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'T .o C\r\ i / / '71 0'Y\ \Ci^ CX.^\J-x Tin D ' i|.'.'^ i I'jiji. i, h I LUoUi llbli . . / Z>>^/^Vi/ J ii^///)^r '/:)r Bimness Men, -.V.'.'Cvl'^-, .\., (,l nr r) A V T D T H O M A S \ D , D ^^ i' O R O N r o : ADAM, .'SlKViiNiiOM |f ^.O. toNDO?? THE BOOK h>0( lETY . ^873. • Pfli Ai HKIEF A> A lit hoy THE D Dt FBACTICALraiLOSOPHEH; A Daily Monitor for Business Men, CONSISTING OF BKIEF AND SUGGESTIVE MORAL READINGS ON THE ," BOOK OF PROVERBS" FOR EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR. BY DAVID THOMAS, D.D. Mini er of Stockwell Congregational Church, London. Author of " ^'^ "'hilosophy of Happiness,'" "Genius of the Gospel," '^ Homilc/ mmeniary on Acts of the Apostles" &'c., and also Editor of " Tht Homilist." Toronto: ADAM, STEVENSON & CO. London : THE BOOK SOCIETY. 1873. i 13 ONE THIS BOOK, FOR THE BUSINESS MEN OF ENGLAND, Js ;i3cdtcatcil WITH HIGPI ESTEE: M TO ^mu MOI^LEY, ESQ., M.P., ONE OF THE MOST EMINENT AND EXEMPLARY MERCHANTS OF THIS AGE AND LAND, BY THE AUTHOR. The th andnattm Althou Business the ethies exegetes h logical a? relations : Ever sh Doctrinal^ Worse the pious scni ^' Show Its " men of i inginto ti called. T more tvniih The oni whose cree of lifey re/ hood, and itself. With th, through thi 's/ PREFACE. The title page is almost a stifficient explanation of the purport and nature of this volume. Although the ^^ Book of Proverbs" is pre-eminently the Business Book of the Bibky radiating in almost every sentence the ethics of trade and of all secular occupations^ Biblical exegetes have^ for the most party regarded it rather in its theo- logical and ecclesiastical aspects^ tha7i in its broad human relations : — they have treated it as a creed rather than a code. Ever should the Ritual of the Bible be employed to serve the Doctrinaly and both of them to illustrate and enforce the Ethical. Worse than useless are theology y xsthetic ccremonialsy anU even pious scntimenty imless they ctilminatc in practical viorali/v. *' Show 7ts your faith by your works;'* — this apostolic challcngey "men of the world" on all hands arc taking up and thunder- ing into the ears of " the saints" as they arc co>itcmptuously called. This challenge is destined to wax louder, and become more universal and urgenty as popular education advances. The only possible church of the future will be the cJmrch whose creed will be Christy whose ritual zuill be righteousness of h'fcy whose pulpit will be the ministry of the noblest man- hood, and zvhose spirit will be as undenominational as truth itself. With this convict ion y which time deepens in mCy I have gone through this Book of ProverbSy and have sought to develop and ^ VI PREFACE. enfoj'ce its ivor Id-wide axioms in their relation to every man's daily life, — axioms that bear doivn with their divine might against indoleneCy intemperance^f randy falseJioody incontinence^ extravagaitcCy selJish?tesSy and all the fiends at work in the domestiCy social^ mercantiky professional and political life of men. My grand design in all has been to prodnce a work that will helpy in some Jinmhlc measurCy to raise the standard of personal and public morals. Earl Rnsselly in his recent address to " The Historical Society" nas expressed convictions I have long felt as the most strong and stirring forces of my soiily stimulating and directing me in all my Iiumble en- deavours to improve the condition of my fellow men ; he said: — " That for the improvement of the world it is useless to rely on artificial sch ernes y or complicated machinery y but our hope must be in the introduction of a Christian temper into all the relations of nations as well as of individuals. The inspiration which prompted Christ's sermon on the Mounty and which enabled Paul on the hill of Mars to tell the people of Athens that he would reveal to them an unknown God — the God that riade the world and all that is therein — is the spirit by which alone living nations and their posterity can realise upon earth peace and goodwill." I have gratefully availed myself of the help of those zvho have written on the Book, — such as BridgeSy Ward law y A rnoty and others. I have also borrozved largely from many of the greatest I 7vriters of all agesy and used hundreds of their thoughts to pointy polish y and feather the arrows of my own ideas. I owe acknowledgments to others who have helped me in the production of this work. To J. Miller y Esq., one of the secre- taries of the CommiticCy who copied for the Press a large number of the readings. To Rev. John Gill-, mcuthcr of my PREFACE. Vll congregation^ the able Translator of " Olshatiscn's Commen- tary on St. Join?" Author of^^ Notices of the Jeivs and their Country by the Classic Writers of Antiquity" and other learned iwrks ; under his revision all the proof s have passed. Also to Mrs. Morgan Thomas^ wife of my son^ the Uarrister^ who has, with great skilfulness and taboiiry prepared the compen- dious index, which adds greatly to the value of the volume. Nor shall a father's mistaken delicacy deter me from mentioitiftg my daughters, who have acted as my amanuenses, and without whose untiring diligence, agile pens, and literary sympathies, neither this, nor most of my other works would ever have seen the light. To the Committee formed for the erection of a thoroughly undenominational Church in the Clapham Road, London, I have presented an edition of 10,000 of this look to be sold with in tim years ; and should that number of copies be disposed of in the specified period, as I trust they will, I shall have the pleasure of enriching the funds "with not less than ^4,000. There are popular methods of raising money for the erection of nezv churches zuhich seem to many people somezvhat incon- gruous with the divine dignity and stately seriousness of that " kingdom which is not of this world." I trust the method ivliich I have adopted in publisliiiig this book will, whilst it accords with my ozan taste and judgment, secure the approval of all thoughtful men, and obtain the sanction of the Great Master. Whether this volume will produce the finances necessary to erect a church or not, may it carry with it a blessing zv her ever it goes, and do itself the zvork of all true churches— propound and enforce the " Lazi)s of heaven for men on earth !' Assuming that the Book is zvorfh its price — and I have • •• Vlll PREFACE. lahoitred hard to make it so — the friends of the nczu Church in urging its sale, instead of feeling degraded by asking a favour, may feel an independency in offering zuhat they per- chance may consider a boon ; and he ivho makes the purchase may, peradventure, regard himself to be the obliged party. A ny ho7v to sell a good book is one of the best means of doing good, and to buy such, aj.id study it, are amongst the best means to enrich ourselves. Hozvever poor the thoughts of the author may be, and no one is more conscious of their poverty than himself, he knows that the Book is a good one, because of the priceless thoughts of the greatest authors of all ages, "which sparkle in almost every page. With the words of Robert Southey, substituting however the term ^■^ humble" for ^^ little," he closes these prefatory remarks : — Co, hv.inhle Book ! from this viy solitude ; 1 cast thee on the waters ; go th'j ways ; And if, as I believe, th;/ vein be good, 'The world will find thee after many days. Be it with thee according to thy worth. Go, humble Book ! in faith I send thee forth. DAVID THOMAS. HoLiA' BrsTi, Loughborough Park, London. [The portrait appears in deference to the request of the Com- mittee^ Jan. I 2 3 4 5 6 ^ 4 8 9 „ 10. ^^ „ II. T] „ 12. M „ 13- G » 14. Tl „ 15- A „ 16. Tl ,. 17- ^\ „ 18. Fi ,. 19- Bf „ 20. St „ 21. u „ 22. A ,. 23. Tl ... 24- Tl „ 25. Tl „ 26. Tl ,, 27. Sc „ 28. Lr „ 29. Tl ., 10. M I' J' (Tsi the best CONTENTS. Jan. 9- 10. II. 12. 13- 14. IS- iC. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 2,5- 24. 25- 26. 2;. 28. 2(). 30. JANUARY. Solomon's Life — its Spiritual Significance. — Prov. i. I A Great Teacher and a Genuine Student. — Prov. i. I — 6 Piety. — Prov. i. 7 — 9 . . . . . . • . The Young Man. — Prov. i. 10 — 16 . . Moral Traps.— Proz;. i 17 — 19 The Voice of Wisdom to the World.— P/w. i. 20—23 God and the Sinner in Time and Eternity. — Prov. i. 24 — 33 Spiritual Excellence — Prov. ii. i — 5 Good Men and their God. — Prov. ii. 6 — 9 Wickedness and Wisdom ; the Bane and the Antidote. — Prov. 10—22 .. .. ., .. .. The Philosophy of Health and Happmess.— /'/w. iii. I, 2 Mercy and Truth. — Prov. iii. 3, 4 . . . . . . God-tiiisting and Self-trasting. — Prov. iii. 5 — 7 The Highest Giving, the Condition of the Highest Getting. — Prov. iii. 9, 10 Afiliction. — Prov. m.w^ii The Blessedness of Wisdom. — Prov. iii. 13—18. Wisdom, the Source and Sovereign of Wovld.s.— /'yew. iii. 19, Fidelity to Principle. — Prov. iii. 21 — 26 . . . . Beneficence. — /'/vw. iii. 27 — 29 ,. ,. .» Strife and Oiipression. — Prov. iii. 30, 31 . . .. Moral Contrast;;. — Prov. iii. 32 — 35 . , . • A Religious Home. — Prov.'w. \ — j ,, ». The Summum Bonum. — Prov.'w. ^ — ^ ,. .. The Moral Paths of :Mcn. — Prov. iv. 10—17 •• The March of the Good. — Prov.'w. 18 ., ,. The Darkness of Sin. — Frov. iv, 19 .. ,. Self- improvement and Self-control. — Prov. iv. 20-22 Laws of Life — P/w. iv. 24— 27 .. ,. .. The Strange Woman and the True Wife. — Proii. v. 1—20 Man as Known of God and Punished by ^'iw.—Piov. v. 21— 23 Social Surctiships. — Prov. vi. i — 5 , , , , , , , PA5E. 9 12 IS 18 20 22 25 27 30 32 35 37 40 43 44 46 48 49 SI S3 S4 56 58 6r ('3 ('5 67 69 71 73 75 < ',\ ^^ X Feb. I. > 2. > 3- >l 4- >> s. >) 6. l> 7- >> 8. >> 9- >J 10. >) II. >» 12. >> 13- >) 14. )> IS- ; » 16. >> 17. >> 18. >> 19. i> 20. >> iX. » 22. »» 23- >» 24. >) 25- >> 26. »» 27. 28. Mar. r. 2. 3. 4- S- 0. Contents. FEBRUARY. Litt] ; Preaciieis anrl Great Sermons. — Prm: \\. G — 8 .. The .^azy Man and the Wicked Alan. — F/w. vi. 9 — 15 Seven Abominations. — J'rov. \i. 16 — 19 Counsels to Young Mer in Relation to Bad Women. — Froi'. vi. 20-35, vii. I— n The Voice of Divine AVisdom.— /*/-oi;. viii. i — 14 The Authority of Divitie Wisdom. — /Vota viii. 15 — 21 The Autobiography of Wisdom. -7Voz'. viii. 23— 31 .. The Claims of Divine Wisdom. — F/ov. viii. 32 — 36 . . The Educational Temple; or Christianity a School. — Prov. 1X» l'"~~0 •• •• -g ,• »« «a Reproof. — Frov. ix. 7 — o . . . . . . . , Character.— /'.•i;!'. ix. 10 — 12 The Ministry of Temptation. — Fr07: ix. 13 — 18 The Influence of the Child's Character upon the Parent's Heart. — Frov. X. I Cash and Character. — Frov, x. 2, 3 . . . . Idleness and Industiy.— /Vv^z'. x. 4, 5 Opposite Characters and Destinies. — F/oz: x. 6, 7 .. ., Alan in a Threefold Aspect. — J'rov. n 8 — 10 ,, Speech. — Fyov. x. 11 The Great Mischief-maker and the Great Peace- maker. — F,ov, Xtl^a* •• •• «f «• f« •• Contrasts.— iVof. X. 13 — 18 The Sin of Loquaciousness. — Frov. x. 19 The Speech of the Righteous and the Wicked Compared. — Frov, X. 20, 21, 31, 32 Moral Phases of Life. — Frov. x. 22 — 28 . , . . . , Might and Misery.— yv^z'. X. 29 .. ,, .. The Advent and Evil of Pride. — Frov. xi. 2 . , The Terrible in Human History. — Frov. xi. 7. Trouble in its Relation to the Righteous and the Wicked. — Frov. xi. 8 .. .. .. .. ,, Hypocrisy and Knowledge. — Fr^v.xi.<), ,, .. ,. PACE. 78 81 84 88 90 92 95 97 99 102 104 105 107 log III 113 114 "7 118 120 123 125 127 131 132 134 135 137 MARCH. The Public Conscienee In Relation to Moral Character —Frov xi, 10, II Types of Character in Social Life— /*/ vf. xi. Wisdom the Want of States — lYov. xi. 14 . The Generous and Ungenerous. — Frov. xi. 1 7 The Evil and the Good.— Frov. xi. 18—20 , Bedizened Wickcdncs-s.— i'/vx'. xi. 23 12, i; 140 142 14s 146 148 • ) -*•• 23- 24. 25- 26. 27- 28. 29. 30. 3i. pr t fi 2 ft 3 t9 4 J» 5 ft 6 / )} 8. 9) 9 ») 10 1) II „ 12. » 13- I* 14. Contents. XI ool. — Pr(P.i. Mar. 7. „ 8. ,, 9. „ 10 » II. „ 12. „ 13. „ 14- „ 15 16. 17- 18. 19. 20. 21. „ 23. » 24. » 25. „ 26. „ 27- ,,28. „ 29. ,. 30- The Generous and the Avaricious. — Prov. xi. 24, 25 . . , . Seeking and Trusting. — /'/oz'. xi. 27, 38 Family Life. — Prov.y\,z<^ The Life of the Good.-— /"/-o'/. xi. 30, 3 1 .. .. .. The Righteous and the Wicked. — Prov. xii. I — J The Queen of the Household. — Prov. xii. 4 . . . . The Righteous and the Wicked. — Prov. xii. 5—8 . . Domestic Modesty and Display.— Prov. xii. 9, . . The Treatment of Animals. — Prnv. yXx.io .. Manly Industry and Parasitical Indolence. — Piwv. xii. Ii Th(* Crafty and the Honest. — Pi- v. xii. 12, 13 Retributions of the Lip and Life. — P v. xii. 14 ., ,. The Opinionated and the Docile. — Prov. xii. 15 Speech. — Prov. xii. 16 — 23. Diligence and Dignity. Slothfulncss and Sen-ility. — Prov. xii. 24 The Saddening and the Succouring. — Prov. xii. 25 The True Pathway of Souls.— /'/(.z-. xii. 26, 28 Labour as enhancing the Relative Value of a M.m's Possessions. —Piov. xii. 27 The Teachable and the Unteachable Son. — P. cv. xiii I. Man Speaking. — Pr^v. xiii. 2, 2- Soul Craving.— /"/OT. xiii 4. Moial Truthfulness. — Prov. xn\. ^, 6 Poverty and Wealth. — Prov. xiii. 7, 8 . , The Light of Souls — Prov. xiii. 9 . . Pride. — Prov. xiii. 10 . . , , . . , , , , I. SO 152 154 i5(J 157 159 160 161 163 164 166 167 169 170 173 174 176 177 179 181 182 183 184 187 , 1C8 APRIL. Apr. t. M 2. >> 3- »> 4- )» 5. )> 6. >) )> 8. » 9- J> 10. 1) II. >> 12. »l 13- 1) H Worldly Wealth —/'/tT'. xiii. II. .. .. ., Hope Deferred. — /"/o?-. xiii. 12 The Word.— Pm'. xiii. 1 3 The Law of the Good.— /'/or. xiii 14 A Sound Intellect. —y-cT'. xiii. 15. The Way of Transgressors. — /'/•<,7'. xiii. 15 ,. The Wise and the Foolish.— 7VoT'. xiii. 16 .. ,. Human Missions and their Discharge.— /'/'t/Z'. xiii. 17 The Incorrigible and the Docile— Prov. xiii. 18 Soul Pleasure and Soul Pain. — Prov. xii;. 19 The Grand Fellowship and Assimilation in Life'., Path xiii. 20 Nemesis : Destiny following Character. — Prov. xiii 21 Material Wealth.— /'/(/T'. xiii. 22, 23 Parental Discipline. — Prov, xiii. 24. . . , , -Prov. 190 191 193 194 195 197 19S 200 201 203 205 207 208 210 \: xu Contents, Apr. 15. I> 16. >> 17. >> 18. Jt 19. n 20. )* 21. >> 22. )> 23. )i 2.}. )> 25. >> 26. »> ») 28. »> 29. >» 30. The Satisfaction of the Body determined by the Condition of the Soul. — /"/ot', xiii. 2 J Housewifery. — Pvov, yiv. i . , . . Human Conduct. — Pito, xiv. 2 .. Speech a Rod. — Prov. xiv. 3. . . , . The Clean Crib, or Indolence. — Prcv. xiv. 4 . . Veracity and Wisdom. — Piov, xiv. 5, 6 The Society to be Shunned. — Prov, xiv. 7 — 9. The Heart's Hidden Depth. — Piov, xiv. 10 . . The Soul's Home.— /'/•(,7'. xiv. Ii . . The Seeming Right often Ruinous. — PrbV. xiv. 12 Sinful Mirth.— /*/ 07'. xiv. 13 The Misery of the Apostate, and the Happiness of the Good. Piov. xiv. 14 . . The Credulous and the Caulious. — Pnv, xiv. 15 — 18 The Majesty of Goodness,— /"^w. xiv. 19 A Group of Social Principles. — Pt-ov, xiv. 20 — 22 Laboui-, Talk, Wealth, — Ptov, xiv. 23, 24 , , PAOS. 212 214 215 216 2i8 219 22 I 22 X 225 227 229 231 232 234 236 238 May 24. ,. 25. >> -''• „ 27. 28. » 29. ,. 30- ,, 31' Jnne I. \ Mi LIAY. y I. The True Witness.— /•, or', xiv. 25 .. , 2. Godliness, Safety, and Life. — Prov, xiv. 26, 27 , 3. The Population of an Empire. — Prov. xiv. 23 , 4. Temper. — Fiw. xiv. 29 . . . . , . , 5. Heart and Health. — Prov, xiv. 30 . . . . , 6. Godliness and Humanity. — /'/-ot'. xiv. 31 , 7. Death Depending on Character. — Prov, xiv. 32 , 8. Reticence and Loquacity. — i'z-oT^. xiv. 33 , 9. The Political and Social Importance of Morality 34> .^S ■• •• •• •• •• , 10. Words. — P/ 07'. XV. I, 2 , II. God's Inspection of the World. — Prov. xv. 3 , 12. Speech. — Paz'. xv. 4, 7 .. .. ., , 13. Diverse Families. — P/o?'. xv. 5, 6 , 14. The Man-ward Feeling and the Infinite Intelligence Prov. XV. 8, 1 1 , 15. The Scorner. — Trov.y.\. 12 , 16. Human Hearts. — P/'C7'. xv. 13 — 15 .. , 17. The Dinner of Herbs and the Stalled Ox. — Prov.xv, , 18. Social Discord.— /'/Of. XV. 18 , 19. Indolence and Righteousness.— iv ov. xv. 19 , 20. Contrasts. — Picv. \v. 21, 22 , 21. Useful Speech. — P*ot'. xv. 23 .. .. 22. The Way of the AVise. — Prov. xv. 24 23. The Procedure and Propensity of God.— Prrv, xv. 25 240 241 24.) 244 246 248 250 252 —Prov. xiv 254 25^> 258 260 262 of God 264 265 268 16, 17 270 273 274 270 277 279 26 ;':8i /• ■1 8. '" ')• ] 13. r II. ' 12. ] 13- ] 14. i 15- 1 16. r- 17- I 18. I 19. ] 20. ( 21. 1 22. ] 23- c 24. r iS' '] 26. 1 1 27- *" 28. ( 29. 1 30. ( PAGS. May 24. ^H . 25 219 ^m , 27 , 28 , 29 . 30 225 ^^H ,31 1 229 |H ■ mm 234 IH ;; 238 ■ J" no T 240 24r 24.) 244 246 248 250 252 ?-oz'. xiv. 254 25r> 258 260 262 God.— 264 260 268 17 .. 270 273 274 276 277 279 ail I • 8. 9- 10. II. 12. 13- 14. IS- 16. i;- 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23- 24. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30- Contents, xiii PAGE. The Evils of Covctouaness and the Blessedness of Generosity.— J>/W. XV. 27 .. .. .. .. ., .,282 The Righteous and the Wicked.— iVoz'. xv. 28, 29 ,. ., 284 The Highest Knowledge. — Pnv. xv. 30 . , . , . , 286 Reproof. — P/oz'. xv. 31, 32 .. .. .. .. 288 Godly Fear and Genuine Humility. — Frov. xv. 33 . . . . 290 I.Ian Proposes, God Disposes. — Prov. xvi. i . . . . . . 293 The Self-complacency of Sinners and the Omniscience of God. — Ti-ov. xvi. 2 . . . . . , . . . . . . 294 The Establishment of Thoughts. — Tvov. xvi. 3 . , , , 296 . xvi. 8. an Life. — XVI. 20, 21 JUNE. Universal Existence. — Trov. xvi. 4 , Evil.— Pr(W. xvi. 5,6 . . , Pleasing God. — Prov. xvi. 7. The Good Man and his Worldly Circumstances. — Pm' The Plan of Man, and the Plan of God, in Hum P, or. xvi. 9 Model Monarchs. — Prov. xvi. 10—15 Moral and !Matcnal Wealth. — Prov. xvi. 16 The AVay of the Upright.— P/vi/. xvi. 17 Pride and Humility. — Prov. xvi. 18, 19 The Conditions of a Happy Life. — Proi The Two Interpreters. — Prov. xvi. 22. , , Ideal Eloquence. — Prv. xvi. 23, 24 •* Labour. — Proz'. xvi. 26 , . , . . , Mischievous Men. — Pro7<. xvi. 27-30 .. The Glory of the Aged Piety. — Prov. xvi. 31 The Conqueror of Self the Greatest Conqueror. — Pro' Life a Lottery and a Plan. — Prov. xvi, 33 P'amily Scenes. — Prov.wW. \, 2 Divine Discipline. — Prov. xvii. 3 . . — Conversational Likings of Bad INIen. — Prov. xvii. 4 The Unfortunate Poor. — Prov. xvii. 5 . . Posterity and its Ancestors. — Pro7'. xvii. 8 . . Speech Incongi-uous and False — Prov. xvii. 7 The Power of Patronage.— Pwz'. xvii. 8 The Right Concealment and the Wrong Rcvcalmeiit of OlTcnce: — Prov. xvii. 9 !Moral and Corporeal Chastisement. — PnnK xvii. 10 The Genius and Punishment of Evil. — Proz'. xvii. 11 — 13 Strife.— /Vw. xvii, 14 Pcirerse Treatment of tlic Characters of Men, — Prov, xvii. 15, Capacity without Will, — Prov. xvii. 16 , . , , XV!. 32 298 300 302 303 305 308 312 314 316 318 320 322 324 326 328 331 333 335 ZZ7 339 341 345 347 349 351 353 355 357 359 xiv Contents. \ i- JULY. July I, The Degrees and Duties of True Friendship.— rroz/. xvii. 17, and xviii. 24 .. ,, 2. The Fool — Negatively and Positively. — P/vv. xvii. 21, 25 Bodily Heath Dependent on ^Icntal Moods. — Frov. xvii. 22 Bribery. — Prov. wii. 23 . . .. ., ,, A Double Picture — Prov. xvii. 24 . . . . . , Per.-ecution and Treason. — Proz: xvii. 26 , . Frugality in Speech. — Prov. xvii. 27, 28 .. A Student s Spirit.— /*;■.. 7'. xviii i, 2 . . . , Wickedness Contemptible and Contemptuous;.- Prov. xviii. 3 The Words of Inspired Wisdom.— Prot/. xviii. 4 Thiee Bad Things.— /•/ 01' xviii. 5 .. The Speech of a Splenetic Fool. — Piov. xviii. 6—8 Miserable Twinship.—/'/(.z'. xviii. 9 The Soul's Tower — /*/oz'. xviii. 10 — 12. Impetuous Flippancy.— P/oz-. xviii. 13 The Unbearable Wound. — P,(.v. xviii. 14 The Attainment of Knovt'ledge and the Power of Kindnee;3, — Prov. xviii. 15, 16 Social Disputes. — /Vr. xviii. I" — 19 .. ., The Influence of the Tongue. — Picv. xviii. 20, 21 ,, A Happy Marriage.— /'/oz'. xviii. 22 Poverty, Riches, and Social Selfishness,— /';'6t'. xviii. 23. xix. O) ^ t » •• ■• tf ai •• The Better Man.— Prov. xix. I The Soul without Knowledge— P/Of. xix. 2, 3 . . Falsehood.— Pyoz'. xix. 5, 9 Anger Controlled and Uncontrolled. — P,ov,\ix. 11, 12, 19 A Cursed Home and a Blessed Home. — Prov, xix, 13, 14 Goodness and Happiness. — Prov. xix, 8, 16 . . The Deserving Poor.— /V6t'. xix. 17 Parental Discipline and Filial Improvement.— •/'/cr'. xiv. 18, 20 The Mind of Man and the Mind of God,— P/oz', xix. 21 31. Kindness.— /'/it', xix. 22 .. ., ., .. >» 3- >> 4- M S- 7) 6. '> 7- » 8. » 9- » 10 »» II. >> 12. l> 13. »l 14. » IS- )» 16. >> 17- M 18. »> 19. ») 20. >> 21. » 22. >> 23. >l 24. >> 25- )> 26. )> 27. >• 28. >> 29. » J"" PAOB. 365 369 371 373 375 377 379 382 3S; 3S6 3S8 393 392 394 39(i 39S 401 404 40s 408 410 412 414 416 418 420 422 424 426 429 AUGUST. ( f Aug. I n The Fruits of Personal Religion -Prov. xix. 23 , , Laziness. — Prov. xix. 24 . , , . . . . . INIan Chastising the Wrong.— 7'/vz'. xix 25 . . Filial Depravity and Parental Warning. — Prov. xix. 26, 27 The Character and Doom of the Wicked. — Prov. xix. 28, 29 An Intemperate Use of Strong Dr'mk.—Prov. x:;. I . . The Tenific in Human Goverunicuts. — Prov, xx. 2 • . 431 432 433 436 43S 439 440 Contents. 3tV PAcn. ii. 17, and ■ • t 361 25 36s six, 23 • • 369 • • • 371 • • • 373 • • • 375 . 377 • • • 379 xviii. 3. . . 382 • • • 38.; ■ • • 3S6 . < • 388 • • • 393 . 392 • • • 394 > . • 39^ .indnesis. — • • t 39S • • • 401 • • • 404 . 40s 23. xix. 4, . 40S • • 410 • • ■ 412 . 414 , 19 416 14 418 f • • 420 . 422 \ 18, 20 424 I 426 t • • 429 « • 431 . 432 . 433 27 436 8, 29 438 ■ • 439 t » • 440 A.US .8. >> 9. i» 10. (1 II. >» 12. 1) 13- »> 14. >i 15- )) 16. )> 17- )> 18. 19. >> 20. » 21. i> 22. »> 23- »> 24. »> 25- >> 26. » 27. »* 28. >» 29. »* 30- » V-' Sept. I. 2. 3- 4- 5. 6. / • 8. 9- 10. II. 12. 13- 14. 15- 16. 17. 18. 19. Unlawful Strife. — /'ro.'. xx. 3 ,, ,» ,, Indolence— /"/ryr'. x\. 4 .. .. .. .. ,, The Getting of Wisdom from the. Wise. — Prov. xx. 5 ,. A Prevalant Vice and a Rare Virtue. — Prov. xx. 6, 7 The Picture of a Noble Kin?; — Pnv. x.\. 8 . , Moral Purity. — Prov. xx. 9 , , . . The Market. — /Vo?'. xx. 10, 23 The Hearing Ear and tlie Seeing Eye. — Z'/'./?'. xx. 12 .. ., Early Rising. — /Voi'. xx. 13 .. ,. ., .. Chicanery. — Pro7'. w 14 . . .. .. .. .. Material Wealth and Intelligent Speech. — Proi: xx. 15 Business Economics — Pro-' xx. 16, 18, 21 .. The Idle Talebearer and the Wicked Son. — Prov, xx. 19, 20 The Duty of Man under a Sense of Injuries. — Piov. xx. 22 A Providence over Man. — P/w. xx. 24 Selfishness in Religion. — Piov.xx.z^ ,, A Strong Government. — /'/o?'. xx. 26, 28 ., Conscience. — Pz-or. xx. 27 The Glory of Godliness, both in Youth and Age. — Prov. xx. 29 God's Discipline of his Children. — Pn^'. xx. 30 God and the Human Race. — Prov. xxi. i — 3 The Prospeuty of the Wicked is Sin. — 7Vor. xxi 4 The Right and Wrong Road to Plenty. — Fiov. xxi, 5 — 7, xxii. 29 The Uniegenerate and the Regenerate.— P/oz;, xxi, 8 ,, ,. p.\r.E. 441 443 444 447 449 451 453 455 458 460 462 464 467 469 471 474 478 480 481 483 48s 488 490 492 SEPTEMBER. Matrimonial Miser}'. — Pior. xxi. 9, 19; xxv. 2\ ,, TheWicked.— P/v,7'. xxi 10— 12 The Cry of the Poor.— Pruv. xxi. 13 .Social Anger. — J"- 578 580 ^H 582 ^H » 22. T 584 '&M I 23. A 5S9 ^m 591 ^m .. 24. I 594 ^^^H " 25- T 596 '^1 „ 26. ]\] 597 IB „ 27. T 599 m „ 28. T ^ " 29. P 602 m „ 30. T 604 - '«■ 606 W 608 m 610 'M 612 ■m 615 i^M 617 11 Dec. I. A 619 M " '■ ^^ 622 m .. 3- A 625 1 " ^- ^' 028 •i » 5- Oi 63c KjSi Conknts, xvii rial. 536 539 S4I 543 > 545 > 547 . 549 . 551 . 553 . 555 . 557 ^5 t • 561 5^'3 566 568 570 573 574 576 .. 578 .. 580 .. 582 29-35 584 .. 5S9 .. 591 594 S9& 597 599 •oni. XXIV. . — TlOXK 602 604 606 608 610 612 615 617 619 622 625 028 63c ov. I. f» 2. l> 3- >» 4- M 5- »f 6. ft 7- f 1 8. l> 9. I> 10. »> II. It 12. 1) 13- t> 14. l> 15- >' 16. >> 17- )l 18. )l 19. »» 20. »» 21. II 22. II 23- )» 24. It 25- n 26. 11 27. J) 28. 1 29. 1 30- NOVEMBER. The Beauty of a Rcprovablc Disposition.— P/.w. xxv. 12 , , The Value of a Good Messenger to his Employers. — Pvov, xxv. 13 Swaggering Generosity. — PrcnK xxv. 14 . . , , The Manifestation and Mightiness of Moral I'ower. — Prm. xxv. *5't •• •• •• •• •• •• The World's Honey.— /"roy. XXV. 16 ,. ., ,. Bad Neighbours. — Prov, xxv. I'j — 20 ., ,, ,. Righteous Anger. — Prov. xxv. 23 . . . . , , , , Good News from a Far Country. — Prov. xxv. 25 ,, ,, Religious Apostacy. — P/m<. xxv. 26 . . , , , , Natural Desires Running too Far. — Prov. xxv. 27 . , , . The Lack of Self-master)'. — Prov. xxv. 28 . . . , Honour Paid to Bad Men Unseemly and Pernicious. — Prov, xxvi. IfO »t «f *« c» ,« ,, Human Anathemas.— P/oi». xxvi. 2 , , , , . , Aspects of a Fool.— Prov. xxvi. 3 — 1 1 Vanity One of the Greatest Obstructions to Scul-Improvement. — xxvi. 12, 16 . . Mischievous Citizens. — Prov. xxvi. 1 7 — 22 , . . . Clandestine Hatred. — Prov. xxvi. 23 — 28 . . . . . . Man and To-morrow, a Fact and a Failing. — Prov. xxvii. I , . Self-praise. — Prov. xxvii. 2 Social Wrath and Social Friendliness. — Prov. xxvii. 3 — 6 An Appetite for Good Things Essential for their Enjoyment.— Prov. xxvii. 7 . . The Evil of a Roaming Disposition. — Prov. xxvii. 8 . . A Genuine Friendship, and a Happy Fathership. — Frov. xxvii. y**"~* *■ ^ •• •• •• •! •• •• Imprudence and Flattery. — Proz: xxvii. 12, 14 The Soul, its Bluntness and its Whetstone. — Prov. x.\vii. 17 JIan Honoured in Service. — Prov. xxvii. 18 . . The Uniformity and Reciprocity of Souls. — Prov. xxvii. 19 The Insatiability of Man's Inquiring Faculty. — Prov. xxvii. 20 . . Popularity the Most Trying Test of Character. — Prov. xxvii. 21 The Moral Obstinacy of Sin. — Proz'. xxvii. 22 ,. PACE. 633 (•27 638 641 643 647 651 (^53 655 657 658 661 664 668 670 672 675 677 679 684 688 691 693 696 698 700 702 704 DECEMBER. Dec. I. A Picture of Life, Rural and General. — Frov. xxvii. 23 — 27 ,, 2. Conscience. — Prov. xxviii. I . , I, 3. A Threefold Glimpse of Life. — Ptov. xxviii. 2—5 ,, 4. Life in the Home, the Market, and the Sanctuary.— P/w. xxviii. 7-9 707 70) 7ir » 5- Opposite Characters and Opposite Destinies. — Prov, xxviii. 10 , . 717 XVIU Confcnts. Dec. 6. Vanity in tlic Rich and rcnctiation in the Voox.—rnrj. xxviii. 1 1 7. Secular Prosperity.— /'/YW. xxviii 12, 28;xxix. 2 8. Man's Treatment of his Own Sins. — Prov. xxviii. 13 9. Reverence and Recklessness. — Prcrc. xxviii. 14 »o. Types of Kings.— /Vol/, xxviii. 15 — 17 11. Avarice. — /"/-oz^. xxviii. 20 — 23 12. Robbery of Parents. — Prov. xxviii. 24 13. Self-sufficiency and Godly Confidence. — Prov. xxviii. 25, 26 14. Restorative Discipline. — Prov. xxix. i 15. Parental Life. — Z'/wi'. .\.\ix. 3, 15, 17 16. Human Rulership. — Pyoz/. xxix 4, 12, 14 ., 17. Flattery a Net. — Prov. xxix. 5 18. The Snare and the Song. — /Vo2^. xxix. 6 19. The Treatment of the Poor a Test of Character. - Prov. xxix. 20. The Genius of Evil.— P/w. xxix. 8, 9, 10, 11, 20, 22, 23 21. The Fall of Evil.— P/ oz'. xxix. 16 . . 22. Divine Revelation. — Pyoi;. xxix. 18 .. 23. Types of Servants. — Prov. xxix. 19, 21 24. Commercial Partnerships. — Prt^v. xxix. 24 25. Social I'fc. — ProT'. xxix. 25 — 27 26. Agur, as a Philosopher, a Bibleist, and a Suppliant. — Prov. xxx 1-9 27. The False Accuser. — Prov. xxx. 10 28. Many Rcies in One. — PruV. xxx. 11 — 14 29. Practical l^cssons from Insect Life. — Pr\jv. xxx. 24—28 30. The Counsels of a Noble Mother to her Son. — Pri^v. xxxi. 1—9 31. A Noble Woman's Picture of True Womanhood. — Prov. xxxi ■ 0"~-3i •• •• .1 •! t« ue thoughts live and give life. They are the seeds of doming literatures, philosophies, characters, institutions. Such are the lessons which Solomon's history teaches. ?he real life of every man is in his love. " Show ic," says Fichte, "what thou truly lovest, vshow me rhat thou seekest and strivcst for with thy whole leart, when thou hopest to attain to true enjoyment, 12 The Practical Philosopher. and thou hast hereby shown me thy life. What th'-'U lovest is that thou livest. This very love is thy life; the root, the seat, the central point of thy being.' (READING II.— JANUARY 2.) 11 f " The proverbs of Solomon the son of David, king of Israel; To know wisdom and instruction ; to perceive the words of understanding ; To receive the instruction of wisdom, justice, and judgment and equity ; To give subtiltv to the simple, to llie young man knowledge and discretion. A wise man will hear, and will increase learning ; and a man of understanding sliall attain unto wise counsels : To understand a proverb, and the interpretation ; the words o' the wise, and their dark sayin.L,'s." — Prov. i. I to 6. These six verses give us two subjects for study. A GREAT TEACHER. — ^Solomon the son of David, king of Israel, was not only a passive but an active teacher — a voluntary as uell as an involuntary one. All men teach by their lives whether they will or not ; they are " living epistles known and read of all men." We all become objects of human observations, subjects of human thought and enquiry, though wc ourselves may bo utterly unconscious of the fact. Solomon taught by his life, but he also taught by conscious determination. These verses bring under our notice the form and design of his lessons. What is the ^/v//! ? He spoke in "Proverbs." A proverb is the wisdom of ages crystallized into a sentence : a gold coin in the currency of thought. Earl Russell defines a proverb as " the wisdom of many and the wit of one." The proverbs of Solomon being inspired, are the rays of eternal ideas mirrored in the diamonds of human genius. " Jewels live words long, Tiiat on the slrctch'd forefinger of all time Sparkle for c\er." — 'J'cniiysoit, No Style of instruction is more ancient than the proverbial. The Practical Philosopher. T^ he proverbial. le most ancient nations have their aphorisms, and not a }\v of them sparkle with p "beam divine." We have jecome so wordy, our books so numerous, and our intellects speculative, that we have ceased to make proverbs, ^hat should be wrapped in one round sentence we spread it into volumes in these days. Instead of " apples of gold pictures of silver" we have grains of gold in heavy Waggons, and these often painted in gaudy hues. What the design ? Soul-cvMyxre. " To know wisdom and )istruction, to perceive the words of understanding." There much for man to know. j\Iuch in outward nature — the 5sonce, laws, uses, of the material system to which he 3longs. Much in his own nature, his mental, physical, id moral constitution ; much in the relations which he istains to the universe and his Maker, and much in the )ligations springing therefrom. Man instinctively craves \r knowledge, and greatly does he need it. He needs ^tellectual enlightenment and discipline '.he soul with- it knowledge is not good. These proverbs were in- |nded to enlighten the human reason, to conduct the iman intellect through phenomena int6 the universe of fality, and make it acquainted with " the reason of things." It the design of the proverbs is more than mental culture, is inoral. It is instruction in "judgment and equity." ley contain rules of life, nay, principles of action. They lach duty not only in every department of life and social rade, but in every separate movement of the individual lan. " If the world," says a modern writer, " were governed this single book, it would be a new earth wherein ^elleth righteousness." The suggestive character of ^ese proverbs is admirably adapted to the great work of )iritual culture ; it is not systematic but sententious. It frees with Locke's idea of education. "The business of lucation," says this great philosopher, " is not to perfect [learner in all or any of the sciences, but to give his mind ^at freedom, that disposition, and those habits that may lable him to obtain any part of knowledge he shall apply Imself to or stand in need of, in the future course of his life." In these verses we have li 14 The Practical Philosopher, A GENUINE STUDENT. — ^Who is the true learner? He 5 is described as a "wise man." A wise man is he who chooses the highest end and the best means to attain it,; There are many very intelligent men who are unwise,^ Some set before them a low and unworthy end, some a good end but employ ill-adapted means. A genuine student, however ignorant, is a man who aims at wisdom, and gives his mind to those things that make for it. He is a man who pursues resolutely, and in a right way, the highest end of his being. He is described as an attenth} man. " A wise man will hear." The mental ears of some are so heavy that they hear not the voice of wisdom, and the ears of others are so full of the rush and din of worlcllv concerns, that even truth in thunder rolls over their head> unneard. A genuine student "opens his ear," bows hi^ head, and listens attentively and earnestly, anxious t( catch every word. He is described also as an wiprovin; man. It is said of him that he "will increase learning and " attain unto wise counsels." By listening he gains: the words he catches he forms into sentences, and the sentences extend into chapters. The more the genuine student knows the more he feels his ignorance, and the more he craves for light. Our knowledge is "but tc know how little can be known." He is described as ar. interpreting man. He " understands a proverb and the interpretation : the words of the wise and their darl sayings." "Dark sayings," says Wardlaw, "mean pro- perly enigmas or riddles. These were used of old as on^ of the methods of conveying instruction. It was conceivec that by giving exercise to the understanding in finding out the solution of the enigma, it was calculated to deeper. on the mind the impression of the lesson which was wrap; up in it. This was not done for mere amusement, but fo; imparting serious instruction ; although to the young there might, in some instances, be the blending of an intellectua entertainment, with the conveyance of useful informatio: of salutary counsel." These enigmatical maxims of wis- dom were sometimes rendered the more attractive bj being thrown into the form of verse, and even being se; The Practical Philosopher, 15 I to music. A poetic taste and a musical ear were thus made subservient to the communication and impression of truth. The great thoughts of great men are luminous in them- selves, but dark to the thoughtless because their eyes are closed. Let us remember the words of John Milton, thai; "the end of learning is to know God, and out of that knowledge to love Him, and to imitate Him, as we may [the nearest, by possessing our souls of true virtue." (READING III.