
we will give you classes if you have ability to in-
struct ; we will send you out on missions, to visit
the sick, to bring in the poor to the church and
the Sunday scliool. Especially we say to young
women, we have work which will be of far more
service to yourselves and society than merely mak-
ing formal visits and leaving cards. The homes of
the poor will be gladdened with your presence ; the
hearts of the sick will be uplifted and cheered by
your smiles ; and the children growing up in vice
and iniquity and ignorance may Tm brought to
Christ, and made to know His gospel of love and
I)eace. We propose that from the school, as a
centre, you shall radiate forth all around, carrying
blessings and peace and joy in both hands. Come

308

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

to tlie Sabbath school, and you shall see how to get
rid of some of your superabundant wealth of love
and labour, now resting in your hands and hearts to
your own hurt.

THE WOKK OF THE SABBATH.

Our opinion is, that the Sabbath is not used as it
ought to be by most people, Jesus has taught us
that it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath-days, to
heal the paralysed, to open the eyes of the blind, to
pull the lost of humanity out of pits. There is
too much preaching. Piety has degenerated into
preaching and prayer and praise. It will never
recover its true tone till it is embodied in work.
We do not mean that the whole of our time should
be devoted to work, but we do mean that every
member of the Church, every follower of Jesus,
should devote a portion of that day to something
more than mere pious indolence. All should see
what can be contril)uted by hhn to the work of
Christ and of humanity. All work of the Sabbath,
too, has been confined to the Sabbath school. Is
there not room for its enlargement ? ]\Iight not
much be done by a well-organized plan of visita-
tion ? Let every one see that he, from this day
forth, begin to give of his labour and time to the
work of doing good. Come all you young men and

:TO .1 Jliri'MJ.ii.., u I " w -

RICHES.

309

women who have had your minds enliglitened as to
your duty— your hearts touched witli a feeling that
you should begin to follow Christ in doing°good.
Go to the Sabbath school next Lord's day. This
discourse means work. Any other conclusion is
lame and impotent.

XVII.

THE B A N K E U r T.

' Rut those riches jierish by evil travail ; and lie begetteth a son,
and there is nothinj^ in his hand. As he came forth of his mother's
womb, naked shall he return to go as hi; eanie, and shall take
nothing of his laliour, i.vhieh he may carry away in his hand. And
this also is a sore evil, that in all points as he came, so shall he go:
and what profit hath he that hath laboured for the wind ? All hi.s
days also he eateth in darkness, and he hath much sorrow and
wrath with his sickness.' — Ecclks. v. 14-17.

THE wise man contemplates the position of a
person who has had a large fortune which
has been swept away, leaving him with a family to
wddcli he has notliing to leave. ' There is notliing
in his hand. As he came forth of his mother's womb,
naked shall he return to go as he came, and shall
take nothing of his labour, which he may carry away
in his hand. And this also is a sore evil, tliat in
all points as he came, so shall he go : and what profit
hath he that hath laboured for the wind ? All his
days also he eateth in darkness, and he hath much
sorrow and wrath with his siclaiess.'

VICE A MISAPPLICATION OF FACULTY.

"We have always considered the vices of man as

310

THE RANKRUPT.

311

the extravagances and misapplication of faculties
implanted in him for wise purposes. Even avarice
and miserliness are but exaggerations of the very
proper desire and outlook which all should have to
a support for old age, and for the subsistence of
those whom God hath given to our care, should it
please Him to call us away while they are of tender
years, and incapable of supporting themselves. Com-
bining with this desire, there may be tlu; love of
power and influence and dis])lay, the keen spirit of
rivalry that wants to win the race and bear the
palm, to overhear it said, ' One of our leading mer-
chants, the richest man in the town ' — a fame ap-
proaching that of the warrior, and, in the estimation
of many, exceeding that of the philosopher or the
poet. Who would not, then, be rich ? The road to
wealth is neither so rough nor so steep as that which
leads to the knowledue of the secrets of nature.
Mammon is by no means so diflicult to propitiate
as Minerva. And so many become rich, spurred on
by these combined impulses ; all useful in their place,
and necessary to the carrying on of the economy of
the world.

FAILURE.

But many who aim at the prizes of wealth do not
succeed. Carrying away, as they think, the grand

312

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

pile, they are jostled iu the way, atul a hundred
greedy liaiids snatch the golden opportunity; and
they see luirrying away in tlie distance, those who
have rid tlieni of their accumulations. Po.ssiltly, on
opening their sacks of money, they find that it Ikis
somehow mysteriously disappeared. The security has
become insolvency, the prondse to pay a very truth-
less word. There has been a great commercial
panic, and stocks have become worthless, aiid banks
insolvent. Men's hearts fail for fear. The best
names are sjwken of doubtingly. The financial
world has gone to ruin, and will hardly ever re-
cover from the disaster. The rich man is poor ;
the poor has become rich. It is the see -saw of
fortune, but disastrous and full of grief, notwith-
standing.

BANKRUPTCY WORSE THAN POVERTY.

If one could get a view of the wild heart and
brain of the man who has fallen from the mountain
of wealth, round whose sides so many precariously
cling, down into the vast ravines where poverty ever
hopelessly wanders, what a scene of sorrow should
he behold ! It is not so bad — indeed one does not
feel it, almost — to have been always poor. It is his
lot : he was born to it. His humble thought is only
to live by toil. There are many who look to charity

THE BANKRUPT.

313

or the poorliouse as tlicir future lot wlion past labour,
and yet are in a dull way lia})py. But who can be
content thtit, havin«:f had plenty, has yet conic to
poverty ; that has come from a groaniu^- table to
crusts, from silk and purple to raj^s; and that, instead
of seeking the society of the wealthy, is anxious to
retire from its very recognition into some of the
lowest strata of poor and indigent humanity ?

If you plant an apple tree that has been reared
in a southern soil in a cold northern clime, it will
hardly live. Bring the vine of Italy to the vineries
of New Brunswick, and there will be no grapes.
And if you were to tear up the roots of a tall, wide-
spreading tree from a fertile meadow, hoping to make
it grow on a sterile mountain, we all know how it
would end. Is it not just so with those who have
tasted the sweets of riches, and have been the pos-
sessors of whatever was rare and valuable ? We just
expect them to mourn, droop, and die, when they
are torn from the soil of wealth, and are planted in
a field of poverty.

When a man, all his life accustomed to toil for a
living, arises in the morning with nothing in his
hand, he can go fortli, and in some way of hard work
generally can get enough to satisfy his wants. There
are times, indeed, when industry is paralysed, and
when hunger gnaws at the heart of labour. But

314

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

what shall he do, then, who has long been accus-
tomed to plenty, when need is ]iresent, and those
powers are wanting by which we wrest bread from
nature ? It is with wealth as with any other faculty
by which man has made his livelihood. Take it
away, and, from long disuse of every otlier power,
it will be found that he is only a waif of circum-
stances — no more a cunnincj, skilled a";ent of the
great field of labour. Here is a man who has made
his living by his pen : well, let his fancy become
clouded, and not only does he no longer know how
to wield it, but he has from long disuse become in-
capable of using any other power. It is just so with
a man who was accustomed to use riches. He has
lost them ; and he is unacquainted witli the uses of
any otlier thing — perfectly lielpless in life. At least
this 13 so with many. Some tliere are whom it is
impossil)le to repress. They liave lost a fortune
to-day, but to-morrow they are found sowing the
seed of another ; and should that be blighted in the
springing, they will be found still sowing, tliough
late, even when the summer of life is ended, and
the drear winter of old age has whitened them with
its snows.

A COMFORTER.

It is bad enough when a man comes down alone

.-^il*1«Mlll

THE BANKRUPT.

315

thus, and finds himself hur'". It is hard to be without
any comforter at such a time ; it is still harder to
have a dependent family. Caresses, in sticli circum-
stances, are likely to hurt rather tliaii heal. It is
very hard to be unable to repay kindness shown,
when we have so much need of it, and feel its
worth ; and, on the other hand, complainings may
be heard which are as hard to bear. About the
hardest trial Job had to endure was the liareli voice
of his wife scornfully asking him, ' Dost thou still
retain thine integrity? curse God and die.' We fancy,
too, Satan may have overshot tlie mark when he
deprived Job of both property and children. If he
had taken away the children and left the pro])urty,
we can imagine a deeper melancholy sinking down
round the old man's heart. If he had taken away
the property and left the children, it is hard to see
what he would have done with so many, dandled in
the la]i of luxury, brought down to the depths of
poverty. We know not, indeed, but that the bank-
ruptcy of their father would have wakened them to
a life of industry, and developed the virtue of self-
reliance. In this case, the misfortune would have
been a blessing. We fear, however, the misfculuue
would have been too late for such a transformation.
They seem to have been grown up, and their chief
occupation was that of a round of continuous feast-

316

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

ing, while the old man, at home — too old-fashioned
probabl}'' for their society — was exercised with fear
lest they should have cursed God in their hearts.
Misfortune may come too late for our benefit. A
few years earlier, and all would have been well.
The tree of life has become rooted in the soil of
pleasure, and you cannot make it take root in the
hard sides of industry. Thus there are many
families in every circle who are known by neigh-
bours and friends to have been spoiled. They had
fine strong frames, largf^ brains, good kindly affec-
tionate hearts, but they had no need of exertion —
every comfort, every luxury was tlieirs. Pleasure
spread for them flowery w\ays, and set open before
them all her doors, and so the useful was abandoned
for the pleasant, and a life of dissipation took the
place of a life of v.-r>rl: and worth. "Well, God fore-
seeing what is about to happen to His favourites, who
are fast becoming useless through the too indulgent
hand of fortune, sends some financial earthquake to
overturn the house, some lightning disaster to smite
the fortune, and what we call ruin spreads around,
and the whole ot the vast accumulations are gone,
and now, if not too late, the sons or the daughters
may, instead of becoming dangling, insipid, useless
drones in life, turn their hand to some valuable work.
Have they been ruined ? No, they have been saved.

THE BANKRUPT.

317

Have they lost their fortune ? Yes, but they have
found a better. There is want before them, but
there is work which will satisfy all its demands.
Lost riches are sometimes found opportunities. The
accumulated wealth of a father's industry is lost, but
the personal source of it is still open, pnd the active
intelligent mind is now awake to its acfpiisition, and
the strong frame bent to secure it. The youtlis and
maidens have narrowly escaped shi])wreck by the
very storm which, in engulfing their treasure, has
driven them away from the rocks and shoals of
ruin. It is not, after all, in many cases a great
evil, or evil at all, when riches perish by evil travail,
even when there is a young, helpless, dependent
family to support.

FACE TO FACE WITH FAILUIIE.

We are not blind to the scenes of grief, conse-
quent on such commercial disasters as lay low the
fortunes and hopes of so many. \Ve kn(jw how
those who have stood high in the world of trade
nuist feel when they see the impending ruin, or how
they recoil from the blow. Many have sought re-
fuge in death, that they might escape from the terror
and the torture. AVe have seen strong ones para-
lysed m mind and body by the grim form of failure.
As tlie time approached mIucIi was to make tlie

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318

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

awful revelation, the pain became agony. When,
too, the truth in all its breadth became known to
wife and child — long petted and dandled in the laj)
of luxury — sometimes it was met with cries of
despair, but sometimes, and we believe oftener, by
words of cheer and comfort and heroic resolution.
Woman more readily accommodates herself to change
than man. She rises to affluence more gracefully,
she sinks to penury less complainingly. Take her
from the cottage or the shop to Uie castle, and she
will very generally comport h.erself as though born
mistress of the manor. Let her sink from affluence
to poverty, and she wiU make flowers bloom around
the lowliest home ; and so the disaster is not so
great as might have been expected. Nay, the very
occurrence of what was esteemed a calamity has be-
come a revelation of hidden virtues. The husband
may have thouglit his wife selfish and unfeeling,
because, his business having made him hard and
silent, she had no proper outflow of affections ; but
now that she has no longer a rival in the form of
business, she can pour forth all the wealth of her
nature before him. Though poor in money, he finds
himself possessor of treasures of which, till now, he
was unconscious.

THE BANKRUPT.

RICHES GIVE CULTURE.

319

Nor are we blind to the advantages of the jiosses-
sion of wealth. It is a noble gift, if one know how
to use it well. AYe speak not now of almsgiving,
and other charitable uses, though he will use it
badly who neglects these things, and will dry up
the fountain of the best affections which God hath
implanted in his nature, and which, as streams of
tlie water of life, might bless and beautify many a
desert spot wliere sadness and misery have made
their liome. We speak more generally of the cul-
ture which riches well used can im})art. It must be
confessed that, though poverty does develope some
virtues, it stunts and deforms others. You will find
it hard to cultivate the graces of life on slender
means. The poor man may cultivate vegetables
and connnon flowers, but it recpiii-es riches to erect
the green-house, where exotic plants may bloom
and shed their fragrance. There are the rare flowers
of gentility, and elegant manners, and agreeable
courtesies, which do not readily flourish around
humble homes. Learning and travel cannot be had,
without the leisure and ease which riclies give. It
has been said that it requires three or four genera-
tions of the wealthy to produce the gentleman.
There are exceptions to the rule both Mays. You

J A

11 L.

320

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

will find in cabins and cottages trne gentility or
courtesy. You will too often find boors among
lords and peers. But the rule is the other way,
and without doubt the finest and most cultured of
the children of men are to be found among those
who are born of nobility. Xow and tlien we are
scandalized with the history of roughs and roues of
peerage descent or of princely alliance, but we be-
lieve there is among the families of the rich and
titled a vast amount of not only high culture, but
real worth and excellence ; and notwithstanding the
unlioly fame of marquises and peers who have dis-
graced their coronets, — notwithstanding the detest-
able use to which the sons of the rich have often
put their wealth, — we can well understand that, for
the proper uses and advantages of wealth, a man
may earnestly strive Lo amass fortune for the children
whom he loves, and whom he would place in a posi-
tion to acquire the learning and the graces to which
his own hard lot made iiim a stranger. He hopes
with all the love of a father's heart that his children
will be kind, and gentle, and noble, and generous,
and worthy, and that the riches he has acquired for
them wdll be used for only good purposes. It is
no small aflliction to him to find that all his wealth
by evil travail has melted away, and that his family
will have to sink down into tlie pit where penury

THE BANKRUPT.

321

elbows poverty, where harshness produces coarse-
ness, — wliere, too, disappointment sends its wail
over blighted hopes and ruined prospects.

GOD SEES BEST.

The ruined man, however, should always recollect
that God knows the future better than he, and that
those riches niiglit have been kept, not for his own
hurt, but for the hurt of his children. Tlie many
instances he has seen of the wild spendtlirift life of
young persons should at least reconcile him to the
view, that if liis children have been deprived of the
advantages, they have been liberated from the perils
of riches, and that there is still, in the lonely i)arts
of this good world of the heavenly Father, many
a situation of usefulness and beauty and comfort,
where His children may be happy and contented.
God metes out His measures of hapjiiness as full, it
may be, to the sons of toil as to the possessors of
wealth. The sleep of the labouring man is sweet,
and hunger and labour give a zest of enjoyment,
which is, and must be, for ever unknown to surfeited
abundance.

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DISHONEST FAILURE.

No notice is taken by Solomon specially of failures
with the full hand. These may come under the head

BEV(

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322

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

of tlie various injustices which he saw practised
under the sun. Of such cases we have simply to
say that stealing is comparatively respectable. With
no better right to the goods or monies of which
he becomes possessed than the tliief, the dishonest
bankrupt has also forfeited confidence. It is a fair
question, we doubt not, liow mucli a man who has
spent a large portion of his life in honest work
should have, when some misfortune comes crashing
into his business, sweeping away all the hard earn-
ings of a lifetime. But when there have been plans
laid to defraud, when business has been engaged in
to secure by failure a competency unsought by honest
work, why, we repeat it, thieving is respectable com-
pared with thn,t kind of work ; and yet many a man.
carries his head higli, and is taken by the hand in
good society, and has his alliance sought by other
worldlings — probably no more honest than himself,
if the opportunity offered — who has been tlioroughly
dishonest in his dealings and settlements. Instead
of being driven out of respectable society like the
thief, the man who has made money even by failure
is feted and caressed. Yet he is in a bad case,
almost worse tlian the housebreaker, as far as re-
pentance and reformation go. There is some hope
of repentance for him on whom is the ban and frown
of society. The thief on the cross, the publican in

„ ^...

THE BANKHLTT.

o ^ o

;ad

lie

re-

hvn

tlie temple, the Magdalene at the feet of Jesus — all
feel the soft spirit of penitence nestling in their
breasts as a tender dove, and the kind hand of par-
don on their heads ; but the man who puts his trust
in riches, and cannot trust in God — wlio trusts in
riches so mucli, that for tlieni he swindles, and yet,
wonderful to say, may still have the apparent respect
of his fellow-men — wliv, how sliould such a one
ever repent, or believe, or enter the kingdom of
heaven ? If riches be always dangerous, how fear-
fully is it true tliat ' the getting of riches by a lying
tongue is a vanity tossed to and fro by them that
seek decith I'

SrECULATION AND FAILURE.