— JANUARY 3.) "The fear of the Lord is the beginnmg of knowledge : but fools despise Iwisdom and instruction. !My son, hear the instruction of thy father, and for- Isake not the law of thy mother : For they shall be an ornament of grace unto [thy head, and chains about thy neck." — Prov. i. 7 to 9. [From this short passage the following great truths may be learned. Piety IS REVERENCE FOR GoD. — "The fear of the [Lord." What fear? Not slavish fear, or foreboding apprehension. There is no virtue in this ; — it means a [loving reverence, which impl: ^s a recognition of the [divinely good and great. For who can reverence the mean, the unkind, or the unvirtuous ? An impression of greatness and goodness lies at the foundation of holy veneration, and into it there enter the sentiments of gratitude, love, and worship. Piety is love, venerating the majestic and adoring the good. It has nothi.ig in it of the fear that hath torment. On the contrary, it is [full of that love that "casteth out fear" and fills th© [soul with the ecstasies of hope. Piety IS THE GERM OF INTELLIGENCE. It is the "beginning of knowledge." What knowledge ? Not merely i intellectual. Many an impious man knows the circle of thp j :i !' I i ' t: 16 . T/ie Practical Philosopher. sciences. The devil is intelligent. But though he grasp the universe with his intellect, penetrate its essence, and interpret its laws, he is ignorant. Spiritual knowledge — the knowledge of self, the universe, Christ, and God, — is the true knowledge. This grows out of piety — grows out of reverent love. "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear Him." He knows nothing rightly who knows not God experimentally. " In the rules of earthly wisdom," says Lord Bacon, " it is not possible for nature to attain any mediocrity of perfection, before she be humbled by knowing herself and her own ignorance." God is lovo, and he that loveth not, knoweth not God. KnoA\- ledge of Him is the root of that great tree of science, under whose branches all holy spirits live, and on whose immortal fruit they feast and flourish. Piety IS DESPISED BY FOLLY. — "Fools despise wis- dom and instruction." Who are the fools in Solomon's sense r Not the brainless madmen or the illiterate dolts. But the morally perverse, the men whose sympathies are all earthly, carnal, devilish, the men who practically ignore the greatest facts in the universe, trifle with the serious, and barter away the joys of eternity for the puerilities of time. All unregenerate men are such fools, and they despise wisdom and instruction. They look on the pious not only with the eye of indifference, but with the eye of scorn. They do this because they are fools, and they are fools for doing it. To despise piety is to despise that moral salt which prevents society from sinking into putrefaction, those sunbeams that lighten their path, warm their atmosphere, and fill their world with life and beauty. "It is," says Archer Butler, "among the most potent of the energies of sin, that it leads astray by blinding, and blinds by leading astray; that the soul of man, like the strong champion of Israel, must have its 'eyes put out,' when it would be bound with fetter of brass, 'and condemned to grind in the prison house.'"* Piety INVOLVES filial obedience. — " My son, * Judges xvi. 2 1. The Practical Philosopher, n lear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law )f thy mother." Family life is a divine institution; obe- lience to its laws is a part of piety. " Filial love," says )r. Arnot, " stands near and leans on godliness. It is next [o reverence for God. That first and highest command- ment is like the earth's allegiance to the sun by general iw; and filial obedience is like day and night, summer Ind winter, budding spring and ripening harvest, on the larth's surfacs. There could be none of these sweet Ihanges and beneficent operations of nature on our kobe if it were broken away from the sun. So when a leople burst the first and greatest bond — when a people ist off the fear of God, the family relations, with all leir beauty and benefit, disappear. We may read this »sson in the fortune of France. When the nation threw the first commandment, the second went after it. Then they repudiated the fear of God, they could not jtain conjugal fidelity and filial love. Hence the wreck id ruin of all the relations between man and man. As fell might they try to make a new world as to manage lis one wanting the first and second, the primary and ibordinate moral laws of its nature." This filial obedience is a moral adornment. "They lall be an ornament of grace unto thy head and chains )out thy neck." "You may read at times," says one, Ion festive days, in the high places of the earth, of the ^egance and splendour of royal and courtly attire, and )ur imagination may be dazzled by the profusion of iamonds, and pearls, and brilliants, and tasteful deco- itions and gaudy finery; indicating the anxiety felt id the pains expended to adorn this 'painted piece of ring clay.' " What is the worth of all this decoration ? firtue is the only true ornament of a moral intelligence, — 1 jewel this, which set in the centre of the immortal spirit, fill flash on through every turn of life, " When gems, and ornaments, and crowns, Shall moulder into dust." i8 The Prutical Philosopher. (READING IV.- -JANUARY 4.) ©&e Sottirg Ulan. "My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not. If they say. Come with us, let us lay wait for blood, let us lurk privily for the innocent without cause : Let us swallow them up alive as the grave ; and whole, as those that go down into the pit : AVe shall find all precious substance, we shall fill our houses Mitli spoil : Cast in thy lot among us ; let us all have one purse : My son, walk not thou in the way with them ; refrain thy foot from their path : For their feet run to evil, and make haste to shed blood." — Prov. i. 10 to 16. The life of the young man is amongst sinners.— This is implied in the passage, and this is a fact. Sinners encompass us, as servants, masters, clients, customers, and sometimes as parents, brothers, sisters. We must go out of the world to go from them. The text teaches us the following things concerning sin : — It is cruel. They " lay wait for blood." They say let us " swallow them up alive as the grave." Sin extinguishes social love and kindles malignity instead. It carries with it the venom of the devil. I^ teaches that sin is cunning. They are said to " lay wait," to " lurk privily." Sinners are essentially hypocrites. They dare not show their true characters to their fellow men. Were they to do so, instead of enjoying social fellowship and patronage, they would be shunned as monsters. Hence they always work under mask and love the dark. They put on the robes of virtue. They kiss and stab at the same time. It teaches that sin is greedy, "We shall find all precious substance, we shall fill our houses with spoil." Avarice is the spring that sets and keeps them in motion. "Precious substance" is what they are after. For this they have an insatiable craving. *' O cursed hunger of pernicious gold ! | What bands of faith can impious lucre hold ! " \ This is the world into which the young are born, brought up and educated. What a morally perilous position! How great the caution required ! The Practical Philosopher. 19 The danger of the young man is enticement.— I" ]\Iy son, if sinners entice thee." This they are sure to do. Sin alwciys begets an instinct to propagate itself. No sooner did angels fall, than they became tempters. Eve I sins, and entices her husband. Sin is a whirlpool, sucking all into itself. Sinners draw the young into evil, not by Iviolence or hard words, but by simulated love and quiet [persuasion. They say, " Come with us." Come with us ; jwe have your interest at heart. We wish you happiness. [Come, share our pleasures, our transports, and our gains. [Cast in thy lot among us, let us all have one purse." iThis is the danger. It is fabled of the Syrens, that from jthe watch tower of their lovely island, they charmed the [passing ships to their shore by their music. But the jsailors when they landed on their sunny beach, transported 3y a melody adapted to each heart, were destroyed by their enchanters, and their bones left unburied in the sand. Thus sinners act upon the young. It is by the lusic of fascinating manners, kind words, and fair pro- lises, that they charm the young away from the straight /oyage of life to their shores, in order to effect their lin. The attitude of the young should be resist- LNCE. — "Consent thou not." Learn to say "No" — Ay;, dth the emphasis of thy whole soul. Thou canst resist, [eaven has endowed thee with power to resist all outward ippeals. Thou oughtest to resist. To consent is to insult |;hy Maker and contract guilt. Thou must resist. Thy iTell-being, now and evermore, depends upon resisting. ['Refrain thy foot from their path." Do not parly j»rith them. Do not take the first downward step, for the hill is steep, and every step adds a strong momen- tum. One sin leads to another, and thus on. Why resist r " Their feet run to evil, and make haste to shed )lood." The path may be smooth and flowery, but it is 5vil and ruinous. "The devil," says an old writer, "doth not know the learts of men, but he may feel their pulse, know their temper, md so accordingly can apply himself. As the husband- «0 The Prncticnl Philosopher. man knows what seed is proper to sow in such soil, so Satan fir.ding out the temper, knows what temptation is proper to sow in such a heart. That way the tide of a man's constitution runs, that way the wind of temptation blows. Satan tempts the ambitious man with a crown, the sangiiine man with beauty, the covetous man with a wedge of gold. He provides savoury meat, such as the sinner loves." (READING v.— JANUARY 5.) Jgtotal top. «' Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird. And they lay Vait for their own blood ; they lurk privily for their own lives. So are the ways of every one that is greedy of gain ; which taketh away the life of the owners thereof.— i'/'oz'. i. 17 to 19. wSiN LAYS TRAPS FOR SOULS. — "The net is spread." Sm has woven a net and laid it along the path of life. This net is wrought of diverse materials, such as sensuality, avarice, ambition. How cleverly the skilful fowler constructs and lays his net. It is placed where tho innocent bird is likely to come in the garden or the granary, for the grain or the grub, and where when it comes it will be enthralled even in its first step. It is thus with tho moral fowler, — the great tempter of souls and all whom he employs. Enticements are traps. There is the trap of self-indulgence, and carnal gratification. There is the trap of worldly amusements laid in theatres, taverns, and the orgies of revelry and debauch. There is the trap of avarice laid in scenes of unrighteous traffic and reckless specula- tion. There is the trap of ambition spread out and con- cealed in all the paths to social influeno^s ^uid political )! ■•MM The Practical Philosopher. as I power. Traps abound. They are adjusted for men of every mental type, of every period in life, in every social erade. They are laid for children in the play-ground, for [merchants in the exchange, for statesmen in the senate, for all classes — from the pauper to the prince. All ages — rom the child to the octogenarian. These traps must be exposed. — " In vain the net bs spread in the sight of any bird." The fowler conceals his let. If he laid it in the sight of the bird, instinct would strike the warning and his object would be missed. Sin ^vorks insidiously. It takes advantage of men's circum- stances, ignorance, and inexperience. It steals into the soul through a word in song, or a note in music, through a rlance of the eye, or a touch of the hand. It does not enter the soul by violently destroying its fortress, but by crawling )ver the walls, and creeping into its recesses. The work )f the true philanthropist is to expose the traps and to Ihunder warning in the ears of the birds as they come kwooping down. Young men, remember that sin is insidious, md lays its traps stealthily, in scenes where beauty [miles and syrens chant. " Our clangers and delights are near allies ; From the same stem the rose and prickle rise. i These traps brixo ruin to their authors. — ' They lay wait for their own blood, they lurk privily for leir own lives." " They lay wait." Who ? Not the bird, |ut the fowler, not the intended victim but the foul deceiver. Hiilst ihe tempters " lurked " privily " for the blood " of thers, they " lay wait" for their own blood. Retribution ^ertakes them. If they escape violence themselves, the femesis pursues them. Thus it was with Ahab and his lilty partner, they plotted the destruction of others, but ley worked out their own ruin ; thus it was with Haman, who )ught to murder Alordecai, but hung himself, and thus with Idas too. Sinners the world over, in all their plans id purposes, are " digging a pit for themselves." " vSo with le ways of every one who is greedy of gain " — it is the lexorable law of retribution. Their schemes may seem to 22 The Practical Philosopher. prosper here, but justice tracks their steps and their ruin is inevitable. " There is no strange handwriting on the wall, Thro' all the midnight hum no threatening call, Nor on the marble floor the stealthy fall Of fatal iuotsteps. All is safe. Thou fool, The avenging deities are shod with wool ! " W. AtLEN Butler. (READING VI.— JANUARY 6.) 1 " Wisdom crieth without ; she uttercth her voice in the streets ; She crietli in the chief place of concourse, in the openings of the gates : in the city she uttereth her words, saying, How long, ye simple ones, will yc love simplicity? and the scorners delight in their scorning, and fooLi hale knowledge .-' Turn you at my reproof : behold, I will pour out my spirit unto you, I will make known my words unto you."— /Vof. i. 20 to 23. Divine wisdom was an abstraction in the days of Solomon, It is an incarnation in our times. In his days it was per- sonified in language. In ours it is personified in flesh, It is the same thing however clad ; the infinite intelligence^^ of love and truth. It is the " mind of God." This wisdom is here represented as speaking to the world. The voice of wisdom to the world is EARNEST. — "Wis- dom crieth." The communications of heaven to humanity are not the utterances of mere intellect. They are the expressions of the heart. The Bible is an earnest book, Christ is an earnest messenger. The eternal Father is in earnest with His human children. "As I liv'e saith th.' Tord God I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked. " In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stoo,' and cried, saying. If any man thirst, let him come unto nr and drink." God's communications to men show the earnest- ness of Hi''- heart. Look at their nature. How ferviu Ih The Practical PhilosopJicr. n id their ruin is lU, ^tLEN Butler. he streets ; She crietli Tates : in the city she '^ 11 ye love simplicity? " :no\vlcclgc ? Turn you u, I will make known lays of Solomon, lays it was per- ,onified in flesh, ^ nite intelligence! This wisdom | d. tvRNEST. — "Wis- yen to humanity They are the ,n earnest book, Irnal Father is in I live saith tho of the wicked/ east, Jesus stooii ii come unto mc ihow the earnest- c. How ferviii forceful, vehement. Mark their variety. They come in poetry, prose, prophecy, precept, promise, threat, expostu- lation, admonition. Note their continuance. They do not cease they keep on from age to age. Wisdom is ever [crying through nature, through the Bible, through the history of past ages, through conscience, and through reason. Earnestness is all heartedness. God's heart is in iHis communications to men. The voice of wisdom to the world is PUBLIC. — " She luttereth her voice in the streets ; she crieth in the chief [places of concourse, in the openings of the gates." " The [accumulation," says Kitto, " of phrases implying pub- li(,ity — the streets, the chief place of concourse, the open- ings of the gates, the city — probably refer to the custom in the East, particularly among the Arabians, for people to lold discussions and conversations on religion and morals [in the open air, and especially in the more public parts of the town, to which the inhabitants resort for the sake of society. It is not unusual indeed for a man respected for lis eloquence, learning, or reputed sanctity, to collect in such places a congregation which listens with attention md interest to the address he delivers. Thus such wisdom is they possess may be said to " cry in the streets ;" and IS the people read very little, if at all, a very large part of khe information and mental cultivation which they possess |s derived from the discussions, conversations, recitations, Ind lectures on various subjects, which they hear in the Itreets and public places." Where is the voice of heavenly nsdom not heard ? The whole earth is vocal with it. It |choes in every man's soul. " There is no speech nor mguage where her voice is not heard." There are three |lasses here specified to whom it addresses itself. The ^simple." "Ye simple ones " — those most unsophisticated Ind free from the taint of sin, the millions of the rising ^ace as well as those in more advanced life who have re- lined in some measure the innocency of childhood. 'Sconicfs " — men who are so hardened in sin that they resist ipressions and sneer at sacred persons and things. To ipious scoffers and profane jesters, who are numerous in 24 The Practical Philosopher. all ages and are morally the most degraded of men, this "Wisdom speaks. ^^ Fools" — men who hate knowledge. The simple are weak, the scorner disdainful, the fool malignant — he hates knowledge. How great the mercy of God in condescending to speak to such. But the earnest and public address of wisdom to these classes is pre-eminently practical. It is in the language of expostulation. " How long ye simple ones r" How long r Do you know how brief your life is and how urgent the work of spiritual reformation r How long ye simple ones will ye love simplicity r And the scorner,s delight in their scorning, and fools hate knowledge r" It is the language of invitation. "Turn you at my reproof.' Turn away from worldliness and wickedness and come to holiness and truth. Turn, you can do it, you inml do it, you are hound to do it. " Let the wicked forsake his ways and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, and tie will have mercy upon him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." It is the language of encouragement. " I will pour out my Spirit upon you." " I will make known my words unto you.' " I offer," says Bishop Hall, " to you both my word out- wardly to your ears, and a plentiful measure of my Spirit to make that word effectual to you." Such is the voice of Wisdom. " He that hath ears to hear let him hear." He^ir that your souls may live — hear at once. Delay is sinful and perilous. Remember the woi'ds of John Foster — " How dangerous to defer these momentous reformations which conscience is solemnly preaching to the heart ! If they are neglected, the diffi- culty and indisposition are increasing every month. The mind is receding degree after degree, from the warm and the hopeful zone ; till at last it will enter the Arctic circle, and become lixed in relentless and eternal ice." ^' H The Practical Philosopher, n (READING VII.- JANUARY 7.) '< Because I have called, and ye refused ; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded ; But ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of t my reproof : I also will laugh at your calamity ; I will mock when your fear Cometh; when your fear cometh as desolation, and your dcstniction cometh as a whirlwind ; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they call [upon me, but I wU not answer ; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find I me : For that they hated knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord : iThey would none of my counsel : they despised all my reproof. Therefore .shall Itliey eat of the frait of their own way, and be filled with the fruit of their own levices. For the turning away of the simple shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them. But whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell safely, nd shall be quiet from fear of evil." — Prov. i. 24 to 33. God and the sinner in time. — Two things are obser- vable here. First, God's C07iduct to sinners in time. What loes he do ? He " calls " them — calls them by teachings of lature, the admonitions of reason and the appeals of His rord — calls them away from sin to holiness, from misery ko joy, from Satan to Himself. He stretches out His hand. I' I have stretched out my hand." What for ? To rescue rom danger, to bestow benedictions, to command attention, welcome a return. He counsels them. " Ye have set at fought my counsels." Counsels that would shed light [pon duty and destiny, solve moral problems, and make the |ath of human life straight and sunny for ever. He reproves lem. "And would none of myreproof." His reproofs, whilst ley are honest, are also loving and tender. This is the Jttitudeof the Eternal towards every human sinner here. He calling, outstretching His hand, addressing counsels, and Iministering reproofs. But, mark on the other hand, [econdly, the coiidiict of sinners towards God in time. How do jnners treat the Almighty here r They refuse His call. " I ive called and ye refused." They disregard His attitude. " I ivc stretched out my hand and no man regarded." Thoy )ndcmn His counsel and reproof. " Yc have set at nought 26 The Practical Philosopher. all my counsel, and would none of my reproof." "What a spectacle to angels is this ! God's treatment of the sinner and the sinner's treatment of Him. Wonder, oh heaven ! and be astonished, oh earth ! God and the sinner in eternity. — Here observe, First, His conduct towards the sinner in eternity. When sinners pass impenitently into the realms of retribution, how does the Eternal treat them there ? He tai/ghs at them. " I will laugh at your calamity." Strong metaphor conveying a most terrific idea ! What a laugh is this ! It is the laugh of mockery and contempt. " I will mock when your fear cometh." A father laughing at his child in trial and anguish ! For the suffering child to see his parent looking on without a tear of compassion or a sigh of sympathy, with a heartless indifference, would give poignancy to his I pains, but to see him smile and to hear him laugh in his writhing agonies, how unspeakably distressing ! To be i laughed at by God ! Can you have a more terrible picture of misery ? A thousand times sooner let the Eternal flash His | lightnings, hurl His thunders, and rain Flis fires on me, than laugh at my calamities. He disregards their prayers. Fear is on them as a desolation ! Destruction has come down upon them as a whirlwind. Distress and anguish has seized them, and they pray, and God says, "I will not answer." lie looks on and laughs. What a contrast between His conduct in time, and His conduct in eternity ! Observe, Secondly, the impenitent sinner's conduct toivards Gd in eternity. He whom sinners ignored and disregarded in ti7}te, is earnestly prayed to now. " They shall seek me early but shall not find me." They would no: listen to my warnings and invitations, and I will no: listen to their prayers. They seek God but cannot fiiui Him. Why has all this misery come upon them ? Hero i^ the explanation : — " They hated knowledge and did no; choose the fear of the Lord. They would none of my counsel; they despised all my reproof. Therefore shall they eat of tin fruit of their own way and be filled with their own devices,' They said to the Almighty when here, " Depart from us, He says to them there, "Depart from me." Here ii The Practical Philosopher. 2^ retribution. All their misery is but the eating of the fruit of their own ways. They reap what they had sown. As [fruit answers to seed, as echoes to sound, their calamities in [ eternity answer to their conduct in time. " Be not deceived, i God is not mocked. Whatsoever a man soweth that shall I he also reap." Notwithstanding all this, mercy still speaks in the close I of the passage. " Whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from fear of evil." Practical attention to God's word will secure safety now and for ever. "The name of the Lord is a strong tower, the righteous flee thereto and are safe." " Seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him while he is near." (READING VIII.- JANUARY 8.) piritual i^xttWmt " My son, if thou wilt receive my words, and hide my commandments with Ihec ; So that thou incline thine ear unto wisdom, atid apply thine heart to nderstanding ; Yea, if thou criest after knowledge, ff«d, from the spher' y, and the domai: ti sin in it is with:: motions accelerai J crush it at once ; i •ation, to break t'r,; rpent. ire both as the pr; | ss. Wickedness: !r. Its mightine.v reception. " AVli: om outside of us; n, but it must con: | service. It will n: \ e brain, or to cor d or entertained i ' lids the dearest: ig that is pleasa things in relati " Discretion si: thee." The way )odness. If Bivi: •t, when evil coir. irs the fallen. "I from the " strar., , if thou art wit! .om enter thy Ik eak the spell of; y caged soul, and. Icnvenly wisdom brce. It gti^da 'ecmcd. "That thou mayest walk in the ways of good fen and keep the paths of the righteous." It guides our It in the way of peace. It is a lamp to our path. Like the Ir to the mariner, if this wisdom shine within us it will ide us safely over the voyage of life. How shall we get the heart this wisdom, that guards the innocent, deli- [s the fallen, and guides the redeemed ? " If any man wisdom let him ask of God, who giveth to all men ^rally and upbraideth not." " Who are the wise ? They who have govern'd with a self-control, Each wild and baneful passion of the soul — Curb'd the strong impulse of all fierce desires, But kept alive affection's purer fires. They who have pass'd the labyrinth of life, Without one hour of weakness or of strife : Prepared each change of fortune to endure, Humble though rich, and dignified though poor. Skill'd in the latent movements of the hcai t — Lcam'd in the lote which nature can impart ; Teaching that sweet philosophy aloud, "V/hich sees the ' silver lining ' of the cloud ; Looking for good in all beneath the skies : These are the tiuly wise." — Prince. (READING XI.— JANUARY il.) [ My son, forget not my law, but let thine heart keep my commandments : igth of days, and long life, and peace, shall they add to thee." — Prov. iii. JE revelation is a law. It is not a mere creed, but a It is not • given for mere study, speculation, and ff, but for obedience. It has all the attributes of a law, plicity, authority, practicability. The text teaches two truths. liit 36 The Practical Philosopher. Obedience to moral law is a condition cl PHYSICAL HEALTH. — Mark at the outset what the obedienil is. It is the obedience of the heart. " Let thine heart kej my commandments." The Bible legislates for mind, thoughts, affections, impulses, and aims. Its commarj ment is so broad that it takes the whole soul in, penetra: to its deepest and most hidden springs of action. Obedier. is not a thing of tongue, or hand, or foot, it is a thing the heart. Perfect external conformity to the mere letter the law, were it possible, would be rebellion if the heJ was not in it. We are taught here that this spiritij obedience is a condition of physical health. It secu: " length of days and long life." The connection betwti obedience and physical health is clear from the three fl lowing facts: — (i) That physical health requires obedierJ to the divine laws of our being. (2) That obedience to till divine laws involves a study of them. (3) That the heartil sympathy with the Divine author is essential to their si cessful study. These propositions are so evident that tlj require neither illustrations nor proof. Add to this theii that sobriety, temperance, chastity, industry, contentmf| regularity, amiability, control of the temper, and passions, which are involved in true obedience, arej conducive to corporeal health and vigour. Some pet] seem to regard ill-health as a mark of gentility. Thcyi afraid to acknowledge themselves as vigorous and rob] lest they should be considered vulgar. They conside: more respectable to acknowledge feebleness than strcndj Others seem to regard ill-health as a virtue — something be pleased with c.nd commended for. But in truth ill-k often means coarseness and crime. It grows out ofj infraction of divine laws. Health of the body depends uj health of soul, and health of soul depends upon \ dience to the moral laws of God. Bodily vigour deptj upon moral virtue. " Godliness is profitable unto all tlii: having the promise of the life that now is and of^ which is to corrie,' There is a care for health which troys it. " People," says Sterne, " who are always ta 1 care of their health are like misers who are hoan! The Practical Philosopher, 37 A CONDITION (I what the obedienl Let thine //6'«r/ke| lates for mind, ns. Its commanj ! soul in, penetrat] faction. Obedienj ot, it is a thing to the mere letter! jbellion if the hetj that this spirit'] health. It secu:l connection betwl ,r from the three fj h requires obedierl at obedience to tli| (3) That the heart! j ssential to their s| ! so evident that tlJ Add to this the:! Ldustry, contentmej [le temper, and ;j e obedience, arei igour. Some peel gentility. Thc)i vigorous and robi ar. They consitk (leness than strcn.;f virtue — somethin.j But in truth ill-liq It grows out otl le body depends ul depends upon (I ,odily vigour dopej fitable unto all thi; : now is and of. for health which ho are always ta who are ho.'in! isure which they have never spirit enough to enjoy." there is a care that promotes it — it is a care for moral ity and a divine elevation of soul in thought and aim. Obedience to moral law is a condition of LiTUAL happiness. — "And peace shall be added to Peace requires two things. (i) The inward lony of our powers. The soul is often like a battle- , on which there is a violent conflict of forces. The restions of reason and the dictates of conscience battle inst the armies of carnal lusts and selfish impulses. like a sea, into whose depths there rush contending jnts, heaving it to its centre. (2) The sense of divine |ur. The feeling that the Lord is against us gives the )s of perpetual restlessness to our sculs. Now spiritual lience puts an end to this state of things, crushes in- enemies, hushes inward storms, and gives a blessed piousness of divine approval. " Peace is the end of all things — tearless peace ; Who by the immovable basis of God's throne Takes her perpetual stand ; and, of herself Prophetic, lengthens age by age her sceptre : The world shall yet be subjugate to love, The final form religion must assume. Led like a lion, rid with wreathed reins, In some enchanted island, by a child." — FestuS, (READING XII.-JANUARY 12.) mi ani^ %k^% et not mercy and truth forsake thee : bind them about thy neck ; write on llie tables of tliine lieart : So shall thou find favour and good under- I in the sight of God and man."— 7Vo7'. iii. 3, 4. )f the greatest moral realities of the universe are Oncd in these verses. They are the greatest themes 38 The Practical Philosopher, in all true books, the chief elements in all great lives, tlifj noblest attributes of the Godhead, the primal substances c| the Gospel. "Grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." ThesJ two direct man's nature as a being possessing intellect an( heart, each of which has its respective cravings and claimJ We must have ^^ truth" in us; — all our faculties must trutlJ fully move in harmony with eternal realities. We muJ have " mercy" in us. All our powers must move by it as thel impulse and sovereign. Man's duty in relation to " mercf and truth " is here set forth by two strong metaphors, thj metaphors of binding and writing. Man has to BIND "mercy" and "truth" to him. — "Binj them continually upon thy heart and tie them upon tliJ neck." The allusion here is probably to the phylacteriej with which the Jews were commanded by Moses to bin| the law around their foreheads. But here the command i to bind mercy and truth, not upon the hand or the head] but upon the heart; and they were to be kept there, not fol a time, but " continually ;" to be taken off neither day oj night. They are to be carried with us as mementoes of oq obligations to heaven, and as safeguards to protect us froq the wrong and the ruinous. They are so vital to us thsl we must not part with them. Take mercy and truth froa the soul and you take the verdure from the fields, and leai] them in barrenness ; you take the light from the heavens ; leave them in sackcloth. Part with everything ; propertij friends, reputation, life itself, sooner than part with therJ Without them the soul is lost — lost to virtue, nobility, usij fulness and heaven. Man has to WRITE " mercy and truth " within him,- There are two Bibles — one consists of truth written ci paper, the other of truth written on the soul. Whilst be] are valuable, the latter is for many reasons the most prl cious. (i) Because it is the most real. In the paper Bitf we have only "mercy and truth" in symbol, but in the lovi heart they themselves are there. The figures on your baJ book, representing the amount which stands to your crcJ at the bank, are not real money but the sign ; your propyl is not in your book, but in the bank ; so " mercy and truij The Pi ctical Philosopher, .1 great lives, tbl nial substances oi us Christ." TheJ ;sing intellect ani .vings and claim>i ;ulties must trutlj alities. We mui move by it as the:] ■elation to " mercj ng metaphors, tlj ti"tohim.— "Bbi ie them upon thj o the phylacteriei by Moses to birl re the command ii hand or the head! kept there, not foj off neither day ol i mementoes of 012 to protect us frocj 50 vital to us thd •cy and truth froJ he fields, and lea\j )m the heavens ani rything; propert| n part with thee rtue, nobility, usJ 39 le not in the letter-press, but they are in the heart. (2) jcause it is the most legible. The paper Bible con- ins many things hard to be understood. The most Lp-htened interpreter fails to reach its meaning, but lat is written on the heart, is written in the language It universal man can read, the savage as well as the re the child as well as the octogenarian. (3) Because it the most capacious. The heart is a volume whose pages finite arithmetic, whose folios none but God can Imber. How voluminous the contents of every heart I But what through the ages ! Every impression we fceive is a fresh sentence. (4) Because it is the most itirable. Paper, parchment, marble, or even brass, on lich men have written, time has destroyed ; but the heart immortal, and the sentences written on it eternity cannot literate. Man has to enjoy " mercy and truth " within him. — lercy and truth are in the soul, not as mere ideas or {temporary impulses, but as living, regnant, and abiding :es, God's favour will be enjoyed, success will attend our ^s, and we shall advance in holy freedom and force. rist (who brought " grace and truth " into the world), as {grew increased in favour both with God and man, and nil be the same with all those who embody those iscendent elements in their lives. Conclusion. — The whole implies that "mercy and truth" outside of men in their unregenerr.te state. They are the heart of God, they are in the universe, they are in Bible as symbols, but they are not inherent in human ire. Men must have them. Embrace them, brother ; them indi«solubly upon thy moral being, and write indelibly on thy heart ! . . 40 The Practical Philosopher, {READING XIII.— JANUARY 13.) (SoUnistiiig ik\^ <§elf=tnistina» "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine on understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paiJ Be not wise in thine own eyes : fear the Lord, and depart from evil." — trm.i 5 to 7. God-trusting. — "Trust in the lord." Man isi trusting creature : he is always leaning on soirje objed So deep is his consciousness of dependence, that he darJ not stand alone. This trusting instinct, like all the othJ instincts of his nature, has been sadly perverted by a wronj direction. Eve ywhere man is leaning on the unworthy, tl( unreliable, and the unenduring ; hence his constant disal pointments and confusion. Observe here the object of tn trustfulness. " The Lord," — the All-merciful, the All-wis^ and All-powerful ; — the Unchanging amidst all change! the All-loving amidst all malignities, the All-enduriii| amidst all dissolutions, the One and only One ; not nor thcm^ but Him. Observe the maimer of true Xn\ fulness. It must be entire; " With all thy heart." It mii be an unquestioned, undivided confidence. He is to trusted lovingly : not as a matter of expedience or dry dutj but as a matter of supreme affection. It must be ah " In all thy ways acknowledge Him." Man's ways aJ many. All men have different ways. These are determini by organization, idiosyncracics, and other constitution! adventitious circumstances. There is the way of the s? sualist, the sceptic, the savage, the sage, the worldling, tl saint. Each man has often different ways : he does ri continue through life in the same path, he changes! through the force of a,ge, conviction, and experien But in whatever way he walks, at any time he sho.i trustfully acknowledge Him ; acknowledge not inorrP his existence, personality, power, but His absolute author:'| over him ; His claim to be his grand subject of tlioiig-; The Practical Philosopher. 41 ;an not unto thine o»: tie shall direct thy pad rt from evil." — frvci ord." Man is r on soii^e objec nee, that he dad like all the otM rverted by a wronl 1 the unworthy, % lis constant disa;| •e the object of tn -ciful, the All-wis| pidst all changj the All-endurirJ only One ; not ^tner of true trusj ly heart." It m CC-. He is to |dience or dry dutj t must be ah\ Man's ways ese are determin!| :her constitutiom e way of the se: the worldling,! ays: he does [th, hpi changes] , and experieiKJ y time he shoJ odi^e not mcrti absolute authorl ubjcct of thou;ji^ ibject of affection, supreme aim of life. Observe the advan- avc of true trustfulness. "What is it ? Gu' dance in the aWi — " He will direct thy paths." He guides those who ill trust in Him. His guidance secures safety amidst 1 perils, and happiness amidst all sorrows. He ill make the path clear and secure, as we walk on and ward, for ever. Another advantage is departure from il. " Fear the Lord and depart from evil." Fear is in- ded in God-trusting, and where this is there is a iparture from evil. The soul in which there is this [essed trust breaks away from all evil, and struggles its y into holiness and love. There is yet another advan- e specified, — strength in all. " It shall be health to thy vel and marrow to thy bones." '^rue trustfulness excludes those anxious cares, and crush is all those appetites and ssions c f the soul, which are ever the seeds of physical icomfort and disease. It gives that evenness of temper, t regularity to the impulses, that tranquil cheerfulness the heart, which are pre-eminently conducive to corpo- 1 health and force. It is a libel on religion to represent as in an^ way inimical to true physical vigour and mal enjoyment. Trust in God is as cheering as the light eaven, and as healthful as the mountain breeze. " Thy God hath said 'tis good for thee To walk by faith and not by sight. Take it on trust a little while, Soon shalt thou read the mystery right, In the bright sunshine of His smile." — Kedlr. Self-trusting. — *• Lean not on thine own under- iding." There is a right self-reliance. In relation to fellow men we are bound to trust our own energies, Evictions, and conscience, ^''e have no rigl-'t to trust to ir men's powers and efforts to help us either physically lentally. Heaven has endowed us all with faculties by [eh to help ourselves, if they are rightly worked. The who is not self-reliant in this sense sirics his manhood le parasite, but that self-trusting, to which Solomon |rs, impli(;s an exaggerated conceit of our own powers. ice he sa) >, " be not wise in your own eyes." Don't D 42 The Practical Philosopher. i put too high an estimate on your own understanding Thank God for your intellect. Respect it, train it, feed :; with the choicest fruits on the tree of science, but don't leaj on it as an infallible guide. At its best here, its eyes ar very dim, its ears heavy, and its limbs feeble. The sag, of all times, who have trusted to it, have gone down i: darkness, bequeathing to us such literary productions i show how far they wandered from the light. The light our own reason is far too feeble to guide us safely throu the moral labyrinths of life. " Be not wise, therefore, thine own eyes." Self-conceit is at once offensive and pp nicious; it involves self-ignorance. No man, who knov himself, can be vain. The hierarchs of heaven veil thi faces. What is the knowledge of the most enlighten compared with what is to be known ? What is a spark the central fires of the universe ? What compared wii;| what he ought to have known ? How n.uch more the wise! on the earth might have known if they had properly emplo} el their powers ? A man " wise in his own eyes," is sell benighted. He is like a pauper maniac, who fancies himsej a king. " Many," says Seneca, " might have attaintl wisdom, had they not thought they had really attained it| Self-conceit not only involves self-ignorance, but obstruc mental improvement. " Seest thou a man wise in his m conceit, there is more hope of a fool than of him." TrJ knowledge requires effort. It neither springs up invokl tarily, nor comes to us independently of our own endeavourf or even by efforts, feeble, irresolute, and desultory, requires an invincibility of purpose, a concentration faculties. Who will put forth such efforts to gain it, those who have the profoundest sense of its necessitjl There must be a craving, amounting almost to an agony,:; order to overcome the inertia and grapple with the ditf is "wise in his own eyes. feels culty. A man who such necessity as this : he is self-sufficient, and imagirJ that he knows everything. Self-conceit destroys m injlucncc. A vain man disgusts rather than pleases, repr rather than draws, he is generally despised, sold respected. Intelligence, generosity, truthfulness, humili: The Practical Philosopher. 43 lese are the elements that win social esteem, and gain Dcial command. But these are seeds that can never grow a self-trusting, self-conceited man. '' They whose wit Values itself so highly, that to that All matters else seem weak, can hardly love, Or take a shape or feeling of affection, Being so self-endear'd." — Shakespeare. (READING XrV.~JANUAR"Vr 14. Vhat is a sparl f tglt'it 6tMit0, t[)^ ConMtiott fit tk '^x^p^S. ietting. ' Honour the Lord with thy substance, and with the firstfruits of all thine ease : So shall thy bams be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out , new wine."— /'rw. iii. 9, 10. - The highest giving. [ONOUR the Lord with thy substance." The two great potions of men are to gather and to give, to appropriate to distribute. These two functions bring all his powers play and fully develope his nature. But man is to ler in order to give, to get in order to impart. "It is [re blessed to give than to receive." What is the highest ing ? ( I ) Giving to the BestBei7ig. Who is He ? " The The distinguishing glory of a moral intelligence le p(mcr of giving to God, and his highest honour is to ^e his gift accepted of Him. (2) Giving the best things to Best Being. " Thy substance." " The firstfruits of all le increase." " God will not have the dregs that are [eezed out by pressure poured into His treasury. He inds, not like earthly rulers, on the magnitude of His lutes. He loveth a cheerful giver. He can do with- [ our wealth, but He does not bless without our willing ice." Giving to God does not merely mean giving ributions to His cause, but the giving of our all, selves. The surrender of self is essential to give 44 The Practical Philosopher. ^ virtue and acceptance to all other contributions. Until we g-ive ourselves, all other oblations however costly, arej impious pretences and solemn mockeries. Self-sacrificel alone can give w^orth and acceptability to all other present tations. — ^The highest getting. By giving thus you get back, — What ? The choicest ai.; fullest divine blessings. " So shall thy barns be filled wit! plenty " This is a figurative expression for the higlu good in the highest degree; and good of all kinds^ tCiHporal, intellectual, social, spiritual. Surrendering to Gal is godliness, and godliness is the condition of all true gairl He who yields his all to the Eternal, attends to the condiM of all true prosperity — industry, temperance, economy, forJ sight. " Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His rigli; eousness, and all other things shall be added unto you He who yields his all to God, insures the special favour Heaven. The Divine blessing rests upon the labour of tlij truly good. " God is not unrighteous to forget your worl and labour of love which ye have showed towards Hif name." Seneca has well said, ■* He that does good another man, does also good to himself; not only intl:| consequence but in the very act of doing it ; for the coy science of well doing is an ample reward." "GoodJ says Milton, "the more communicated, more abundaq grows." (READING XV.— JANUARY 15.) gfilictioir. " My son, despise not the chastening of the Lord ; ncilhej be weary of: conection : For whom the Lord lovcth, he correcteth ; even as a father tlie; i« w/w/M he dclighteth." — /'/•cv. iii, il, 12. "Afflictions " are to be accepted as means of spirits DISCIPLINE. — "The chastening of the Lord." — "His cc 71ic P rati kill Philosophc)'. 45 n the labour of ti bction." Human sufferings in this world must be regarded, )t as casualties^ or events that come on us by capricious lance or iron necessity. They are from "the Lord." The )rd is in all. "The Lord gave," not chance nor necessity, le Lord " hath taken away." Noras mere /tv/^^/Z/Z^.y. It may true that sin is the source of all suffering. But suffering bre in the cases of individuals, is not according to the mea- re or kind of siu. !Lt is reformative, not destructive. " The [astening of the Lord." Affliction does the good man service imany ways. It detaches him from the race and makes feel his own solemn loneliness. It impresses him th the worthlessness of materialism, and with the awful lemnity of the spiritual world. It brings the idea death, retribution, eternity, powerfully near to the irt. Afflictions are to be accepted as tokfv.s of parental r. — "Whom the Lord loveth hecorrectech." The anguish lot caused by the lash of a tyrant, or the infliction of an Ixorable judge, but by the love of a father. ( i ) 77ie cli a racier [God as a bencvole/it Being attests this. It is a monstrous bfanity to believe that He, the infinitely loving One, can ire any pleasure in our suffering. He is Love. (2) The ex- \cncc of the good attests this. What said David r " Before ks afflicted I went astray." Paul : " I take pleasure in irmities." And this is the testimony of the good in all bs. (3) The 7vord of God attests this. " Happy is the man )m God correcteth." "As many as I love I rebuke." Lnd He shall sit as a refiner." Affliction is like the Iter frost, it kills the pernicious insects which the sun of ilth has engendered. It acts like the stormy wind upon [tree, it strengthens the fibres and deepens the roots of ! virtue. It is like the thunderstorm in nature, it purifies unhealthy atmosphere that has gathered around the krt. It is the bitter potion which the skilful physician linisters to his patient. "As threshing separates the from the chaff," says Burton, " so does affliction purify le." "Virtue," says Lord Bacon, "is like precious Psalm cxix. 67. II, Cor. xii, 8 to 10. Job. v. 17, llcv. iii, 19, Mai. iii. 3. f I If I 46 T/ie Practical Philosopher. ^ odours, most fragrant when they are incensed and crushed; for prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity doth| best discover virtue." (READING XVI.— JANUARY 16.) ®6e ikssekM xrf WMm. " Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that gctteth underJ standing. For the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver,! and the gain thereof than fine gold. She is more precious than rubies : and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. Length of days J in her right hand ; and in her left hand riches and honour. Her ways are wa\il of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to them thati lay hold upon her : and happy is every one that retaineth her." — Pr- shall bhc du Here is tpie smiMUM bonum sought. is heie exhorted to search after it. How is it to be ^t r It does not grow up in us instinctively ; nor does 16 by miracle. It must be sought. But how ? Attcn- " Xoither decline from the words of my mouth." rejudice must seal the soul. The car must be ever Ito the voices of wisdom, whencesoever they come. fnfly. "Forsake her not." Never turn aside from thou wilt lose her charm. Peter's momentary dis- from incarnate Wisdom led to his fall. Forsake her ;t there be no fickleness, but constancy. Lovingly. her." Thou wilt never take a step after her if thou love: thou wilt shun her if thou hast hate. Love ^ essential inspiration in every successful search. dy. " FxaiL her." She must be felt to be the cJiicf 6o The Practical Philosopher. I good, the " one thing needful." He who seeks her as a s. ordinate good will never find her. She is the queen in realms of pursuits, and will be found by none who do : recognise her royalty and seek her out as such. Here is the summum bonum enjoyed. When possessed, she will be three things to thee. guardian. " She shall keep thee." Keep thee from carnal, the selfish, and the depraved. Wisdom is the so J true Palladium. A patron. " She shall promote tb:| She will raise thee in the estimation of thine own c science — in the judgment of the universe, and in the ev| God. A rezvardcr. " She shall give to thy head an or: ment of grace ; a crown of glory shall she deliver to thn The crown she gives is made not of fading laurels, ci any mouldering gem or metal — a tawdry adornment f i head ot clay. But a crown coruscating with the ni| perfections of God Himself. " When the chief Shepll shall appear ye shall receive a crown of glory, that facj not away." Brothers, here is the snmmnm honum — look at it, untj spreads out such a thing of glory in your horizon, ai[ throw everything else into insignificance and shade, is a view of delight," said Lucretius, as quoted by] Bacon, " to stand or walk upon the shoreside and to swj ships tossed with tempest upon the sea ; or, to be : fortified tower, and to see two battles join uponapIi| but it is pleasure incomparable for the mind of the mai be settled, landed, and fortified in the certainty of truth,] from thence to descry and behold the errors, perturbat:| labours, and wanderings up and down of other men." her. The Practical Philosopher. 6i D seeks her as a s. 3 is the queen in. by none who do: as such. NlUM ENJOYED. things to thee. ECeep thee from Wisdom is the soj hall promote thfrj 1 of thine own c i rse, and in the ey-j :o thy head an orj she deliver to tfe r fading laurels, ,vdry adornment f j ting with the ml 1 the chief Sheplj L of glory, that facj r;/ — ^look at it, unii your horizon, ail ,nce and shade, s, as quoted by I loreside and to set j sea ; or, to be ij es join upon aplij mind of the ma: certainty of truthj errors, perturbat:| ti of other men," m Hi (READING XXIV. -JANUARY 24.) !• Heir O my son, and receive my sayings ; and the years of thy life shall be I have taught thee in the way of wisdom ; I have led thee in righi paths, thou cocst, thy steps shall not be straitened ; and when thou runnest thou not stumble. Take fast hold of instruction ; let her not go : keep her, for Ithy life. Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not into the way 1 men. Avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away. For they not, except they have done mischief; and their sleep is taken away, unless Buse some to fall. For they eat the bread of wickedness, and drink the If violence."— /'/w. iv. 10 to 17. :ly, then, there are two paths of life — paths which [eavenly Teacher represents as the broad and the iw way. These two are indicated in the text. IThe path of wisdom. — It is here taught that this \)f loisdoin is kno7vn only by teaching. The teaching is Ireccpt. " I have taught thee." Men do not get lal wisdom either by the intuitions or deductions of own nature. It comes to them in its first lessons Baching. By example. " I have led thee in right This implies that he was in the path himself. He ^ries to teach religion by precept, without example, is le man who would walk on one leg without crutches, pver strong the limb may be, he could not make much jss. Precept and example are the two legs of a true r. The majority of teachers, alas ! are moral ;s. ' path of imsdoni is fraught 7vith true blessings. There ^cvify. " The years of thy life shall be many." Godli- :onduces to physical health, and thus to long life. le longevity does not consist in the number of years, the number of great thoughts, lofty purposes, and deeds. Many men of twenty have lived a longer in those of seventy. There is freedom. " Thy steps |nut be straitened." On the great hig^nvay of life 6$ The Practical Phi/osop/icr. the only free traveller is he who is spiritually wise. Oib >| are so burdened and fettered that there is no spring of lib;- in their stops. There is safety. "When thou runncst;- shalt not stumble." Speed is often attended with daii; but the celerity of a good man is free from peril. " 1 li give His angels charge concerning thee. They shall ■ thee in their hand, lest thou dash thy foot against a sio; " The lion and the young lion shalt thou trample ur. foot." This pathof ivisdom requires the most vigorous stead fas! " Take fast hold of instruction, let her not go, keep lui^ she is thy life." Hold the lessons of wisdom with a firm: unrelexable tenacity ; grasp them as the drowning man rope that is thrown out for his rescue. There is a dang..-^ losing this path, many have done so. " He exhorted m all that, with purpose of heart, they would cleave untoj Lord." " Firmness," says Burns, "both in sufferances exertion, is a character which I would wish to possess, j have always despised the whining yelp of complaint,^ the cowardly, feeble resolve." The path of avickedxess. — "Enter not into: path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil m ' Wickedness has a path. It is a very broad and crooked p. Solomon saw it in his day, and here raises an earnest vc ing against it. He urges its avoidance. He intim-'" that— The avoidance of this path is a matter of .great nrgciiq. is crowded with " evil men " bent on mischief. They! for mischief. " Their sleep is taken away unless theyd some to fall." They have an inHn-nal pleasure in (1(1 wrong. They live by mischief " They eat the breaiij wickedness, and drink the wine of violence." Whatta have got to support them, they have go by dishonesty J violence. Wicked men live by falsehood, fraud, and | pression. He intimates that — The avoidance of the path requires strenuous effort. "Ai] it ; pass not by it ; turn from it and pass away." It is a 5 contiguous path. It is so near that every man is oni margin of it, and may step into it unawares. It intcKi The Practical Philosopher. 63 I walk of life. It crosses all our lines of activity. It jvcry attractive path. The crowds are there, and there rcat attraction in a crowd. The stream of sensual micnt rolls by it, and the flowers of worldly beauty [m on either side. It is overhung" with clusters of earthly ifications. The Syrens chant their enticing' strains at opening". It is a very /r/'Z/'W^ path. Good reason, jforo, had Solomon for the strong" lang"uag"o of our text Lvoid it, pass not by it." The prowling boasts of Hell along the line and a fathomless abyss of ruin is at its Avoid this path. " Blessed is the man that walketh the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of ;rs, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful." The moral [le whole is expressed in the words of Christ — " Strive Iter in at the strait gate, for broad is the path that »th to destruction and many there be that go in sat." There is a tremendous whirlpool in the path of |he that comes ^^-ithin the circle of its eddying waters tely to be sucked down into the central gulf of irre- lable ruin. (READIXG XXV. -JANUARY 25.) iTIic pntli of the just i^ as the sliiiiinj li^lit that slihicth more and more ie perfect day."— Piov. iv. l3. JThe march of the good is A BRIGHT march. is "as the shining light." Light is the emblem of figi'/icc, purity, and blessedness. The march o^ the good ^e the march of the sun — glorious. How glorious is the us it rises in the morning, tinging the distant hills with at noon flooding the earth w i splendour, iii ing fraiging the clouds with rich puij.ic, crimson, and I i ■- I I 64 The Praciical PJiilusophcr. gold. Commanding. — The sun is the ruler of the day his appearance the world awakes from its slumbers,! winds and waves obey him, as he moves all nature movJ Useful. — The vSun enlightens the system and maintaij harmony throughout every part. He renews the carl quickens the seeds into life, covers the landscape \\ beauty, ripens the harvest for man and beast. Indepcnk\ — ^Troops of black clouds may roll over the earth, but thj touch not the sun, furious storms may shake the globe, 1 the sun is beyond their reach. He is always behind J darkest clouds, and looks calmly down upon the ocean 1 fury and the earth in a tempest. Certain. — The sun is neij out of time, he is ever in his place at the right hour. In j this he is the emblem of the good man — glorious, cod manding, useful, independent, and certain. The march of the good is A progressive mardj " Shineth more and more." It has a dawn and a mcridi j Godliness is progressive. We are " to follow on to knJ the Lord." We are " to go from strength to strcngtlj We are to see " greater things than these." We are to] "changed into the same image from glory to glory." are " to press toward the mark, for the prize of the hij calling of Clod in Jesus Christ." The capacity of the si for indefinite development, its eternal craving for somethil better, the increase both of its desire and power for furtl| advancement as it progresses, as well as the assuranc>.i< God's Word, demonstrate that we are made for progn " More and more." This is the soul's watchword — Excclii^ is its cry. The march of the good is A GLORIOUS march. " Unto the perfect day." Perfect day. What a dayj that ! 'J'lioy shall shine as the sun in the Kingdom of G(| Perfect day — not one cloud of error in the sky; not( ungenial blast in the atmosplu.'re. Perfect — knowl free from error ; love free from impurity ; purpose froetd selfishness ; experience free from pain. The good nia:| progress excels (;ven the glory of the sun. The sun d not increase in size or splendour ; ho is not greater in b. Hicr, ruler of the day ; j 3m its slumbers,! es all nature mo\J stem and maintal 'e renews the carl the landscape ^\ I beast. Iiidcpcnk ;r the earth, but th| shake the globe, 1 s always behind t| m upon the ocean] in. — ^The sun is nevl he right hour. In;| man — glorious, co •tain. ROGRESSIVE mardj dawn and a meridiii o follow on to kn:] Tcngth to strcngtb hose." We are to I glory to glory." 11 the prize of the hij J, capacity of the si :raving for somethLi ind power for furtb as the assuraiu\> •e made for proga itchword — Excclsil "iLORlous march. ay. What a dayj the Kingdom of Gi I in the sky ; nnl' Perfect — knowi' , [y ; purpose frrct: li. The good iiu I sun. The sun dr not grcutur in k The Practical Philosopher, 65 briq"htor in lustre now than when he shone on Adam ; jTrowth, evcrlastini:r growth, is our destiny. Onward )ui,^h circling ages without end, is the career which kind iven has decreed for sainted souls. They feel Their orbit immensity, Their work, to make it radiant, With the reflected beams of God. (READING XXVI.-JANUARY 26.) ilrc iarkitfss of §iiu fXhc way of the wicked is as darkness: they know not at what they Jc'-Trov. iv. 19. lis a dark path. TiiK PROOF. — It yields no true happiness. There is a I, chilling shadow resting upon the heart of the traveller. icrc be any light in the sky, it is the light of a )r flashing for a moment, and leaving the darkness more |se. Ignorance, pollution, and sorrow mantle it in . // lea(h *o an end the reverse of expectation. " They not at what they stumble." Difficulties meet them never anticipated. They always expect something ^tcr further on, instead of whic!. the scene grows darker [darker, until "outer darkness" is reached. ^Many \t orbs has the Great Father of spirits set in the inicnt of the human soul — such as innocence, faith, hope, love. These in young life shine with more or )riglUness for a time ; but as men sin they become ler and darker. Ont* by one thoy are quenched, until, all are lost, the soul's firmament becomes as black as tlolh. TiiK CAUSE.— Why is this road so dark ? Darkness from one of three causes, iiithcr the want of light; V * \ c , ( I ( \. TJic Praclical PJiilosophcr. i .1' or the want of the organ of sight ; or the want of the r:; employment of the organ. In either of these cases, a irJ is in the dark. But which is the cause of the darkness of a sinner's path r Not the want of light. There is the li:i of nature, of reason, and the Lible. Not the want ofj organ of vision. There is intellect and conscience. • the want of the rigJif use of the faculty. Pie shuts his r Like the man in noontide splendour, with strong ( who wraps himself in gloom, by closing his eyelids : soj sinner makes dark his own path. He loves darkness. The coxseouen'ce. — " They know not at what r stumble." They do stumble. This is a fact implied. "'j;j grope for the wall like the blind." " If a man walk in; night, he stuml^leth." Ilcavoi has put obsfnictions i : sinner's path. Conscience, the examples of holy men, Clinj and the Spirit. These are put to obstruct his progrcsJ prevent him hurrying on to ruin. He stumbles overthj and goes down . These ohstrnetions been in e great ineonveiiicnl The greatest blessings are stumbling blocks to them, very things which should make their path delightful, pre] their constant inconvenience, and ultimate ruin. Even QiJ is a " stumbling block " and a " rock of offence " to {\[\ They crush themselves into ruin, by stumbling against \]\ Who came to make their path the path of life. "Alb and wickedness in man's spirit," says an old author, "1 the central force and energy of hell in it, and is pcrpctuJ ])ressing down towards it as towards its own place. Chrii burden, which is nothing else but true godliness, is awirJ thing and travels, bears itself upwards upon its own \\n\ soaring aloft towards (rod ; so the devilish nature always within the central attra-^tions of hell, and itsoi weight instigates and accelerates its motion thither." The Practical Philosophc/', r' (READING XXVII.— JANUARY 27.) «' Mv son, attend to my words ; incline tliinc car unto my sayings Let them iciwit fi"''" lliii^c eyes ; keep them in the midst of thine heart. F they ifc unto tlioic that find them, and health to all their flesh." — Prov. iv. 20 to 22. elf-Improvement. — " The words of wisdom " arc the iclcs of those Divine principle^, the reception and odimcnt of which by man are essential to his well- Notice two things — 7/6' mcllwd of p;aiiiing them. There must be the attentive "Incline thine ear unto my sayings." What worth the voices of Diviiic wisdom if we tire inattentive ; if ear is given to other sounds ? On a deaf man, or the whose ear is taken up with something else, the dcst oratorio makes no impression and has no charm. iro must be the steadfast look. " Let them not depart thine eyes." Let the eye of the soul be fixed stead- y upon them. The principles of wisdom must always as the grand realities on the horizon of the soul. V musi be the oishriniiig heart. " ]veep thoni in the t of thine heart." It is not enough to have them as lis in the memory, or as proposition.s floating in the lect, or even as passing impressions on the surface of cart : they must be taken down into the depths of our 1 nature. They are germs that will only grow in the est soil. Put them there and they will break out into radise. Observe : — : blessedness of having them. "They are life to those find thorn." They are the soul-quick.:ning elements, e incorruptible seed which liveth and abidcth for They are " health to all their ilesh." Life Vvithout jth is scarcely worth having. 'Hiosc principles not give life to the soul, but supply the nutriment, and iul.itc the acti\ities tliat ensure health. — health of all . « k, K^ I 1 • 1 ■I It H 1 I n I i r ! 68 T/ji PmcUcal PJuljsophcr. kinds: intellectual, moral, .v^d j.liy.ncal. Indeed, i| he;ii''\ cfiviri! jiart is cssont'rl lu the health of the wli I man. Dis' a ie ' >. the body reaches the mind, and diseascp of th,* mi. id affect the body. Self-CO:> i RCL. — "Keep thy heart with all (' pence, for out of it are the issues of life." Man sohk ; or other has lost self-control, lie is the creature, instrument, the victim of capricious thoughts, law impulses, and passing" events. He has no royalty, tlid,^ millions call hira king, who is not the monarch of hi^ self. The text directs us to this, find we notice (i) nature of true self-control. " Kerp thy heart." In tij corporeal economy the heart is the fountain of life, it po.! the blood through all the parts of the body, the most d tant and the most minute. What the physical heart is the body, the moral ldn(^ss of soul. To hold it to i right /(V/yV«r.s- of life. What are the grand aims of life? 1 one w.>rd, a devout appropriation of the blessings of beirj and a right distribution of X\\v. same. Man is made to J and to gi\e, and to get /// order to give ; and todolxj evermore in the spirit of true worship. (2) The ///<^'//W of tru(! self-control. "With all diligonctl Or, as it mighi bt; expressed, " Keep it with all keei)in;';j "Keep it from getting evil, as a garden is kept; hcfpj from doing evil, as the sea is kept from reclaimed Ndhif lands." rh(»r(; must be the greatest assiduity. Bcq. there is a great ttnii'^er of its being turned away. 1\^ are so many attractive forces, so many seductive influcmj because the turning it away would be a stut catdstroplic. the heart as a fountain is not krju pure, all tiie streaiiv life will l)e jioisoned ; if the heart as a garden is notki cultivated, the whole sphere t)f life will be oxerrun wj thorns, weeds, and vermin. (3) The argument for true self-control. " Out of it arc 'J Jicr. '.sical. Indexed, i, health of the wli the mind, and cart with all ci; fe." ^lan somoh s the creature, *\ \ thoughts, law! s no royalty, thouj lie monarch of hi; d we notice (i) ]\ thy heart." In ntain of life, it poi^ body, the most d physical heart is supreme affectifip, the source of itsl:? ng. What is it •ht object of supren !d in the chief goi To hold it to ti and aims of life? )lessings of bcirJ Man is made to j ve ; and to do boj The PracticrJ Philosopher, 69 With all dilip^onci with all kcopin.: en is kept ; hctf n reclaimed Xctli assiduity. Bcaii urned awny. 1\ sedu("tivc inllucm a sad caf(jsfr<>p!h. re, all the streair.