But f[iilure resulting from dislionest speculation
is another form of bankruptcy. There is much of
this sort of thing. The travail in such case is espe-
cially evil. In all speculation there is risk ; ])ut
in some businesses the transactions are more allied
to the gaming-tabl'^ than to commerce. It is not
easy to draw the line of distinction, and it may be
that a plausible apology could be offered for gold
and stock gambling. We suppose these things nmst
be bought and sold, and that there is no more harm
in their purchase and sale than in that of sugars and
teas. The harm lies specially in two things : first.

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324

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

in engaging in the transactions without sufficient
capital, or in using capital not our own ; and secondly,
in those schemes for rigging the market and making
corners, by which ruin is entailed, not in the regular
course of trade, of demand and supply, but by dearths
and plethora artificially created. AVe sup[)ose we
need say nothing to those who have come away out
of these transactions winners. They can laugh at
our jejune views of their immorality. But as to
those who have failed in such dishonest schemes,
we have simply to say. You deserved to fail ; and if
in after life there should be nothing in your hand,
you may console yourselves with this, the only con-
solation left, that you have not at least the tenible
burden to carry on your conscience of riches dis-
honestly acquired. If you make the sincere attempt
by faith and repentance, you may get tlirough the
needle's eye and become possessor of the heavenly
riches, while Dives, wdio made his grand pile in the
transaction where you found financial ruin, finds
himself hampered and hindered ; indeed, probably
he never thinks of such a thing as tlie kingdom of
hea^'^en at all, but settles down quietly to his enjoy-
ments, saying, * Soul, tliou hast much goods laid up
for many years; eat, drink, and be merry;' and
knows not till the fiat goes forth, ' This night shall
thy soul be required of thee.'

THE BANKRUPT.

325

A POOR SOUL.

Some people will have plenty of riclics tlieii ; and
if a place conld be piircliascd in heaven, they would
be sure of it. But it is the soul that is required of
them, and they have not got that ; at least, it is so
mean, unjust, unrigliteous, dishonest, sneaking, tliat
it were far better they had none at all to offer. We
have sometimes smiled at an ignorant Papist, when,
in the language of his creed and country, he spoke
of ' maldnfj his soul.' Tliere is much meaning in
this phrase. We do not think the Papist's way of
work in this spiritual manufacture is. the best. A
long course of fasts and mechanical prayers are not
well fitted to make a noble, ' just, generous, and
sanctified soul, such as we could wish* to render up
to God when we are summoned to present if, bad
or good, to our Judge. But if penance only meant
repentance, and if, instead of unmeaning ceremonies,
faith that is justified by works — faith, that in Jesus
sees the propitiation and the pattern, and goes forth
in the freedom and assurance of pardon to do tlie
deeds of justice and charity on the eartli — were
substituted, we could see a soul growing in Ijcauty
and value, which would make it no unfit offering to
present even before the throne of that King and
Judge who has given to every one his talent, saying,

320

TIIi: WISDOM OF THE KING.

' Occujiy till I coino.' Everything wliicli iirevents
or impedes the soul's growth, no r'"*-<-er liov.^ splen-
did, no matter how sweet, is dai ,.iig to our for-
tune, Jind at the last may issue in writing against
us, in the irreversible handwriting of God : ' Spiritual
and eternal bankrupt ;' ' His liches liave peiished
by an evil travail, and there is nothi».g in his hand.'

THE Ki:V OF PJCIIES LOST.

Somethnes the capacity of pi-oducing riches
j)erislies by evil travail. Tlie instrument, the key
by wliich the treasure of riches is uidocked, is gone ;
and then, indeed, there is nothing ' 'le hand of the
weak, wreck(Hl constitution, or tho lecbled brain.
Work sometimes produces these sad effects, but folly
oftener. The tradesman is throM'n from some roof,
or gets entangled in some niacliiiuiry, or is exposed
to some inclemency of tlie sun or frost, and while
escaping with life, his key of labour is lost, with
which he was accustomed to lind subsistence for
himself and family, for whom there seems in the
future no bread. The man of letters, like Swift,
becomes as tho tree blighted at the top : the brain
refuses to work, and tlie fancy to plume her wings,
and he, too, finds the fount of life run dry. The
professional man at the bar, in the pulpit, or in the
sick-room, has become weak, and Ids vocation is

THE BANKRUPT.

327

gone. In these cases tliore is room for a dcc^per
sorrow, snrely, tliaii when even the savings of a life-
time are all swept away, bnt the power and facnlty
of work are still left. "We should not mourn for tlie
loss of fortune as we mourn for tlie loss of ability
to make it. Let tlie waters of the stream be driei
up; but if the s])ring be preserved, what matters it ?
The world may have been to us a desert of sand,
absorbing all the wealth which flowed from the well
of our labour ; l)ut still, while the living waters
flow, there will be an oasis of greenness, blessing
and beautifying our being. But the time will
come, Sf^'iner or later, to us all, when all will l)e
absorbed

' Leaf by leaf the roses fall ;

Drop by drop tho streams run cliy ;
One by one, without reciill,
Sunuuor roses fade and die. '

And so it is with the vital powers. However
husbanded, they will at last be exhausted. Trotect
the tree of life as you will, it will at last die, its
sap exhausted, its energy expended. The fountain
of life sends dov/n some drops of its sweet waters,
but its source is in the other world, to which we
must all repair, that we uuiy enjoy inmiortal life,
and never know decay.

328

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

A BROKEN CONSTITUTION.

And yet there are worse bankruptcies than those
produced by work or accident. AVe speak of losses
of the vital powers and capacities of usefulness by
vice, gl'.ittony, intem})erance, unlawful indulgence.
These sap the foundations of tlie constitution. The
physician may come and shore up the building for
a nhile, and do some bit of healing pntcliwork be-
neath the rickety, broken walls, but it will be a
poor concern ever after. A fiist life is proverbially
short. Fast men do not spend their money faster
tlian th^ir capital of being, Fast men figure most
in the bankruptcy courts of both civil, social, and
physical life. Health is often gone before the
fortune is spent ; and sometimes a poor demoralized
creature, shaking, paralysed, still enacts the de-
bauchee in the great farce of pleasure-hunting —
the scorn and ridicule of those, with energies yet
unbroken, fast following to represent the same
character.

LOST CHARACTER.

And there is yet another bi^mkruptcy of winch
we must speak, — bankruptcy of character. It is
still possible among men to act wildly and fool-
ishly, and still possess a reputation for honour, up-

THE BANKEUPT.

329

riglitness, and truth,, We recognise tlie distinction.
There are grades in morals. There are virtues that
support the foundations of health ; there are those
which sustain society. The vices which affect self,
and those which tend to overturn the social fabric,
though springing from the same source, are not
dealt with as alike bad. ' The poor fellow does no
one harm but himself,' is a ])alliation which we
generally indeed falsely apply to the one, but our
indignation is reserved for the swindler, tlie thief;
the robber, the nnirderer. We admit — with, it
may be, a protest — the one to oui society; the
other we send, when we can, to our prisons and
penitentiaries. AVe do not say that there is any
radical injustice in our distinction. Society is
generally just to itself in its decrees. What foi our
present purpose we have to remark upon, is the
sad bankruptcy which comes upon the outcasts of
society. They are wealthy, perhaps — ah, they are
poor ! Even the very people who pay court to and
seek the society of the knaves who have secured
wealth by villany and yet have eluded the law^,
despise them in their heart of hearts. They may
meet them wdth smiles, and yet they would rejoice
in their hearts to hear of tlieir downfall. Oh yes,
the secret voice of humanity is the whisper of God.
Don't take the babble of public places as the deci-

330

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

sion of either the human or the divine. Both God
and man pronounce them moral bankrupts. But
there are those not wealthy who are also bankrupts
in character, — thieves who have no standing in the
community, swindlers whose hand it would be
esteemed pollution to touch, robbers over whom the
law throws no protection. Oh, are not these poor
— very poor ? They have nothing in their liand.
They are shut out from all honest places of toil and
reward. Tliey have hunger to appease, cold to fend
themselves from, desires vast and various to satisfy ;
and what shall they do ? Why, society has said to
them in words, ' Be honest,' and in reality, ' Go and
steal.' There is no mistaking this fact. And so
there is constituted a society of these moral bank-
rupts, holding certain doubtful relations to those
who are on the verge of moral insolvency, as the
bar-room keepers, and receivers under the rose and
with due precautions of stolen goods, but banded
together in every great human hive to prey on
industry, with a code of laws of their own, subver-
sive of property and morality. Tlieir riches of
character have perished by some evil work, and
there is nothing in their hand.

BANKRUPTS IN IIEAVEN's CIIANCEHY.

But hu .vever we may distinguish between one

THE BANKRUPT.

90^

oo .

class of vice and anoUier, arc "\ve not all bankrupt
before God ? ' If we say we have no sin, we deceive
ourselves, and the truth is not in us.' We may be
all rich and increased in goods of a moral kind, and
feel as thougli we had need of notliing, and yet be
poor, and wretclied, and miserable, and naked. Com-
paring ourselves with others, we may be fair and
comely in character ; but what are we before God ?
We do not assume that all are hypocrites, or sepul-
chres painted and furbished, concealing dead men's
bones, or that we are graves green and flowery, with
corruption beneath the sod of character ; nor tliat
there is a haunted chamber in every house, or a
skeleton iu every heart, or a deatli's-head shaking
its gory locks before every eye. No ; but there is
a voice which is heard, because spoken by every
soul, — the voice of conscience, saying. And I, too,
am a sinner ; I, too, have nothing with whicli I may
come before God. My life, ah, how purposeless and
useless ! my most golden deeds, ah, how dim and
drossy ! my tree of being, ah, how flowery yet fruit-
less ! What opportunities of good liave I let sli[) !
What wealth of light and love iiave I dissipated !
My religious services have been formalities without
a soul. I have paid my gratitude to God with the
base coin of hollow words. I have to my neigli-
bour, whom I should have loved as myself, given

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332

THE WISDOM OF THE KING,

too often scorn and contempt, making his heart
bleed. I have retailed the story which was untrue,
if I have not made it. I have launched the sarcasm
which burned up the tender feeling of my friend.
I ha^'e neglected good advice. I have turned piety
into ridicule, and profanity into a pastime. I have
been angry without cause, and so done murder in
my heart. I liave grieved the good. I have en-
couraged the bad. In my business I have traf-
ficked in shams, — in my pleasures listened to and
enjoyed the songs of the sirens. I have sailed
through the seas of debauchery, and plucked the
forbidden fruits which God commanded me not to
eat ; and if now I were to appear bffore God, I could
not answer Him for one of a thousand of my sins.
If I look over my account, I see a long list of debts
which I can never pay. I am a bankrupt before
God. My riches of being have perished by evil
travail, and there is nothing in my hand.

A GOOD FIRM.

Wliat shall this bankrui)t soul do ? There is a
voice which says, * I counsel thee to buy of me gold
tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich ; and fine
raiment, that tliou mayest be clothed, and that the
shame of thy nakedness may not appear.' There is
one rich, noble Being who has visited our world

THE BANKRUPT.

30 o
00

that He might carry His capital into the bankrupt
concern of humanity, and make all rich wlio would
join His society. He Avill have you buy an interest
in this great firm Ijy a formal and real renunciation
of your past life, Ijy a sorrow so abiding that you
shall no more return to it. He makes you rich l)y
proclaiming a free acquittance from all that vast
debt whicli made you despair, and prevented you
from the thought and the power to begin a holier
and truer life. He promises you His aid. He Mill
be Avith you ; in spirit He will be with you. He
dwelleth with you, and shall be in you. Only faitli
in Him must, as you see, connect you with Him.
F'.e cannot become yours nor you His otherwise.
How He 2'MS so rich, how He became poor, that you
through His poverty might become ricli, w(i cannot
now enlarge upon. Try Him, and you shall know.
You are poor enougli ; you cannot well be worse.
You have made attempts, have you not, to do
something acceptable, and to be something good ?
You have long tried it, have you not ? If you
have not, it is time you should begin. 01 1, tliure is
no pity too deep for the moral bankrupt mIio knows
not the depth of liis poverty ! But have you not all
said, looking to the vast debt, Who sliall free me
from tixC bondage of this spiritual dcatli, wliich
ha vine? accumulated such stin.s as I am unable to

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.'i^jTi-iavi^rrf^Sfey:-

334

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

pay, prevents me from doing any god thing before
God ? Well, try Him. See if He will not place
you in a state of pardon and peace. See if He will
not set you in the way of duty, and of the attain-
ment of ' the righteousness of God which is by faith
of Jesus Christ unto and upon every one that be-
lieveth.'

THE DIVINE BANKRLTT LAW.

The gospel is the proclamation of a great bank-
rupt law to the human race, of the provisions of
which each one is asked freely to accept. Of the
policy and propriety of such a law, no one who
knows the circumstances will doubt. There may be
questions relative to the means by which such a law
became possible, but none as to the necessity of it,
if man was ever to be made righteous — changed
from bad to good. There is no sinner who, when
he wants to be what his conscience tells him he
ought to be, but feels the need of assurance that his
past life is not to be laid to his charge. We hold
that you might as well ask a man to be industrious
against whom an insatiate creditor of fabulous
amounts was ever pressing for payments, as tliink a
sinner might become what he ought to be while he
believes that God is unpropitious to him. How
shall he begin to serve an implacable God who de-

THE BANKRUn.

335

mands, as the first essential element of service, that
it be of love ? But after forgiveness for all tliat vast
debt — not without suffering and sorrow, a divine
suffering and sorrow — love is easy. Nothing is
difficult here but faith — belief that God should for-
give because He had suffered — nothing difficult but
to believe that the sufferings of God manifest in the
flesh were but the type and image of what God liad
always been enduring on behalf of man, and what
the good Spirit of God is always l)earing for man,
even now for tliis ungodly generation. Only tliink
of God at this moment bearing your sins, suffering
on account of your sins ; and no less than this is im-
plied in the answer given by Jesus to Thomas : ' He
that hath seen me hath seen the Father. How sayest
thou th'^n. Show us the Father ? ' God's atonement
is continuously going forward ; tlic burden of sin is
continually being borne by the Divine One, and we
are by our sins continually crucifying tlie Son of
God afresh ; and He is willing to bear all, and en-
dure all, that He may induce you to leave your
bankrupt condition as sinners, and enter on the \vork
and reward of the possessor of ' the righteousness of
God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto and upon
every one that believetli.'

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XVIII.
THE HOUSES OF MOURNING AND MIRTH.

' It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the
house of feasting : for that is the end of all men ; and the living
will lay it to his heart. Sorrow is Letter than laughter : for by
the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better. The heart
of the wise is in the house of mourning : but the heart of fools is
in the house of mirth. It is better to hear the rebuke of the wise,
than for a man to hear the song of fools. ' — Eccles. vii. 2-5.

THE TWO INVITATIONS.

IF two invitations were given us at the same
time, for the same day, the one to a funeral
and the other to a marriage, or the one to a scene of
sorrow which only death could produce, and the other
to some festive gathering, leaving out of view the
call of duty, we can hardly suppose we should hesi-
tate to accept the invitation Avhich called us to feast
and rejoice, rather than that which required us to
robe ourselves in tlie sable proprieties of grief. And
yet we should do so with a feeling that probably
we had not made the right choice : Ave might find
ourselves thinking, ' After all, it might be better,
more to my advantage, to go ^o the house of mourn-
There will be good cheer where I am going,

ing.

336

THE HOUSES OF MOURNIXG AND MIRTH. 337

and mirtli and music. I will get a good laugli,
which will be better medicine than all the drugs of
the apothecary, I will carry away only agreeable
reminiscences, and yet it may be that I should have
a more profitable experience if I were to go to the
house of that afflicted family, from whom death hath
taken away the joy of the heart and the delight of
the eye.' Still it is not natural that we should pre-
fer the pain to the pleasure ; and so our heart leads
our feet to the house of mirth and festivity, though
a higher reason doubts the propriety of the step.

THE SUPERIOR ADVANTAGE OF SORROW.