* I n'arden is notlii ill lie oxerrun w. . '\v iful for us to pray, " Create within us clea' hoari ., O and renew within us a right spirit." ' f^c," suys Ion "who reigns within himself, and rules passions, 3S, and fears, is more than a king." (READING XXVIII.-JANUARY 28.) IPut away from tlicc a froward mouth, and pci-verse lips put far from thee. lini" eves look rifjlit on, ami let ihinc eyelids look straij^ht before thee. I'on- ])ath of Uiy feet, and kl all thy ways be established. Turn not to the antl nor to the left : remove thy foot from c\i\."—Prov, iv. 24 to 27. are laws for the government of self. Here is a law ic tongue, a law for the eye, a law for the mind, a law le life. I Here is a demand for PURE LANGlJ.v^E- — *' Fyt away thee a froward mouth, and perverse i-ps put far Irom Speech is one of the grand pf . Uarities that dis- lish man. It is a priceless gift, it hj the volr.cle igh which one man can pour his sou! '\nic.* the heart of [only one but man; 'i'ho organ by witich he can snce the ages. How sadly perverted it ^ as become ! tuge too often is thi^ channel of daiutiable errors, phfMnous impieties, and moral fdth. "Our speech Id be seasoned with salt that it miglU administer grace I the hearers." A pure heart is esscMitial to pure speech. :li is but one of the stn.*ams that wfll out from the tains of the soul. Would that this stream wf^rc always k rcUocting evermore the rays of love, holiness, and M • i I ! ) W 4 70 T/iC Practical P/iilosor/icr. k \ i Here is a demand for a STRAiniiTFORWARb i^UR? i| — "Let thine eyes look rii^dit on, and lot thine cyehd straight before thee." JIavc no side glances, no /n •-, but have a grand purpose on which the eye of lli shall be always iixed. Straightforwardness stands o; ■ to all sly cunning, all vacillation, all ambiguity : all , meanings and aims. Have a purpose in life, clear, defined and righteous, and keep it ever before you ,[^ " mark of the prize." ])o not look back or turn asid' the eyes of your soul be ever on it. AVhen the eye is the whole body is full of light. Straightforwardness , . of the brightest jewels in the crown of \-irtue, whilst si\-:| and duplicity are the brands of infamy. He who pun a good object openly, faithfully, and constantly, will day command increasing respect from his fellow-men, find the divine forces within him beating stronger andi harmonious. Here is a demand for IIARITUAL TIIOUGHTFUB-:! — "Ponder the path of thy feet, and let r.ll thy wavs established." ^M an was made not only to think butt)( tliougJiffnl. Thoughtfulness should b(^ the habitufloo: nature. He should walk the path of life thoughtfully by impulse. His steps should have nothing of the :r of mere instinct. Man is a vessel on a wondrous vu, "Whilst emotion is his propelling force, thought is the hoJ man that must hold the rudder. He should walk !J path thoughtfully, not by prejudice. He shouUl no; guided by traditional dogmas or unholy preconccpij Thought must be his pillar in the wilderness. Ho siiJ go on thoughtfully, not by cifsfoin. He should not rJ mechanically, but as a free intelligence ; mov(! not froirj forces without but within, not from others but from liim-j Here is a dtMuand for UNSWI'.RVIXC rkctit. "Turn not to the right hand nor to the left. Renm foot from evil." Duty is a straight path. The way is serpentine in its shapo as well as in its spirit. Vi a straight line running right up to (rod. Any turn fore would bo wrong, and riskful. Take care ; th(M-o ,; paths templing in every direction. " Turn not to ll: ^.1 oflicr. [TFORWARb ^URFJ let thine eyelids.' glances, no /{v-c: h the eye of th;' j rdness stands opp, ambit^aiity : all Cw;, )se in life, clear, y,| iver before you as )ack or turn aside:] A'hen the eye is ijrhtforwardness , ^1 if virtue, whilst sh-:| Tiy. He who pur constantly, will im his follow-mcr.,i ;ing stronger andrj 7AL TIIOUGHTFUr id let r.ll thy wav> mly to think buttJ b(i the habitude o:f f life thoughtfully, nothing of the :: )n a wondrous \ , thought is the 1; H,(j should walk He should r mholy preconccpt.i vilderness. lie 1I(.' should not r.' (■(> ; movt! not fror.i thors but from liini-j •l.RVINCr RECTI 1 the left. Remdv path. The way o: in its spirit. Virt:J (iod. Any turntl'i| dee care ; th(M'0 are' "Turn not to ili-' The Practical PJu'losnphcr. 71 nor to the left." Take no step without thought, and )ur thought be on the will of the (i-reat " Taskmaster." i)w comprehensive the legislation of heaven ! It seeks [ntrol the tongue, the eye, the thought, the foot, the man. Its laws reach the motions of every organ, facultv, and every impulse. He who obeys those lof life, lives and he only lives. Socrates has well said \ the end of life is to be like unto God : and the soul ring (rod will be like unto him : he being the begin- middle, and end of all things." (READINCl XXIX.— JANUARY 20.) ^l)c ,^tv;iugc (Li»loin;ut ani) tfjc tvuc (LiiUfc. ly son, attend untC' my wi.sdom, and bur unto other.,, and thy years unto the cruel : Lest stranj^'ers [vith tliy wealth; and thy labours he in the hf)U.>,e of a stKinj,'er ; And at tlie last, when thy lle.ih and thy body ate consumed, And say, IJow ateil instruction, and my heart despi^^'l rejiroof; and have nt't obeved I of my teachers, nor inclined mine ear ti tiiem that instructed me ! I St in all evil m the miiKt of the con;.;rci;ation and as.5cmbly. Drink at of tliine own cistern, and runninj; w;.leis out of thine own well. Let ins In- dispersed abroad, and rivers of waters in the street.-. Let them liinc own, and not strani^ers with thee. Let ihy fountain be blesse:nit Iher breast > sat i:ify thee at all tiiiKs; and be thou ravi.ilunl always with And why wilt thou, my son, be ravished with a btrani;c woman, and [the bosom of a stranger." — Prov. v. i to 20. is a graphic description of an uncluiste woman. A )tion given by a man of gcMiius, culture, and who, to Sgrace, knew the subject from a sad experience. Solomon loved many strange women." And ho ^ I '( ') »« I t P T/iC Practical Philosopher, has left us these words : " I find more bitter than dcathi woman whose heart is snares and nets." The unciij woman he calls " strange," and truly strange it is that] whom heaven has endowed with such refined sensibiljj and lofty powers should prostitute her noble nature toj reign of sensualism. A WARNING IN RELATION TO A WOI^IAN. — ^A " StraJ woman" is a woman whom in these times we should] a prosliliitc. The warning is given by a description oi\ conduct. Her speech is fascinating — " her lips drop asl honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil." HorJ words have a charm for inexperienced souls. Her mannj are accommodating, " her ways are moveable." Vxm like, she puts on many shapes. She adapts herself to] occasion. The warning is given by a description oj\ €7id. It is " bitter as wormwood,, sharp as a two-edj sword," " Her feet go down to death ; her steps takel on hell." Strong figures of misery are these ; but not] strong. The horrid memories, the self-remorse, the nii-J health and reputation, the blasted hopes — what miser;: these ! The warning is given by a description of her vkl\ They ** mourn at the last, when thy flesh and thy bodyi consumed." Those ^v•hom she enthrals are robbed of tki honour, their wealth, and become the victims of ternj remorse. A RECOMMENDATION IN RELATION TO A WOMlXl " Drink water out of thine own cistern, and running wad out of thine own well." The reference in these verseil evidently to marriage, which is "honourable in all." Cb one chaste pure-minded woman as thy companion throd life : be true to her, find thy happiness in her society, in hers alone. " Drink waters out of thine own cisted "Rejoice with the wile of thy youth." Cherish horwi gentleness and purity, as " the loving hind and pleasij roe." " Whatsoever interrupts the strictest harmony ini delicate relationship, opens th<; door to imminent tcnipj tion. Tender, well-regulated domestic affection is the! defence against the vagrant desires of unlawful passiniti " Man iage," says Ji.^rcmy Taylor, "has in it less of bead ^phcr, ■ bitter than death! lets." The unciiJ strange it is that b refined sensibilJ r noble nature toj VOMAN. — ^A "straj times we should] \j a description oj\ -" her lips drop A er than oil." Hojj [ souls. Her mami moveable." Protq adapts herself to ' a description oj\ harp as a two-edJ ; her steps taketij ire these ; but notj ilf-remorse, the ruij pes — what miser; , cription of her vi(\\ esh and thy bodyi Is are robbed of tlj le victims of terriJ :iON TO A WOM.\.\l 1, and running watj ice in these verse<| urable in all." Ck y companion throd s in her society,; thine own cisted " Cherish herwi ^ hind and pleasij ictcst harmony in I to imminent temp c affection is thcl " unlawful passioit IS in it less of bead The Practical Philosopher. n 1 lorc of safety than the single life : it hath not more I but less danger : it is more merry and more sad : it is Ir of sorrows and fuller of joys : it lies under more Jens, but is supported by all the strengths of love and Kty: and those burdens are delightful. Marriage is lother of the world, and preserves kingdoms, and fills and churches, and heaven itself. Celibacy, like the the heart of an apple, dwells in perpetual sweetness, kits alone and is confined and dies in singularity : but kage, like the useful bee, builds a house, and gathers tness from every flower, and labours and unites into ties and republics, and sends out colonies, and feeds forld with delicacies, and obeys their kings and keeps K and exercises many virtues, and promotes the >st of mankind, and is that state of good to which God [designed the present constitution of the world," (READING XXX.— JANUARY 30.) [pit n linoion of 6ob imlr JlunijilKb bg %m, for the ways of man are before the eyes of the Lcjud, and he pondcrctli goings. His own iniquities sliall take the wicked himself, and he shall be |>vilh the cords of his sins. lie shall die without instruction; and in the fsof his folly he shall go astray."— /Viw. v. 21 to 23. IX AS KNOWN OF GoD. — God knows man thoroughly; 5\vs what he has been, what he is, and what he will be fi^reat hereafter. This fact, for an incontrovertible is, should be practically realised ; and, if practically wl, it will have a fourfold effect upon the soul. It will iiilc to great spiritual activity. When the eye of an liijrncc falls right on us, the glance stirs the soul. Miul could sleep, if it felt the eye of God ever resting // Ti'/'// rest rain from the eoniNiission of sin. Did we feel feyi- ever on us, should wo ever yield to temptation ? bu(rod scest me," is a powerful preventive. Jt ivill \tlic desire for pardon. God has seen all the errors and H I u 74 T/ie Practical Philosopher, I sins of the past, and they are great in number enormity. Since He sees them, they must either j punished or absolved. // will brace the soul in the fonnance of duty. Moses endured as "seeing Ilim wl invisible." He knows our trials and our difficu!.) Therefore let us be magnanimous under trial and bravj danger. " What can 'scape the eye Of God, all-seeing, or deceive His heart, Omniscient ? " Man as punished vx sin. — "His own iniquities J take the wicked himself, and he shall be holden witli[ cords of his sin." As virtue is its own reward, sin is its own punishir,^ The words suggest that sin docs three things in puiii the sinner. It loill seize him as its victim: "Iniquities] take the wicked himself" How r // ivill arrest him \\ career. In the midst of his revelries, as in the case of- shazzar and Herod, it will bring him to a stop. It ivill i\ him from his comrades. It will bring him home to himstld overwhelm him with the sense of his own responsibi'J and guilt. Sin must seize the sinner sooner or later, J him with the hand of iron. It zuill bind him as its f mi " He shall be holden with the cords of his sins." Whai the cords ? There are the ** cords" of causation. Man'jl perience to-day grows out of the experience of ycstea and becomes the source of his experience to-morrow; [ thus for ever he is linked indissolubly to the past. Tl Job said, " Thou makost me to possess the sins off youth." Out of past sins spring a weakened intellei .shattered constitution, an accusing conscience. Thcnl the ^^ cords" of habit. Every sin contributes to the wcaj of the cord that shall one day bind the soul as fast asj " Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leoparcj spots r" What arc the chains of darkness that cni damned spirits, but habits of sin ? There are the *V>'4 despair. When despair, black and portentous, around the heart, all power of free action is gone, anc] man is a slave. It ivill exclude him from kiioivlcdi^c, The Practical Philosopher^ 75 ; its own punishirJ jc things in punivJ nctim: " Iniquitiebl t -Mill arrest him \\ , as in the case of; to a stop. Itiinllk imhometohimsol:, lis own rcsponsibilj r sooner or later, q nd him as its fin: of his sins." Wha;| f causation. Man'i perience of yesterj rience to-morrow; lyto the past. Tj sscss the sins oif weakened intellei conscience. Thcitl ributes to the \\n\ le soul as fast a^i in, or the Icoparcl darkness that cd "here are the '^c^ d portentous, iction is gone, anc| from huo-d'leci^'i:' 11 die without instruction." Sin closes the eyes and Is the ears of souls, and thus shuts out the light and the ce of truth. Men under the influence of sin love dark- rather than light. // banishes him as an exile. " In ffreatness of his folly he shall go astray." He shall ider away like a prodigal, and never find his home lin. Sin banishes the soul from virtue, heaven, God ; reduces it to a homeless, friendless orphan in the irerse. "The seeds of our own punishment," says Hesiod, sown at the same time we commit sin." Sins tend to "Little sins," says Hopkins, "are the natural stream , man's life, that do of themselves tend hellwards, and j of themselves enough to carry the soul down silently calmly to destruction ; but when greater and grosser [join with them, they make a violent tide that hurries soul away with a more swift and rampant motion down ell, than little sins would or could do of themselves." (READING XXXI.-JANUARY 31.) Serial Sitretisljips. iMy son, if thou be surety for thy friend, if thou hast stricken thy haml I stranger, thou art snared with tlie words of thy mouth, thou art taken with rlsof thy mouth. Do this now, my son, and deliver tliyself, when thou art Dta tlie iianil of tliy friend ; }»o, humble thyself, and make sure thy friend. ot hlccp to thine eyes, nor slumber to thine eyelids. Deliver thyself as a the hand of the huntir, and as a bird from the hand of ilie fowler." — 1 tos. linstructions of the Bible are profitable for the life that lis, as well as for the life that is to come. Its principles pestic, social, and political economy, are far more as well as righteous, than can be found in human [or college. The " Book of Proverbs " is a far better I for a young man in business than Adam .Smith or the newspaper. Solomon here speaks of suretiships as Hi. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) k A :/ % 1.0 1^128 |2.5 ■^ B^ 111112.2 112 US Hi 1.1 i.-^ll 11-25 i 1.4 2.0 1.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WtST MAIN STMET WEBSTER, N.Y. I4S80 (716) S72-4S03 ^< ^ '^^ <^ 4i O ^^^^ '9)'^ r O < 1 « I 76 The Practical Philosopher. As AN EVIL TO BE DEPLORED. — " My SOn, z/thojl surety." As if he said, it is a sad thing if thou h« Although suretiship is not always an evil, there always two things necessary to render it justifiable. case should he deserving. The person whose responsibil you take upon yourself should be one in every wayi serving your confidence and help. You should he pk competent to discharge the obligation. You should feel tlj the claims of your family and others upon you would ] justify you to give up the amount to which you are pledd if required. Where these two things are not, all suretisH are wrong. The most deserving men will seldom ask J suretiships, and the most competent men will seld] undertake the responsibility. Therefore it is often an 1 It constantly presses the surety with anxiety, if he isj honest man, and often brings ruin on himself and on] family, when the person for whom he stands fails inj duty. Solomon represents suretiship As AN EVIL VERY EASILY CONTRACTED.— iMeij " striking the hand " and uttering " the words." (| word, the word " yes," will do it, written or uttered in ; presence of a witness. This little word has ensnared a ruined many an honest man. Plausibility will soon exti it from a pliant and generous nature. How easyi is for a man to ruin himself in every way, secularljl weU as spiritually ; one wrong step often takes into a pi that is downward and dark, and gives an impetus neve| be overcome. Solomon represents suretiship As AN EVIL TO BE STRENUOUSLY REMOVED.- this now, my son, and deliver thyself, when thou art c(j into the hand of thy friend." Do it promptly. Thebj may take force to-morrow. Try by every honest mearj get the bond back at once. " Give not sleep to thine eyes.j slumber to thine eyelids " till it be done. Do it bcsccclw^ " Humble thyself." It is no use to carry a high hand; ! art in his power. Bow before him and entreat him to J it up. Do it effectively. " Deliver thyself as a roe froinl hand of the hunter, and as a bird from the hand ot[ fowler." Thou art encaged in iron law, break My son, ^/thoj] ling if thou k an evil, there it justifiable, hose responsibil ! in every way ''ou should be j\\ 'ou should feel t!J on you would fd ch you are pledjJ 3 not, all suretistj will seldom ask] men will seldj re it is often an ej anxiety, if he is I himself and on lC stands fails inj NTRACTED.— ^ler 'the words." (I n or uttered in d has ensnared ty will soon ext ire. How easyl -y way, secularly en takes intoapj an impetus nevej etiship LY REMOVED.-" when thou art c(] promptly. The b| ery honest meanj eep to thine eyes, ,e. Do it bcscccbi ry ahigh handil entreat him to j elf as a roe from om the hand ct| law, break 2Vic Practical Philosopher. 11 Lurably somehow and be free. An evil in social trans- Ions kindred to this, is what is known in the business fid as accommodation. I mean speculation without capital, ensive risks on a baseless credit. This system is false, ^cherous, hollow, ruinous. The remarks of Helps on of business are worthy of note here : — " Rare almost Treat poets — rarer, perhaps, than veritable saints and tyrs, are consummate men of business. A man to bo ellent in this way must not only be variously gifted, but rifts should be nicely proportioned to one another. He ^t have in a high degree that virtue which men always found the least pleasant of virtues — pru- ce. His prudence, however, will not be merely of a ^ious and quiescent order, but that which being ever rely engaged, is more fitly called discretion than pru- Ce. vSuch a man must have an almost ignominious love jletails, blended with a high power of imagination, bling him to look along extended lines of possible pn and put these details in their right places. He lires a great knowledge of character, with that exquisite hvhich feels unerringly the right moment when to act. Iscreet rapidity must pervade all the movements of his [ght and action. He must be singularly free from ty, and is generally found to be an enthusiast who has iirt to conceal his enthusiasm." r J 11 * ! Hi ^1 !' li 78 T/ii^ Pradicai Philosophy'. FEBRUARY (READING XXXII.— FEBRUARY i.) fittk Ircaxkrs au^ feat ^evmons. "Go to the ant, thou shiggard ; consider her ways, and be wise: wa ha\nng no guide, oveiseer, or ruler, pro^ideth lier meat in the summer, gathcrcth her food in the harvest." — Prov. vi. 6 to 8. THE Eternal Father has favoured His human offspriJ with a two-fold revelation of Himself — the Bible aj Nature. Looking at men in their relation to this two-fl revelation, they divide themselves into three disti: classes: — Those who study neither ; those who study Que disparage the other ; and those who reverentially study the k\ ings of both. The allusion in the text, and which is o{ one of many, plainly shows us that the Bible encourai the study of nature. The Bible refers us to nature in order to attest its first ^li ciples. That God is all wise, all-powerful, all-good ; thatr has a soul and is under moral obligation, are things \\\ the Bible assumes, takes for granted^ does not attend prove. The man who wants proof it refers to naty.| volume. • The Bible refers us to noXMrefor illustrations of its ^^ truths. The sower, the harvest field, trees, rivers, \\ yards and vales, meads and mountains, skies and sra employs as emblems. The Bible refers us to nature In order to reprove the d denounces. To reprove us for our ingratitude, it refenj to the ox and the ass. " The ox knoweth its ownerf the ass its master's crib." To reprove us for our of confidence in the paternal providence of God, itpcJ us to the lilies of the field and the fowls of the air; m The Practical Philosopher. ic) )i-ove us for our spiritual indolence, it directs us to the Its. " Gro to the ant, thou sluggard." Jow, the sluggard to whom I am going to address myself the spiritual sluggard. Not the man who is neglecting worldly business — the secularly indolent man — but the jin who is neglecting the culture of his own spiritual nature the salvation of his own soul. These little ants will jich you four great truths. They teach you : — That the feebleness of your power is no ST REASON FOR YOUR INDOLENCE. — ^These little creatures small, they are feeble — you could crush a thousand leath your foot ; yet see how they work. Naturalists have [)wn their ingenuity as architects, their industry as miners builders; they have divided them into mason-ants, and Denter-ants, and mining-ants, and carving-ants, and ?e shown that whilst their ingenuity in these departments (action is remarkable, their industry would put the most lefatigable of human labourers to the blush. If this tiny ;ct can do so much, do not you, with your bony limbs, )ng sinews, robust frame, the engine of a deathless ellect, memory, imagination, conscience, soul, plead your jleness as an excuse for your indolence. Remember Be things — that all power y ho7vevcr feeble, is given for work; tyou are not required to do more than you have power to ac- \plish, and that all power increases by use. The man who jmpts to do something gets power by the attempt. Bre was once a man with an arm withered — a mere dried but Christ commanded him to stretch it forth; he jht have said, " I cannot ;" but he resolved to do it, and the resolution came the power. This is a symbol of (universal truth, that you can get power by effort. The who has one talent can make five by it, and the man [five can make ten. Power increases by use. The irally strong men, who say they cannot work, live die pigmies. The naturally weak men, who say try^ b attain Herculean force. They teach you : — That the activity of others is no just excuse YOUR INDOLENCE. — Go to the ant-world, penctrcitc its le mines, its chambers, store-houses, garrets, worksliops I \ 1 « 1 i )( ^» 80 'fhe Practical PiiilosopJicr. — for it has all these — and you will see millions of inhaj tants, but not one idler: all are in action. One does J depend upon the other, and expect another to do his J The teeming population is busy. This is a lesson to J indolent soul. The Christian world is busy, and there 1 thousands working : some preaching, some praying, .soi teaching, some writing ; but not one can do tJiy work. (1 any one believe for thee'} repent for thee? think for tM love for thee ? worship for thee ? Can any one die for tj or be damned for thee ? Like the ant-hill, the Christij world is a scene of action, but not one of the million actj can do thy work. They teach you — That the WANT OF A helper is no just excuse f1 YOUR INDOLENCE. — " Go to the ant "-hill, see them woJ each is thrown upon his own resources and powers. "Tlj have no guide, overseer, or ruler." Each works accord: to his own little nature. Self-reliantly each labours ^ not waiting for the instruction or guidance of another, you say, I have no minister, no books, no Christian friej and therefore cannot work ? You cannot say this ; butl you could, that would be no excuse ; you have an intellJ that can think, you have a heart that can love, you havj cor science that can guide. You have suggestive natic you have this wonderful Bible, you have God ! You , without excuse. Do not wait and ask for overseers! guides, or rulers, or priests, or bishops ; if they come, aj can help you, be thankful. Trust your own instincts, 1 the ant ; act out your own powers, use the light you ha] and look to God for help. While you are looking :| greater advantages, your time is passing. Your seasonf making provision for the future is shortening. Cold, bl,i| bloak winter is approaching. They teach you — That the providence of God is no just reajJ FOR your indolence. — Go to the ant-hill and see tM tiny creatures laying up for the future. The ant " proj deth for meat in the summer, and gathereth her foodl the harvest." There is a Divine providence over thff little insects. There is no creature, however small,! comes not within the pale of God's providing agency. The ant "prol The Practical Philosophcy. df provides for His creatures by the use of their own ^vcrs. lie docs not do for any creature zvhat He lias given \it creature power to do for himself . He carries provisions [plants, and flowers, and trees, because they cannot go Isearch of their food. But the creatures to whom He has iren locomotive power, must seek their food. Let me here lind you, that like these little creatures, jy'^/^ have a future; tt like these little creatures you have to prepare for the irc and then, that like these little creatures you have a ',ific time to make preparation. Do not talk of Providence, I an excuse for your indolence. vSay not, God is good. He will provide. He has provided for you richly, but only grants the provision on condition of the right Iployment of your powers. There is an inheritance for good, but only on the condition of their working. >re is a heaven of knowledge, but only for the student ; Ire is a harvest of blessedness, but only to the diligent tbandman ;. there are scenes of triumph, but only to the torious warrior. In conclusion, let me remind you that |ir harvest-time of your life will soon be over. The sun iding now ; the ripened ungathered fruits are falling to [ground; autumn is gradually tinging the scene; nature cs more sterile and sombre every day ; the air is getting lly; the winter is coming, — freezing, furious, black Iter is coming. " How long wilt thou sleep, O slug- (tlKADlNG XXXIIL— FEBRUARY 2.) 'How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard ? when -wilt thou arise out of thy I? Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep : nil thy poverty come as one that travcllcth, and thy want as an armed man. ughty peison, a Avicked man, walketh with a froward mouth. He winketh bis eyes, he spcakcth with his feet, he teacheth with his fingers : frowardncss i:: I 82 The Practical Philosopher. is in his heart, he deviscth mischief continually ; he soweth discord. Thete> shall his calamity come suddenly ; suddenly shall he be broken without reme:;| — Prov. vi. 9 to 15. The lazy man. — In the three preceding verses, Soil mon directs attention to the ant. Job, as well as SolomJ directs men to the beast of the field for wisdom *<.\J now the beasts and they shall teach thee." So do* Christ — "Be wise as serpents and harmless as dovesj Lazy people abound. There is scarcely a greater evil society than laziness. What is laziness ? Not inactivit for a man may be incapable of action. But it is inacthil arising from an indisposition to work. Plenty of poi\j but lacking desire. A lazy man is a drag* upon the \\\ of social progress. He consumes the products of ot'rj men's labours, and produces nothing himself. His one great theft. The text presents two things concerniJ this laziness. \t\^ procrastinating^. "Yet a 'little sleen little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep." JW from the coni^titution of his nature, has not the powerl abandon altogether the idea of labour. Conscience pressi him to labour, and work at every turn urges its claii The lazy man is too cowardly to say I will never \vorI;,| will sleep for ever, and he procrastinates He promisesl labour. By this, he does two things', he Jiuets his conscia\ and cheats society. Thus, the song of his life is — " To-morroj and to-morrow, and to-morrow." " Shun delays, they breed remorse. Take thy time while time is lent thee ; Creeping snails have weakest force, Fly their fault lest thou repent thee ; Good is beat when sooner wrou,r;ht, Ling'ring labours come to nought." — Southwell. The text shows that indolence is also ruinous. "Soslj thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy wanti an armed man." Laziness brings ruin. Intellectual lazini brings intellectual ruin ; commercial, brings commercj ruin; spiritual, spiritual ruin. This is a law. SoloirJ • 1 The Practical Philosopher, S3 ^ III) lot IS. "So sill o-rrests that the ruin comes — first, gradually^ " as one that velleth." It does not gallop ; it does not rush on you at ce. Like all other natural laws, it proceeds gradually. ondly, Irresistibly^ "As an armed man." Ruin comes .veiling slowly on. The lazy man does not see his grim age for days, perhaps years. At last, however, he shows self and stands by his side gaunt, ghastly, and fully Vied. He clutches him, and all is over. " Idleness," s Hunter, " travels very slowly, and poverty soon over- es her." " If you ask me which is the real hereditary of human nature, do you imagine I shall answer pride luxury, or ambition, or egotism r No ; I shall say olence. Who conquers indolence will conquer all the t. Indeed, all good principles must stagnate without ntal activity." The wicked j^ian. — " A naughty person, a wicked n walketh with a fro ward mouth." Idleness is generally nected with wickedness as parent and child. One thor says that a state of idleness is a state of damnable Another, that it is the most " corrupting fly that can w on the human mind." Alen learn to do ill by doing it which is next to it — nothing. Here is the portrait of wicked man. He is perverse in speech. " AValketh with oward mouth." In his speech he has no regard for th or propriety. False, irreverent, impure, and auda- ^us. He is artful in conduct. " Winketh with his eyes, aketh with his feet, teachcth with his fingers." He resses his base spirit in crafty, clandestine, and cunning ithods. He is anything but strai^-htforward and trans- ent. He is viisehievous in purpose. " He deviseth schief cont.nually; he sowcth discord." INIalevolence is inspiration. He rejoiceth in evil. Here is the doojn the Avicked man. "Thereforp" shall his calamity come denly." His doom is certain — "shall." The moral s of the univ 3rse and the word of God guarantee his ishment. His doom is sudden. " Suddenly shall he be iken." The suddenness does not arise from the want of ning, but the neglect of it. " Because sentence against evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart ! il \ i ii 84 The Practical Philosopher, of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil." Corl it must, and when it comes, it will astound the victim wij surprise, His doom is irrcnicdiahle. " Without remedv When it is fixed, there is no revocation, no alteratioj "As the tree fallcth, so it must lie." Beware of indolence; it is a sin in itself; for we aj made for action : without it our nature can neither be unfolfiJ nor satisfied, and God and His universe require our senirj It is a sin the most prolific : it hatches every form wickedness. Society swarms with its damning progerJ Bishop Hall has well said that " idleness is the devil cushion, on which he taketh free ease, and is fitly dispo^J for all evil motions. The standing water stinketh : tij current keeps clear and cleanly." (READING XXXIV.- FEBRUARY 3.) ^.ekii Abominations* "These six things doth the Lord hate ; j'ea, seven are an abomination c him : A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, I heart that deviseth -wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to raised A false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among bretlirrj ^Prov. vi. iG to 19. Here is a catalogue of evils specially odious to the Ikj One, as well as injurious to His creation. Here is — Haughty bearing. — "A proud look." Pride is quently represented in the Bible as an offence to the Hcij God. "Ho resisteth the proud." " Him that hath ahiJ look and a proud heart will not I suffer." " Thou wj bring down the high looks." Haughtiness is an abon nation, because it implies self-ignorance, unkindness, A irr3verence. How true is the language of old Quarles coj jerning pride. " As thou desirest the love of God A man, beware of pride. It is a tumour in the mind tin The Practical Philosopher, 85 iaks and poisons all thy actions : it is a worm in thy isure which eats and ruins thy estate ; it loves no man beloved of no man ; it disparages virtue in another by faction ; it disrewards goodness in itself by vain-glory : friend of the flatterer, the mother of envy, the nurse of the sin of devils, and the devil of mankind : it les superiors, it scorns inferiors, it owns no equals ; — in Irt till thou hate it, God hates thee." Here is — Verbal falsehood. — "A lying tongue." This is )re evil ; David prays against it. " Deliver my soul, O 1 from lying lips." Falsehood always tuiplics a corrupt rt. A pure one supplies no motive for it. Vanity, Irice ambition, cowardice, are the parents and patrons liU lies. Falsehood always has a bad social tcndoicy. It appoints expectations, shakes confidence, loosens the foundations of social order. "Whatsoever," says [ele *' convenience may be thought to be in falsehood dissimulation, it is soon over ; but the inconvenience of perpetual, because it brings a man under an everlasting iousy and suspicion, so that he is not believed when he aks truth, nor trusted when perhaps he means honestly. Len a man hath once forfeited the reputation of his kgrity he is set fast, and nothing will then serve his 1, neither truth nor falsehood." Here is — Heartless cruelty. — " Hands that ' J innocent 5d.'' Cruelty implies an utter lack of mthy with I's creatures. This makes way for the malign that revels )rture. And it implies also an utter lack of sympathy God's mind. " God is love." He desires the happiness [is creatures. He made them for enjoyment. He who [cts pain is out of sympathy both with the universe and his j\Iaker. Cruelty even to dumb animals, which mds, is an atrocious sin, and must be ineffably offensive le All-loving Creator. " Wherever it is found, it is a lin mark of ignorance and meanness : an intrinsic mark, ch all the external advantages of wealth, splendour, and [ility cannot obliterate. It will consist neither with learning nor true civility, and religion disclaims and fests it, as an insult upon the majesty and goodness of iit '^ I 86 T/ic Practical Philosopher. God, Who having- made the instincts of brute beasts to; improvement of the mind, as well as to the convenience! the body, hath furnished with a motive to mercy and coj passion toward them very strong and powerful, but :| refined to have any influence on the illiterate or irreligiot Here is — Vicious scheming. " A heart that deviseth wicj imaginations." — The Divine eye penetrates the heart, sees all that passes there, not only the deep plots of e| the elaborate schemes of thought, and the deliberate ] poses, but ideas and emotions in the most incipient fugitive forms. He judges the man as He sees him tlif] Adulteries, robberies, idolatries, murders. He sees pen trated in the deep and silent districts of the soul. WX are some hearts so bad that they are ever inventing J things. It was said of the antediluvian man that evj imagination and thought of his heart was only evil A tinually. How sad that the heart, which should ever the nursery of the genial, the generous, and the gracioj should be devising "wicked imaginations ! " What a re| lation there will be on the last day, when the hidden thiij of the heart shall be exposed. Here is — Mischievous eagerness. — "Feet that be swift) running to mischief." They not only do mischief, butta do it eagerly y with ready vigilance ; they have a greed] it. They seize every opportunity. Their pleasure is mischief. Evil is earnest ; its great leader is never atrJ he moves to and fro on the earth ; like a roaring lion, goes about " seeking whom he may devour ;" and jusij proportion to the power that evil has over a man isf eagerness. What is more swift than revenge, jealousvi any of the malign passions r These don't walk, theyr they fly on the wings of lightning. " Their feet are %{ to shed blood." Here is^ — Social slander. — " A false witness that speatj lies." The slanderer is amongst the greatest of sa curses. He robs his fellow-creature of his highest treaJ — his own repufafion and the loving confidence of his frierj "The slanderer does harm to three persons at once; The Pradical Philosopher. 87 of whom he says the ill, to him to whom he says it, most of all to himself in saying, it." It is an accursed •\a this slander. It works oftentimes by other means in words : by a look or a shrug of the shoulders it levels [poisoned arrows ; it has broken many a virtuous heart stained many a virtuous reputation. It has nodded ly many a good name, and winked into existence a host Luspicions, that have gathered round a.nd crushed the st chaste and virtuous of our kind. It often works in the tk and generally under the mask of truthfulness and « He that shall rail against his absent friends, Or hears them scandalized, and not defends. Sports with their fame, and speaks whate'er he can, And only to be thoujjht a witty man. Tells tales, and brings his friends in disesteem : That man's a knave— be sure beware of him," — Horace. re is — Disturbing strife. — " And he that soweth discord 5ng .jrethren." He who by tale-bearing, ill-natured bes, and wicked inventions, produces the disruptions of idship, is abhorrent to God, Who desires His creatures ^ive in love and unity. "Ye lovers of strife," says lop Jewel, " by whose name shall I call you ? I would [ight call you brethren : but alas, this heart of yours is [brotherly. I would I might call you Christians : but L you are no Christians. I know not by what name I \ call you : for if you were brethren, you would love as iren ; if you were Christians, you would agree as istians." This subject serves to show three things. ^hc moral hidcousncss of the world. These " seven " evils ywhere abound. They are rife and rampant the Id over. (2) The immaculate purity of God. He hates Y things ; they are all abominations to Him ; eternally ignant to His Holy nature. (3) The true mission of the What is that ? To endeavour to rid the world of levils offensive to Heaven. i '■*if" .! The Practical Philosopher, (READING XXXV.— FEBRUARY 4.) CottDScIs \^ gounu' ifen tit felntion U iiib MmA " My son, keep thy father's commandment, and forsake not the law of j mother: Bind them continually upon thine heart, mtd tie them about tlivrj Wlieii t":iou goe , 't shall lead thee ; when thou slecpest, it shall keep thee; •when thou awakest, it shall talk \vith thee. For the commandment u a I and the law is light ; and reproofs of instruction are the way of life ; To ; thee from the evil woman, from the flattery of the tongue of a strange wonj &c. — Prov. vi. 20 to 35. " My son, keep my words, and lay up my commandments with thee, my commandments, and live ; and my law as the apple of thine eye. Bind J upon thy fingers, write them upon the table of thine heart. Say unto mscj Thou art my sister ; and call understanding thy kinswoman : That tliev; keep thee from the strange woman, from the stranger which flattereth witlj words,'' &c. — Prov. vii. i to 17. These are some of the counsels which Solomon addresi to the young man, to guide him in his conduct towards ti bad woman whom he so graphically describes in thel part of the 6th and the whole of the 7th chapter, seems to have had no name strong enough to express ij disgust of her, no names bad enough by which to designJ her. He calls her a "strange woman," an "evil womani "harlot," &c., &c. Avoiding all the particular referent] we come to the safe-guards of young men. We put th{ two passages together, because, in spirit, and alniJ in language, they are identical. They lead us to consiJ the proper treatment and blessed use of sacred counsel;! The proper TREATMENT of these protective counsekj They are to be applied. The application of the saci counsels should be close. " Bind them continually upj thine heart, and tie them about thy neck." "Bindtfi upon thy fingers; write them upon the table of heart." This strong figurative language means thatt[J should be brought home to the inner being and expcric:: They are not merely to be in the biain, or on the lip, 1 bound up with the very vitalities of existence. Tl| The Practical Philosopher, 89 j)uld become strong and ever operative instincts in our iral life- The application should b-^ constant. " Bind Im contimiallj." They are not for mere occarional use. jy are not to be used merely for certain things, but all and for ever. It will not do to lay tiiem aside I any moment; for wherever Jiou goest, at every cor- of the street, seductive influences will meet thee. application should be loving. They must be regarded the apple of the eye," as the tenderest relation. lou art my sister and kinswoman." What we do not soon forsakes us. Love is the retaining faculty of the Prize these as you prize the pupil of your eye, as prize the dear sister whom love has entwined round heart. Young man, this is how these counsels must [treated, if they are to be your safeguards. Treat them s and you will become invulnerable. The BLESSED USE of these protective counsels. — midc. "When thou goest, they shall lead thee." ^y are a lamp to the feet, throwing its radiance before t steps. This lamp will always burn in advance of thee mard. " When thou sleepest, they will keep thee." ^y will keep thee from all temptations, shield thee from honeyed shafts of " the strange woman." Sacred sels are the only effective police in the empire of evil. commune. "They will talk to thee." They are full leaning; they are echoes of the Divine mind. They talk with thee about spiritual relations, about duty destiny. Blessed companions these ! Thoir converse rhtens, cheers, and ennobles. They animate. " Keep [commandments, and live." They are the life-giving }er to the soul. The description of the young man's Dtress and her beguiling and fascinating methods is so [like and minute that it needs neither explanation nor iment. We shall pass the verses by, and leave them to ik for themselves, as they do most truthfully, sadly, warningly. To the " youths " and the " young men of understanding " we earnestly commend the right Itment of these Divine counsels. Listen not to the of the temptress : turn a deaf ear to her, and G i I - i I , i W( ■• .;.rl J 'III 90 The Practical Philosopher, pass on. '* Many strong men have been slain by her : a house is the way to hell, going down to the chamberji death." (READING XXXVI. -FEBRUARY 5.) %\% ioice of W^n Hisbom. "Doth not wisdom cry? and understanding put forth her voice?" standeth in the top of high places, by the way in the places of the paths. crieth at the gates, at the entry of the city, at the coming in at the doors, you, O men, I call; and my voice is to the sons of man, O ye simple, i stand wisdom : and ye lools, be ye of an understanding heart. Hear ; for]! speak of excellent things ; and the opening of my lips shall be right things, my mouth shall speak truth ; and wickedness is an abomination to my lips, I the words of my mouth are in righteousness ; there is nothing froward orpeJ in them. They are all plain to him that understandeth, and right to themj find knowledge. Receive my instruction, and not silver ; and knowledge 1 than choice gold. For wisdom is better than rubies ; and all the things tlijti be desired are not to be compared to it. I wisdom dwell with prudence, j find out knowledge of witty inventions. The fear of the Lord is to hate | pride, and atrogancy, and the evil way, and the froward mouth, do 1 1 Counsel is mine, and sound wisdom : I am understanding ; I have strcnil Frov. viii. i to 14. Divine wisdom here personifies herself, and she has arJ to do so for two reasons. S/ie is tJic highest attriki] person. Wisdom is not the property of things, but ofp sons, and the highest property of persons — the propen the spiritual nature. Wisdom is not mere intelligence] is a compound of intelligence and goodness; it isf "genius of goodness." Wisdom rightly personifies! self, also, because she has received highest expression k\ Highest Person, She is seen everywhere in the raatej universe, but her sublimest revelation is in the PersoJ the Son of God. He is the Logos. These verses bring under our notice the voice of Dii; wisdom. It is a voice striving for the ear of all.— "I not Wisdom cry ?" She is earnest. There is a vehed The Practical P/iihsophcr. ft fe. Jinai ; in 'fe. ier tone. Christ gave it a wondrous emphasis. " In [last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and i saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me and Lir " Observe : She cries in the h'lost coinmaiiding scenes " In the top of high places." Her voice was heard on the Mount of Beatitudes, and on the brow talvary. Observe : she cries in the ordinary thorotcgh- ofUfe. " Iri Uie way of the places of the paths." In lays of Christ the voice rung by the wayside, on the sea- in the street. So now. It may be heard at every life. Again : She cries in the most cru7uded districts " She crieth at the gates, at the coming in at the In the great cities where men meet together to sact their business. There she is, at the gates and at the rs. As they go in and out of their banks and exchanges, she is. The voice of Divine wisdom is everywhere. irery event of Providence, in every object of nature, in dictate of conscience, in every lesson of experience — \q all, in every word of Christ. It is a voice worthy of the ear of all. — Wisdom utters a commendation of herself; she spreads out |>wn merits as a reason why her voice should be heard. • listen r Because her communications are perfect. " I of excellent things." They are perfect in an intel- il and a moral sense. The communications are true eternal laws of reason and right. Her communica- \are intelligible; " they are all plain to him that under- leth." They are in their nature so congruous with iman soul, and conveyed in such simple language, a wayfaring man, though a fool, need not err in." They are axiomatic to the unsophisticated heart, fcommunications arc precious. " Receive my instruction lot silver, and knowledge rather than choice gold." Vho experimentally possesses a Divine truth is in- ly richer than he who is the owner of kingdoms. Dommunications are cxhaustless. " I wisdom dwell 'rudence, and find out knowledge." The idea is, I Ivast resources. In Christ, Who is The Wisdom of 'are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge." I m *^ 92 The Practical Philosopher. Her communications are rectifying. " The fear of thel is to hate evil." It religionizes and spiritualizes the J Wherever the words of wisdom are really received, a rJ lution is effected within. Her communications are or A " Counsel is mine, and sound wisdom ; I am uoj standing." What Divine wisdom gives is undeniij unborrowed. " Who hath directed the Spirit of the ] or being His counsellor hath taught Him." This wi: is ever in the world. Her voice is everywhere ; it ri through the ages. It is high above all the tumults of| nations. The voices of generations are hushed in yards and in seas, but this voice sounds on ; it cannoj silenced. " The works of men inherit, as is just, Their Author's frailty, and return to dust ; But Truth Divine for ever stands secure, Its head is guarded as its base is sure. Fix'd in the rolling flood of endless years, The pillar of th' eternal plain appears, The railing storm and dashing wave defies. Built by tliat Architect who built the skies."— Coavpes,! (READING XXXVII.— FEBRUARY 6.) "By me kings reign, and princes decree justice. By me princes luJ nobles, even all the judges of the earth. I love them that love me; atl that seek me early shall find me. Riches and honour are with me ; m ; riches and lighteousness. My fruit is better than gold, yea, than finegdl my revenue than choice silver. I lead in the way of righteousness, in tlf of the paths of judgment : That I may cause those that love me to i stance; and I will fill their treasures." — Prm. viii. 15 to 21. Wisdom here speaks of herself as the Queen of thai possessing the tenderest interest in the good of maii| and having the choicest gifts to bestow. The won dicate three things concerning Wisdom in the ex^ of her authority. r,0.<*J The Practical _ Philosopher^' -^ 93 Wisdom, in the exercise of her authority, DETERMINES DESTINY OF RULERS. — "By me kings reign." It ^ircs all the good actions of kings. Every measure of [jj. government, every righteous enactment, and every ly loyal act, derives the inspiration from the Wisdom It presides over the universe. All good in earthly rulers :eedeth from it, as sunbeams proceed from the sun. latever is wholesome in their laws. Wisdom suggested inspired. It controls all the had actions of kings. lilst it originates the good, it guides and directs the It changes the times and seasons, removeth and jteth up kings. It turns the tyrannies and follies of bked monarchs to its own account, so directs them as to rk out its own grand purposes. «' There is a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough hew them as we may." Hsdom is at the head of the universe, " the hearts of Igs are in her hands." Wisdom, in the exercise of her authority, HAS A ^CIAL REGARD FOR THE GOOD. — " I love them that love and those that seek me early shall find me." Divine Isdom has heart as well as intellect ; it glows with sym- jhies, as well as radiates with counsels. It has love in I love is its genius, its root, its essence. The highest sdom is love. Love is the profoundest seer, the greatest Itriver, the most beautiful ? ;tist. The universe is the Ipring of love. We are taught here, that this Wisdom its lovers. " I love them that love me." Whoever Bs Divine Wisdom, loves it especially as seen in Christ : be are loved of it. " He that hath My commandments keepeth them, he it is that loveth Me." This Wisdom, Jt, furnished, and sustains the universe for her friends. are here taught that this Wisdom is accessible to its seekers. " Those that seek Me early shall find Me." [ly life is the tim.e to seek wisdom. Our moral metal is in youth, and we can be run into any mould ; in age scomes hard as the granite or the steel. It must bo jht to be obtained, and the sooner in life the betters "N. if «*^' '• 94 The Practical Philoscbher. It hi ■ Wisdom, in the exercise of her authority, has DISTRIBUTION OF THE CHOICEST GIFTj. — " Riches aJ honour are with Me. Yea, durable riches and righteoj ness. My fruit is better than gold." Tiierc is a ccj parison here between spiritual and material wealth, aJ the former is declared the better, and so it is : the o] enriches the man himself, the other does not. It is J external to him. Worldly riches are all outside our maj hood. The one is substantial, the other is not. It is callJ here, " substance." Material wealth is a mere fugitij form. The one is permanent, the other is not. IMaterl wealth passes away. Poetry depicts fortunes wi wings. Those wings are always ready to expaj and take flight. Let us seek this true and cnduriJ wealth. " Wherefore do ye spend money for that whij is not bread, and your labour for that which satisfieth ntj Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which [ good." " Lay not up for yourself treasures on earth, wM moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves breJ through and steal ; tut lay up for yourselves treasud in heaven." "I counsf_T thee to buy of me gold tried! the fire, that thou mayest be rich, ; and white rainiesi that thou mayest be clothed." Moral goodness is thet wealth, vital, satisfying, enduring; that which so identiiJ itself with the soul that it will be as imperishable as( own immortality. " When King Demetrius had sacked i razed the city of Megaera to the very foundation, demanded of Stilpo, the philosopher, what' losses he li| sustained. * None at all,' said Stilpo, * for war can mal no spoil of virtue.' And 'tis said of IMas, that his moij was omnia mca mccimi porto, I carry all my goods withi viz., his goodness." ! The Practical Philosopher. %t (READING XXXVIII.- FEBRUARY 7.) Qe gtttodiognt^lig of Uisbom. Li was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the world was. there were no depths, I was brought forth ; when there were no fountains [liir. wth water. Before the mountains were settled, before the hills was Ulit forth : While as yet he had not made the earth, nor the fields, nor the Lt part of the dust of the world. When he prepared the heavens, I wis when he set a compass upon the face of the depth : When he established louds above : when he strengthened the fountains of the deep : When he the sea his decree, that the waters should not j^ass his commandment : Ihe appointed the foundations of the earth : Then I was by him, as one ht up with him : and I was daily hii delight, rejoicing always before him ; ang in the habitable part of his earth ; and my delights wci e with the sons ."—/'/■OT. viii. 23 to 31. we must speak of Wisdom as a person, and that )n is none other than He who is called the " Wisdom )(i." These verses may be well regarded as His )iographic sketch. He alone can write His own his- Ifor His existence and experience date back to periods tior to the creation. He speaks of Himself here in ispects : — LS HAVING EXISTED BEFORE ALL TIME. — " The Lord ^ssed me in the beginning of His way, before His of old. I was set up from everlasting, from the ling, or ever the earth was." How old is the uni- I ? No arithmetic can compute its ages. When was Bginning ? When did the first creature start into life ? luestion baffles all our endeavours for solution. How- jdistant that period might be, Christ was before it : }re His works of old." " When there were no depths brought forth. When there were no fountains iding with water." When there was no being but God, It was. " In the beginning was the Word, and the was God." " He is the Alpha and the Omega, the bd the last." The builder is older than his building, tist than his productions, the author than his books. is older than the universe. He speaks of Himself 96 . The Practical Philosopher. , As HAVING BEEN PRESENT AT TRE CREATIO:;) " When he prepared the heavens I was there. Whenf set a compass upon the face of the deep," &c., &c. universe had an origin. It is not eternal. There waJ point in the far distant past, when it was nowhere bu;| the mind of God as an idea. There was a beginning, originated with one Being. It neither rose by chance, by the agency of a plurality of creators. He " prepj the heavens." He " set a compass upon the face off deep." " He established the clouds above. He strciigthej the fountains of the deep. He gave to the sea His decrJ He, no one else, no one with Him. Christ witnessd\ process. "I was there," I was the only spectator. la the birth of chaos. And out of it I saw this beautiful wj with its circling heavens, floating clouds, and rolling oceJ mountains and valleys, with all the countless tribes of] arise. He who witnessed the origin of the universe] alone give its genesis, and He does it here. He speali.| Himself here :■ — As HAYING BEEN IN ETERNAL ASSOCIATION d THE Creator. — " Then I was by Him, as one brouglitl with Him. I was daily His delight, rejoicing always bel Him." "The same was in the beginning with God." In( mysterious fellowship He was at once the object and; ject of Infinite love. The Father loved Him. "Iwasci His delight." The Infinite heart rested in complacenoj Him. " He was in the bosom of the Father." He km Father, "rejoicing always before Him." The InfJ attachment was mutual. We cannot explain that ax%cr| for we understand not the relationship. We accept statement with wonder and with worship. He speaL| Himself here : — As HAVING FELT BEFORE ALL WORLDS A B] interest IN MAN. — " Rejoicing in the habitable pare his earth. My delights were with the sons of men," | Him the universe was as real before it took an actual l as ever. He saw the human race on this globe with i\ generations, crimes, sorrows, sufferings, before it created. Men were as real to Him before the first manj The Practical Philosopher 97 Rated as they were when He mingled with them in the i-eets of Jerusalem, or on the shores of Galilee. Redemp- L is no after-thought in the Divine procedure. The 3rld was built as its theatre, and Christ was fore- lained before its foundation. Its redemption was con- iplated by Him in eternity, and was then a source of •' My delights were with the sons of men." He came no reluctant messenger. " The Word," the Infinite jason, the Eternal Mind of the universe, "was made flesh, Id dwelt among us." (READING XXXIX. -FEBRUARY 8.) Sil^« Claims of iibiu^ Ptsbom. ('Now therefore hearken unto me, O ye children : for blessed are they that ) mv ways. Hear instruction, and be -wise, and refuse it not. Blessed is the I that heareth me, watching daily at my gates, waiting at the posts of my BIS. For whoso fmdeth me iindeth life, and shall obtain favour of the Lord. the that sinneth against me Avrongeth his own soul: all they that hate me ! death."-- /"/w. viii. 32 to 36. I'c. claims of Wisdom as here presented are — Very simple. — ^What are they ? Diligently study its insels. " Hearken unto me." " Hear instruction." It [expressed further as "watching daily at my gates; liting at the posts of my doors." The idea is, render a ligent attention to my counsels. Men are made for con- iplation, and this is necessary to bring out their faculties [0 full play, and to give them health and vigour. The jrds of Wisdom are the greatest subjects for human con- iplation : they explain the rationale of existence, reveal Infinite, and point out the path to a happy and ever )gressive destiny. The study of these words, therefore, [not only proper, but urgent and necessary. Constantly its precepts. " Blessed are they that keep thy ways." [e teachings of Divine Wisdom are not merely specula- [c, but regulative. They are maxims to rule the life. often have they been made subjects for mere theory i ir h ■_ ^ ft il ^o T/ie Practical Philosopher. and debate, but they are in reality laws : they are n so much for creeds as for codes. They come with authorij from the Great King, and they have a binding force. \\ claims of wisdom as here presented are — Very important. — Obedience to them is happiA "Blessed is the -• that heareth me; watching dailyj my gates, waiti^.j, xX. the posts of my doors." HuniJ happiness consists in a loyal obedience to the DiviJ counsels. Happiness is not in thought but in deeds. It[ action that iilone can ring the chimes of Heaven in J heart. " Blessed are they that hear the word of God aui keep it." To neglect them is ruin. " He that sinne; against me wrongeth his own soul." " All that hate love death.'" Sin is a self-injury. This is a fact, and \\ fact shows, First : That God's laws are essentially col nected with the constitution of man. It is the characterisj of all His laws that they are written on the constitutic of the subject. The atom, the flower, the beast, the maj the angel, all have their laws deep in their own naturj All sin is unnatural, and an evasion of its penaltiJ is impossible. The sinner must flee from himself befoJ he can flee from the misery which his sin entail Secondly: That God's counsels are the expressJ of benevolence. We wrong our souls by not keepiJ them. The voice of His prohibitions is, "do thyself i harm," and the voice of all His injunctions is, "rejoitj evermore." All His laws are but His love speakkj to man in the imperative mood. Thirdly : That God] counsels should be studiously obeyed. The sinnj " wrongeth his own soul." Sin is folly, and the great! sinner, whatever his talents and attainments may be, i the greatest fool. In every sin he quafts that cup of pois which shall produce anguish but never kill. In sinning, I " We rave, we wic^Jc with Great Nature's plan, AVc thwart the Deity : and 'tis decreed, Who thwart His will shall contradict their own." . a*.>*f«W:r.-! The Practical Philosopher, m (READING XL.— FEBRUARY 9.) rfje (BMuattonal icmple; 01" CStistiituitg it <§claol li Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars : She 1 killed her beasts ; she hath mingled her wine ; she hath also furnished her She hath sent forth her maidens : she crieth upon the highest places of L. ^vhoso is simple, let him turn in hither : an for him that wanteth under- line, slic saith to him, Come, eat of my bread, and drink of the wine which [e min"led. Forsake the foolish, and live ; and go in the way of under- ling."—/', oj'. ix. I to 6. highest end the Great Father of spirit can have in dealing's with his intelligent and moral offspring is education, the full and perfect development of all their [ers in harmony with themselves and His everlasting For this purpose He has provided man with two \Q\i—Kiitarc and Christianity. The former is a mag- lent one. All the true sciences of the world are but a of its lessons which intelligent pupils have learnt le school of nature. The latter — Christianity — ired to meet man's spiritual condition as a fallen ture. In nature God is revealed as the Creator, in [stianity as the Redeemer. Christianity does not super- nature ; on the contrary, it trains man properly to ' and appreciate it. "We regard the passage as a highly ^c representation of the school which Wisdom has bd for man in Christianity, and it leads us to notice — The firmness of its structure.— " She hath hewn ^even pillars." A " pillar" is the emblem of strength, ' seven " of perfection. In what does the firmness of !)hristian school consist r In its truth. Its lessons are [to human instincts, to human experience, to human |)n: true, also, to a man's deep-felt moral wants sinner. The firmness of a school consists in the Ifulness of its doctrines. Time, w^hich will mar the |ty of the architecture of a school, and crumble its ture to dust, though built of marble or granite, can I touch its truth with the breath of decay. The famed i I f lOO 2Vic Practical Philosopher. schools of Egypt and Greece are no more. They wj ornaments and attractions in their day. Upon tl^^J Socrates and Plato, Aristotle and Pythagoras shed lustre of their genius. Kings and heroes were their purl But they are gone. They did not deal in lessons tri; I man. Their metaphysical dreams and pompous Jivj theses passed away as the intellect of the world advanr But the school which Wisdom " hath builded " by the \\ of the Galilean some eighteen centuries ago is as firmj ever. The adaptation of its provisions.—" She \\ killed her beasts, she hath mingled her wine, she hath J furnished her table." The adaptation of the provisiotl seen in their nature. The things specified here were; staple commodities of life among the Easterns. Thei suggested is, that Christian truths sustain a relation the soul analogous to the relations that the necessa:] of physical life do to the body. As the body could] live without the right appropriation of food, no mj can the soul without the right appropriation of Chrisi truth. Christ taught this frequently. He is the Breail Eife, that came down from Heaven. The adaJ tion of the provisions is seen in their variety. Ttl is a variety in the provisions mentioned here ; " bea}| " wine," " bread." Physiologists say that man's bodyj only requires food, but a variety of food — animal | vegetable. Why else such a rich variety of these] ductions in nature ? and why else such an appetitel variety ? Be this as it may, the Christian school presa this diversity. There is truth here suited to every faca and sentiment of our nature — intellectual truth, relieij truth, moral truth, redemptive truth — truth for the[ truth for the future. The soul can no more be I upon one doctrine than the body upon one elenii Some regard a few dogmas only as food for the a but when once pardoned by God's grace, and renewecl Elis Spirit, it wants universal truth to feed on. His sniaij flower that grows in your garden cannot feed uponi one element. Does it not require sun and air, The Practical Philosopher. lOI Id shower, and all the various gases of the world to id their aid. And can the soul feed upon a few dogmas ? • nor need it : Christianity has provided a boundless riety. The invitation of its messengers. — " She hath it forth her maidens ; she crieth upon the highest places [the city, Whoso is simple, let him turn in hither." The /itation is earnest : " She crieth." It is not a cold, half- larted, formal invitation. The great Teacher, on the »at day of the feast, stood and cried. His messengers commanded to go into the highways and hedges, and tompel." " The Spirit and the bride say. Come." The iritation is wiivcrsal. " Whoso." There is no re- liction — the banquet is spread for all. There are ices and provision at the banquet for the sage as [ll as the rustic — for the old and the young. Pro- iions are suited to every class of mind. Truths here sublime enough for the greatest philosopher, and iple enough for the untutored child. Plato had in- ched on the door of his school, " Let none but geome- cians enter here ;" but on the portals of the Christian ^ool is written, "Whoso is simple let him turn in ler." The blessedness of its aim. — ^What is the great kign of this school ? It is to give life. " Forsake the foolish live." There are some schools that kill — kill the love [enquiry — kill the moral sensibility. But this is a life- )ing school. Its lessons are most quickening. What so ipted to rNnve the downcast energies of the soul as I doctrines onQiristianity r Its teachers are most quick- ig. A dull teaSj^er, without genius and inspiration, make his pupil dull, even though he deal in the m.ost piring truths. But prophets and apostles are full of ilius and life : They are full of the Great Spirit that ckeneth all things. 5t us learn from this the relation which we should tain to this Divine Temple of Education. We should I be teachers. Few in the Temple* are so ignorant as to be able to impart something of which others are «■ ;■( 1 11 li i ^ I 102 The Practical Philosopher. ignorant. We should all be inviters — go into the street a messengers of Wisdom, crying upon the highest place;; the city, "Whoso is simple let him come in hiihcr." (READING XLT.