The theme, then, on which we are called to dwell,
is the superior advantage of sorrow. It is not to be
thought that we are never to go to the house of
mirth or festivity, or that we are to devote ourselves
to asceticism. Neither duty nor profit calls us to
the renunciation of joy. It were strange, indeed, if
God, who made happiness the rule and pain the
exception in His work of creation, were to ask of us
devotion to sorrow. Pain is indeed an element in
the constitution of nature, and not introduced \\ith-
out wise reasons. It has advantages great and many,
— to call attention to dangers which are e\'er immi-
nent in all labour and enjoyment, to correct and re-
strain the extravagant use of His gifts, to give a zest

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to pleasure itself, to elevate and ennoble the sufferer
by patience, and to educate us into a hope and aim
after the heavenly and eternal. It is a part of that
constitution of our nature hy whicli we are led to
seek for a rest which yet remain eth for the people
of God. It is a necessary portion of the medicinal
cup of a being that is corrupt, morally sick — that, as
a matter of fiict, was destined to fall, and that needs
an economy of sorrow to restore him to the posses-
sion of the righteousness of God. Some would have
advised God, when He was selecting the various in-
gredients of the composite constitution of the world
and man, not to put pain in. When they saw its
nature, its agonies and writhings and cries, its
separations, and its carnage, they would, through
very zeal for the character of the great world Arti-
ficer, as well as through sympathy for His creatures,
and especially for man, have earnestly remonstrated
against the dark and dismal element, as liable to
produce the very gravest doubts regarding the moral
character of the Creator. Do we not find that this
mixed constitution is now the great difficulty of
those who puzzle their brains to find some plausible
excuse for the introduction of evil ? And do we
not find that many take refuge in a scepticism which,
flying away from the doctrine of an intelligent God,
adopts some pantheism, or natural necessitarianism,

THE HOiJSES OF MOURNING AND MIRTH.

339

which being tlio controller of God, is really (lod ?
To us that economy wliich, "with much that is joyous,
yet includes all the sublimities of sorrow, is the
most beautiful; and we feel perfectly assured that our
world would not have been half so glorious as it is,
if it had not become the theatre where are enacted
tragedies of grief as weU as pastoral dramas, where
the actors wandered evermore in Elysian lields, bathed
in flashing fountains, plucked flowers, and ate
only pleasant fruits. I'uradise was very meet for
the cradle of human infancy ; and yet the outside
world, even with its sorrows and pains, thorns and
thistles, its wild untamed forests, its upheaved hills,
its earthquakes and storms, and its unharnessed
ocean, is more to our taste. We almost think we
could leave, after a short sojourn, the happy bowers
of Eden, to learn what rough experience might teach
us, — to drink at the fountain of danger, ascend the
hill of difliculty, to front the terrors of the storm,
and brave death itself. It is the philosopher in
his study, not the man of action in the wDvld, that
finds the scheme of mingled pleasure and sc)rrow
incompatible with the goodness of (Jod ; and every
time the youth leaves all the comforts and atllu-
ence and enjoyment of home, to face the perils and
penalties of travel and labour, he gives his impri-
matur to the scheme of God, and certifies the wisdom

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

which produced the chequered and various world of
sorrow and joy.

THE TWO ATTRACTIONS.

Wo find, tlien, tliese two attractions correspond-
ent to tlio mixed constitution of our being and
nature, — one to pleasure, a' id tlie other, if not to
grief, at least to that which will produce it, — one to
quiet enjoyment, and tlie other to the Libour and
the battle. The latter of these attractions, indeed,
may be held only to be to that which in the long
run will produce a superior hajipiness and a deeper
repose. We seek sorrow as the salt ^\'llich will
preserve, or the vinegar which will give zest to the
chief joys of life. We want a desert or a moor
bordering on our garden, where we may sometimes
wander, that by the heightened contrast we may
know how fair are our flowers, how sweet our fruit.
We put up Avith the discomforts of a camp life, that
we may enjoy all the Ijetter our homes and our
tables. ' Joy never feasts so high as when the first
course is of misery.' And per' ■ M ^)ro]iortion
in which we want such ■ \\tpv t the ratio

which evil has to goou m d. or is there

not much exaggeration .1 our alk about the ills
of life ? The necessary ills ii but few : sickness
itself is in small proportion to health ; want is n ■ ;

THE HOUSES of mourning and miuth.

341

and althongli death comes to all, it is after a long
period of deep enjoyment. No donbt the cup of
"bereavement is bitter to drink, and the sorrows of
departure hard to bear. In all our highest enjoy-
ments, let us acknowledge there is, when they are
taken from ns, a correspondnig degree of pain. Tlie
more beautiful tlie ol)ject enjoyed, the intenser tlie
sorrow for its loss. And yet our selfishness may
sadly exaggerate tliese griefs, Tlie jioet of the
Night TlioiKjlits is not to be thanked for the moodi-
ness "whicli most of his verses cause, as in the fol-
lowing strain :

' mortals, short of sight, wlio think tlio past
O'crblowii misfortunes sliall still provu the last !
Alas ! misfortunos travel in a train,
And oft in life form one perpetual cliain.
Fear buries fear, and ills on ills attend.
Till life and sorrow meet one common end. '

And in another passage, the effect of which is
surely bad :

' Know, smiler ! at thy peril art thou pleased ;
Thy pleasure is the promise of thy pain.
Misfortune, like a creditor severe.
But rises in demand for her delay ;
She makes a S(!ourfi;c of j)ast prosperity.
To sting thee more and double thy distress.'

After that, let us drink out of cups made of
skulls, let us burn our pleasant pictures, portray
with charcoal dark scenes on all our walls, revert

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

to sackcloth and ashes for our gayest clothing. Let
marriages be celebrated with all funereal eniljlems,
and let us have in oiir music of mirth at least a
chorus of groans. Let us wear iron spikes, which
may give us sharp pain should we laugh ! Why, this
populi-r p,:.';t should have been a flagellant monk, and
should have wielded the lash to the march of his
blank Averse. But he was wiser than that. Prac-
tically, this poet Young was one of the heartiest, life-
enjoying of mortals, and was a great world-hunter.
He was only getting rid of some of his humour b^r
the melancholy vehicle of his poetry, which has
already carried several generations of moody beings
along the rough by-ways of complaint. The Wer-
ters and Childe Harolds of the poetic world have,
too, given sentiment an unhealthy tone. Tliey have
portrayed pleasure, only to show tlie worm in the
bud, or the vile trail of the serpent over the vines
and berries. The shining waters, wliose music you
hear in their flowing luimbers, have always a slimy
sediment, in which the horse-leech lies ready to bite,
and suck the liather's blood. We do not like this,
not that there is not some substratum of truth in
the representations, but because there is the ex-
aggeration of the reality, and becaiise the true func-
tion of the poet is not merely to 'portray ivhat is,
but to elevate, by a just selection of objects, his

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343

readers to what they ought to be, and to do, and
to tliink, and feel. We are elective beings, put-
ting out of sight the disagreeable, and bringing into
view the lovely and of good report ; and we deny
that any one, be he poet or preacher, has any right
to dig up his ideal graves in marriage parlours,
or pour bitter gall into our tea-cups. It is true
that there is death as well as life, suffering as well
as joy, in the world, and that the day of prosjicrity
is set over against the day of adversity ; but it is at
least a needless anticipation to convert tlie real pro-
sperity into an ideal adversity, and to hang the ])all
of death around breathing, ])alpitating, rejoicing life.
There is, however, still a use of adversity and suffer-
ing and misery ^\hich we must make, for all tliese
sentiments of ours must be used by measures, not
as though they were seas into which all the streams
of thought must flov/, but as lakes into which our
thoughts run, to pass away into others of different
forms. And so, while we would say still that we
are not needbssly to bring up the uncomfortable
and mournful before the eye of our mind, there are
necessities of our nature which lead us to the death-
bed and the sepulchre, — which make us visit the
house of sorrow and lamentation, and that, at times,
in preference to scenes of j(^y and gladness. Better to
go to the house of mourning than the house of mirth.

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

SENSITIVE NERVES.

Some liave siicli a sensitive nature, that they are
afraid to approach any scene where their nerves
may sustain a rude shock. Hence they are ignorant
of a portion of the economy of providence, and
remain mere mirrors of festal scenes. They are like
da<T;uerreotyx>ists, who can make pictures only when
the sun shines. Night, with her solenni shadowy
influences, is imrepresented in their mental gallery
of portraits. The sublimities of the storm need
painting by other hands. We would advise all
such to come within tlie ranges and influences of
the wild sorrows of life, that they may know the
deeper mysteries of being. In the sick-chau'ber,
and by the deathbed, and the open grave, and the
board where are vacant places, they may learn much
they could never know in the house of mirth. The
knowledge, too, thus acquired, will send its roots
deeper and spread its branches wider into the
regions of supernatural and eternal being, than that
which is merely of festivities and mirth. God
conducts His people to Himself through dark ways ;
for there the ear is open to hear — to catch any voice
which may guide to light and peace. There is not
much likelihood of souiul conclusions on our beinix
and destiny amid the riot of feasts and the niirtli of

THE HOUSES OF MOURNING AND MIRTH. 345

assemblies. The philosophy of the Epicureans is
rather shallow. Sage reasoners, surely, those are
who are nodding over wine-cups ! Their principles,
like themselves, are rather inclined to be unsteady
in their application. Ball - rooms, too, especially
where fast dances are indulged in — places where
human nature is turned into a whirligig — are not
schools of AAisdom. We do not like to see our
young people turned into tops and spinning-jennies.
The time, we think, might be better employed. The
experience of a funeral might be better — more con-
ducive to wizG thought and rational decision of grave
questions. If we want to know the will of God, and
lead the perfect way of life, we shall often reject the
invitation which leads to the house of mirth, and
wend our thoughtful way to the house of mourning.
We may distil wisdom from tears. On our own
account, then, that we may be made wiser, better,
and in the long run happier, we shall be advised by
the wise man, that ' it is better to go to the house
of mourning than to go to the house of feasting ;
for that is the end of all men, and the living M-ill
lay it to heart.'

rROrOKTION IN SORROW.

Of course, as we have said, we are not all the
time to be engaged in the attendance and ministry

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of sorrow. We only urge that such an attention
shall be given to it as the proportion it bears to life
needs. The words are addressed to the frivolous
and the gay. They may even be of misleading
import to those addicted to melancholy. Xo doubt
truth ^.i truth ; but yet its application may require
various treatment in separate cases. The suitable-
ness of any truth depends on the persons to whom
it is to be applied. It may be that mirthful scenes
are more to be recommended in many cases. People
who are continually brooding over their sorrows,
hatch new miseries. Yet the object of sorrow is,
that it may be the mother of joy. After Abraham
has mourned, he yet says : ' Bury my dead out of
my sight.' The days of mourning for the departed
should come to an end. While some, however, would
prolong indefinitely the funeral obsequies, others
would shun their presence, or end them with undue
haste. These last need especially to consider the
maxim of the wise man. There is good for you in
this ministry of sorrow. Even children may reap
benefit in this harvest of death. You young people,
accustomed to gaieties, will do well to visit sick
friend and dying friends, and bereaved friends. If
it should make you reflect on the frivolity of your
past life, that will not be any harm to you. If it
should make you think of what you are coming to,

THE HOUSES OF MOUKNING AND MIRTn. 347

■will not tliat set you on some useful course of life ?
It may be, too, you will learn in some dull way
how to bear sufferings wliich must actually come
upon yourselves. Is there not some preparation
that can be made ? Generals go to battle-fields, in
the issue of whicli tliey have no special interest,
that they may learn how to conduct war wlien llieir
country needs their skill. Is there nothing to be
learned from the experience of others in tliat war
from whicli there is no discliarge ? Those who wish
to do anything well, see how others have done it.
It may be tliat we take up the view of Dr. Johnson,
who said it was not worth learning the art of dying,
it was such a short time one could have any need
of it ; and were the uses of the experience of others
in death confined to this learning of how to die, we
should accord with the views of the great English-
man. But there is more. We are not like the
beasts, which, when they find death near, retire to
some obscure place, where they can unseen die, all
the others of the herd leaving them to meet their
mortal enemy alone. Men generally do not wish
to be then alone, nor does friendship then leave the
departing. Attracted to the scene of the teri-ific
struggle, we view it as some tragedy. There is a
spell ; but there is also a lesson. It is not the
lesson of dying, but the lesson of death. It is not

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tlie peculiar testimony of the dying, thongh that is
not to be despised, but it is the realization of the
fact of mortality, and, if we are wise, the urgent
I)ressure upon our notice of the importance of life
as the day of work, and of grace, and of salvation.
It tells us, ' Whatsoever thine hand findeth to do,
do it with thy might ; for there is no work nor
device in the grave, to which thou art hastening/
It says, ' Now is the accepted time, now is the day
of salvation ;' and whatever be tlie form of testi-
mony which it takes, it teaches us surely that the
principles which animated the being shall not perish
in passing through the dark billow, but come forth
in renewed vitality — the evil for a work and remu-
neration of evil, and the good for the activities and
rewards of righteousness and holiness.

NOT THE USE, BUT THE DUTY, BRINGS ENJOYMENT.

But it is not so much the intellectual or moral
lesson, however good, with which we are impressed.
If we go, strange to say, for such purpose merely,
we shall most likely miss our aim. It is curious,
but true, that if we would derive all the advantage
of a good act, we must put the advantage to our-
selves out of our view. Happiness-hunters generally
miss their game till they cease to pursue it. It then
comes to them of its own accord. Let a man employ

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349

himself in some way of usefulness, and he will see
what flowers of joy spring up all around his steps.
This is especially so in works of benevolence. If
we engage in these with a view to the reward, we
shall be disappointed and disgusted ; but if without
such a view, we shall come away like bees laden
with the honey of flowers. I do not then say to
you. Go to the house of mourning and affliction that
you may become the possessors of experience ; but,
Go that you may lighten the troubled hearts, — go
that you may bring peace to those wild, storm-tossed
souls, — go that you may bear balm to hurt minds,
that in sympatliy you may take and bear half the
sorrows of those grief-laden ones, and you shall come
away with joy, and with the lessons of a rich expe-
rience. It is impossible to keep out of our view the
good effects which will flow from the ministry of
friendship to yourself; Ijut these need not be first in
our reckoning, nor have the cliief prominence. We
must just be self-renouncing and sympathetic and
kind to those who ore in grief, because it is our duty,
to which we are impelled by the higho'^t principles
of our own as well as God's nature. In a blessed
experience, we will find it better for ourselves. Our
souls will )t(^ more uol)lo, and more fully developed.
We shall stfind on liigli among our fellows ; and all
the higher, that they cannot detect that we were led

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THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

to such action by any of those unworthy motives
wliich terminate solely in self, and which are the
mainspring of a world that is driven in all its various
motions, and produces all its wondrous results, by
the impulse of a dominant selfishness. This, too,
is true religion. Pure religion and undefiled, is to
visit the widows and fatherless in their affliction,
and keep one's self imspotted from the world.

TO WHAT HOUSES OF MOUENING ?

There cannot be imposed upon us a duty to go
to every house of mourning. We may ask, Where,
then ? as the lawyer, Who is my neighbour ? We
suppose those where our help, counsel, and comfort
are especially needed. It would have been imper-
tinence in the good Samaritan to have pushed in,
offering his services, if he had found the wounded
man properly tended and cared for by the priest
and Le\ite who had passed by on the oth r side.
No better rule can be given than. Is my help
needed ? We do not wish to send you forth ani-
mated by the idea that your presence is everywhere
acceptable, and tliat your comforts are always pre-
cious. Those threadbare words of yours about the
uses of affliction and the need of regeneration, are
not always agreeable Hags to flaunt in the face of
grief We have felt all the difficulties of the ministry

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351

of sorrow. Oh it is easy, comparatively, to stand in
a pulpit and elucidate principles and ex])ound duties,
but it is the hardest thing in life to carry a few
drops of comfort to the anguished heart ! It woidd
seem as though our words were as chaff from wliich
the corn had been abstracted. Shall we refrain our
step, then, from the house of grief ? Not so. Our
very presence is something, and our words, after all,
just the very best that can be spoken; and, amid all
their chafiiness, who knows that there are not still re-
maining some kernels of comfort ? If we bring out the
words of Jesus on such occasion, too, Avith a])propriatc
selection, have they not still power to soothe ? Well,
only sometimes. Sometimes they are our greatest
trouble. We see Him weeping over Jerusalem, and
saying, ' Your house is left unto you desolate,' and
find that His words echo through these chambers,
from which has departed the rejecter and despiser
of His mercy and love. We hear Him say, ' Verily,
verily, I say unto you, The hour is coming, and now
is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son
of God ; and they that hear shall live. Marvel not
at this: for the hour is coming, in the which all that
are in the graves shall hear His voice, and shall come
forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection
of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resur-
rection of damnation.' There is not much comfort

352

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

to persons who have left this life doing the deeds of
life, is tliere ? Ah, you do not know tlie ditticiilties
and griefs of the ministry of sorrow. The comforts
of Christianity are all very well, and come with
sweet, soothing influence to the soul when our de-
parted liave been among those who have lived the
life of God ; but it is different in many cases. And
yet, who are we, that we should judge? Who knows
how far the mercy of God may reach beyond the
echo of His condemnatory words ? And so we go
forth ' universalists ' in our ministry of sorrow, if
* particularists ' in our doctrinal expositions. In-
cons jtent ! Oh yes; and yet happy inconsistency!
Shall I preach to you that salvation is yours, no
matter what may be your life ? No, you say, that
would be deleterious, of sadly demoralizing ten-
dency. And then, too, shall we refuse to hold out
a hope in the mercy of God in Christ to that weep-
ing, mourning widow, that always found good in
him, even in his baseness, — from those tender chil-
dren, who now, after all liis failings, feel that he
was their dear, dear father ? No. And yet, after
all, our inconsistency, do what we will, stares us in
the face, and has the effect of taking away at least
the heartiness of our consolation in many cases,
drying up, as it were, the most assuring and tender
words of Jesus in our throats, as we speak of the

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353

resurrection and the life, and the house not made
with hands, and the New Jerusalem, and we go
throujfh our 'consolations' perfunctoril}^ as the solenni
undertaker performs his. We do not know but we
often feel as thougli we would rather not go to the
house of mourning, because we can do so little to
lighten the afHiction that presses down with tenil)le
weight on each brain and heart in an alllicted
family.

A HAPPY VISIT TO A MOURNFUL IIOL'.SK.

It is otherwise in many cases. The deathbed on
which lies the body, has been also the birlhbed of
a soul that now enjoys the life and love of God.
Our sorrow is but the minor notes that mingle, if we
could hear it, with the angels' song as they accom-
pany our departed friend to the gate of the (lolden
City. Weep on, we may say, for there is yet melody
in your mourning on the march to heaven. And
again we may say, Weep no more, for the spirit has
gone within the gates, and will no more be gratified
■with the song of sorrow. Oh, there is n great dif-
ference surely between the sorrow that is witliout
and with hope ! We would like to go always to the
one. It is a hard task to go to the house of the
other.

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THE SADDER TllK lIorSE, THE MORE NEEDFUL
THE VISIT.

And yet tliat is the very place we oiiffht to go to,
just tlio place \v1ioi'e avc are most lUieded. We are
not needed Avliere death has been an angel to con-
duct the s]»ii'it 1>om('. There is M'ealth ol" comfort
there, and our jxtor consolations can hardly be
missed. Ihit it is where there are the agony and
the despair that we are wanted. We nnist not
leave the traveller because he is robbed and badly
wounded. It will l)e a hard task to set this poor
mourner on the journey of life again, but we are
bound to do it. We must ])our in tlie oil, and make
him drink such wine of consolation as we carry with
us, and have him tendetl that he may recover. The
LTOod Samaritan teaches us all this.

I'OOR COMFORT AT THE BEST.

One thing a]ipalls us. It is the little that we can
do. It was pcrha])s something for Queen Elizabeth
to Awrite to a mother who had lost her son, that she
would be comforted in time. And yet how coldly
this ftdls upon the motlier's ear ! There is truth in
the statement that time will be our comforter, but
people in sorrow do not lielieve that truth just then.
And so it is as though we were speaking falsehoods.

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ITappily, in all bereavements nature brinies opiates,
and (lay by day acbninistors them ; iind so the grief
gradually subsides, and becomes a quiet, solemn
feeling, and at last changes its form and lino so
much, as almost to be recognised as a jdeasure.
The sorrow has been turned into a joy. Oli, won-
derful healiug, transforming power ! We sliould
bless the good God wlio makes tliese grand trans-
mutati(jns. We niight liave been so constituted
tliat pain should always remain pain, or even that
it should increase evermore ; but it is not so. In
the subtle cliemistry of the affections it is at last
eliminated, or remains only as a memoiy which
we would not let ])ensh — a memory fragrant and
beautiful as the most innocent joy. Thus nothing
is lost in the good universe of God — not even sin —
much less sorrow.

MAXIMS FOR MOURNERS.

And this we may say, when we have decided to
visit the house of mourning, not that others have
suffered as weU as you, — for there is not much com-
fort in that, — but that nothing is lost in the economy
of affliction ; and that probably in a future^ state we
may find that we have had 'just the exact amount
of misery and trouble which was rerpiisite for our
nature ;' that God has made sorrow one of those

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tilings to he tried by all men, and that one cannot
be what he ought to be without it ; and that as the
Captain of our salvation has been niade perfect by
suffering, so every one who is a soldier of the cross
must be. In this our faith is different from the
ancient faitlis, and from even modern philosophy,
as in a passage quoted from a modern dramatist by
Helps :

' In the young pagan wo; Id
Men deified the Leautiful, tL j glad.
The strong, the boastful, and it came to naught.
AVe have raised pain and sorrow into heaven ;
And in our temples, on our altars, grief
Stands sjnnbol of our faith, and it shall last
As long as man is mortal and unhapjiy.
Tlie gay at heart may wander to the skies.
And harps be found them, and the branch of palm
Be i^ut into their hands. Our earthly church
Knows not of such , — no votariat of our faith,
Till he has dropped his tears into the stream,
Tastes of its sweetness.'

OiH" rf iigion

' Transmutes
Calamity to greatness ; '

and so Jesus, for the joy that was set before Him,
endured the cross, despising the shame, and is now
set doAvn at the light hand of God. Wherefore He
hath attaiiie<l a name ^^hich is above every name.
The martyrs, too, who died for the truth, and those
other martyrs who have died illustrating the kind-

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357

ness of the cross, in hospitals and sick-rooms, and
other ministries in which life was sacrificed, shall
all be exalted with Him. And think not, ye whose
lot is lowly, and lonely, and much enduring, that
because you have had no public sphere, you shall
be forgotten. The visit to the prisoner is recorded ;
the cup of cold water is noted down. The person
to whom yon have done it may have been poor, and
sickly, and wortliless, as far as any usefulness to the
world ; and yet, ' inasmuch as ye have done it to
one of the least of these, my bretlu'en, ye have done
it unto me. Come, ye blessed, inherit the kingdom
prepared for you from the foundation of the world.'

XIX.
INVENTIONS.

*Gofl made man ui>riglit, but they liave sought out many in-
ventions.' — EccLES. vii. 29.

UPON tliis ])assagG is usually fouudcd a dis-
course u])oii the original righteousness of
man, and his state of subsequent depravity by the
fall ; and if we do not follow the beaten course in
enunciating these doctrines, and urging them at the
outset, it will not be considered that it is because
we liavc any doubt about the truth of these two
great doctrines, or that they ai-e contained in the
words of the verse, the latter half of which espe-
cially we propose to dwell upon ; but simply because
we wish to take a view of the text ^\diich it very
naturally bears, especially a view of it which you
M'ill find to stand out in full relief, as the image of
man in this ...neteenth century, seeking out as lie
has done, and is doing, invention after invention,
and making every new discovery only a stepping-
stone to some other structure which may add to
his comfort and convenience. Perhaps the doctrine

358

INVENTIONS.

359

wiiicl) it is most natural to find in. the text is, that
God made man u])riglit in his moral character, but
that, turning away trom the pursuit of that hiuher
excellence which belongs to the soul, he has busied
liimself in making discoveries, and in finding in-
ventions whicli may become "nbstitutes for tluit
higher excellence — seeking his cliicf hai)])iness in
mechanical appliances and in in(histrial jmrsuits,
in science and art, in building and in nn'ning, in
sailing and in steannng, in liarne'isint; the wind and
the waterfall to his macliincry ; in perfecting liis
WvH'ksliops and his tools ; in filling up tlie valleys,
levelling the liills, reducing the earth to be the
obedient servant that brings plenty to liis garners ; in
making its ores his servants, and even imitating
the lightning that it may carry his messages to the
ends of the earth ; in producing everything which
can give luxurious ease, or decorate witli beauty
the person or the home, from the commonest article
which is used in our kitchens, to tlie diamond that
sparkles on tlie brow, or tlie rich robe wliich invests
the form ; — seeking, we say, his chief h..(-^/iness and
finding his chief end in such pursu s iis these,
while sadly neglectful of tliat higher attribute of
his nature which was his chief gloi v, and of that
liigher end for which God made him in His own
image, ' in knowledge, righteousness, and holiness.'

;^ *

360

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

WRONG AIMS.

It is no imcoinmon thing for man to miss the
object of his heing, and mistike the road to happi-
ness and peace. And does not onr universal experi-
ence affirm that we are on the wrong road, and that
having wandered, like wilful ;3hildren, away from
our duty and our God, we require, just as we are
about to quit life, to tliink of turning into some
other path, despised and untrodden, but which, too
late, we find we should have been treading all
along ? And is not this the case with not only the
courses whicli we denominate sijiful, but with those
industrial pursuits which men approve, — yea, of
which Clod approves, — provided they are in har-
mony with nnd sid)servient to the great objects of
life ? Tlie child pursues butterflies while he should
be at scliool ; the youth pursues pleasure when he
slioidd be fitting himself for business ; and tlie
man's liead is filled with stocks and ventures wlien
ill} sliould be holding communion with his God.
In eacli new phase of life he is but a repetition of
himself, — neglecting something which is of more im-
portance than that to which he is giving his whole
attention ; filling up every niche of his being with
somothiiig less valuable than that which lie neglects
to secure ; gathering the sparlding pebbles, but miss-

INVENTIONS.

361

ing the pearls and diamonds wliicli might be his
possession. We ask, is tliis not a true picture of our
race ? Need we refer you to the many \vlio, at the
conclusion of their eartldy career, liave to take up
the lamentation of the prophet, ' Tlie harvest is past,
the summer is ended, and we are not saved ;' or
the sorrow of those who feel, at the end of their
eventfid history, that tliey have no felt fitness for
tliat eternal world into which tliey a- out to be
introduced, — that with all tlic riches j may have
acquired, they are still ])()()r, — tliat they are naked
and lioiueless and friendless in the wido universe
of God, — that they are out of all harmony with the
iioliness and peace of heaven, — and that tlie best
they can hope for is annihilation, and the worst is
too terrible to conceive ? And is not all this but an
illustration of the sentiment of the text, that while
God made man upright, and placed him in a sphere
in which all the parts of his nature miglit, like a
line-toned instrument of music, discourse the glory
of God, one string that midit have sent forth the
sweetest strains is broken, or so terribly out of tune
that dissonance mars all the melody ? We can hear
nothing in all this noise of wlieels, in tliis ring of
liammers, in this everlasting whirring of spindles
and churning of steam-engines, but tlie ' deep base
of the mighty world harp/ whose sweetest chords

362

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

of moral and spiritual liarinony are all unstrung,
and only now and then tuned up and swept by the
mighty hand of the Sphit of God, and giving forth
at fitful intervals some tones which lead us to con-
jecture what that harmony would be were he as made
])y his Creator, before, leaving his uprightness, he
busied himself with and buried himself beneath liis
inventions.

AN EXPLANATION.

We have no quarrel with the inventions of men,
or with the luxuries wliicli are their product. We
tlo not hold, as some do, that every now machine
for tlie economy of labour is a fraud upon the
workman, who cannot compete with the new in-
vention ; nor do Ave object to tlie tliousand comforts
and luxuries which these inventions have placed
within the reach of all classes. It is true tliat the
invention of new machines has frequently intro-
duced temporary and, as things have been managed,
permanent suffering among large classes of the
connnunity ; and it may be admitted that many
seek to lill their houses with too costly furniture, or
deck their persons with extravagant finery ; and yet
we hold that the general results of man's invention
are good ; that if we compare the state of society
when science, art, and machinery were m a low

INVENTIONS.

363

state, with the state of society in the present day,
with ill! its evils and sores, its hard ])overty, and
all the miseries tlint are interniinulud with its
triunii)hs, the verdicL must be given hy all sane
minds in favour of the ])rescnt age. If you
look into tlie accounts of the state of society three
hundred years ago, you will hiid tliat tjie i)easant
enjoys now more than the peer did then, and that
any respectahle citizen of this ])lace has more com-
fort than the noble (jf a former period. One thing
will tell us that tlie former times were not better
than these, and that is, that tlie average length of
human life is being lengthened out immensely.
From twenty-five to tliirty years was formerly a
fair average, and in tlie more barbarous countries,
where arts and civilisation have not yet come with
their healing power, it is the average still ; M'liile in
those places where they shed their benign influence,
human life may Ije I'ated at forty years and up-
wards. So that, exce]it we affirm tluit comfort is a
curse, and that all these arts and elegances with
which we are surrounded are so many evils, and
that the extension of the peri(jd of human life is no
blessing, we do not see liow any one can avoid the
conclusion, that the various inventions by ^^•hic]l all
these results are brought about, are so many second
causes in the hand of the God of providence, ameli-

I \

364

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

orating the condition of man, liglitening liis lot of
labour, and rendering his earthly condition not
merely endurable, but enjoyable.

INVENTION BENEFICIAL.

And is it not strange that labour shoukl be reckoned
as the offspring of the curse pronounced on man in
this life, and death also the wages of sin, and at the
same time tliat any one should reckon that that
which lightens labour and lengthens life should be
an evil ? That the labouring classes should, when
any new invention is announced, denounce it, and
perhaps band themselves together to destroy it and
those who use it, is natural. The objection does not
lie against the macliine as a lightener of labour,
but as a thief or robber that takes away the wages
of labour. In this point of view, it is indeed scarcely
possible for the man from whose mouth the bread is
snatched to view it with ecxuanimity. Here is a man,
a human machine, fitted only for one kind of work — by
all his education and liabits fit for nothing else — with
wife and children dependent on him : and, behold,
some monster Avorker of brass and iron steps in and
does for half the money what the human machine did
before, and there is no bread for the wife and little
ones ! It is a hard case ; and it is a case which has,
during this last century, occurred by thousands of

INVENTIONS.

365

instances. It is a hard case; and it is little satisfac-
tion to tlie sufterer to tell him that while he suffers,
humanity is benefited, that the evil is only tem-
porary and partial, and that out of all this present
misery a brighter and better state of things will
arise. But though he, suffering as he does, cannot
be expected to hear such an argument, or acquiesce
in its conclusiveness, yet, standing outside of the
circle of suffering as we do, we can form a general
survey of the onward course of events, and clearly
perceive that all these things are working together
for human good, that they are making the earth
more productive for her sons, providing room for
them within her contracted circle, and scattering
blessings among the future generations.

THE ABUSE OF INVENTION.

But why, it might be asked with great propriety,
v.-hy should those evils be permitted to occur in such
an inventive age ? ^^^^y, when man can take the
brass and iron, and form them into things of almost
life and intelligence, capable of a precision incom-
parably beyond the power of the hand that is in-
formed by mind and guided by reason, why can he
not so arrange it that these evils, to such a large
number, should not be the immediate results of the
very perfection of his machinery? Is it possible for

k-^i

\f'

1 1

3GG

THE WISDOM OF THE KTNO.

liiin to porfect tliose works of art, and is there no
intellif^ence in him to foresee their evils, or wisdom
to guard against them ? If lie were just to exercise
his .skill, and hiing his mind as intently to Lear
upon tlie gi'cat prol)lem of human happiness, can
we think there is no possihility of avoiding those
tcrribli! e\'ils which are not only the natural results,
in many instances, of inventions, hut of those other
terrible evils which contiime to afUict society — those
moral sores which affect all its members, and those
miseries which are tlie resnlts ? Is there no balm
in Gilcad ? Is thei-e no physician tliere ? Why,
then, is not the hurt of tlie daughter of my people
recovered ? Why, amid all this civilisation of the
nineteenth century, does so much degradation exist?
why, amid all the s])iendonr of its cities, so many
dark lanes ? why, amid the palaces of its merchant
princes, are tliere so many wretched abodes ? why,
when fortunes are amassed by tlic few, is famine
staring on the many ? why, when thousands are
lavished on senseless finery, is there no crust in the
orphan's hand? And why is all this the apparently
leuitimate resnlts of inventions ? — millionaires at the
one end of the scale, beggars at the other, — costly
affluence side by side with miserable poverty, —
and, to crown all, a great host of swindlers, whose
chief end and aim it is to steal and cheat, contrary

INVENTIONS.

3G7

to law, or so triininiii;:; their sails as to avoid all the
quicksands and rocks of legal enactment, to steer
into the harbour of wealth and alHuence. How is
all this in societies of men gifted M'ith intelligence,
accomplished in science, eminent in art ; whose in-
ventive faculty, ever quick and active, discovers each
day some new appliance for use or comfort or ]»lea-
sure ? We think the key to the explanation is to
be found in the rather enigmatical language of the
text, * God made man u])right, but,' leaving his up-
rightness, 'lie has sought out many inventions.' Tn
other words, forgetting tlio ])rinciples of uprightness,
of love to God and love to man, ceasing to h"
guided by the liighcr law of his moral and spiritual
nature — tlie law of benevolence and beneticence — he
has gone forth, on the ])rinci])lu of scllishness, to seek
his own solitary interest, and litis found that tliis
was not the way to find peace or produce hai)piness.