— FEBRUARY lo.) liepoi)t " He that reproveth a scorner gcttetli to himself shame : and he t| rebuketh a wickeci man getteth himself a blot. Reprove not a ncorncr, le-ii hate thee : rebuke a wise man, and lie will 3f>vc dice. Give instruction to ;nvj man, and he will be yet wiier: teach a just 7natt, and he will increase ; learning." — Pvov. ix. 7 to 9. « Here," says Lord Bacon, " caution is given how n tender reprehension to arrogant and scornful nature) whose manner is to esteem it for contumely, and accor; ingly to return it." All men, even the wisest and the besJ at times may require reproof, but the administration ofij is generally very difficult. " The most difficult province!; friendship is letting a man see his faults and errors, wliiclj should, if possible, be so contrived that he may percera our advice is given him, not so much to please ourselves j for his own advantage. The reproaches, therefore, ofi friend should always be strictly just, and not too frequent, The verses lead us to consider reproof in two aspects. As INJURIOUSLY administered. — He that reprovei| a scorner getteth to himself shame, and he that rebuked a wicked man getteth himself a blot." The " scorner" isi man distinguished by self-ignorance, audacity, callousnesi| vanity, and irreverence. His grand aim is by little sal of wit and ridicule, to raise the laug' against his superiorJ He belongs to the lowest type of moral character, he ocra pies the lowest grade of depravity, he lives next door;] hell. The "wicked man " is of the same class. Probal'J T. The Practical Philosopher. 10.- ) into the street j e highest place;] I in hither." C 10.) ;clf sanme : and he t'J irovc not a scorncr, Ie-.;;| Give in it nut ion t();iv,., , and he ■will incicixj is given how \ii . scornful natureJ umely, and accor; visest and the beij dministration of lifficult province 1 \ and errors, whicJ he may percei\j please ourselves a es, therefore, ofi not too frequent I in two aspects, ^e that reproveil he that rebuked Che "scorner"isJ lacity, callousneJ is by little sallief linst his superior! :haracter, he occsl lives next door'J e class. ProbatJ ilomon intends by both expressions to point to those whc in the lowest grade of sin, hardened and incorrigible. reprove these is injurious. It does them no service, lilst it brings r>ain to yourself. It will give you " shame id a blot." The man who resents reproof is like the bled lady who, because the looking-glass reflected the (inkles of her face, dashed it to the ground. The bavenly Teacher has taught us the same lesson. " Give that which is holy unto dogs. There are men beyond reach of e'.evating influences, and it is worse than ste of labour to endeavour improving them. It is said Ipericles, that as he was sitting in a meeting before jiers one day, a foul-mouthed fellow railled upon him all I day long ; at night, when it was dark and the meeting Lke up the fellow followed him and railled at him, even I his doors, and he took no notice of him ; but when he le home he said to him, " It is dark, I pray let my man It you home." These wicked scorners are incorrigible, ministry of discipline has done with them and retribu- has laid its hand on their heart. Their day of grace bver, their day of judgment has commenced. The verses us to consider reproof — As USEFULLY ADMINISTERED. — "Rebuke a wise man he will love thee." By rebuking a wise man you en- his affection. " He will love thee." Every true man feel more grateful for honest reproofs than for un- ited commendation. The false man loves flattery, the welcomes honest rebukes. " Let the righteous smite |; it shall be a kindness." By instructing a wise man , render him a benefit. " Give instruction to a wise man, ' he will yet be wiser." He will take the suggestion, he [correct the error pointed out. Wise men are not so per- as not at times to require correction, and we must not live at their faults because of their reputation for lorn. They are not beyond improvement. " None," Matthew Henry, " must think themselves too wise to nor so good that they need not be better, and ?fore need not be taught. We must still press rard and follow on to know till we come to the X r 104 The Practical Philosopher. perfect man. 'Give to a wise man,' give him advi give him comfort, give him reproof, and he will yet be \\\\ give him occasion to show his wisdom and he will showj and the acts of wisdom will strengthen the habit." So one has said that " reproof is like fuller's earth, it notoj removes spots from our character, but rubs off when ij dry." ^. (READING XLTI. -FEBRUARY ii.) " The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom : and the knovledJ the holy in understanding. For by me thy days shall be multiplied, and thevj of thy life shall be increased. If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself;] j/thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear zA" — Prov. ix. lo to 12. Nothing is so important to man as character. It is 1 only thing that he can call his own : the only property^! will go with him into the other world, and the only 1 that will determine his condition through all ages of ^ future. Here we have — The foundation and blessedness of a gci CHARACTER. — The foundation. What is it ? " The feail the Lord." Not slavish dread, but loving reverence. "l| knowledge of the holy is understanding." Solomon! the knowledge of the holy things, or, as some suppcj holy ones, with the "fear of the Lord ;" and, in truth,ti may be considered as identical, for an experimental ledge of " the holy " is essentially related to the " fear of] Lord," which is the beginning of wisdom and the germo spiritual goodness. All true sagacity takes its rise \\ The two things maybe expressed by intelligent piety, and| is the foundation of a true character. The character tk organised on this principle is good ; all others are corrJ The blessedness. " For by me thy days shall be multiplied! the years of thy life shall be increased." Piety, as we 1 The Practical Philosopher. «05 ed more than once elsewhere, is conducive to long What is it to live? Not merely to exist. A may exist here seventy years and not really live Life means a full and happy discharge of all [functions of our being, a full development of all our lers. To live is to realise the grand ideal of character Embodied in the life of Jesus. " For me to live" says « is Christ." Here we have — II. The solemn personality of character, ETHER GOOD OR BAD. — " If thou be wise, thou shalt (rise for thyself; but if thou scornest thou alone shalt it." Character is a personal thing. It concerns the himself and him only. It is true that a good character influence may be of service to others, but it is of no [efit whatever to the Almighty. " Can a man be profitable I God as he that is wise may be profitable unto himself?" I also true that a bad character may by influence be in- [)us to others. " Thy wickedness may hurt a man." But jncerns the man himself infinitely more than any one \, The good man is blessed in his own deed, and the evil is cursed in all his work. " Be not deceived ; God is mocked : whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also "Every man," says Sir J. Stevens, "has in himself [intinent of undiscovered character. Happy is he who 1 the Columbus to his own soul." u (READING XLIII.— FEBRUARY 12.) ("Afoolish woman M clamorous: «/itf ts simple and knoweth nothing. For Btteth at the door of her house, on a seat in the high places of the city, To passengers who go right on their ways : Whoso is simple, let him turn in r: and as for him that wanteth understanding, she saith to him, Stolen ) are sweet, and bread euten in secret is pleasant. But he knoweth not that (lead ate there: and thai her guests are in the depths of hell." — Prov. ix. ill " foolish woman " here stands opposed to wisdom in first verses of the chapter. The former is an emblem H io6 The Practical Philosopher, of the power of wickedness in the world, prosecuting work of temptation. The other represents the power of goodness inviting ij world to holiness and peace. Every man moves betJ these rival invitations in every step of life. The J presents to us the ministry of temptation in m aspects : — As CONDUCTED BY DEPRAVED WOMAN. — "A foolj woman " is here the emblem of wickedness in the woj It is a sad thing to find woman a tempter, but from the{ great mother of us all down to the present day, shel often been found sustaining this character. The devil made her one of his most efficient organs. The temptJ woman is here described : — She is ignorant " She is siml and knoweth nothing." She is blind to spiritual realiJ and claims. She may be clever, acquainted with the \^ of the world, and crafty; still the great spiritual world is c cealed from her. She is in the kingdom of darkness :--S| is clamorouSy full of noise and exciting talk, bearing all objections to her entreaties : — She is atidacioKs. sitteth at the door of her house on a seat in the high plat of the city." Modesty, which is the glory of her sex,! left her. She is bold and brazen : — She is pcrsiid "Whosoever is simple let him turn in hither." "St(i waters are sweet." This is her argument. She adi that her pleasures ar3 wrong, and en that account thei delectable. She is a portrait of all whom the ( employs as his emissaries of evil. Mark her featd and take warning. The ministry of Temptation is presented. As DIRECTED TO THE INEXPERIENCED.— To wlj does she especially direct her enticements r Not to i mat. ire saint, stalwart in virtue. She calls " passengeij who go right on their ways. "Whoso is simple leti; turn in hither." All men are ^^ passengers." All arej "right on their ways." Step by step each moves! Moves on constantly by day and night, asleep or awal moves on irresistibly; no one can pause a moment onj journey to eternity. Teviptatio7t is busy in the path of ea The Practical Philosopher, 107 jeals are made on all hands to the ruling passions of nature, avarice, ambition, and lusts. Beware! The liistry of Temptation is here presented. Lg TENDING TO A MISERABLE END. — "He knoweth I that the dead are there, and that her guests are in the Iths of hell." This ministry of temptation is very success- las conducted by depraved woman. This woman ob- led " <^ncsts." More, alas ! accept the invitation of foUy 1 wisdom, wickedness than virtue. " Broad is the road leadeth to destruction, and many there be that go in gat." Her guests were ruined. " They were deady and were in the depths of hell." Lust bringeth forth " sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death." " To arnally minded is death." " The stolen waters," how- sweet, are poisonous. Her guests were ruined, con- to their intention. " He knoweth not." Every man I accepted her invitation entered her chamber for plea- ; this was his purpose. But he met with ruin. Dther, the devil has a ministry here as well as Christ. |ch ministry exerts the most influence on thee ? Re- iber that— " It is one thing to be tempted, Another thing to fall."— Shakbspeare, y (READING XLIV.— FEBRUARY 13.) imt. , wise son makcth a glad father : but a foolish son t« the heaviness of his \!'-Prov.\. I. |T does Solomon mean by " a wise son r" A son of ious intellect, who grows at once into a great scholar, who proves himself to have such business aptitudes as to fortun? and power at a bound ? Many would call son wise. He evidently means a godly son, for in a \h i I 1 08 The Practical Philosopher. previous verse he states, "the fear of the Lord isi beginning of wisdom." Observe: — The holy character of a child gladdens heart of the parent. — "A wise son maketh a i father." The father, however, must himself be a gJ man before a godly son could gladden his heart. A worj father is generally disposed to regard a religious soni mortification and disappointment, and deem him wtJ minded and fanatic. But what on earth can be nj delightful to the heart of a pious father, than the cond of an intelligent, pure-minded, generous, brave, godly J It is the brightest earthly sunbeam that can fall upocl soul. It delights him for at least two reasons. Becjj he sees in such conduct the best results of his training, has the happy assurance chat his arduous efforts and i sacrifices have not been fruitless, that he has not laboJ in vain. He looks at his son's life as a rich rewl Because he sees in such conduct the best guarantee fo:j son's happiness. He feels the goodness he discoven) him, has the promise of the life that now is and of thatwif is to come. Thus he is glad. Is not this a worthy enij every son to aim at ? He whose life gladdens not thelil of a pious father is an offence to God, and will proij curse to himself and to society. Observe : — The LTSTHOLY character of a child saddens the! of the parent. — " A foolish son is the heaviness ofl mother." " Here is distinguished," says Lord Bacon, "i| fathers have most comfort of the good proof of theirs but the mothers have most discomfort of their ill pnj because women have little discerning of virtue fortune." It wounds her, because she discovers thatl her toils, labours, anxieties, have been fruitless, and one who is dear to her heart is moving towards infamvj ruin ; his conduct is a " heaviness " to her heart. Iti| as a leaden cloud upon her spirit. What a wretched lij this ! The life that bruises the bosom that nursed f nurtured it, that tortures the heart whose love has m thousand sacrifices on its account ; it is a life that execrated by universal conscience, and by Heaven, ii The Practical Philosopher. 109 In, no man is in a more hopeless condition than he who lost his love for his mother, and clouds her life with iness. All great men have always been distinguished love for their mother. How touching was Cowper's iress to his mother : — « My mother, when I heard that thou wast dead, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son — Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a hiss ; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss. I lieard the bell toll'd on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away. And turning from my nursery window drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu." (READING XLV.- FEBRUARY 14.) I " Treasures of wickedness profit nothing ; but righteousness delivereth from The Lord will not suffer the soul of the righteous to famish : but he ieth away the substance of the wicked." — Prov. x, 2, 3. even's estimate of human possessions differs widely those of conventional society. In the judgment of the rid money is of all things most to be prized, and moral kracter a thing of inferior importance. The text expresses [opposite estimate. Note : — The WORTHLESSNESS of a wicked man's wealth. — nil " profit nothing." The wicked man gets treasures e, and often, indeed, the more wicked he is the more he ceeds. His avarice is stronger, and his conscience is [scrupulous. The "fool" in the Gospel became rich. But vhat real profit is wealth to the wicked ? True, it feeds clothes him well as an animal, and gives him gorgeous foundings. But what " profit " is all this to a man )se character is bad? It "profits" him "nothing" no The Practical Philosopher, * in the way of making him happy. It cannot harmoni« those elements of his nature which sin has brought ini conflict ; it cannot remove the sense of fault from his coj science ; it cannot fill him with a bright hope for the futu It "profits" him "nothing" in the way of obtaining the tm love of his contemporaries. Men bow in servility to i wealthy, but there is no genuine reverence and love, wlifj there is not the recognition of goodness. It "profits" "nothing" in the dying hour or in the future world. It cancj prepare him for death, or be of any service in the dread futJ He leaves it all behind. " Naked came ye into the wol and naked must ye return." Riches " profit nothing' the day of wrath. "Thou fool, this night thy soul shall J required of thee." In truth, instead of profit it is a loss] curse. Was it not so with Judas ? When his conscieia was touched with a sense of guilt, "he brought again lij thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and eldtjs, sayil I have sinned in that I have betrayed innocent blood." rj fires of his guilt made the coins so red hot that he co| not hold them any longer in his hands. He "casteth away his substance:" it is thrown away as rJ bish. Note : — The VALUE of a righteous man's character! " But righteousness delivereth from death. The Lord i not suffer the soul of the righteous to famish." Theysli be delivered from death. Not from physical dissolutii for we must all die, there is no discharge in that warfaj But from that which is the very essence in the evil of | sical death, the sting of sin. And also from spiritual deaj which is separation from God, the root of life. " The i the righteous shall never famish." On the contrary, itsl| increase in vigour for ever. There is no want to themt fear him. " The young lions do lack and suffer huntj but they that seek the Lord shall not want any good thin] " I have been young and now am old, yet have not I seenj righteous forsaken nor his seed -gging bread." Andl says, " 1 have all, and abound ; I am full." Let us actj Heaven's estimate of human, possessions, take rectitudtj character as infinitely more valuable than all the wealtl The Practical Philosopher, III ied men. The latter enables a man to enjoy, and inherit 1 whole world, whether he has any legal hold upon it or In a pauper's hut he can say, all things are mine, ether Paul or Cephas, life or death, things present or [lofs to come. I am Christ's and Christ is mine. " Seas roll to waft me, Suns to light me rise ; Aly footstool earth, my canopy the skies." (READING XLVI.- FEBRUARY 15.) fHcbecometh poor that dealeth with a slack haml : but the hand of the Bt makelh rich. He that gathereth in summer h a wise son ; but he that iinhar\'est is a son that causeth shame." — Prw, x. 4, 5. £ we have industry contrasted with slothfulness and Wheat is industry r " It does not consist," says one, rely in action, for that is incessant in all persons. Our heing like a ship in the sea, if not steered to some [ purpose by reason, gets tossed by the waves of fancy, riven by the ivinds of leniptation some whither : but [irection of our mind to some good end without roving, inking in a straight and steady course, and drawing lit our active powers in execution thereof, doth consti- industry." There are three points of contrast — |e hand of the one is diligent the other is SLACK. — iand of the industrious is active, prompt, skilful, and rering; and often very brown and bony through The hand of idleness is " slack," loose, unskilled, Jnapt. It hangs by the side as if it were made for ag but to be carried about. Activity braces the |les, and strings up the limbs for work. Indolence ens the limbs, aye, and slackens the whole frame. cal debility and half the disease of the body spring indolence. \vn ■i-if 112 The Practical Philosopher, The soul of the one seizes opportunities, the cj NEGLECTS them. — The one "gathereth in summer,' other " sleepeth in harvest." The industrious man noti. watches for opportunities, but makes them. He does I work of the season ; leaves not for to-morrow \ should be done to-day. But he does " more." By sk diligence, he makes the tide of circumstances flow favouraj for him, and the winds breathe propitiously. He is the \ tor rather than the creature of circumstances, their ma; rather than their serf. The other, on the contrary, lets] opportunities pass ; he " sleepeth in harvest." Wheiil should be busy reaping the ripened fields, binding upf sheaves, and garnering the crops as provision for corj months, he " sleepeth," and allows the precious grJ fall into the earth and rot amongst the weeds. Insteai seizing opportunities, still less creating them, he iJ them to pass away unimproved. The tide which flowed! strong enough to bear him to prosperity, he has alloj to ebb away, and leave him a starving pauper onf shore. The destiny of the one is PROSPERITY; that ofi other RUIN. — ^Two things are said of the diligent. Thatl hand " maketh rich." In anotner place it says, "maa fat," and in another place, **The hand of the diliJ shall bear rule," shall conduct authority. The niaj the gospel, who employed his talents, got the "j done" of his Master, and the rulership over minythiij But on the other hand, the destiny of the idle is poi^^ and shame. " He becometh poor that dealeth with asJ hand," and he also " causeth shame." Laziness, at| have elsewhere said, brings ruin. " Drowsiness," asi mon has it, " clothes a man in rags." 1 ! The Practical Philosopher. 113 (READING XLVII.— FEBRUARY 16.) «« Blessings are upon the head of the just : but violence covereth the mouth tlie wicked. The memory of the just is blessed : but the name of the wicked hall rot."— P/w. X. 6, 7. IeRE we have two opposite characters — the wicked, and le just. These terms we have frequently explained, and ^ey represent the two great moral classes of mankind — [le good and evil. From these opposite characters there Ipring opposite destinies. The good are blessed in their EXISTENCE, the wicked j.g j^ot. — " Blessings are upon the head of the just." He blest by true men, his character is admired, and his use- fllness appreciated. Heaven smiles on him, what he has L enjoys with a thankful heart, he is filled with the " peace •God, which passeth all understanding." He is blessed in llmself, and he blesses all others. But what of the wicked ? Iviolence covereth the mouth of the wicked." Of this clause diiferent rendering has by some been proposed. That our received version, however, seems preferable, and we ccept it. It yields a natural contrast to the first. Some onceive that there is an allusion to the practice of cover- |ig the face of the condemned. According to this view, he import will be that the violence of the wicked will ring him to condemnation. More probably, however, icovering the mouth" means making ashamed, putting silence. His detected and exposed iniquity, rapa- Ity, and selfishness, shall be like a muzzle upon his mouth, hutting it in silent confusion. He is struck speechless. le has nothing to say in the way of defending or ex- puating his crimes. The good are blessed in their i.iemory, the wicked |re not.—" The memory of the just is blessed, but the ime of the wicked shall rot." Most men desire post- nmous fame. The text implies this, otherwise why appeal 1 •! i\:\ ■M 114 The Practical Philosopher. to it ? No man wishes to be forgotten. All would hav? their name survive their death. Nor do any desire to be| remembered with unkindness. All would have their names mentioned with pleasure and gratitude. In one's morel thoughtful mood there is something overwhelmingly crushing in the idea of being forgotten in the world in which we have lived and toiled. The just alone can secure! posthumous fame. " The memory of the just is blessed but the name of the wicked shall rot." The human mind I is so constituted that it can only willingly remember thel pleasant. It turns away from the disagreeable. Thel crimes and character of the wicked are themes for thougli distasteful to the soul, hence their very names arel allowed " to rot." They are putrid and noxious, and meD would bury them in the grave of forgetfulness. Thel memory of the " just " shall be blessed with long continimi\ Their contemporaries will continue while they live speak of them with gratitude and esteem, raise monumental to perpetuate their memory, and thus hand down theirj names to the men of coming times. The memory the "just" shall be blessed with holy influence. The) remembrance of their virtues will be an ever multi- plying seed. Though dead, like Abel, they will conj tinue to speak. (READING XLVIII.-FEBRUARY 17.J "The wise in neart will receive commandments: but a prating foolsii fall. lie that walketh uprightly walketh surely : but he that perverteth his wan shall be known. He that winketh with the eye causeth sorrow : but a pralii fool shall fall."— -P/w. x. 8 to 10. Here is man in SAFETY. — The man who is secure i.1 descrit».^d, as doing two things — receiving law and practisinfl it. " Thef> wise in heart will receive commandments,'! The Practical Philosopher. 115 leadopts them intelligently, beingconvinced of theirDivine ithority, and implicitly believing them to be holy, just, and Dod. There are men ever ready to give commandments, mdify commandments, to repeal commandments ; but He true man receives them loyally and lovingly as the mressions of the Divine Will. He receives with "meek- ess the engrafted word " of law. The secure man not jly receives law but practises it. He "walketh uprightly." lat he has received rules and regulates his life, he re- jces the Divine precepts to practice. Such a man is safe. JHe that walketh uprightly walketh safely." 1 The path of duty is the path of safety. "Why? Because omni- [knce guards the traveller. He who moves on the path of lity, though surrounded by enemies, has the Almighty as Companion and Guard. " The Lord God is a sun and ield." The good have always this assurance, and un- Luntedly have they pursued their course, even unto death, |e is safe, however perilous the path may sometimes Ipear. Moses, at the Red Sea, felt it perilous, but onwards went and was secure. Joshua, at the Jordan, felt it rilous ; he proceeded, and the waters made him a safe ssage. David confronted Goliath and was delivered out |his hand. Daniel in the lion's den came forth unharmed. |ie just are safe. " Their defence shall be in the munitions [rocks." " Mark the perfect man and behold the upright, •the end of that man is peace." (Here is a man in peril. — "A prating fool shall fall." terally a "lip fool." The self-conceited are generally perficial, and the more superficial as a rule the more native : the smaller and lighter the thoughts the bigger more plentiful the words. Light matter floats to the ■face and appears to all, the solid and precious lies at I bottom ; the foam is on the face of the waters, the pearl below. Sir Walter Raleigh has well said : — " TalKing kch is a sign of vanity ; for he that is lavish in words is [liggard in deed." Such a man is in danger ; his words ( so reckless and rash that he exposes himself to indi- lal resentment. They create stumbling blocks to his V and he falls. He falls into contempt, confusion, and V (I \S tj; i fll i •' i'-ti''l Bi ,i 't'i^^^Bi i'l rf ^^^H ii6 The Practical Philosopher, \ ^k I 4 f suffering, through his vapouring, reckless, and blasphemoiisl talk. The " prating fool " is one of the most populj characters in this age. He gains the platform in every pu'o.| lie agitation. Societies hire him to " stump " the countn He lives to prate and prates to live. In the course of tin:: he falls. The public begin to read him, find him a shanj and he falls. " A prating fool shall fall." As a nilettl more true in heart and affluent in thought a man is, m more reticent and retired. Plato has well said, " As erapttj vessels make the loudest sound, so they that have the leaJ wit are the greatest babblers." Here is a man in mischief. — " He that winketil with the eye causeth sorrow." Deceivers are winkerJ professing kindness to their neighbours, by a wink of t'cl eye they give a hint to their accomplices to cheat or ro!i| Sly and artful men are referred to. A man who do«l his work by looks or words, hints and inuendoes, rathel than by words like the "prating fool," such a mail " causeth sorrow." He destroys social confidence, \\ slackens and snaps the bonr" of friendship, he sows seeds of jealousies, and evokes the querulous tones of di^j sensions. The artful character is the most mischievous ij society. He works his diabolic designs by a "wii Blackens reputations, creates quarrels, breaks hearts bvi "wink." "In dealing with cunning persons," says Losj Bacon, "we must ever consider their ends to interpi! their speeches ; and it is good to say little to them, aii| that which they least look for. In all negotiations' difficulty, a man may not look to sow and reap at onc^ but must prepare business, and so ripen it by degrees." The Practical Philosopher. (READING XLIX.— FEBRUARY i».) " The mouth of a righteous man is a well of life ; but violence covereth the Louth of the wicked."— /'/oz'. xi. ii. Ispeech is one of the most distinguishing faculties of man I— a faculty this that gives immense influence either for jgood or evil. " The chief purpose for which it is given," says Bishop Butler, " is plainly that we might communicate Dur thoughts to each other in order to carry on the affairs of the world for business, and for our improvement in knowledge and learning." Solomon and the Bible say luch about this faculty. Here we have, The speech of the GOOD. — " The mouth of a righteous lan is a well of life." The speech of a righteous man is liere compared to a " well of life." It is like a " well " in lany respects. // is natural. A well springs from the heart of nature. It is sin that gives to speech its affecta- tions and artificialities. A thoroughly good man speaks but with a free and natural flow like the well, the thoughts khat are in his breast. Natural speech is always eloquent. pis clean. The well, unlike the pool, is ever pure. It is plear as crystal. You can see the pebbles at the bottom. [here is nothing impure in the speech of a truly " righteous lan." No corrupt communication proceedeth out of his nouth. His speech is clean. Of all the dirty things in lis world, the most loathsome is dirty speech. A clean soul essential to clean speech. It is refreshing. What is lore refreshing to the thirsty traveller than a sip from the fell r What is more refreshing to a soul than good, pure, jigorous, godly talk ? It is life-giving. The well gives (ife. It skirts all around it with verdure, and the streams sends forth touch into life the banks along their course. fie words of truth and holiness are the means by which irod gives life to the souls of men. Such is the speech of j ■ ^ 1 bBImHi rjl iill \ '\ HIhiH ' 11 f.. i- IIH T^BmlKM^B^^^tt ■jl j. ^|ffl I^H^Ii "^ 1 \ PlnH ^ li lilK i V \ MnH 1 I^S ^H i^Bl^^^^K Mi Bslw^^MBf^B \ 1 HIm 11 1 HRI ii . jj \ ^^^Pi'H^B \* t i |^^^H{» HjHj^^H M Bll If -: 1 ^^^^^H^B t 1 1^^^^ J^H^H 1, BWffi^BBw HHI i pH^hI HI t' ^R^f ' i^^HI^B^K W K 1 mW' In 1 1 |l|tH; ftKi'l^^B^B iffll 1 1 ' I^K : . 1 1 iwjm 1 ' ' 1 silHv ' 'i I HlwIiH'i' ' \ \ mfS'^ lIB' il^ 1 ' imA The Practical Philosopher. :he good; nothing so valuable on earth as this. "The I :ongue of the just is as choice silver; and the lips of the| righteous feed many." Here is, The speech of the wicked. — "Violence coveretlil the mouth of the wicked." "From the mouth of the righteous," says Wardlaw, " there proceed the words of comfort, truth, and joy; under the tongue of the wicked there lie concealed cursing and bitterness, wrath and clamour, and evil speaking. There is something more fearful in the idea of the mouth covering violence than in that of uttering it. If the mouth is kept close, it is only covering, till a convenient season, the vio- lence that is within — intimating that the wicked is well aware when it is best for his nefarious purposes to keep silence as well as when to speak out. Even when he com-l presses his lips, and says nothing, there is no good there," His mouth is not a well, it is a stagnant pool, covered up I with noxious weeds, thorns, and thistles, and filled wit!i| moral filth. What goes from it is poison. Tupper's de-jcription of speech is worth quoting here:-| " Speech is the golden harvest that foUoweth the flowering of thought, Yet oftentimes runneth it to the husk and the gains be withered and scanty, Speech is reason's brother, s.nd a kingly prerogative of man That likeneth him to his maker, who spake and it was done. Spirit may mingle with spirit, but sense requircth a symbol, And speech is the boc v of a thought, without which it were not seen." (READING XXL.- FEBRUARY 19.) \ «' Hatred stirreth up strifes : but love covereth all sins." — Ptov. x. 12. A BET1ER division for this proverb it is impossible to goti than the one put forth by an old expositor : — " The grcalj mischief-maker, and the great peace-maker." Here we have the great mischief-maker—-" Hatred,"! The Practical Philosopher. 119 'Hatred stirreth up literally as one lifteth up a spear that Ld been at rest." Hatred disturbs the existing quiet by lilings: it stirs up dormant quarrels, oftentimes by mere luspicions and trifles. " Strifes " of all kinds, domestic, Dcial religious, and political, are great evils in them- elves, and in their influence. The history of them is le history of crime, lamentation and woe. All the strifes lave one great promoter — that is, " hatred ^' and malice. lis fiend is ever busy in this work. It is the great dis- iirber of the moral universe ; it sets man against himself, rainst his Maker, against society, and the universe. Plutarch's remarks on hatred are worthy the Christian's iidy and regard. " A man," says he, " should not allow tmself to hate even his enemies : because, if you indulge lis passion, on some occasion it will rise of itself on ^ers : if you hate your enemies, you will contract such a Icious habit of mind, as by degrees will break out upon lose who are your friends, or those who are indifferent to Here we have the GREAT PEACE-MAKER. — " Love kvereth all sins." "As hatred by quarrels exposes the alts of others, so love * covers ' them : except in so far as otherly correction requires their exposure. The reference jnot to the covering ot our sins before God, but the vering of our fellow men's sins in respect of others. bve condones, yea, takes no notice of a friend's errors. he disagreements which * hatred stirreth up,' love allays ; Id the offences which are usually the causes of quarrel it ^s as though it saw them not, and excuses them. It (res to men the forgiveness which it daily craves from It condones past offences, covers present, and guards linst future ones. To abuse this precept into a warrant [silencing all faithful reproofs of sin in others would be to ibe to charity the office of a procuress." Love is at be a specific element and a specific agent. As an element^ jhome is the heart of God — the God of peace. As an '?/, it is Christ — the Prince of peace. Love restores ler. It is in the moral system like the sap in the tree. It |ves to heal the broken branches. Love pardons offences. \* 120 The Practical Philosopher. Instead of parading and magnifying the fault that disJ turbs, it seeks to blot it out. " It covereth a multitude of| sins/* ** Love is the happy privilege of mind ; Love is the reason of all living things. A Trinity there seems of principles, Which represent and rule created life, The love of self, our fellows, and our God." — I'estus. (READING XLI.