GOD lORGOTTEN.

What is chargeable ui)on inan, then, is, not tliat
he has invented, but tliat he has neglected the
hiu'lier invention- not that he has souLiht out; the
arts that they miglit aid him, but tliat he has not
searched after God that he might tind Him ; not
that he has fabricated the useful, but that he has
lost all tri>e understanding of the spiritual ; not

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368

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

that lie has discovered the laws of the universe,
but that he has lost all true insight into the law
of his God. While attending to his material wants,
he has given himself over to idolatry the most de-
basing, to principles of action the most fallacious,
and to morals the most impure. These charges
may be fixed upon all ranks, and lie against all
societies ; they are applicable tv^ the religions which
they have invented, to their legislation, to tlieii*
commerce, to their business, to their laws of honour
and their principles of dealing, to their educational
systems, and to their daily intercourse. The whole
head is sick, the whole heart is fail, t ; from the sole
of the foot of society even to the head — from the
beggar to the king — there is no soundness in the
body politic, but wounds and bruises and putrefying
sores, that have not been bound up, neither mollified
with ointment ; or, if any have come forth with their
medicines from time to time, they were but the
nostrums of a quack philosophy, or of a still more
poisonous legislation, by which they healed the
daughter of the peo})le of humanity slightly, say-
ing. Peace, peace, when there was no peace. Hence
ever and anon there arises, amid even the arts and
sciences and civilisation of the nineteenth century,
the loud wail of poverty, and there is seen the gaunt
form of famine, and the bloodthirsty eye of revolu-

Iified
lieir

tlie
iiore

tlie
say-

nce

and

iiuit
olu-

INVENTIONS.

369

tion ; hence the war of class against class, each one
resenting its fancied or real wrongs ; hence the gi-eat
cry of human agony which goes up before God, amid
the whirring of machinery ; hence the ruin and the
crash of the gigantic commercial schemes, which fail
for want of any basis of truth and uprightness : and
all this is the anger of a beneficent * or! ;■ "linst His
children who have forgotten Him and tueir true
interest, and in the idol worship of mammon have
refused to retain +!ie knowledge of Him in their
understanding : all this is the means also by which,
in chastisement and in tears, men may be brought to
acknowledge that they are miserable offenders, and
that verily there is a God that ruleth over the in-
habitants of the earth.

This invention is as a great locomotive which has
got upon a wrrong track, and every now and then
buries itself in deep banks, or rushes on to the de-
struction of the crowds which it whirls along. Is
there no possibility of keeping it right ? Shall it
continue to destroy its thousands ? Can nothing be
done to bring it into harmony with our being ? or
rather, can nothing be done to bring our being into
harmony with it ? Or must society still work on,
subject to all its usual evils and periodic derange-
ments ? Is there, indeed, no balm, and no physi-
cian ?

2 a

370

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

V \

THE REMEDY.

To understand these questions, let us still more
closely ol)serve tlie nature of that derangement
"wliich originates all these evils. Humanity is like a
machine whicli has not merely some of its wheels
broken — a now natural defect pei^ades all its parts.
Every man sins, every individual is disordered —
some more, some less so ; but all partake of the de-
fects of tlie fall. Of all the individuals of our race,
not one soul is fully in harmony with God. It is
clear, then, that no legislation, how^ever it may amelio-
rate man's condition, can altogether avert the evil; no
charity can cure it. The power which alone can do
this, must be such as will effect the restoration of
each individual to a healthy condition. Y(ju cannot
bring hapjuness to them from without, you must
evolve it from within ; you must stanch the issue
of blood that flows from each individual heart, that
he who is fallen from rectitude may become once
more upright. Christianity proposes to do this by
a renewal of our nature — by recasting each wheel
so that it may work in harmony. In no other way
does it attempt to mend our natural ills. It will
not paint over defects, nor fde away external dis-
crepancies ; but by the power of the hre of the Spirit
of God it proposes to melt us down, and deliver us
into the mould of the gospel, — to reform us anew

INVENTIONS.

371

in Clmst Jesus, — to make of us new creatures, not
indeed without defects or roughness, but of such
strength of principle as will resist the more power-
ful seductions of sin, and in the operation of the
divine life evermore make us work in better harmony
with His law. It proposes to imj^lant within us
the knowledge of God, faith in God, love to God.
It further proposes to implant in man's breast love
to his brother, to put into his heart charity, into his
mouth truth, into daily life honesty and beneticence.
This is what it proposes, and what in many instances
it has done, for it is no impossible scheme of pliilan-
thropy without adaptation to the end it pro[)()ses. It
has been successful, is succeeding, and will succeed.
Let men but adopt it universally, as some have done,
and will it not extinguish those evils which have
grown up, and still overshadow with their upas influ-
ence all our civilisation ? Let men be but really
converted, — and how soon that may be, God knoweth
— the time may not be so far distant as we think
of, — and will not the disgrace of our age be done
away ? Let men be converted, and, we ask, would
there not be a restraint put upon those wild si)ecu-
lations in which men hasting to be rich indulge ?
would not that system of overreaching in business,
which is thought to indicate only the c ever man,
but which should rather characterize him as a knave,

i i

372

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

be done away ? Let them become Cliristians in
reality, and would not those commercial and bank-
ing swindles, which entail ruin on multitudes, and
call down the curse of the widow and orphan, be no
more ? AVould not, if men were Christians, not of
the hypocrite order, but of the real stamp, would
not hunger always be fed, and want always be sup-
plied ? Were men real Christians, would not they try
to live within their means ? Were men Christians,
would not the idle labour with their hands, and
serve not with eye-service as men-pleasers ? Were
they Christians, would any of them suffer as a thief
or a busybody ? No. There is not an ill which we
suffer, not a crime which we commit, but would all be
destroyed by the universal adoption of Christianity.
And if Christianity has been in the world for eighteen
hundred years, and yet has produced such meagre
effects — perhaps not so meagre as some would have
us suppose — why is it so ? Is it because Christianity
has failed to those who have tried it, or is it not
rather that men have refused the divine remedy of
all our ills ? They have chosen in Christian countries
to take its healing medicine and lock it up in their
secret chambers, but they have not taken it accord-
ing to the prescription of their physician. They
have chosen it for an acquaintance, but they have
not eaten the flesh and drunk the blood of the Son

INVENTIONS.

373

of man, and there is no life in them. And hence
the religion of tiie present age is only, in tlie great
majority of instances, a sliglit improvement on the
various forms of religion of other days. And if any
one should say that Jiis is the fault of our divine
religion, since it has not acicd on our nature, we
have only to say. No, it is oui^ faidt. For if men
were only one half as earnestly to seek God and
their Saviour from all present ills, as they seek to
find out and profit by inventions, — if they were only
to give a tithe of the solicitude whicli they spend
on their bodies to solicitude for their moral and
spiritual life, — they would be re\".arded with the
riches of that heavenly inheritance which fadeth not
away. And let not any one say that this solicitude
and the reward of it are not in accordance with the
spirit and teachings of Him who has said, ' Strive to
enter in at the strait gate ; ' ' The kingdom of heaven
sufife?'eth violence, and the violent take it by force ;'
' Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek, and ye shall
find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto you, — pre-
cepts indicative of the necessity of gi\ing our M-liole
mind to the matter of salvation, and puniises which
imply that honest and persevering endeavour shall
not go unrewarded. And if it suggest itself to any
of you that, in relation to the destruction of the ills
of this liie, at least your individual influence as a

374

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

Christian would be but little, remember tliat humanity
is only pn aggregate of individuals, many of whom
may be converted along with you, and through you ;
and that though you stood the alone Christian on
the face of the world, your influence for good would
still be felt on earth, and recognised in heaven. At
one time tlie kingdom of heaven was as a grain of
mustard seed, and then it contained the element of
life and hope ; and shall it be despaired of now,
when it groweth up, and putteth forth branches,
and when its leaves are beginning to be recognised
as the only healer of the nations ? No, Eeturn,
then, to that God from whom you have departed,
' Seek the Lord while He may be found ; call upon
Him while He is near,' Plough in righteousness,
sow in mercy ; for it is time to seek the Lord, that
He may rain down righteousness upon you.

GOOD AND EVIL.

Until that time come wlien the knowledge of the
Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the
sea, and when He shall reign over the hearts of
men, — till the time when men shall become just,
not in the mere sense of abiding by law in their
transactions, but until they shall have just laws to
which they shall give a full and hearty obedience, —
we shall continue to have much evil in the world.

INVENTIONS.

375

and till theii especiaPy shall those evils which arise
in the strugnle between capital and Ipbour continue
to exist. ]\Ien have for a long time sunnned up
their code of commerce in a principle or two : to
buy in the cheapest and sell in the dearest market ;
to consider that, M'lien the workmen have had their
wages, the employer has discharged to them his whole
obligation, and that, after the ca])italist has by some
great manufacture drawn together some thousands
of persons, and by their labour has amassed a large
fortune, when a time of pressure and ditliculty comes
round, and it is no longer possible for him to work
his machinery at a profit, he has nothing to do but
to shut up his mill, discharge his labourers, and
retire to some quiet retreat, far from the sight of
poverty, out of reach of the cries of distress. What
is it to him though the thousands whom he has
collected in one spot should suffer and sicken and
die ? He has, as the commercial code of obligation
runs, discharged to them his full obligation. On
the other hand — for employers are not alone to
blame — in times of prosperity the labourers and
artisans are not .itisfied witli fair and legitimate
wages, such as the article they are engaged on can
for any length of time continue to pay. With wages
already too high, they will strike for higher pay-
ment ; and thinking, in the madness induced by un-

376

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

exani])lod prosperity, that no reverse is ever to come,
that to-morrow shall be as to-day, and more prosper-
ous, they squander away in luxuries and vanities
the whole of their earnings, part of which, if they
had any wisdom, or were ca])able of learning a
lesson from past experience, they should have re-
served for the time of reverse and trial which is
sure to come. On the one side there is avarice,
on the other extravagance, and on the part of both
selfishness. Each one considers his own things, not
the things of others. There is a thorougli rejection
of the scrii)tural principle, that we should do unto
others as we would that they should do unto us ;
and inasnnich as the conduct of all is fiunded on
false and ignoble principles of action, nothing can
be expected but those lesults so often experienced
in connection with all the works and labour wdiich
man undertakes under the sun, not merely vanity
and vexation of spirit, but suffering and misery in
its grossest form — hunger and nakedness ; and that
when the earth teems with its bounteous products,
and the stores are loaded with grain, and a thousand
warehouses contain more clothing than would cover
the nakedness and fend off the cold from a hundred
times the number of those whose bitter cries go up
to heaven for bread and raiment ! man, in-
ventor, machinist, artisan, all this evil has come

INVENTIONS.

377

upon your land and cities because you are not up-
right ac(!or(liiig to the hiw of your God, notwith-
standing your many inventions !

LESSONS.

And what does this subject teach all who are
engaged on the inventions of man — who are either
discovering new principles and powers, making new
combinations for useful work, or directing their
labours ? It teaches them that tlu^y are surely to
be something more than artisans ; that they are not
to become wholly mecliauical in their ideas and
pursuits ; that they have within themselves living
souls, whose harmonious movement is of more im-
portance than all the material mechanism of the
world. Their souls, which shall yet be translated
to a higher region of life and being, there to evolve
their products of moral and spiritual worth or base-
ness, should surely be their main concern ; for when
this earthly scene with all its civilisation shall have
passed away, they shall exult in bringing forth glory
to God, or mourn in misery and sin. Therefore,
my brethren, be not mere artisans ; let not your
souls become mere workshops, nor places only of
business, nor banks. Use business and invention,
but let them not make you their slaves. Let not
civilisation be your master, but your servant. Mate-

378

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

rial comfort h rroorl, ])ut moral worth is better. The
fubriCvS of the factory, though of tlie finest texture,
are but the products of worms ; tlie colours, though
of Tyriau dye, are compounds of earths and metals :
but the soul is the breath of God ; it is the image of
the Almiglity, and is itself eternal, Thougli born of
time, its liistory for ever shall run parallel with the
being of Jehovali, ever rising u]»\vard or over sinking
downward, taking the colour of all its future fate
from the light which shines in it now, or the shadows
which darken its windows, — a being renewed on
eartli, tliat it may be gh)rified in heaven, or unsancti-
fied now and lost for ever.

A BRIGHT FUTURE.

Be it with us as it may, tlie time will surely
come, foreseen by tlie ])ropliet and foretold in his
vision, in which, describing the glory of the latter
day, he clothes his conception in material imagery,
describing the lustful propei-sities of man, his cruelties
and his vices, as beasts of prey — wolves and leopards
and lions — predicting of them that they shall yet
become tamed down, so that they shall hurt no
more : ' The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb,
and the leopard shall lie down with the kid ; and the
calf, and the young lion, and the fatling together ;
and a little child shall lead them. And the cow and

INVENTIONS.

379

the hear sliall feed; their young ones shall lie down
tog(>tlier : and the lion sliall eat straw like tlie ox.
And tlie sucking cliild sliall j)lay on the hole of the
asp, and the weaned child shall j)ut his hand on the
cockatrice's den. They shidl not hurt nor destroy in
all my holy mountain : for the earth shall be fidl of
the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the
sea.' ImagfM-y this, is it not, descri])tive of the
taming of those destructive j)rinciples of our nature
by which we are, instead of brothers and friends —
members of the same great family of (ilod — turned into
enemies, wild beasts of prey living on (jue another,
— capital crunching up the bones of labour, wealth
eating up the dry crust of poverty, deceitfulness
preparing to spring upon the portion of the orphan
and the widow, lust seducing innocence, envy poison-
ing happiness, and murder imbruing its hands in
blood, — all these wild beasts tamed down to inno-
cence, or slain — nothing to hurt or destroy ? Oh !
in that latter day, whose morning dawn scarcely yet
with a few faint rays tinges the horizon of our world,
with what wonder and pity shall the inhabitants
who shall dwell here, in these the cities of our
civilisation, and machinery, and arts, and luxuries —
with what wonder and pity shall they peruse the
records of this day ! We talk of the dark ages
which reigned over the Roman Empire under the

380

THE WISDOM OF THE KIXG.

burbarous sway of the Gotlis and Vandals and Huns,
who crushed out tlie effete civilisation of the mighty
Eonie, wlien, covered with glory, she sat down and
clothed herself in the mantle of indolence at the
table of luxury, or stretched herself ou the bed of
sloth, — a bed that stood on injustice, pillowing her
head on every crime. But may not they who live
in the latter day, when the sun of righteousness in-
stead of tlie sun of civilisation shall have attained
his meridian splendour, look back on our day as
still the age of darkness — only a repetition of the
old Roman glor}^ — a time of fearful crime and of
terrible retribution, a time of warfare of clasf against
class, a time du?*ing which still the wild beasts of
sin made tlieir dens among the fastnesses of our
civilisation, but yet, thank God, still a time of
dawning in(|uiry after the right and the true and
the good, — a time when individual aim made
attempts^ at the introduction of a truer and better
state of things, when there were not wanting pro-
phets crying in the wilderness, preaching the doc-
trine of repentance, nor peo])le who sought to return
to the original state of justice and uprightness ; but
still a time when darkness covered the nations, and
thick darkness the people ! Then shall those dis-
coveries of which we boast — then shall our printing-
presses and telegraphs, and telesco^jcs and photo-

INVENTIONS.

381

types, sin\' into comparative insignificance before
the snperior civilisation wliich invented, or rather
applied, laws which were just ; which, discarding
selfishness as the true principle of action, adopted
benevolence, and found it to hannoni;^e all that
was discordant, and to destroy aU that was impure.
And this is the latter day of which still the pro-
phet speaks — the prediction of a better state:
Tor brass I will bring gold, and for iron I will
bring silver, and for wood brass, and for stones
iron: I will also make thine officers peace, and
thine exactors righteousness. Violence shall no
more be heard in thy land, wasting nor destruc-
tion within all thy Imrders : but thou shalt call
thy walls Salvation, and thy gates Praise. The suii
shaD be no more thy light by day ; neither for
brightness shall the moon give light unto thee:
but the Lord shall be unto thee \an cverlastin-
light, and thy God thy glory. Thy sun shall no
more go down ; neither shall thy moon ^\■ithdraw
itself: for the Loixl shall be thine everlasting lioht,
and the days of thy mourning shall oe ended? Tliy
people also shall be all righteous: they sliall in-
herit the land for ever, and the days of thy mourn-
ing shall be ended. A little one shall become a
thousand, and a small one shall become a great
nation : I the Lord will hasten it in his time.' '

XX.

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE TEOSrECT

OF AGE.

' llemember now thy Creator iu the days of thy yoiitli, while the
evil (lays come not, nor the years draw nigli, when thon shalt say,
I have no pleasiire in tliem ; while the sun, or the lii^^ht, or the
moon, or the stars, bo not dai'kened, nor the clouds return after
the rain : in the day when the keejiers of the house shall tremble,
and the strong men shall bow tlieniselves, and the grinders cease,
because they are few, and thos(! that look out of the windows be
darkened ; and the doors shall be shut in the streets, when the
sound of the grinding is low ; and he shall rise up at the voice of
the bird ; and all the daughters of music shall be brought low :
also when they sliall lie afraid of that wliich is high, and fears
shall be in the way, and the almond-tree shall ilouri.sh, and the
gi-asshopp'-r shall be a burden, and desire shall fail ; because man
goeth to his long home, and tlic^ mourners go about the streets: or
ever the silver cord b(! loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the
pitcher be bnjken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cis-
tern : then shall the dust return to the earth as it was ; and the
s])irit shall return unto C!od who gave it.' — EccLES. xii. 1-7.

THE OLD MAN.

IT is hardly necessary to explain the metaphorical
language used by the author of this hook to
de])ict tlie sorrowful decay of the human frame, as
it iiears its dissolution in those evil days which are
coming with rapid pace towards us all ; when the
sun, moon, and stars shall, for us, lose their radi-

882

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE PROSPECT OF AGE. 383

ance ; when the cloud of one sorrow shall he seen
rising ere the rains of anotlier have heen fully ex-
pended ; when the hands, which by their labour
and defence keep the house in plenty and in safety,
become feeble and tremulous ; when the sturdy
supporters of our frame bow themselves beneath
their burden ; when the teeth can no more perform
their laborious function ; when the observant facul-
ties can scarce see through tlie dull ilhn which
gathers on the orbs of vision ; when the busy mill
fails for the wanting sii])ply of tlie water of life ;
when the bird of tlie morning calls up the wakeful
old man who cannot rest ; when the voice wliicli
made the melodious music of 8i)eech is poor and
thin ; wlien the head becomes white as the blos-
soms of the almond-tree ; and the care that is small
as the grasdiopper is a burden to be cast off, and
when there is nothing further to be sought, since
desire itself has ceased ; and when the weak, weary
old man is about to take his departure beneath the
hearse's nodding plumes, accompanied by the pall-
bearers and the mourners, the silver cord that
bound the mortal to the innnortal having been
loosed, and the golden bowl having been broken,
which held the nourishment of life, and the pitclier
which su[)plied it. This metapliorical language is
easily understood. Before this picture even cliild-

«i

384

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

hood may well stand in awe, and, while contemplat-
ing it, may find its little heart awed and hushed,
and led to reflect on a present duty in view of such
a sad prospect. We feel, when viewing it, as though
we would not wish to live too long, and that there
were more wisdom and reason in that saying of the
ancients than we had thought of : ' Whom the gods
love, die young.' Should we pass the threescore
and ten or fourscore years usually allotted man,
we Avill understand the Psalmist when he says,
' Their strength is labour and sorrow.' If long life
be a blessing, it is at least one out of which the
honey has been sucked. It is a withered rose,
whose faded leaves death comes kindly to scatter.
It is a poor, ruinous, storm-beaten house, which
we would gladly see taken down, that the sad old
tenant may go to the better house prepared for the
dead. If indeed there were no other house to
which the 'jouI might repair, we might sorrow over
the wreck of the mud cabin sinking to poverty and
decay; but as there, are wide and broad fields in the
great continent of heaven, where there are plenty
and riches, let not the soul fear the ocean passage
of death that separates him from the city and habi-
tations of the blessed in the rest that remaineth for
the people of God.

[■HE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE PROSPECT OF AGE. 385

THE FUTURE STATE.

But that is just the point and question which
need investigation. Is there indeed a home for us
when we have left our earthly house, or is it a
better one than even the ruinous one in which old
age dwells ? It is hardly the place here to enter on
any investigation of the grounds of oiu- belief in the
immortality of the soul. We shall take the general
opinion, the consent of mankind — with the excep-
tion of a few philosophers who w^ant demonstration
that they may have faith — as sufficient proof to us
that there is an after-world, wdiere there shall be a
place for justice and judgment. But admitting that
there is this future state, the question may well
give us uneasiness : What shall be our condition
in it ? Shall we be better or worse ? We do not
think this is an unresolvable problem, but rather
one the answer to wliich may be found by each of
us. It is one, however, wliich we should ask and
answer at an early date ; for it is not when the old
man's arm is feeble, and Ids legs fail, and his con-
ceptions are dull, and all things are a weaiiness,
that the question can be seen in all its bearings.
It will require aU the faculties to discuss it ; and
then, after it has been discussed, there will still, it

may be, be time and labour required for the pre-

2 B

386

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

paration that may be necessary to render our after-
life in the spirit-world enjoyable and happy ; and
this is the purport of the wise man's observation :
'Eemember now thy Creator in the days of thy
youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years
draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure
in them.'

EEMEMBERING OUR CREATOR.

There is more implied in remembering our
Creator than the words appear to contain. The
mere recognition of God, of His existence, and His
relation to us as a Creator, will not comprehend all
the meaning, which is of vaster sweep.

Perhaps the constancy of this thought of Him
as our Creator and God, and the allowing of this
thought to dominate over all others, bringing Ihem
into obedience to its requirements, will go far to
exhaust its signification. It is not a mere passing
reminiscence, an entertainment of the idea for a
moment during periods devoted to religious service,
but such a memory of Him as shall never leave our
minds without the power of a present God. If we
go through life with this thought always present,
never wlioUy asleep, we shall lead a truly religious
life, and we shall not stray far in the ways of vice
and iniquity.

THE DUTY CF YOUTH IN THE TROSPECT OF AGE. 38?

Our Creator ! Wliat a word that is ! We do
not wonder at atheists or pantlieists. They have
their diliiculties, but so has creation. We have
looked at every side of this question about the
origin of things, and have conchided that it is
much more consonant with reason to believe that
the world owes its being to an intelligent God, than
that it is self-existent and eternal. Wliat boots it
to bring up the reasons here ? We could not fur-
nish a demonstration which might not be found
in some link defective. The atheist might start
puzzles which we could not solve. We, too, could
show how untenaT)le is Ms position. What tlien ?
We hclicve in God ; we do not propose to jprove
His existence. The Scriptures assume it, conscience
asserts it, humanity affirms it. He is over all.
There is no better word than this : ' In the begin-
ning God created the heavens and the earth.'

Without making any in(|uiry as to the mode of
creation, we shall view ourselves and surroundings
as of the production of God. He made us, and, it
is superfluous to add, not we ourselves. Let it be
that He has • produced all hy laivs, He has not less
produced it. We admire all the more the regu-
larity of the work. Gravitation is universal, but it
does not do away with the need of God. The sun
warms all, and the rains descend on all, but it is

s
h

V' 1
it I

388

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

not the less God who is light and warmth and life.
Let us suppose some one to deny that there was
any maker of a machine because it turned out an
immense variety of work, which had yet a common
likeness, with the utmost regularity ! It is the
triumph of art to extend the area of its application.
If one tliread might be spun by chance, yet who
could believe this of the web ? and who can look on
the web of being, and refuse to believe that a God of
infinite skill works the loom ? We believe in God
and providence, because all things are amenable to
strict law.

And so we know that God has made us, and
that He guides us, although we have not heard His
voice or seen His shape. We know that under this
drapery of nature is the divine form, inscrutable by
mortal vision. We know that this world was built
by the great Architect in tliat deep shadowy past
into which we gaze with longing eye, and yet see
but the chaos, the wild disorders, and then the up-
rising forms of things, and the comely order of the
plants and trees and aniuials, and the first of our
race, coming forth from the unseen plastic hand
of the great Artificer. Our great Creator is thus
hidden and revealed at the same time, — hidden from
the eye of sense, but revealed to the mental vision ;
without form or similitude, as in the day that He

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE TIIOSPECT OF AGE. 380

spoke to Israel in lloreb, and yet well known as
the fjuiiUng, living God, who brought them up out
of Egypt, that they might have rest.

GOD LOST IN HIS CREATION.

But we are in danger of h)sing the idea of God
as OUR Creator in tins vast world-creation. The
same feeling oppresses us that oppressed the Psalm-
ist when he looked to the heaven, the sun, and the
moon, and the stars. Possibly the thought of the
Psalmist was, How good and how gi-acious is that
God who has ordained all this glorious firmament,
with its shining lights, for such an insigniiicant
being as man ! But our view is now necessarily
different. We look upon these orbs as fullilling
only a very secondary oljject in their uses to man.
We look upon this world but as one of the other
planets whicli may contain creatures as varied as
our own, and the thought that oppresses us is. How
can God be supposed to take any notice of such an
insignificant speck in the universe as our little
world — how can He care for the creature which He
has formed on it as its ruler ? This feeling requires
to be neutralized by the idea, that though the uni-
verse is vast, yet it is presided over by an infinite
Being. He sees all at once. He cannot, like us,
become weary with the survey of the items of know-

■it

390

THE WISDOM OF TIIK KING.

ledge. Every individual is open Ijcforc Ilini. No
one, on account of insignificance, is beyond His view
or His care. The laws wliicli are His ways apply to
each. No one thing is unrelated to Him, or He to
it ; and as He is Creator of all, no one to whom
He has given intelligence should, thougli he has
natural liberty, forget that relationship. The orbs
are held in obedience to Him by the law of gravi-
tation, but souls are held in their course by their
intelligence and heart. Those cannot be with-
drawn from the operation of the law of force ; these
should never be withdrawn from Him by neglect of
duty. Let love and piety guard and guide the
heart, as these are guided to circle in their orbits.
This is a law for men of all periods of life, — for
youth, for age, in life and in death.

YOUTH THE TIME FOR EELIGION.

The principal thought of the passage is, that
youth is the time for religion, both as to the learn-
ing of it as a theory, and the practice of it as a life.
Do not wait to consider what are the views of God
and duty you should take till old age comes, and
do not omit to live in accordance with those views
during the fresh youth of being, as though religion
were only for age and feebleness. If you duly
consider what religion is, and what it requires, you

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE TKOSPECT OF AGE. 391

will never put it off till life begins to fiiil, and the
brain begins to gro^v feeble, and all tlie faculties
are impaired.

Now tliis is just who,t young people mostly do.
They think that religion is very well for children
and for old people. Tiiey were very fond of the
Sabbath school when they were little, l)ut they gave
that up when they went to their business or their
trade. The main thing, perhaps, wliich induced
them to do that was, that they were greatly con-
fined all tlie week, and tliey needed a rest, or some
country exercise and air. Tliey gave up, for simi-
lar reasons, attendance on religious worship. Then,
too, they gave up devotional exercises, and all their
tlioughts went after the world and pleasure. They
think, too, that they shall revert to religion when
they get old. It may be useful, and may do them
good then ; but as for the present, they want to see
life, and enjoy it a little.

And we cannot but here revert to a fact which
truly seems strange, — that old persons who have no
religion of their own, should l)e anxious that their
children should be religious. They do not go to
church, — as if they had done quite enough of that
in their day^ — but they are always urging their fami-
lies to go, which of course they do not.

The amount of it is, we are able to see the use-

^■v

302

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

fulness and propriety of reli<^ion for every time oi"
life but that one whicli we are now passing through.
Wo see that religion is a good, useful, excellent
thing, but it may be dispensed with for a while, and
can be got at any time, and therefore we need not
trouble ourselves about it now. Indeed at present
it would be burdensome, and might jn'event our suc-
cess in life — taking u[) our time, and using some of
our means, and giving us infinite trouble with its
forms. Still, remember, it seems to be generally
admitted that it is a highly useful, appropriate thing
to some other time of life than tJiat througli which
we are now passing.

THE USE OF FOKMAL RELIGION.

There are some, indeed, who have got to think
that religion in all its forms is useless, and liave re-
jected it once and for ever. They have perhaps
come to the conclusion that we cannot know God,
and that we cannot know what those forms of reli-
gion are which are suitable to His worsliip, or what
are those duties of morality which spring from our
relation to the Eternal. These surely have gone too
far. It may be admitted that they have a right to
doubt or deny that the views of God which are
entertained by tlus or that sect are correct, and also
to protest against the forms of religion which are

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE PROSPECT OF AGE. 393

in vogue, but they cannot, unless they are utter
atheists, affirm that we have no relations to God ini-
posiiif^ ujjou us certain duties of religion and morals.
It cannot be esteemed a matter of no importance
whether we live in accordance with these relations.
There are certain means given us of knowing God,
and of finding out tlie relations in which we stand
to Ilim; and so we are responsible for tlic riglit
and due performance of tliose duties, whatever they
may be.

WITHOUT EXCUSE.

Nor will we be excused from haviug the right
knowledge of God, and of the relations in which we
stand to Him, because of the difficulty there is in com-
ing to a true knowledge of Him, uidess \ve can show
that we have done what we coidd to know God, and
our duty in regard to Him. The apostle, in writing
to the Eomans, says that the heathen were without
excuse, inasmuch as that which miglit be known of
God was manifest to them, and charges them with
not liking to retain God in their knowledge, and so
with being given over to all kinds of immorality.
Had they preserved their knowledge of God, they
would have been so guided as that they would not
have fallen into the excesses to which they became
subject, and so would by virtue have preserved their

■1i

:i!

394

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

strength, and would have remained the possessors of
the world.

It must be acknowledged, however, that the
knowledge of God is not to be arrived at so very
easily as that we may put off its acquisition till
some time when we may have leisure, and nothing
else to trouble us. There is, it must be confessed, a
difficulty in acquiring the knowledge of God, other-
wise there would not be so many opinions about
what that knowledge is. Theology would not be so
various, sects would not be so numerous, and reli-
gious rancour would not be so bitter. We do not
quarrel over a proposition in Euclid, but we do over
the attributes of God, These are by no means fixed
— at least some of them. We do not think that is
any reason why we should give up the search after
the truth of them ; it is rather a reason why we
should commence the search after God early. If we
have a long journey, and are in danger of missing
our way at false turnings, we had need to be up in
the morning. It is not when the evening shadows
begin to close, that we shall succeed in our journey.

COMING TO GOD A PRESENT DUTY.

But besides the difficulty of coming to the true
knowledge of God, the full knowledge of Him, we
should remember that our duty towards Him, in

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE PROSPECT OF AGE. 395

His relation to us as Creator, is a present duty, and
a constant duty. It cannot for a moment be sup-
posed that that duty can be deferred till just before
death. Wliat ! Does God require nothing of us
when we are young and strong ? Is gratitude for
pleasures enjoyed to be postponed till it is dulled
by the sorrows of age ? Must health and strength
be given as an offering to the world, and weakness
and sickness devoted to Jehovah ? It is surely not
thus that we would act when we meditate on doing
justice. The truth is, every one who has spent his
life in opposition to God, or at least has lived as
though God were not, must feel that, on coming to
the last of his days, he would be acting a very mean
part to attempt to put God off with the broken-down
service of the evening of life. It is like idling all
day, and just before sunset doing a bit of work in
a make-believe way, and then coming to our em-
ployer for a full day's wages. Of course it is best
to repent and go to work, even though late in the
day ; and God has held out strong hoj)es, especially
to those whom He has called at the eleventh hour,
that He will not turn them away ; but it is a
very false hope for us to think that, if we delibe-
rately refuse to hear His call, we shall yet at last
do so in time to save our distance, — to save
our miserable life and soul, and win the reward of

i'f

396

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

disciplesliip, although we have hardly commenced
the alphabet of the true knowledge of God our
Saviour.

OLD AGE BEGIXXIXG llELIGIOX.