-FEBRUARY 20.) {) '/ Contrasts. " In the lips of him that hath understanding wisdom is found : but a rod i for the back of him that is void of understanding. Wise men lay up knowledsel but the mouth of the foolish is near destruction. The rich man's wealth ubl strong city : the destruction of the poor is their poverty. The labour of til righteous tendeth to life : the fruit of the wicked to sin. He is in the wayoftl that keepeth instruction : but he that refuseth reproof erreth. He that ;.;detil hatred with lying lips, and he that uttcreth a slander, is a fool." — Prm. x. 13 to ill There is a three-fold contrast here in the character ani condition of men : an intellectual, social, and moral 1 trast. Here is : — An INTELLECTUAL contrcist. Here is a man thd "hath understanding," and a man that is " void of undeJ standing." The difference existing between men in rela[ tion to the amount of knowledge is of vast varietj Between the most enlightened mind and the most ignoraiij there is almost as great a gulf as between the nioi sagacious animal and the most uncultured savage, disparity arises from a difference in mental constitutioi Some have a far higher mental order of faculties thij others. And also from a difference in educational opp(^ tunities. Whilst some have had the advantages ofi great universities of Europe, and others of humbler schol The Practical Pliilosophcr. 121 3wn to the lowest "dame establishment," the great jajority of the human race have been left to the unaided Ight of nature. Hence it is no wonder that, if there are [jose who have understanding, there are those who are Ivoid " of it. Solomon states two things here concerning lie intelligent man. First: Yi.Q cotmminicatcs wx^&om.. "In be lips of him that hath understanding wisdom is found." ifhen he speaks men are enlightened, their minds are set think, and their spirits are refreshed. Secondly : He \cumHlaies wisdom. " Wise men lay up knowledge." It i a characteristic of knowledge in the mind, that with its Icrease there is an increase both in the mind's desire for [rger intelligence, and in its capacity for it. The more a [an knows the more he craves for intelligence, and the more nple his capacities for an augmented stock become. It anything but this with the ignorant man — the man void of understanding." Solomon says two things of im, that there is a "rod for his back," and that his louth is near destruction." He is the subject of coer- pn; he has not intelligence enough to be swayed by jument. His language is so mischievous, he babbles Id blabs so recklessly, meddles so much with other pn's concerns, that he brings ruin on himself ; his moui.h (always " near destruction." Here is : SOCIAL contrast. — "The rich man's wealth is hi?! ong city ; the destruction of the poor is their poverty." ke social differences amongst men are as great as their jntal. We have princes and paupers, millionaires and indicants. Solomon here indicates that the rijh man's nfidence of protection is in his " strong city :" its bul- rks of massive granite and gates of ponderous iron"; kilant police and invincible soldiers, he imagines will ^phim safe. He is mistaken ! for if he be safely guarded human invaders, there are other enemies that he linot shut out : Disease, bereavements, death, cares, lieties, sorrows ; these can scale the highest fortresses assail him. Alas! the tendency of wealth is to dispose [possessor to trust to safety where no safety is. On the lerliand, "the destruction of the poor is their poverty ;"' I ' ti- ^ I 122 The Practical Philosopher, what awakens their foreboding and alarm is their destitj tion. Poverty often drives men to desperation, suicide! and murder. Here is : A MORAL contrast. — "The labour of the righteoi; tendeth to life, the fruit of the wicked to sin," It is sa-l of the righteous that his labour " tends to life." Accordirl to the constitution of things, righteous labour tends to ] bodily, mental, and spiritual ; the life of self and the lij of others. It is said that he " keepeth instruction." \\ keepeth it to increase it, to use it to guide and strength^ him in the path of duty. Because he does this he is in ttJ " way of life." In contrast with this, look at the descrip. tion of the wicked. " The fruit of the wicked is sin." S^ is here put in contrast with life, and it is the true antithJ sis. Sin is death, the death of the true, the divine, ani the happy. The " fruit of the wicked " is his conduct,! conduct is sin, and sin is death. It is also said of hie that he " \ oiseth reproof," and that in this he " erretlii The man who refuses righteous reproofs is like the wildered traveller who, rejecting all directions, pursues! course until he tumbles over the precipice and is dashed ( pieces. H -, is further represented as one that " hatred with lying lips," and uttereth slander. Wickel ness hides hatred by lies, and slays reputations by slandei It is often honey on the lips and venom in the heart. Itj always associated more or less with a villany that \\h itself under flattering words, and works out its ends treachery and lies. " Of all the vices," says an able autliJ " to which human nature is subject, treachery is thennj infamous and detestable, being compounded of fraj cowardice, and rever.ge. The greatest wrong will justify it, as it destroys those principles of mutual d fidence and security by which only society can subsij The Romans, a brave, generous people, disdained j^ practise it towards their declared enemies : Christiani teaches us to forgive injuries : but to resent them the disguise of friendship and benevolence, argue| degeneracy at which common humanity and justice blush. The Practical Philosopher^ (READING LII.— FEBRUARY 21.) 12; "In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin : but he that refraineth his jips w wise,"— Pr^. x. iq. ' There is very great necessity indeed of getting a little uore silent than we are. It seems to me that the finest Nations in the world — England and America — are going Lay into wind and tongue ; but it will appear sufficiently radically by-and-by, long after I am away of it (the world). Silence is the eternal duty of a man. * Watch the tongue,' , a very old precept, and a most true one." So said Car- yle, in his characteristic and remarkably enlightened and Kgorous address at Edinburgh, in the beginning of April, J8;o. The most thinking men of all ages have felt a Imilar conviction of the enormous evil of garrulousness. olomon evidently did so. The sage of Chelsea is in this, he is in many other things, one with the old royal sage fjenisalem, "In the multitude of words there wanteth not [Loquaciousness is a sin against the speaker MSELF. — " A man whose tongue is always wagging," as tirlyle has it, is doing a serious injury to his own intellec- al and spiritual nature. Great volubility is a substitute • thought. The man who has the love and faculty of great eaking is naturally prone to mistake words for thoughts. fence it turns out as a rule that the most fluent utterrrs are ! most shallow thinkers. Who has not heard long ser- |)nsand speeches, delivered oftentimes in graceful diction impressive tones and attitudes, all but destitute of any ba worth carrying away ? Great volubility is a quietus to )ii^ht The man who has the power of talking without Inking, will soon cease to think. The mechanism of ])ught will not work amid the rattling of the jaw. Thus I man who is always speaking injures himself. "The liting fool shall fall," says Solomon. True : he does fall. ^^^^^H^^H ^l^^^^^^l ^^■^^^w ^^^^^IH fii "1 ^Rr Ik i^^Bi^^B i III 1 jBiH 1 ll^lll 1 IIPN riiiii 124 The Practical Philosopher, ' His mental faculties fall into disuse under the constani pressure of verbosities. Loquaciousness is a sin against the hearer.— Th^ men in the senate who in long debate spin out their yardJ of talk, as well as the garrulous on platforms and in pulpit^ f injure society in many ways. They 7vasle the precious HA of the hearer . .,The hours the listener is bound to give tJ those wordy discourses might be employed in other wavJ to high mental and spiritual advantage. The men \\\\ occupy the time of assemblies with speech without thougfj are the perpetrators of enormous theft. They steal awarl men's precious time. lL\\ey foster self-deception. The peoplJ who listen to them often fancy that they have derived gooil from their addresses, whereas, in most cases, they have nol derived one single idea of any practical worth in life] They have been feeding, not on the bread of thought, but oil the gilded confectionery of words ; aye, and often on nothinjj but wind. Hence, as a fact patent to every thoughti observer in the religious world, the most ignorant as wei as often the largest congregations, are those who attenl the ministry of the garrulous preacher. They pro^aA crude opinions instead of divine principles. As a rule, tlj things their words convey are not truths which the speakJ has reached, as living convictions, by an earnest and iij dependent search of divine revelation. They are opinioj that have come into him by education, and which he I never digested, or the untested notions which start from 1 brain in the excitement of the hour. Thus tares are sow instead of wheat. Beware, then, of garrulousness in yourself ; and, for f soul's sake, do not put yourself under its influence, have two ears and but one -tongue," says an old writij " that we may hear much and talk little." " Set a watcl God, before my mouth : keep the door of my lips." The Practical Philosopher. (READING LI'I. - FEBRUARY 22.) 125 " The tongue of the just h as choice silver : the heart of the wicked is little Lorth. The lips of the righteous feed many : but fools die for want of wisdom." _/'r«'. X. 20, 21. ' The mouth of the just bringeth forth wisdom : but the froward tongue bllbecut out. The lips of the righteous know what is acceptable; but the Louth of the wicked speaketh frowardness." — Ver, 31, 32. IerE again Solomon is on the question of speech. He Ittaches great importance to the power of the tongue to tork good or ill. As a philosopher, he knew that the cha- acter of a man's language depended upon the character of lis heart, that the speech of a corrupt man would always vile and pernicious, and that of the upright pure and mitive. There is in these verses a comparison between lie speech of the two characters. 1 The speech of the good man is valuable ; that of the Ither is WORTHLESS. — "The tongue of the just is as choice ilver." Just before Solomon had said, that the mouth of ke righteous is " as a well of life," indicating that his lan- uage was natural, clean, and life-giving. Here it is spoken as " choice silver." It is intrinsically valuable, it con- lins truths of priceless worth, truths that reflect the Creator, |id bless His creation. But the speech of the evil man is orthless. " The heart of the wicked is little worth." Why es Solomon bring the heart and the tongue intocompari- [1, rather than the tongue of each ? Probably to express idea that speech is always the outcome and exponent of sheart. Truly the speech of a corruptman is "little worth." ! may be a man of distinguished genius, of high mental pture, a brilliant author, and a commanding orator. Still I his sentences are of " little worth." They stream from |;orrupt heart, and have in them Vnore or less of the vile pernicious. [he speech of the good man is nourishing, that of lother is killing. — "The lips of the righteous feed many, " MI ,.!;i: ..#,iJ^ 126 The Practical Philosopher. but fools die for want of wisdom." How one soul caul nourish and invigforate another by the language of trutM and love! Thus Christ strengthened His disciples, and the | Apostles the churches they planted. A few suitable words fallingfromthelipsof anobleman have often braced the hean I of tl "J hearer with a martyr's heroism. But what of tlie words of the wicked man ? Are they nourishing ? Hereisj the contrast — "fools die for want of wisdom." Their words, beautiful as they may sound, are not grain, but chaff; hoiv.l ever delicious to the palate, they are not aliment, bi;:| poison. The spiritual destroyer of humanity makes cor- rupt words his wings to bear him through the world ; his poisoned javelins to strike death into the heart of his victimJ The speech of the good man is wise, that of tlie other is foolish. — " The mouth of the just bringeth fortil wisdom ; but the froward tongue shall be cut out." Th; words of him whose intellect is under the teaching of God,! and whose heart is in vital sympathy with Him, are wisl words : they tend to explain the facts of life, throw tniel light on the path of duty, and «npply stimulants to pursue) it without deviation or pause. The policies propounded by the wicked may seem wise at first, but time always exposJ their folly, and brings its disciples to confusion and shamej "The froward tongue shall be cut out." "Cut out," as, corrupt tree which brings forth evil fruit is hewn down an(i| cast into the fire. Take the books written by corrupt mi for sceptical and sensational objects. ^Many of them a: philosophic in structure, elaborate in argument, mighty in rhetoric, decked with learning, and sparkling with genius, What are they r They are the "froward tongue," the per] verse uttering of perverse men, and they shall be " cut out, j The cutting process, thank God, is going on. Tlie speech of the good man is acceptable, that c| the other is perverse. — " The lips of the righteous knoii what is acceptable ; but the mouth of the wicked speakea fiowardness." The words of truth are always acceptabletJ God. " We are unto God a sweet smelling savour," saiJ the Apostle. And acceptable are they also to all thougli!] ful and candid men. Though they clash with prejudice! (RE "The blessing of th // h as sport to a fc Join. The fear of th< hieous shall be giantec ' lo his safety, you fear that the mission with which you en- trusted him has failed ; every minute increases your anxietvl and heightens your irritation. Truly the lazy, yawningj loiterer is to you as "vinegar to the teeth," and as "smokel to the eyes." Laziness is not only bad for the man himl self, but is most vexatious to those who are unfortunate! enough to employ him in their service. Here is : — Character revfaled in its issues. — The character^ of the good is here represented, as in many other! places in this book, as prolonging life and yielding jov, " The fear of the Lord prolongeth days. The hope of the righteous shall be gladness." Here is the character of tliel good lengthening the life and filling it with gladness. Oa the contrary, the character of the wicked is represented ai abbreviating life and ending in ruin. " The years of m wicked shall be shortened. The expectations of the wicke| shall perish." How full is the Bible of human life, its follies and wisdoms, its vices and its virtues, its friendships and bej reavements, its prosperities and adversities. Its sorrows ari its joys. God has filled the Bible with humanity, in ordej that it might interest men and improve them. The crima of ancient men are here used as beacons flash' ng their rei light, from the dangerous rocks and quicksands, and tliej virtues as bright stars to guide us safely on our voyage, The Practical Philosopher. (READING LV.— FEBRUARY 24.) i;^i «' The way of the Lord is strength to the upright : but destruction shall le , the workers of iniquity." — Ptov. x. 29. tfOTICE:— Th2 way to strength. — The Lord has "a way" for man ) walk in. He has a way for Himself. He does not move ithout foresight and plan. His course is mapped out. ^e knew the end from the beginning. His way, though jghteous and benevolent, is nevertheless inscrutable to us. ^is way is in the sea and his paths are in deep waters. that seraph can trace His goings ? We cannot find thee out, Lord, for infinite thou art, Thy wond'rous works and word reveal thee but in jiavt ; The drops that swell the ocean, the sands that girt the shore, To measure Thy duration, their numbers have no power. |e has a way for his creatures. He has mapped out a path ■ all, according to their constitutions. He has given an Jbit to all the globes of matter, a sphere to all irrational !; has described a course for angelic hierarchies, and anned out a specific path for fallen men to tread in. hat is the way He has marked out for us r It is the way \mial justice and Divine worship. In other words, the way pt Christ pursued. Our course is to follow Him ; the Bat law binding on us is to be animated by His spirit, ntrolled by His principles, and engrossed in His purposes. man who walks in this way gets strength. "The way [ihf) Lord is strength to the upright." It is the " upright " lo walks in this way. The man who has been made p in Christian principles and virtues shall get intel- Itual strength : — in every step along this path he finds Iths to challenge and nurture thought, and mental |t clusters on all sides. Moral strength : — strength to list temptation, to bear trial, to discharge duty, to serve K to glorify God. " They that wait upon the Lord |ll renew their strength." The righteous shall hold on 4 \ ij ' I t I ii^ 13^ The Practical Philosopher. his way, and he that hath clean hands shall be stronger! and stronger." Notice again : — The way to ruin. — "But destruction shall be to tlitj workers of iniquity." Destruction of what ? Conscience,! memory, moral obligations, existence ? I trow not. bJ the destruction of hopes, loves, friendships, and all thail make existence worth having. The way to this terrifcl!J condition is iniquity. The word is negative — the want oil equity. Men will be damned not merely for doing wronJ but for not doing the right. The want of air, bread, water] will destroy the body ; the want of righteousness will : the soul. " He that believeth not shall be damned."* I .! J (READING I-VI. -FEBRUARY 25.) Wi^t gbknt anb €bil of $rik. " When pride cometh, then cometh shame : but with the lowly u wisdomj — Pruv. xi. 2. Notice : — The advent of pride. — "When pride comett,! What is pride ? It is inordinate self-appreciation. It J the putting of too high an estimate on self. This ; comes to a soul. It is not born in it. How does it cornel By associating only with inferiors. Constant intercoun with those whose talents, beauty, accomplishments, wealtlj or position, are manifestly inferior to our own, is favouratilj to its advent. By practically ignoring the true standari of character. When we lose sight of the eternal lawj rectitude, and judge ourselves only by the imperfect staoJ ards around us, pride is likely to come. " Pride (of all others the most dangerous fault) Proceeds from want of sense, or want of thought. The men who labour and digest things moat, Will be much apter to despond than boast," By a practical disregard to the majesty of God. Hei • Verses 30 to 32 have been noticed in a previous reading. The Practical Philosopher, 133 Ihuts Him out from his sphere of habitual thought and Lperience will be accessible to pride. The conscious Iresence of God humbles. " When I consider the heavens, lie work of Thy hands, the moon and stars that Thou hast Bade. What is man that Thou art mindful of him r " Jotice : — The evil of pride. — What is the evil ? First : It rings shame. "Then cometh shame." The man who as formed such a false and exaggerated estimate of self Lst be disappointed one day, and the disappointment [ill fill him with " shame." The pride of Herod reduced Em to the worms. Man like water must find his level ; he lust come to realities. How frequently and earnestly the leavenly Teacher inculcates humility. " When thou art Idden, go and sit down in the lowest room." "Whosoever lalteth himself shall be abased." It brings the shame of Illy, The soul blushes with a sense of its own foolish dmate. And also the shame of guilt. Pride is a wrong ate of mind, and hence follows a blushing sense of guilt. I was so in the case of our first parents ; shame covered em when they discovered the folly and guilt of their lide. "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty Irit before a fall." " Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, What the weakest head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools ! Whatever nature has in worth denied, She gives in large recruits of needful pride ; For as in bodies, so in souls, we find AVliat wants in blood and spirits filled with wind: Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, And fills up all the mighty void of sense. If once right reason drives that cloud away, Truth breaks upon us with resistless day. Trufit not yourself ; but your defects to know, Alake use of every friend and every foe,"— Popr, econdly : It excludes wisdom. Wisdom cannot dwell pride; indeed, pride will not allow it to enter. The ud man is so self-suilicient, has such a high estimate of Dwn knowledge, that he feels no need of further light. 134 The Practical Philosopher. \ ■! He is so satisfied with the rushlights that his pride \A kindled within him, that he draws the curtains and shuts! out the sunbeams. But if wisdom could enter, it coulj not live there, the atmosphere of pride would smother Truly pride is a bad thing. " Pride," said old Thomi Adams, "thrust proud Nebuchadnezzar out of men's sociehj proud Saul out of his kingdom, proud Adam out of para] dise, proud Haman out of the court, proud Lucifer outc Heaven." (READING LVII. -FEBRUARY ?6.) ^,t toriWc in Pttinan ftstarg, "Wlien a wicked man dieth, Aw expectation shall perish: andthehopej unjust men perisheth." — xi. J.* There are two terrible events here — Death MEETING the wicked man. — "A wicked ma dieth." Death fcver)rwhere is a sad event — in the flowa in the bird, in the beast, it is a saddening sight. Death! the babe ; death, even in a righteous man, is sad. Bi death in connection with the wicked is of all sights tlj saddest under these heavens. The wicked man dietj Then death does not wait for reformation in characti Procrastination may adjourn duties, but not death. Dea will not wait an hour or a minute : when the appointj hour has struck he is there. He has an appointed work! do and a time for doi"^ it, and nothing can delay! course. "A wicked man dieth." Then the greatest enen of God and His universe are overcome. Wicked men reJ against God, battle with everlasting right, but deathi stronger. Death comes and puts an end to all. His ci touch freezes the heart, stills and silences them for evj * The subjects contained in verses 3 to 6 have been discuss'?d iaprf Readings, The Practical Philosopher. 135 is pride kJ IS and shuts! ;er, it coui smother it] old Thomai len's societ)! out of paiaJ ,ucifer outol sh: and the hops! jt is well for the world that death does come to the wicked. k'ere they to remain for ever, or for any very lengthened neriod, our planet would become a Pandemonium. Terrible Ls death may be to them, their death is a blessing to Umanity. The other terrible event here is : — Hope leaving the human soul. — "His expecta- Son shall perish : and the hope of unjust men perisheth." "'hat is dearer to the soul than hope ? It is dearer than fife itself, for life is a curse without it. The soul lives in k hope and by its hope. " The miserable hath no medi- tine but only hope," says Shakespeare. But when the picked man dieth, he loseth this hope. Hope says adieu him, plumes her pinions, and departs for ever. The lope of liberty y improvement, honour, happiness, gone, for ever lone. Every "star of hope" quench 3d, and the sky of he soul black as midnight. " He dieth, and carrieth lothing away; his glory shall not descend after him." " He hall go to the generations of his fathers, and shall never kc light." How strong the language of despair, as ex- Iressed by Milton : — " So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, Farewell remorse— all good to me is lost ; Evil be thou my good.'- I !' 4 > I (READING LVIII.— FEBRUARY 27.) discuss'^d iuH \mx iit its Relation U i\t "gxM^m aiti) \\t Hicheb. I " The righteous is delivered out of trouble, and the wicked cometh in his k"-P;OT. xi. 8. Ll men have their troubles. " Man is born to trouble, as s sparks fly upwards." But while the good and the bad jveboth trouble, their relation to it is strikingly diiferent, [indicated in this proverb. the righteous are GOING OUT OF " TROUBLE."—" The 136 The Practical Philosopher. \ righteous is delivered out of trouble." The righteous havei their troubles — troubles arising from physical infirmities mental difficulties, secular anxieties, moral imperfections social dishonesties, falsehoods, and bereavements. But the glorious fact in their history is, they are beinJ "delivered out" of these troubles. They are emerginJ out of darkness into light, out of discord into harmonvf Partially : They are being delivered out of trouble nm.i There are many striking instances of deliverance [S record. Abraham, Noah, Moses, Mordecai, Daniel. Even] righteous man can refer to troubles from which he has! been delivered, enemies that he has overcome, diflficultiel that he has surmounted, storms that he has left behind.) Completely. They will be delivered out of all trouble at deatlij With the last breath all their sorrows depart as a vision o| the night. The whole of the mighty load is left on thii side of the Jordan. John, in vision, saw the righteouJ who had " come out of great tribulation," clothed in whitj robes, and exulting in bliss. Take heart, ye righteous ones ; yet a little while, andalj your storms will be hushed — all your clouds will melt in azure. The wicked are going into trouble. — " And thJ wicked cometh in his stead." They are in trouble now,bij they are going deeper into it every step they take. Thei) heavens are growing darker, and the clouds more head they are forging thunder-bv'-^ts and nursing storms, trouble they are going into is unmitigated. They not mixed with blessings, which lighten their pressjfl or relieve their gloom. The trouble they are going into unending. " The worm dieth not, and the fire is n| quenched." Brother, mark the difference between the righteous aii the v/icked. See the former moving on, with his troublj receding like a cloud behind him, with sunshine breakij on his horizon : see the wicked advance under a slj growing more and more dark and thunderous. The Practical Philosopher^ 137 (READING LIX.— FEBRUARY s3.) "An hjTJOcrite with his mouth destroycth his neighbour : but through know- re shall the just be delivered." — Prov. xi. 9. jE hypocrite is one who feigns to be what he is not — one hose life is a lie. Selfish, he wears the costume of [levolence : false, he speaks the language of sincerity Id truth. " A hypocrite," says Bowes, " is like the Lnting at one time exhibited in London, of a friar habited jhis canonicals. View the painting at a distance, and 1 would think the friar to be in a praying attitude. His nds are clasped together and held horizontally to his kst, his eyes meekly demised like those of the publican the gospel ; and the good man seems to be quite korbed in humble adoration and devout recollection. take a nearer survey, and the deception vanishes. 1 book which seemed to be before him is discovered to la punch-bowl, into which the wretch is all the while, in aity, only squeezing a lemon." How lively a repre- (tation of a hypocrite ! Observe : iypocrisy is DESTRUCTIVE. — "A hypocrite with his uth destroyeth his neighbours." By his deception has often destroyed the reptitationy iYiepeacCy and the soul his neighbour. Hypocrites are ravenous wolves in ep's clothing. Under the pretence of loyalty, Haman kid have destroyed a whole nation. Hypocrisy implies pernicious. A consciousness of wrongness within is [cause of all hypocrisy. The corrupt heart dares not itself as it is. Hence it puts on the garb of good- \, It is theatrical : it appears to be what it really is It is a difficult character to keep up. It is a battle [nst nature and reality. " If the devil ever laughs," Colton, "it must be at hypocrites. They are the Iftest dupes he has. They serve him better than any p, and receive no wages ; nay, what is still more K m I1 I^^^IU^^B ^h^^^hI 1|bH|M \ \ 'M hH 1^1 V fl' ^^^^ ^^^^^^ha^^bv^^^rh ' 'Mm «ft^^^9^IK ^ hHII IHIII ifflJ^^^Hwr ll^H^^H^^I i ^^^^H^U ;HH HH liiH IH ,]M ■ '^'^H^^^Hfll 138 The Practical Philosopher. extraordinary, they submit to greater mortifications to i to hell than the sincerest Christian to go to heaven, iwl crisy employs the pernicious. Misrepresentations ani errors, the curse of the world, are its instruments. A falJ man is a " moral murderer ; his mouth the lethal weapoJ and his neighbour the victim." He is an assassin, strikiuj down reputations. Observe : Knowledge is restorative. — " But through knowledp shall the just be delivered." Knowledge is here in antithesis with hypocrisy, and they are essentialJ opposites. Real knowledge enables its possessor tj defeat the crafty and malicious designs of the deceive A spiritually enlightened man can penetrate the maskj the hypocrite and defeat his pretensions. Divine knoij ledge is the restorative power of the world. "Thisi life eternal, to know Thee the only true God, and Jesi Christ whom Thou hast sent." It scatters the cM of ignorance and error, and raises the soul to \m freedom, purity, and blessedness. The knowledge, hoi ever, to deliver and redeem must be practical. " Only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable : add faith, Add virtue, patience, temperance : add love, By name to some call'd charity, the soul Of all the rest. Then wilt thou not be loath To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess A paradise within thcc happier far," — Milto;*, h knowledt! is here pui e essential^ possessor the deceivel ! the maskd Divine km\ Id. "This I 3d, and Jea rs the cloud soul to ligii Dwledge, hi The Practical Philosopher^ 139 MARCH. (READING LX. -MARCH i.) hit |ublic Caufirinta in i>cl«ti0w to gtaral Cknrtcr. 1 1,1, if 1 ^" 1' if! f ' 148 The P radical Philosopher. the evil with disgust, and at the good with delight. " The righteous Lord loveth righteousness." The words before us moreover present good and evil, As they appear in combination. — Men, like sheep, I are gregarious. They live in flocks. In the text their combination is supposed. " Though hand join in hand." This combination is natural. The wicked in these verses are supposed to be in danger, and nothing is more natural than for men to crowd together in common peril. Fear as well as love brings men together: the one drives, the other draws. A divided family comes together under a common calamity ; a divided church under a common danger, anda divided nation runs into compactness at the sight of a foreign invader. But such combination is useless. " Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not go unpunished." No combination of men, however great in number, vastini wisdom, mighty in strength, affluent in resources, can prevent punishment from befalling the wicked. It musti come. The moral constitution o^ the soul, the justice ofl the universe, and the almightiness of God, render alll human efforts to avoid it futile. " Be sure your sin mllj find you out." (READING LXV. -MARCH 6.) ^icbixCttfb a»lithcbnc.s.s. " As a jewel o[ ;ji)UI in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman which is \vi(hoi discretion."— /Vcic'. xi. 22. By a fair woman, Solomon probably nutans a woman fi personal attractions, either natural or artificial ; and byl "discretion" he means virtue, or moral worth. His idea therefore is, that the external attractions of a woman d.j void of mind-excellencie.s, are "as a jewel of gold in 1 swine's snout." Here is a very incongruous conjunction in om The Pr actual Philosopher. 149 Inerson. — Here are external charms and moral deformity limited. Personal beauty, the beauty of form and face, is Inot a thing to be despised, but to be admired. It is an lexpression of the divine tastefulness and love. God created beauty ; it radiates in the heavens, it adorns the earth, it Isparkles in the seas, it overflows the universe. Nor should we despise artistic ornament. But when ersonal attractions, either natural or artificial, especially She latter, are united to a corrupt character, the conjunction Is as incongruous as "jewels of gold in a swine's snout." \x is true this hideous incongruity is not generally seen, lor the lack of true spiritual insight. But there it is, and fwe saw things as they really are, as we shall one day ee them, as angels and God see th^m now, the incongruity H'ould be most manifest and distressing. Again : — Here is a very revolting conjunction in one person. -Incongruity is not always disgusting. It is sometimes Ridiculous, and is one of the chief forces in exciting and ratifying the risibilities of our nature. But this incon- iiitv is disgusting when it is seen in the light of healthy noK rentiments. As the jewel in the swine's snout nakes he swine appear more thoroughly the swine, so personal Uaments associated with moral corruption make, by way |)f contrast, the character appear more truly revolting. The Bason why this incongruity is not more abhorrent to us is, liat we do not see, as we ought to see, the putrescent cha- acter. Our eye rests upon the personal attraction, and eers not into the moral heart. We are taken up more rith the "jewel " on the body than with the " swine " in lie soul. Furthermore, Here is a very common conjunction in one person. — ^This I a sadly common spectacle; one of the elements united -namely, corrupt character — is all but universal ; and the ther element, personal attraction, though in its natural lirm limited, yet in its artificial form is extensive and ipidly extending. The desire for personal decoration has ecome a raging passion, and creates half the trade of the Md. Wickedness is promoted by personal ornament. 