It has been sometimes supposed that the time of
old age is better for coming to just thoughts about
God and religion generally, than the time of youtli.
I think this is a grand mistake. I grant you that
an old man wlio has all his life meditated on God,
and the duties which we owe to Him, will be very
wise towards the decline of life. AVe shall get
wisdom from him, if from any one ; that is, provided
his fiiculties have not failed him. There are, how-
ever, many instances of the failure of those faculties.
We think the spirit and temper manifested by David
on many occasions were far superior to that shown
by him when about to leave the world. But what-
ever we may think of sucli a case, and of the wisdom
of the man who has maintained a life of piety and
goodness from youth to old age, we can only say
that we do not exj)ect much Avisdom from the old
man who has been a fool during the great part of
his former life. We do not make much of death-
bed conversions, as evidences of the truth of the sys-
tem to wliich the conversion is made. It is not the
time to come to just conclusions when the faculties

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE PROSrECT OF AGE. 397

are clouded with disease, or the mind is distracted
by pain. The soul has enough to do to attend then
to the surrounding soitows. It is, we should think,
ready to assent to any proposition. It depends on
who is the priest or minister what is the kind of
conversion. The poor man is glad then to find a
counseller and a comforter. Fear unmans him. A
large number around are anxious that he should
become a convert to the faith, that he should give
the right sign and speak the true word ; and, as a
general rule, he does what is wanted. He just gives
the sign which is required. What should he do ?
What can lie do ? And what is the value of what
he does do ? Not much. We refuse to accept the
suffrages of others in any case, much more in this
one. Ten thousand such testimonies are of no value.
It is worth somewhat to have the testimony of a
clear, unclouded mind, uninfluenced by terror, or by
pain, or by the company around. We give it respect.
Even it should not be permitted to override reason ;
but how much less should we be influenced by the
opinions of those who have formed their opinion, if
they have such a thing, amid such disadvantageous
circumstances ? No ; if any one has an ambition to
have and leave a testimony worthy of atteivtion by
the living, lie must begin in youtli, and he must
give the force of his mind ^hile yet strong to the

398

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

consideration of all those questions springing out of
our relationship to God. We would not, indeed,
wish it to be understood that young persons are
likely to have formed, while young, true and reliable
opinions. There is nothing more offensive than the
dogmatism of young people. It requires a long
series of years and studies and changes to malie
a person's opinion worthy of serious consideration.
That man alone who has commenced early in life to
consider religion, who has made it his practice as
Avell as his study, is worthy to be consulted by us.
I have often thought of the wisdom which is to be
found in the delay of Jesus to take upon Himself
the office of the ministry till He was over thirty
years old. It miglit perhaps not be too much to
ask that those who are to be the instructors of others
should wait a like time, that their opinions may have
had some time to form, and that they may have
taken those various views of the great questions of
theology which are necessary to the full knowledge
of God, His character and ways.

llIttHT RELATIONS WITH GOD.

Oh ! who could for a moment think of remaining
out of right relations with God ? One would not like
to live in a state of forgetfulness of his father, and
of consequent misapprehension of his wishes. Some,

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE PROSPECT OF AGE. 399

indeed, do so, and make up their minds to live apart
from those whom they ought to love and cherish.
It is a sad thing, however, to become hardened into
and by neglect. If we stand in the necessary rela-
tion to God of creatures and Creator, and yet care
nothing for Him, what a sad condition ! If we
think that He cares nothing for us — never did — but
just created us as toys of skill, sending us forth in
sport, like bubbles blown by boys, it is sad. If we
think that He did care something for us once, but
that by our heartlessness He does so no longer, and
that now we may, for all He cares, sport ourselves,
or sicken and die, it is sadder still. And if we
think of Him as grieved at heart for His children
in their waywardness and their wandering, anxious
to hear of our return to Him, and yet that we do
not think of coming in repentance and tears to ask
His pardon and restoration to right relationship, it
is still more melancholy. This last is surely the
case. The Scriptures represent Him as waiting to
be gracious, a? pardoning and receiving with over-
flowmg love and tenderness ; and our own hearts
indorse the representation. Standing in presence of
Nature, which proposes to us with lier changing
face, now solemn and grave, and then smiling, the
enigmas of death and life, beckoning us with her
attractive finger to explore the great mysteries of

400

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

love and hatred, and hope and disappointment, we
may sometimes feel puzzled about God, and whether
He thinks of us, and whether He has any want of
our love, or any care for our neglect, or any sorrow
for our pains, or any desire for our repentance. We
see unchangeable law ruling all witli iron hands —
the storm deaf to the voice of prayer, the waters
quenching the light of saintly eyes turned to God
for succour, and the glare of unbelief or defiance
that scorns to ask for aid from the sweet heavens.
We see the lightning bolt pass the murderer by and
strike the head of innocence ; nay, we see the hand
of the wicked destroying the peace and hope and
life of the good. We see this, and are ready to ask,
Wliat boots it in what relation I stand to the author
of this grim destiny, that seems to make no distinc-
tion ? In the language of the wise man, ' All things
come alike to all : there is one event to the righteous,
and to the wicked ; to the good, and to the evil ; to
the clean, and to the unclean ; to him that sacrificeth,
and to him that sacrificeth not : as is the good, so is
the sinner : and he that sweareth, as he that feareth
an oath.' Such is the view which our eye of sense
beholds — the iron rule of a law which knows no
moral distinctions save those of strength and pru-
dence and skill, that especially hears no prayer, and
is entirely devoid of respect for religion. But with

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE PROSrECT OF AGE. 401

this voice there is another sound which the soul
hears, which says— -and God forbid that we should
be deaf to it — ' Though a sinner do evil an hundred
times, and his days be prolonged, yet surely I know
that it shall be well with them that fear God, which
fear before Him : but it shall not be well with the
wicked, neither shall he prolong his days, which are
as a shadow ; because he feareth not before God.'

THE OBJECT OF LIFE.

AMiat is the object of life ? Is it to eat, and
drink, and sleep ? Then God need not have put
into us souls of that high faculty with which lie
has endowed us. He might have left out that faculty
by which we inquire after the infinite, as calculated
only to mar a sentient happiness. He should not
have annoyed us by setting us to seek and feel after
Him that we might find Him, if he intended tliat
we never should find Him. If we arc never to give
an account to Him of our ways, or to render up
souls well formed, why did He mar our pleasures
by putting within us a conscience wldch lies to us,
telling us we are accountable Avhen we are not, and
that He wants us to be good and holy and reverent,
when He cares nothing about what we are ? It was
not only a waste of faculty, but it was a deception,
and a cheat. 'No, we were not to be mere butter-

2 c

402

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

flies, nor bees, nor beavers. Tlie olyect of life is
higher. We hear much and see much of self-made
men, by which is meant men who have made a
fortune. Wliy, if you had made millions, you would
have gone but a little way in making yourself a man.
You may be one of the poorest, most miserable
specimens of humanity. The millionaire may have
lost his soul, lost his conscience, lost his piety, lost
his God. It were better if we heard of a God-made,
a Christ-made, a Holy-Spirit-made man. All this
talk of self-made men is the twaddle of a sensual,
mammon-loving, material world. The man who is
seK-made is a silver or gold image set up for men
to worship, but without the breath of the life of
God. The man who is God-made is of nobler form
and mien. God never intended that you should
become dummies on which to display the draperies
of wealth. He has said to you and to me. Behold
me, become like unto me. He displays Himself in
creation, and in providence, and in revelation, and
in His incarnate Son, and He says, This is what you
are intended to become. You need to eat, and to
drink, and to be clothed, but in order that you may
be wise, and just, and beneficent, and patient, and
loving, and faithful. T o not spend all your time in
the accumulation of the means ; look to and secure
the end of all. That end is not accumulation or

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE PROSPECT OF AGE. 403

pleasure ; it is a well-formed, divine soul — self-made,
but also duty-made, religion-made, Christ-made, God-
made. Anything less than this is a lost soul.

Perhaps some of those who are conscious that they
have almost lost their soul, may, even when the grass-
hopper has become a burthen, be induced to set out to
seek its life. They have let its life nearly slip, but
still God may direct them to search for it, that they
may nurture it into a divine life. It may not have
yet lost its vitality, and may respond to the earnest
inquirer : * You have done much to kill me, but I
am not yet dead. I am here yet, but choked and
oppressed by the sensualities and worluliness of life.'
Oh take and cherish this soul of yours, my brother !
Do not let it die for want of that divine nourish-
ment which it can alone have in piety and virtue.

And you who are just setting out in life, do not
let that soul of yours be fed on the husks which
only the swine of humanity eat. There is bread
enough in your Father's house. There will be joy
on your return. Do not live in licentiousness, do
not live for wealth ; do not remain away from your
heavenly Father. Let the thought of Him come
back to you. He loves you. He will bless you, He
will rejoice over you. Heaven will sing over you,
and you shall become what your Creator designed
you to be, — wise, good, happy, and innnortal.

404

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

SYSTEMS AND SECTS.

But, it may be asked, in what way are we to be-
come tlms God-like ? You say, ' I do not like the
systems and the sects.' Well, they are not all that
could be wished. We might say the same of the
arts and of agriculture. There are many false prac-
tices in these, but yet they are the best that have
yet been discovered. By them we get along, how-
ever, tolerably well. We are clothed and fed by
them. The church will furnish you with such means
as may nourish the soul, and clothe the divine that
feels itself perishing. Many of our church processes
have but poor results, but there is One who is to be
found in the church, who says, * I counsel thee to
buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest
be rich ; and white raiment, that thou mayest be
clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do
not appear; and anoint thine eyes Avith eye-salve,
that thou mayest see.' Come unto me, all ye poor
souls, and be saved. ' Behold, I stand at the door,
and knock : if any man will open the door, I will
come in to him, and will sup wdth him, and he
with me.' ' If any man love me, we will come unto
him, and make our abode with him.' If the church
and means of grace bring a man into the presence
of this Divine One, he shall have a resolution of all
his doubts and difficulties about God, and in Him

THE DUTY OF YOUTH IX THE moSPECT OF AGE.

405

who was sent from heaven shall see that Father
who yearns after every one, and will receive him
with joy which has this unanswerable apoloj^^y : ' It
was meet that we should make merry and be glad :
for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again ;
was lost, and is found.'

Listen to the voice of heavcidy wisdom in this caU
to religion. The evil days have not as yet come to
many. But they are coming, and cannot be delayed.

Our boat floats down the river

Up wliicli 110 life iiiiiy sail,
Onward tlie course for ever,

Througli tlie calm and through the gale.

In companies we're sailing

Over the river of time ;
One goes amid our wailing,

While we sail through the prime.

There are rocks and rapids Hearing

Which we may pass or sink,
A questioning and fearing —

By the middle or the brink ?

See, the crafts are getting very few,

And all are gi-owing frail,
Where hundreds were, but one or two,

Leaking — as they sail.

The storm is up on the crested sea ;

We go beneath the wave,
If He who ruled on Galilee

Stretch not His hand to save.

Ever over the surging waves

The Christian's sails are driven.
The frail boats sink 'neath the darksome wave —

The mariner is in heaven !

XXI.
THE JUDGMENT OF TLEASURE.

' Rejoice, young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer
thee in tlie days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart,
and in the .si<,dit of thine eyes: Imt know thou, that for all these
things God will bring thee into judgment, Thercfoni remove sor-
row from thy heart, and put away evil from thy ilesh : for child-
hood and youth are vanity. '—Eccles. xi. 9, 10.

MADE FOR ENJOYMENT.

rilHE wise man advises us to get as mucTi joy as
-■- we can out of life — to extract joy from the
table, joy from the cup, joy from the dress, joy from
all pleasant odours, joy from our relations in life,
joy from our work. He would have us open our
eye to all beauty, and refuse no gratification which
is calculated to make ourselves and others happy.
We imagine he here gives us God's own views. No
doubt He who, in making all things, covered them
with draperies of beauty, and put into them such
exquisite sweetness, intended that we should not
withhold our admiration from the one, nor our lips
from the other. We know of no greater punish-
ment than that of condemnation to a cell beneath
the floors of paradise. To think that we almost can

406

r M

THE JUDGMENT OF PLEASURE.

407

smell the odours of the gaiclen of life through tlie
dank, dripping mould, and never taste of its fruits !
And yet this is what some have voluntarily con-
denmed themselves to, under the impression that it
would be a self-deniid grateful to the God who gave
the earth to man, saying, * Be fruitful, and multiply,
and replenish the earth . . . Behold, I have given
you every herb Ijearing seed which is upon the face
of all the earth, and every tree, in the whicli is the
fruit of a tree yielding seed ; to you it sliall be for
meat.' And if, in the general deed of gift, God re-
served one tree, of which our race was not to eat,
yet surely it was for no arbitrary reason, but for
some poisonous quality — death-bearing in its effect
— that He warned these two young and inexperi-
enced children to refrain from eating thereof. Nor
is there any other bound set, even yet, to our enjoy-
ments. Detriment and death may come to us from
eating of this or that tree whose fruit seems good
for food, and pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be
desired to make one wise ; and then, no doubt,
the just and benevolent command is, ' Ye shall not
eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die.'

ASCETICISM NOT EELIGION.

We find, therefore, no reason, and as little reli-
gion, in asceticism. To forbid enjoyment, argues

BlPIIPiP

mniM

408

THE WISDOM OF THE KIXG.

neither a sound mind nor a feeling heart. Those
who do so, cannot do better than retire to the
woods and become anchorites. Let them not claim,
however, our approbation or our worship. Simon
Styletes may stand on the top of his pillar as many
years as he will, but we should be sorry to stop the
crowd from laughing at him. Some good mocking
might send liim to useful work. Useless volun-
tary suffering we consider a Ijad way to saintship.
It may procure a place — as what ridiculous foolery
has not ? — in the Pope's calendar. God loves the
cross when it takes away the sorrows and sins of
the world. There is no \irtue in it when only for
exliibition, or to attract wonder. The Son of man
came eating and drinking, and attending marriages.
John the Baptist, no doubt, enjoyed with zest his
locusts and wild honey. It is necessary sometimes
to be content with very plain fare ; and he "'vho can-
not be happy with coarse food and clothing, when
circumstances require it, has somewhat to learn. In
the court of Herod, probably, John wore soft clothing.
Necessity may suffer what convenience would reject.
In the desert v/e will wear coarse clothes ; in the
palace we wiU not refuse court dress. There is no
merit in rags, if we can honestly have fine linen
and good broadcloth. Above all, let us make the
best of circumstances. We may extract joy from

THE JUDGMENT OF PLEASUItE.

409

very poor material. The watei- of life is as good
from an earthen pitcher as from a golden goblet.
Let us not cry if we have not silver spoons. Happi-
ness comes unbidden to the contented mind. There
are flowers in the forest and the field as well as in
the walled garden. Let us not be too chary in our
approbation of pleasures on which we tread. Let
us not scorn those which are cheap, nor treat as sour
grapes those which are beyond our mark. If pro-
vidence invites us to rare dainties, let us not do
despite to our entertainer by despising his offerings.
It is not for us to say to God, * Thy gifts be to Thy-
self, and Thy rewards to another,' any more than to
complain of Him should He see meet to give us
only poorer fare. Let us enjoy, and let us be con-
tent. Our Divine Father loves to see us happy,
loves also to see how we can be patient.

There are wise and prudent persons who would
shun the sweet enjoyments of life, lest they should
some time or other be unable to procure them. This
is a maxim which may be pushed too far, and, if
carried to an extreme, would leave us without en-
joyments at aU. There is more sense in the wise
man's reasoning, when lie tells us, ' In the day of
prosperity be joyful, in the day of adversity consider:
God also hath set the one over against the other/
The very fact that the time may come when we

V i

■ til

uii

410

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

cannot enjoy, is a reason for a present happiness.
The economy of the world requires that there be
darkness as well as light, sorrow as well as joy,
adversity a» well as prosperity ; and as each is for
a purpose, we ought to see that that purpose be not
frustrated — enjoyment with thankfulness, adversity
with due meditation on the proper uses. Nor should
we strive to marry youth to misery, nor, for that
matter, endeavour to make age consort with pastimes
that are no longer palatable. It is not meet to put
new wine into old bottles, but new wine into new
bottles, that both may be preserved.

YOUTH THE TIME FOE ENJOYMENT.

And hence it is that youth is pointed out as the
appropriate time for enjoyment. All young crea-
tures are full v.f vitalit}'^, and break forth into play.
If there were no other reason for death, it were
sufficient that only the young can enjoy. When
the limbs get stiff, and the blood flows sluggishly,
we must be content with a duller haj)piness. Pro-
bably the remembrances of our youth are the most
joyous pleasures of old age. The green fields where
we sported have no equals now. Our youthful
friendships can have no counterparts among the
alliances and partnerships of age. Our holidays
then, and sports — how fuU of enjoyment ! The

THE JUDGMENT OF PLEASURE.

411

young dream of love is better than all later expe-
riences ; and so it is better that we should give
place to other beings who shall keep God's world
fuU of rejoicings. When men begin to complain,
they are long enough here — especially if they have
a good hope of another youth, which shall not, like
this one, grow old. Beautiful, then, to our eyes,
are the sports and pastimes of childhood. Every
good man will say. Sing on, play on. It is wicked
to make a child sorry save for sin. Some old morose,
peevish people have a good deal to answer for. They
have wrung young hearts with sorrow, because they
made the mistake that God loved sorrow rather than
joy. Just the mistake that persecutors have made
when they \A'ould compel men to adopt a false reli-
gion. It is perhaps not too much to say that this
putting down of youthful joy has cost as many sor-
rows as the Inquisition. The area has been wider,
and the special cases not so glaring, but the sum of
misery has been immense. The benefit has not, we
presume to think, been at all proportionate to the
loss. Granted that gloom, frowns, chastisements for
mere mirth and ebullitions of joy have sometimes
made hard workers, men and women who have
sought enjo;NTnent in industry and money — was the
end sufficient atonement for the means ? Hardly,
we tliink. We do not believe in frowns and blows

>-t I

412

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

for anything but what God frowns on and chastises.
He does not want us to be unhappy. He does not
want us to be prematurely wise or prudent. No
doubt He requires us always to be moderate, but
that is a rule variable at every period of life. He
will have us to avoid all forbidden pleasures, and
at the same time to learn such restraints as are
necessary to our health and to the comfort of those
around us, and altogether to comport ourselves as
creatures for whom wisdom utters her voice, saying,
* Come up hither.' As we are neither butterflies
nor kids, we must, while allowing our animality to
have free play, remember the adornments of the
mind and the enjoyments of the soul. We may
remember, too, that we are more than bees, wliich
can only teach us to be busy and prudent. Indeed
all nature is our teacher, and our lessons are to be
learned also from the voice withi^i, calling us at
a very early period to conscientiousness in all our
doings and dealings ; we must set even over all our
joys this monitor, whom we should take due care to
have well taught by the words of God, that it also
may be a good schoolmaster to bring us up for Him,
and the glorious after-world which He has created
for the comfort and enjoyment of those who have
used this life well. In a word, God says to youth.
Be happy, but be just ; be joyful, but be wise ; let

THE JUDGMENT OF TLEASUKE.

413

mirth flow freely, but let piety be a course to con-
fine its waters.

FAST LIFE.

Probably the passage we are dwelling on is the
one which of all others would be quoted by fast
men and women in justification of the course of
life they think it appropriate to pursue — especially
the first clause of the 9 th verse of the 11th chap-
ter : * Eejoice, young man-, in thy youth, and let
thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and
walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight
of thine eyes.' It will be well, however, to take
this in connection with what follows : ' For all
these things God will bring thee into judgment,'
No greater sin against truth can be committed than
that of cutting off one of its limbs. We have been
amazed sometimes to hear our own words quoted,
but without their modifying and restraining clauses.
Give God's truth justice, and do not send it abroad
on only one leg. Let us for a little see this one
in its full and fair proportions.

JOYFUL, BUT ACCOUNTABLE.

The amount is be joj-ful ; but remember you are
accountable, and that as you sow, so you shall reap.
The lesson is not ironical, as some well-intentioned
but unwise interpreters have made it. It is not,

414

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

' Go on now in your pleasures, but I will make you
pay up for all this.' We have sometimes known
masters allow their pupils to ' carry on ' for a time,
that there might be the better show of reason for
a good punishment. This may be proper enough
when the course indulged in is vicious ; and it has
its counterpart in the ways of God, who allowed the
cup of the Amorites to fill to the brim before they
were cast out. But the permission and the precept
here are not regarding crime, but regarding enjoy-
ment, which only becomes crime when it is extrava-
gant or hurtful to others or ourselves. Be joyful,
eat and drink, have pleasure in all just ways : this
is right. But as there is always a tendency towards
extravagance and intempera^nce and injustice in
every passion and appetite, all these are to be so
restrained that we sliall be able to give a report
of the same to our heavenly Father. We must so
comport ourselves at the table, in the festive gather-
ing, in the famdy, at picnics and parties, in all our
relations, however joyous and hilarious, as that, if
summoned by Him to give an account of the same.
He would say on hearing it, ' My child, you have
done well.'

MICKOSCOPIC MORALITY.

It may well be that we should not think of God
as very observant of minute particulars of our action.

THE JUDGMENT OF PLEASURE.

416

We think that He will rather take broad views of
our conduct. We do not think the highest respect
is gained for God when we represent Him to our-
selves as scrutinizing an honest life for some small
defalcation. What God wants, we think, especially
is conscientiousness — the earnest wish to do what is
right and true. It is the heart He requires, rather
than some formal exhibition of either piety or
virtue. We do not know that faultless, extremely
proper children are to be very much admired, but
conscientious and loving children always are. Let
the heart be right, though the life should be a little
eccentric in either child or man, and there will be
no great harm done. But when the heart is ri(dit
the foot will not stray. Delight in the law of
God, on which the good man meditates, will restrain
the step from the way of fools. It will be a rudder
to direct the prow of life in saihng the sea of duty,
so that we shall not get stranded nor wrecked on
the headlands of vice. A supreme love to God
and to His law will act as compass and helm. As
Augustine has said, ' Love God, and then do what
you wiU.' But let not this sentence be eviscerated
of its true meaning, as though it were intended to
transmute any vice into a virtue. ' He that abides
in God,' says John, * sinneth not ; whosoever sinneth
hath not seen Him, neither known Him ; whosoever

416

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

is bom of God (into the divine life of love) dotli
not commit sin, for his seed remaineth in him, and
he cannot sin, because he is born of God.' You
may sow your poor perishable seeds of precept, and
rule, and prudential reason, and example, and they
may send up some ephemeral plants ; but the love
of God is that divine seed which springs up, for
every man making the life beautiful, in winter and
summer, in prosperity and adversity, in temptation
and in trial, as well as when the dew falls or the
sun shines. Love God, and do what you please ;
for then you will always please to do what God
loves. You will then be partners with God, and
in full communion and fellowship with the Father,
and his Son, Jesus Christ. Do you think that he
who goes through life in the society of God, will
need to fear the sight of His countenance in the day
when He shall judge the secrets of all hearts by the
gospel of his Son ? No ! For as John says, * Now,
little children, abide in Him; that, when He shall
appear, we may have confidence, and not be ashamed
before Him at His coming.'

THE JUDGMENT.

But when Solomon taught the people wisdom,
these views were at least far from being clearly
understood. He had, however, a hold of the great

jll

THE JUDGMENT OF PLEASURE.

417

:' /

fact, that a time for judgment must be found some-
where in the universe of God. His admonitions
are founded on this fact : ' For all these things
God will bring thee into judgment/ — if not here, yet
surely hereafter. Fear of judgment, then, should re-
strain, if no higher or nobler principle. It rec^uires
to be urged yet upon those who know no higher
principle of life. Probably, too, those judgments
which are likely to come upon men in this life for
extravagance and folly, are after sdl the most power-
ful reins for the conduct of the passions. The
great white throne seems too distant and cloud-
covered for most sensual vision. These views the
' fast men,' the ' hons vivcmts' leave to the seers and
to the saints. They are deaf to the voices of
heaven, but they can hardly close their ears against
the voices of earth. If they wiU not hear Moses,
they may listen to Combe. If they are deaf to the
cry of the prophets, perhaps they will yet listen to
the deductions of the pliilosoj)hers. John may be
too divine and transcendental, but the physiologists
and doctors are so practical that they may even
be persuaded to listen to them, at least when they
have got a few lessons from experience. These
all teU us that the throne of judgment is already
erected, and the judge already sitting, and tliat
there is judgment on all extravagance and excess

2 D

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418

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

of pleasure. The penalties of this daily sitting
court are very various. Sometimes a man gets off
by paying a heavy fine, sometimes to the full
amount of all he is worth. It is worth our pains
to calculate how much ' a spree ' costs. A poor
man cannot afford to look with supreme indifi'er-
ence on this penalty, especially if he has a wife
and children to support. Think of this : your de-
bauch may cause your dear ones a famine of bread.
If your wild life be indulged in, your property will
soon be gone. It is one of the penalties of the
judgment which is set at present in the unseen
heaven, and there will be ' nothing in his hand ' as
he goes forth from the judgment. And there is
the penalty of sickness, of every amount, from the
headache to delirium tremens, from the flush of
incipient fever to ' bones full of the sins of youth.'
What a train of ills scatter themselves through the
ranks of sensuality, to torment the votaries of lust !
Though many diseases are hereditary, and some the
result of circumstances of character and locality,
yet others may be directly traced to crime. It is
no popular error that traces tabes and gout and
madness to the excesses of gratification. Then, too,
there are judgments that come over men's souls by
their sensualities. Mind becomes weak, the wing
of fancy becomes feeble, the moral nature becomes

THE JUDGMENT OF PLEASURE.

419

'■a

imbruted ; the animal becomes strong, and the
spiritual weak. We hold tliis to be the more
terrible end. To become incai)able of true moral
judgments, seems worse than blindness to natural
vision. It is the most awful curse that we have
any knowledge of, Avhich the i^rophet represents as
the judgment of God: 'Make the heart of this
people fat, and make their ears heavy ; lest they see
with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and
understand with their heart, and convert, and be
healed; . . . until tlie cities be wasted without
inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the
land be utterly desolate.' Viewing this as a
natural consequence of tliat provision whicli is
established for the punishment of the sensual, we
cannot find any cause of complaint against the
ways of Providence. It is so, whether we will or
not, that those who give themselves to self-indul-
gence become morally and spiritually degraded —
bestial — no longer capable of the arts and duties of
life. This is the lesson of all history. By enias-
culative pleasures Nineveh and Babylon have be-
come ruinous heaps and pools for the bittern.
Athens died of effeminate pleasures, which also
gave over the conquerors of the world an easy prey
to the barbarians. It is said these cities and na-
tions fell before the superior strength and prowess

420

. THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

of their enemies. True; but this removes the
difficulty only a step; for the question t '-s,
Wliat makes a peoiile strong and wise and va. lL ?
Is it not the restraint of self-indulgence? It
was the temperance of the Spartans that for many
3'ears made an insignificant city the mistress of
Greece. The Greeks were great Mhile they were
temperate. Wliile the liomans ruled their passions,
they governed tlie world. The slavery of the pas-
sions has been the precursor of the slavery of the
persons. And all this is God's wav of brincrinfr
men to judgment in this life. It is His rule, tliat
those who are not strong shaU give place he

strong ; and the moral justification of this proct^.^e
lies here, that virtue alone can make strong. I
speak not here of that strength of mind derived
from the consciousness of right, but of that strength
which arises from the government of the passions.
It is in this direction that we who are now the
ruling race on the globe must seek permanence.
You may get ironclads on every sea and lake, fort-
resses at every harbour; you may perfect your
cannon and your rifles — rnd all these are useful for
a defence; but all will be unavailing, if once the
native strength of our people become wasted with
over-indulgence and emasculative pler.<^ures. The
permanency of the English constitution depends on

THE JUDGMENT OF J'LEASUTIE.

421

the healthy constitutions of Englishmen. God will
bring us into judgment as He has others, and no-
thing will avail to preserve us as a people but the
virtues of endurance, and resistance to effeminate
pleasures, by which we have risen to the hrst rank
among the peoples of modern days. You may, if
you will trace this subject a little further back,
say they are strong, these men, because they are
obedient to the curb and chain of prudence and
virtue, and they are prudent and virtuous because
they respect and obey the law of their God, known
to them through the word of His revelation and
the procedure of His providence. All strengtli,
then, though the liuighter of self-denial, is the
grand-daughter of a me, ami finally is found hav-
ing as its not remote, Lnougli often unacknowledged,
ancestor, 'the word of God,' that 'sword of the
Spirit' by which even in the long run earthly
dynasties are established and defended.

PLEASURES SHOULD BE DOMESTIC.

One thing we should not fail to obsei-ve, that
Solomon will have us to enjoy domestic pleasures.
The enjoyments are to be those of home: 'Live
joyfully with the wife of thy youth.' Too often
men seek their pleasures abroad. They visit the
tavern for enjoyment. They congregate in mascu-

422

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

line groups, where the refinements of female society
are not felt, and so become coarse and dissipated;
or, worse still, are found in the society of those
women who have forfeited their title to re^ipect,
and have become more degraded than the worst
of men. God instituted marriage and the family;
and when we leave His rule, and go to make in-
stitutions contrary to the general well-being of
society and the law of God, we shall come to grief.
There can be no true happiness which is contraiy
to His appointments. Solitariness is detrimental
to man, and so is that dissipation of the heart
and affections which ranges in the domains of licen-
tiousness.

I
I

WINE.

Nor should we omit what he here says on the
subject of wine. We have not been able to affirm
that the man necessarily sins who drinks of the
exhilarating beverage. But we hold that it is his
right to abstain, and tliat the circumstances of a
community may be such that it becomes his duty.
Every man nmst feel that, if he is in danger of be-
coni.ng a sot or a drunkard, he should deny himself
the enjoyment which he cannot use in moderation ;
and every man who is actuated by Christian prin-
ciple must feel that he would be doing a good and

THE JUDGMENT OF PLEASURE.

423

noble act in abstaining, if his abstinence will enable
a weak brother to resist the temptation. There
can be no doubt about the possibility of such help
being given. Association in any practice makts the
individuals strorg. Example is potent. We may
often fail to recover or restrain a foolish brother^
but in many cases we may succeed. The circum-
stances of our times require us to make the trial.
If we had a vinous country, if our other maddening
drinks were expelled, there might be no need of
such association. We might drink our wine with
a merry heart. Seldom, according to the testimony
of travellers, is drunkenness visible in countries
where wine is a common beverage ; but here, where
strong drinks are so plentiful and so potent, it is
far otherwise. Thousands of our youth are being
plunged by them into the depths of degradation ;
and the death of the drunkard is often looked
upon by broken-hearted fathers, and mothers, and
brothers, and sisters, and wives, and children, as
the happiest consummation that can befall. In
these circumstances it is the duty of every wdse
and benevolent man to aid, to the best of his
ability, in rooting out this terrible vice, wliich cer-
tainly is one of the great curses of our race and
country. There is a terrible judgment on all wlio
tarry long at the cup tiU wine inflame them, and

424

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

that are skilful to mix strong drink; and there
is a judgment, too, in which we shall all have to
give an account of what we have done in staying
the progress and allaying the evil of this monster
iniquity.

ENJOY YOUR OWN.

Need I say further, that our enjoyments and
pleasures should be furnished from our own ineans ?
We slioidd buy the garments with which we are
decked, and the ointments and perfumes of our
toilet, from our own means. There is no proliibi-
tion against beautiful dress, or a luxurious table
that is procured by legitimate means. Luxury is
the parent as well as the daughter of labour. To
lay an embargo on luxury, where it can be honestly
afforded, would be to deprive the labourer and artisan
of bread. We should bless God for a moderate share
of vanity. It sets the loom to work, and makes the
needle ply. The pearl-gatherer, and the diamond-
cutter, and the jeweller, and the silk weaver make
their living by the displays of ornament and artistic
elegance. It was not vainly that God acted when
He placed in the human breast the strong desire for
the beautiful. Vanity, as we call it, becomes vice
only in extraA'agance or by injustice. It becomes
vice when its gratification cannot be afforded, when

nd there
have to

■ staying
monster

nts and
means ?

we are

of our
prohibi-
s table
xury is
Li*. To
onestly
artisan
e sliare
:es the
niond-

make
-rtistic

when
ire for
y vice
3onies
when

THE JUDOMEXT OF PLEASUUE. 495

it preys on the wealth and labour of others, when
It cheats and swindles and steals; but it is a virtue
while It spends, in increasing the beauty and loveli-
ness of the person, the wealth M-hich, scattered be-
comes the means of subsistence of the honest indus-
trious poor.

We have tl„,.s given to us pleasures as the result

■mde the sua, but pleasures for the right use of
which we are aecountaUe to Gocl,_in the ri^Iit use

pio.e<l of by our Judge hereafter; for thou.-h L
I.ave made umeh of the evil conse,iue„ces llueh
flow frou. all antemperanee iu the use of the passious
.uul appetites in tliis life, we are not to for' et that
here is another jiulgnient, a time and a jdaee for
tlie execution of judgment and justice. The cup of
reward is here tasted, not drained. Perhaps it may
e bitter on the surface, and sweet in the bottom
haps It may be sweet to the present taste, on.l
bitter to the immortal experience. That is a terri-Je
w-ord coming from the answer of the tender Saviour •
Son, reineniber that thou in thy lifetime received.st
iiygood thnigs,nnd likewise Lazarus evil tlii.,.,.
but now he is comforted, and thou art torme„t:d-
menus may revel in tlio luxurious retreats of
Capre,c while n.artyrs contend with wild beasts •

2 E '

426

THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

but there is surely a time that will rectify this I
Those men who have died that truth might live,
who were wretched that the race might be happy,
cannot surely have sunk l^eneath the load of their
great miseries into non-existence. Those who con-
verted the world into a heU for their fellows while
they sucked the honeycomb of existence, can hardly
have passed into the gate of everlasting peace. No !
for all these things — the justice and measure of their
enjoyments — they will yet be brought into judg-
ment. We are not ignorant of all that may be said
of virtue and vice being their own reward, and of
the superior happiness which even here the just
man has over the unjust, and yet there is from the
depths of our humanity a cry like that which John
heard from the souls of them which were slain: 'How
long, Lord, holy and true, dost Thou not judge
and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the
earth i' The judgment shall be set, and the books
shall be opened, and aU history shall have a grand
review, and eveij one shall receive according to
his works. ' Eejoice,' therefore, ' young man, in
thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the
days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine
heart, and in the sight of thine eyes : but know thou,
that for all these things God will biing thee into
judgment.'

How

iudge
the

)Ooks
rand

jg to

In, in
the
thine
thou,
I into

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