3se whom heaven has blessed with natural charms •} »50 T/ic Practical Philosopher. are exposed to far greater temptations than those who have but little of the comely. Wickedness is fond of personal attractions. It is perhaps the inspiring genius in all the costumal fashions of the world. Vulgarity always likes finery — sin is always fond of making a grand appearance, Moral swine like jewels. Reader, do not, in forming your fellowships, be carried I away with one side of life. Do not follow the " swine " for the sake of the "jewel." If God has blessed you with tlie grace of personal beauty, try to get the higher grace of spiritual goodness. In proportion, I trow, to the beauty of a person's mind and character, will be the disregard for ornamental costumes, or spangling jewels. Old Fuller's words are so true and quaint that they are worth quotation j here : — "He that is proud of the rustling of his silks, like a mad- man, laughs at the rattling of his fetters. For, indeedj clothes ought to be our remembrancers of our lost innocence; besides, why should any brag ofv^hat is but borrowed;! Should the ostrich snatch oif the gallant's feather, the beaver) his hat, the goat his gloves, the sheep his suit, the silk{ worm his stockings, and neat his shoes (to strip him noj farther than modesty will give leave), he would be left inaj cold condition." " Dress," says Cowper, " drains our cellars dry, and keeps] our larder lean." (READING LXVI—MARCII 7.) %\n 6cnci'0Uf{ nub 5Vbanrimi*J. " There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth ; ami there is that witlilioldtilj more than is meet, but // tendeth to poverty. The liberal soul shall be madcfa^ and he that watereth shall be watered also himself." — Prov. xi. 24, 25. This proverb is paradoxical in expression, but unquestionj ably true in principle. The philosophy of the human mindj and the cxperionco of ages, attest its truth. Thereisadisi tribution that cnricheth the soul of the distributor, m The Practical Philosopher,- '51 there is an acquisition that impoverishes. Thie words bring' under our notice the respective operations, the reactive in- fluence, and the social estimate of the generous and avari- cious in human nature. • The respective operation of both those principles. — Xhe one '■^ scatter cth," It is like the hand of the sower scattering the seeds of kindness in all directions. What- jever is suited to ameliorate the woes and to bless the lives of men, whether it be ideas, wealth, influence, or effort, it willingly gives. Like the sun, it lives and shines by dis- [tributing influences to bless. The other ^* 7vithholdcth." The avaricious disposition is a withholding power, keeping Iback that which society claims and wants. What is the [hoarding of wealth but the keeping back of that which the Ipoverty and sufferings of humanity require. The with- liiolding of the avaricious in England, explains much of that Ipauperism and distress which, unless speedily checked and [overcome, will ruin our country. Avarice is an anomaly in llhe universe ; all else gives out what it receives, but as a nonster this clutches and retains. "^^ad covetous men, as be fable goes of Briareus, each of them one hundred hands, hey would all of them be employed in grasping and gather- n^, and hardly one of them in giving and laying out, but ^11 in receiving, and none of them in restoring. A thing in Itself so monstrous, that nothing in nature besides is like i, except it be death and the grave, the only things we know \{ which are always carrying off the spoils of the world, tnd never making restitution. For otherwise all the parts ^f the universe, as they borrow of one another, so they still ay what they borrow, and that by so just and well balanced equality that their payments always keep pace with heir receipts." Again, in rejation to the avaricious and enerous, the verses lead us to notice : — The reactive influence of both. — Every effort has i reaction. Action and reaction are the law of the uni- prse, material and spiritual. The scattering " increascth." be liberal soul " gets fat." Not unfrequently does libc- [lity bring temporal wealth. There arc many signal stances of this in the history of generous men ; it is inva- 152 The Practical Philosopher, \ ■\ '< riably so in spiritual life. It always brings wealth of soul. Every generous act enricheth our spiritual being. " Give and it shall be given unto you, good measure, pressed down running over, and shaken together." The withholding ^^ tendeth to poverty." Avarice not unfrequontly leads to temporal pauperism, always to moral. The man who re- ceives all and gives nothing, sinks lower and lower into the depths of spiritual destitution. The soul of the miser always runs into a miserable grub. Strongly does Paul show the tn\th of this — "He which soweth sparingly shall reap ;;iso sparingly ; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap ISO b. untifully." Moreover, in relation to the avaricious and the :> .nerous the verses teach : — The social estimate of both. — " He that withholdeth I corn, the people shall curse him ; but blessing shall be upon the head of him that selleth it." The people M\\ curse the avaricious. Who knows the imprecations that fall every day on the head of grasping greed ? "The cries of them which have reaped are entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth." The people shall bless tk\ generous. Hear Job's experience, "The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me : and I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. Unto me men gave earl and waited, and kept silence at my counsel. After my[ words they spoke not again, and my speech dropped upon I them." " The truly generous is the truly wise ; And he who loves not others lives unblcst." (READING LXVIL— MARCH 8.) " He that diligently seeketh good procureth favour : but he that seekethii*| chief, it shall come unto him. He that trusteth in his riches shall fall: buttlii righteous shall flourish as a branch." — Prov. xi. 2", 28. Here we have man in two attitudes, pursuing and restinjj He is in quest of something, " for man never is, but alwaji 1\ The Practical Philosopher. »53 ) be blest:' las attained and then he is trusting in something that he Here we have : — )IAN SEEKING. — All men pursue one of two opposite oral objects — good or evil. The text speaks of both. me are in pursuit of good. " He that diligent'y seeketh 0(1." There are those who are industrious in the search d service of goodness, and that both for themselves and ietv. But some are in pursuit of evil. " lie that seeketh schief." There are those who are as industrious in inn- evil, as others in doing good ; they are always in ischief. The destiny of these, the text suggests, is widely different. ^ionc procurctJi favour: — favour with conscience, society, id God, and The other disfavour. " It shall come unto h* n." lat is, mischief shall come unto him. He shall have -hi' desen'es. The disapprobation of his own con? 'enc3 ;he denunciation of society — the frown of Heaven. ehold, he travaileth with iniquity, and hath conce ' ved chief, and brought forth falsehood. 1 le made a Dit, and ged it, and is fallen into the ditch which he mat -. His chief shall return upon his own head, and his violent ling shall come down upon his own pate." Here we have ilAXTRUSTlNCi. — "He that trusteth in his riches shall " This is a common tendcMic)-. Men are everj^where ting in th(Mr wealth for happiness and honour. Like fool in the Gospel, they say, " Soul, thou hast much s laid up for many years." Wealth as an object of t is not only spiritually unsatisfactory but necessarily mcctit. Man's wealth cannot stay long with him, his ection with it is very brief, and very uncertain, too ; may part at any moment. He, therefore, who trusteth swealth shall " fall." Whence f From all his hopes mundane pleasures. Whither^ To disappointment despair. When J Whenever moral conviction seizes soul, whether before or after death. Why ? Because th was never a fit foundation for the soul to trust " Lo, this is the man that made not God his r^th; but trusted in the abundance of his richcG, and gthcncd himself in his wickedness," "The firbt . I y i54 The Practical Philosopher. of all English games," says Ruskin, " is making moncv That is an all-absorbing game : and we knock each othq down oftener in playing at that than at football, or ani other roughest sport ; and it is absolutely without purpo^ No one who engages heartily in the game ever knos why. Ask a great money-maker what he wants to do wit his money — he never knows. lie doesn't make ittoi anything with it. He gets it only that he may jret i *What will you make of what you have got?' you a^l * Well, I'll get more,' he says. Just as at cricket you li more runs. There is no use in the runs, but to get moj of them than other people is the game. So all that jrrej foul city of London there, rattling, growling, smokiri stinking — a ghastly heap of fermented brickwork, pouriil out poison at every pore. You fancy it is a city of woij Not a street of it. It is a great city at play, very na play, and very hard play, but still play. It is only Lon Cricket Ground without the turf: a huge billiard talj without the cloth, and with pockets as deep as the tomless pit ; but mainly a billiard table after all." (READING LXVIII.— MARCH 9.) " He that troublcth his own liuusc bhall inhent the wind : and the fnoli he servant to the wise." — Prov. xi. 29. " Home," says F. W. Robertson, " is the one place inj this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is [ place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off ij mask of guarded and suspicious coldness, which the \vj forces us to wear in self-defence, and where we pour out! unreserved communications of full and confiding hei It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush without any sensation of awkwardness, and withou: 1 \ fear of ridicule." human kingdoms, three things conce That pi:ack sho I -It is here imp] Ian evil. And so i lendeavour to mainl [sphere. Every lool Jto disturb should be Jrage without, there ; Idoor. It is implied — That there are s( jof their domestic cir Iheir own house. W live, false, selfish, krho breeds feuds in \ teaven. The home: lountry, the dearer, s "The lit Hov Amids O'ci The fr< Lonj May h« |ut, alas I how often t intemperate husb lake scenes that shou joseofdiscordanda, jit is implied — [That those who bre^ 5 FOOLS.-" He that ^vind: and the fo. ^rt." Two things s "^/- "They inherit * moment their ms The Practical Philosopher. »55 idthefivjlJ )lace inl It is tear off 1 |h the \v< jour out! ling liel iS gubh kvitliou: fear of ridicule." It is a Divine institution, the best of human kingdoms, the type of heaven. The proverb implies i three things concerning family life : That PKACK should be the grand aim of all its members. j— It is here implied that to trouble the house is an evil. And so it is. Each member should studiously endeavour to maintain an unbroken harmony in the family [fphere. Every look, expression, thought, word, calculated |to disturb should be carefully eschewed. Whatever storms [rage without, there should be serenity within the household Idoor. It is implied — That there are some members WHO BREAK the peace cf their domestic circle. — There are some who " trouble " kheir own house. Who are they ? The illnatured, impul- sive, false, selfish. These are domestic troublers. Me irho breeds feuds in families creates wars in man's earthly lieaven. The homes of England are the glory of our ountry, the dearer, sweeter spots than all the rest. •• The litalcly homes of England, How beautiful thev stanil, Amidst their tall ancestral trees. O'er all the pleasant land ; The free fair homes of England, Long, long in hut and hall. May hearts of native proof be rear'd To guard each hallow'd wall ! " Mrs. Heman'S, Jut, alas ! how often the peace of English homes is broken, intemperate husband, an irascible wife, a reckless son, lake scenes that should be the abode of harmony and lovo lose of discord and anger. lit is implied — [That those who break the peace of their domestic circle i FOOLS. — "He that troubleth his own house shall inherit wind : and the fool shall be servant to the wise of art." Two things show their folly. They get no good li/. "They inherit the wind." What if they gratify a moment their vanity, their sclfishr»css, ti.oir 1 I , ii 156 The Practical Philosopher. The pride, their passion by it r Their gratification is but wind. There is nothing- substantial or lasting in it. The "wind" they "inherit," too, is a blasting typhoon, They get degradation by it. "The fool shall be servant to I the wise of heart." The habitual disturber of the familv circle soon, by his folly, sinks into a base servitude. The loving and the peaceful, by the wisdom of their conduct,! rule him with a dignified despotism, and this fills himj with the mortification of vassalage. (READING LXIX.-MARCH lo.) V^t gifc 0f tjrc 600ir. '• The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life; and he that winneth souls i wise. Behold, the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth : much moretij wicked and the sinner." — Prov. xi. 30, 31. These verses suggest three things in relation to the lifei the good on earth : — Thk jxvoluntary tntluenxe of a good man's — "The fruit of the righteous is a good man's li The "//v///" of a life is the in\c)luntary and rocfular m pression of what the man is in heart and st)ul. All m\m are not the //-«/'/ of life, inasmuch as man in the exercis of his freedom, and indeed even by accident, perfor actions that, instead of fully expressing, misrepresent hi life. Hence says Christ, "By their fruit," not by thej action, " ye shall know them." The regular flow of a man] general activity is iYve fruity and this, in the case of ago man, is a "tree of life." It is so for three reasons. It e:j presses real life ; communicates real life ; nourishes re^ life. Again the verses suggest : — Tm<: HIGHEST purpose of a good man's life— "1 that winneth souls is wise." This implies that souls aj lost, and so they are lost to truth, love, usefulness, ai God. It implies that souls may be saved, and so theynuj [Christ came to save t] Ifrospel dispensation Jnioreover, that soul« ■glorious fact. Men ] iellow men. And tl Succeeds in saving ; Isubiimest sense. On The inevitable ] -"Behold the right Jtarth." The recompe |o the suffering he ( [emaining imperfectic \ reward for the good ben are punished on pet as an argument fo bs that must be endi ticked and the sinner." lisits the sins of His pi lore will He visit the I come that judgment Bd if it first begin at p obey not the go5 arcely be saved, whei Ipearr" (READI^^ "Whoso loveth instruction 1 lish. A good man obtaineth nillheconden.j. A man s jfoftherighteoushiiallnotbei '■ righteous and the i ects. fn relation to intel k "Whoso loveth Nygood man is at The Practical Philosopher, 157 Ichrist came to save them. Millions have been restored. The Ifiospel dispensation continues for the purpose. It implies, Imoreover, that souls may be saved by man. This is a Llorious fact. Men have saved, and are still saving, their Ifellow men. And then it is asserted that the man who ijucceeds in saving souls is " wise." And so he is in the jtublimest sense. Once more the verses suggest : — The inevitable retribution of a good man's life. -"Behold the righteous shall be recompensed in the Itarth." The recompense here is supposed to refer rather the suffering he experiences, in consequence of his emaining imperfections, than to the blessings he enjoys as I reward for the good that is in him. The sins of good pen are punished on this earth, and Solomon uses the ^ct as an argument for the certainty of the greater suffer- hgs that must be endured by the wicked. " Much more the licked and the sinner." The argument is d fortiori x if God lisits the sins of His people here with chastisen nt, much tore will He visit the sins of the wicked. " For the time I come that judgment must begin at the house of God : lid if it first begin at us, what shall be the end of them \ix obey not the gospel of God ? And if the righteous jtarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner bpear r (READING LXX.— MARCH 11.) "Whoso loveth instruction loveth knowledge ; but he that hateth reproof ij ish. A good fnan obtaineth favour of the Lord : but a man of wicked de- sn-ill he conden. 1. A man shall not be established by wickedness : but the fofthe righteous hiiall not be moved." — Prov. xii. i to 3. righteous and the wicked are here presented in three ects. |n relation to intelligence. — The good lo^iies intclli- w. "Whoso loveth instruction, loveth knowledge." Nly good man is a truth seeker. Tlie constant cry of ' (I I i^i 158 The Practical Philosopher. his soul is for more light. " Where shall wisdom be found, nnd where is the place of understanding r" The evil hal, inlellii^ciicc. ^^\\<^ that hateth reproof is brutish." %.. proof is a form of knowledge. Jt shows to a sinner, in the light of great principles, either the imprudenco or immorality, or both, of his conduct. He hates this, and is thus " brutish." He who does not desire to have hi^ faults exposed to him in the light of law and love is irra- tional. " I have surely heard Kphraim bemoaning hiniseli thus: Thou hast chastised me, and 1 was chastised, as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke." The righteous and the wicked are here presented: In relation to di\i\e triiatmicxt. — The ^ood scaim the favour of God. " A good man obtaineth favour of the Lord." Heaven smiles upon the righteous. "Thou, Lonl, wilt bless the righteous ; with favour wilt thou comjja^ him as with a shield." To obtain the favour of Ciod is tk highest object of life. "Wherefore we labour, that, whether present or absent, we may be accepted, of Him." The rii it/cnrs his condeiunation. " .V man of wicked devices will he condemn." The frown of eternal justice shadows the i path of the wicked. "He that believeth not is condemnoil | already." The righteous and the wicked are here presented : In relation to THEIR STANDING, — The evil have no sLi- hility. " A man shall not be established by wickedness,' How insecure are the wicked! They are in "slippervl places." They live in a house whose foundation is sand, The good arc fir nil y established. " The root of the righteous shall not be moved." " (xod is our refuge and strength, a v.ery presc-nt help in time of trouble." The righteous are like the monarch of the forest, whose roots strike wide and deep into the heart of the earth, and stands secure amidst storms that wreck the fleets of nations and level cities ial the dust-. The Practical Philosopher, «59 (READING LXXI.— MARCH 12.) Z\t ©uetn 0f the ioiwrbolir. « A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband." — Prw. xii. 4. Few men understood more of woman than Solomon. He 1 knew her frailties and her virtues. His writings abound with many sage remarks upon the female character. Here he speaks of a " virtuous woman," and a virtuous woman is a true woman, chaste, prudent, modest, loving, faithful, patient in suffering, and brave in duty, keeping within the orbit of her sex, and lighting it with all the graces of womanhood. Such a woman, Solomon says, is "a crown [to her husband." This language implies two things. That she exercises A control over him. — A " crown " [ is the insignia of r/z/t'. A virtuous woman rules, not by intention, or arrangement, or legislative command, but by the power of her love, and the graces of her life. IWoman has more force in her looks than man has in his laws, more force in her tears than man has in his argu- ments. A virtuous woman is really queen of the world. Beauty, tenderness, love, purity, are the imperial forces of fe, and these woman wields. " She who ne'er answers till a husband cools, Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules ; Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, Yet has her humour most when she obeys." — Ben Jonson. The proverb moreover implies : — That she confers a dignity upon him. — A "crown" is la sign of dignity. She dignifies her husband, as well las rules him. Her excellence justifies his choice. In her character and deportment all see his wisdom, taste, and judgment in making her his bride. Her management lenriches his exchequer. By her industry and economy the Iproduce of his labour is carefully guarded, and often in- jcreased. Her infiuence exalts his character. Her gentle spirit and manners smooth the roughness of his character, refine his tastes, elevate his aims, and round the angles of his dailv life. I i6o Tlie Practical Pliilosophcr. (READIXr, LXXII. -MARCH 13.) flic Jlimbtroiis nnb tbt cic'lithfir. «' The thoughts of the rit;htcoii.s are rij,'hl : but the couiinlIi of thewiihii are deceit, 'llic words of the wicked are to He in wail for blood : but thi' luui of the upright shall deliver theui. 'J'lio wicked are overthrown, and are iiui j,^ the house of the righteous shall stand. A man shall be lomniendcd accordin.. his wi-idom : but he that is of a jwrversc heart shall be despiscil."— /'^o;.. \i 5 to 8. In these ver.ses Solomon jfixcs us a further description ot the righteous and the wicked, and the}' are here presented in their thoujjhts, speech, standintjf and reputation. Thn are represented In their TilorCfHTS. — Thoughts are the most wonder- ful things in connection with human life. They are the factors of character, and the primal forces of history. Bv thought man builds up his own world, and it is ever to him the realest world. Now the thoughts of the righteous and wicked are here brought into contrast. " The ihouglits oi the righteous are n'i(/iL" The righteous man is a man right in heart, and consequently right in all. The heart is the spring ol* the intellect — the helmsman of the brain, ♦'As a man thinketh in his heart so is he." The thouijfhtsj of the wicked ar v. false. " The counsels of the wicked arc deceit." All the thoughts of a wicked man rcferrinjj tu happiness, greatness, duty, life, (rod, ar(» false. 1 hi lives in a wurld of illusions, lie walketh in a vain show. I!(| is a creature of fiction. Again the two characters arc represented In their si'iiKCll. — .Speech is the instrument by Nvhiil thought does its work in society. Words are Ihi incarnations, vehicles, and weajjons. The words ot tlir wicked an* i/iischicvoiis, " 1 lu-y lie in wait for blood,' Malice is the inspirati(»n of th«' wicked man, and he uses] words as swords to wound the heart and th^stroy the repu- tation of otln^rs. " TIk' wicked plotti'th against the just, I The words of the ightcious are bcuejiccut. "The mouth of I the upright shall deliver them." The good desires j^foodj and the words arc not to injure but to blfss, net to (bstn')' • Tialin xxw The Practical Philosopher. i6i but to save. To save reputations from calumny, under- standinyfs from error, hearts from p(jllutii)n, souls from perdition. 'Jliese eharactors are here .ufiven — In thoir srANUiNMi. — " Tlui wicked are overthrown ami are not, but the house t)f the rii^hteous shall stand." Ihe wicked are insecure. 'J'hey are to be overthrown. flioir hopes, purposes, possessions, pleasures, are all daomed. " 1 have seen the wicked in j^reat power, spread- inij himself like a j^Tcen bay tree. Yet he passcnl away, and lo, he was not." These men build their houses on the sand, I ihcv titter and must fall. The rig^hteous are safe. "The kouso of the ripfhteous shall stand." They are established [on the Rock of Ai^es. " 1 lim that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my (rod, and he shall pfo no more luut. ' Moreover, these characters are here presented — In their RKPrXAllON. — " A man shall be com-' inionded accordinj^ to his wisdom : but he that is of a Ipcrvorse heart shall be despised." The pfood commands Ithe respect of society. The consciences of the worst men lare bound to reverence the ri,L!fht. Pharaoh honoured Joseph, Nebuchadnezzar Daniel. liut the? wicked man [awakes the couteinpt of society. " He that is of a perverse heart shall be despisjd." Servility and hypocrisy may bow the knee and uncover the head before him when in affluence and power, albeit deep is the contempt for him I the social heart. It V)y ^vh'ul |ds are ihl Ivords lit tlif for blood,' land ho uses] joy the repu- 1st the just. "he mouth o'l [esires ^(uod, •; to (bstroyl (KtADlNG LXXIII -MARCH 14.) goiuffitit illoDcfity ani) Sbplaii. 'Hethat it despised, ami hatli .1 servant, is better thai) ho tliat honourcth n>clf, and latkotli bread."— i'/w. xii. 9. fANiTY, or love of display, is one of the most contemptible nd pernicious passions that can ta!;e possession of the iiman mind. Its roots are in self-ignorance— its fruits arc Ik ' I'b.ilin xxxvii. 35, 36, i Kc\. iii. la. I62 7 he P radical Phiio^o/>/icr. affectation and ialsehoocl. Van-':' is a kind of mental intoxication, in which the pauper li-.!! .ias himself a princt and exhibits himself in aspects c3: igu.stlnjt/' to all observers. The proverb refers to this in families, and '.vh^-n ii; takes pos- session of households it often destroys domestic comforts. The words lead us to three remarks : — That thfrk are do.mkstk: comforts avitjioui DISPLAY. — "]Ie that is despised and hath a servant." It follows, then, that he who is '' home. In many an unpretending cottage there is more real domestic enjoyment than can be found in the most imposing mansions. The second remark suggested is this - — TlIIiRE IS DOMKS'ITC DISPLAY WITHOL'T COMFORTS.- " He that honoureth himself, and laoketh bread." Thero are in this age of empty show increasing multitudes of parents who sacrifice the right culture of their children, and the substantial comforts of a home, for appearance,, They all but starve their domestics to feed their vanity, Thev must be grand ^ though they lack bread. Their half- starved frames \n\i>l have gorgeous mantles. This love of) appearance, this desire for show, is, I trow, making sadj ha\ ()C with the homers ot old England. And the other remark is this : — TH1-: CONDITION OF YWV. FORMER IS PREB'ERABLE TOl THAT OF THE LATTER. — It is '' bcttcri' says the text, tol have comforts without show, than show without comforts! ''■ Better y It is more rational. How absurd to sacriiicel the comforts of life to outward show ! Who cares for you display r None who care for you ; but only those whoj would despise you were you stripped of your costumeJ •• Better." Why r It is more moral. It is immoral toj m.ike outward grandeur the grand aim. Immoral, bpcau«! 1^ .^iit)', the insj ^nme to studv t Why: It is mi jlhat it cannot liloring can sai How V For w] Kut bu Thai ri Bom ai The rrac(::al Phihsophcr. lO.^ mental princt, )servers. kes pos- mforts. VVlTllOl-l' lant." It ,kes him- )rtment— earances : is humble [n stead of garniture, "orts of lii* re is more \ the most -)M1-0RTS.- d." Thero altitudes of ir children,] ppearance>. heir vanity, Their half- This love of I m jpl .,.;:• , i-"e inspiring motive, is a devilish passion. It is a '^cnme to study the wardrobe more than yoursf^lf. ' Bettor." IW'hyr It is more safis/yuii^. \\ is the nature of vanliy Lat it cannot be Srvtjstied, No amount of jewellery or ailoring can satisfy it. " What so foolish as the chase of fame, J low vain the pri/e ! how impotent our aim ! For what arc men who grasp at praise subUme, But bubbles on the rapid stream of time, That rise and fall, that swell and arc no more, Bom and forgot, ten thousand in an hour." YofNO. m aking sad TERABLE TO the text, to ut comforts.1 to sacrifice| ires for you those wliol )ur costume.! ini moral loj [oral, becausi (READING EXXTV. -MAKCIi 15.) ^^hr J^rratmrut of eA«i«val'i. "A righteous tnan regardcth the life of his beast ; but the lender mercies o [wicked rt« cruel." — /Vw. xii. 10. HE world of irrational animals is a wonderful world. Its story, which is only begun to be written, is amongst the Br\els of modern literature. The Bible not only com- ands us to study this world, and sends us to the boasts of stield for instruction, but it also legislates for our conduct I relation to it. The proverb suggests two remarks con- ning man's conduct towards the beasts of the field. fHAT KINDNESS TOWARDS THE LOWER ANIMALS IS BHTliOUS. — " A righteous man rogardeth the life of his jst, " Three facts will show why we should be kind to km. They arc the ercatures of God. ilis breath kii iled jirlifo, and His hand fashioned both the great and small. I we abuse what He thought worth creating? They ^liven for our use. He put all under the dominion of 1: some to serve him in one way, and some in another : le to charm his eye with their beauty, ochers to delight [ear with their mu.sic : some to .supply him with food, lothers with clothing: some to save his own muscular ^\\\ in doing his work, and others to bear him about. \m tndowed "with sensibility and intelli^enee. They uU ' € , ■ I 164 71ic Practical Philosopher, i have feeling, and some a trood degree of sagacity, amountinT almost to reason itself. They not only feel our treatment but, peradventure, form judgments of the same. The other remark suggested by the proverb is : — That crukltv innvARDs the lower animals is WICKED. — " The tender mercies of the Avicked are cruel; Cruelty is wickedness. ^Man sins against God astrulvin his conduct towards animals as in his conduct towards members of his own race. There is a di\ine law — " Thou shalt not mu/zle the ox when he treadoth out the corn, "Send . . . now, and gather thy cattle, and ail that thou hast in the field ; for upon every man and boast whiii shall be found in the field, and shall not be brought home, the hail shall come down upon them, and they shall die, Crreat is the difference between the heart of a righteous and that of a wicked man in relation to anim.il life ; the one is kind even to his beast, whereas the kindest treatment ol the other is cruelty itself. " i would not enter 011 my list of friends (Though ;;raccil with jJoiishM manner and fine sense, Yet wantinfj sensibility) the man Who ni'<"ncssly sets foot upon a worm. An inadvertent step may crush the snail That crawls at eveninjj in the public path ; Hut he that has humanity, forewam'd, Will tread aside and let the reptile live." — Cowrr.:i, endowed wit] flowed, and h ' has given hin ! curse of the fi [innocence ha( (subjects of th( Maxly ixe lAn agricultur Itilleth his land (the healthiest, (industry. Hei bmes as the experience shov oil is all that n ound the seasc easons carry thi ndustry is seldo (READING LXXV. -MARCH 16.) JlJattlu ,'^nbufitvijr unb Pava.'iitical ,?jnboIfnft •' He that tilloth his Land shall he satisfied with bread : but he that A vain /wjo/iJ /j void of undcrstandin},'." — />(«». xii. 1 1. It is implied that all men want ^^ bread" — the means i physical sustentation — and that this bread is to coni through human industry. The earth : ^iontaneously yielj what irrational creatures require, because they are • Deut. XXV. 4. t Ex. ix. 19, ^- other subjocl Parasitical an antithesis rsoiis is void otl rhap.s be takr^l •ad'^ of life, aiu ibour. First; /| !■//■ siip/'ort. Ill I "i'L', they are h\ 'vn, flatter, and pse basc-naturd they di.strracc ^'*- Secondly: ^ir siipf^or/ nrc /I ''}' li(?cau.s(' ti[ "'yd."\-olof)n),.,i| y. |brce of int( \^'" fiays our ,n ft'"!,' than work i The Practical Philosopher. 165 imountinj treatment, The other XIMALS IS are cruel," as truly in I act towards I aw — "Thou I ; the corn. and ail ihatl beast whicli oug'ht home,! ;y shall die. •ighteous and] e ; the one \\ treatment ofl :nse, rv.o. l\t)Olttttt. jut he that folio* -the means td is to coJ laneously yiell they are IX. 19. endowed with aptitudes for cultivation. Man is thus en- dowed, and his Maker will not do for him that which He has given him power to do for himself. Labour is not the 1 curse of the fall ; it is a blessed condition of life. Man in [innocence had to cultivate Eden. The verse presents two I subjects of thought : — Maxly industry. — Here is manly industry indicated. An agricultural specimen of work is given. "He that tilleth his land." Agriculture is the oldest, the divinest, [the healthiest, and the most necessary branch of human jindustry. Here is manly industry mvardcd. "Bread" [conies as the result. He is " satisfied with bread." All experience shows that, as a rule, proper cultivation of the jjoil is all that man requires to satisfy his wants. God sends ound the seasons, and when man does his work, those cisons carry their respective blessings to the race. Skilled ndustry is seldom in want. '< Thrift is .1 blc instinct of i^uckcdim^ "The wicked desireth the net of evil men" Men of thi world charge Christians with hypocrisy. But no Christlj man is a hypocrite. The better a man is, the lesi temptation he has to disguise himself, and the more inj ducements to unveil his heart to all. Honesty nee no covering: like the sun behind the clouds, it struggle to break forth on the eyes of men. On the contrary, wicked man must be hypocritical, and that just in propoij tion to his wickednt'ss. Were his polluted heart and dii honest purposes fully to appear, society would rccuil Iroii him as a demon. To maintain a home, therefore, in socii The Pmch'cal P/iilosopIicr. 167 y sacrifice loses thel 5t come to because he ; parasite's s, and thd exactionsj rJ. JVUS'At. of the rijhttoai ii.» lips : l)ut thi principles \\ net of evi as apt (obtained \\o retnarl Menofthi no Christl] is, the le^ he more in^ mesty need it struggld contrary,! St in propoi art and diJ recoil M ■ore, in socii life, and to get on in his trade or profession, he must be as artful as the old serpent himself. Craftiness is essential to sin. Sin came into the world through craft. The devil deceived our progenitors. Sin is ever cunning : wisdom is alone true. Cunning is the low mimicry of wisdom ; — it is the fox, not the Socrates of the soul. Secondly : {'fiiffincss IS iifl security ogaiiist ruin. "The wicked is ensnared by the transgression of his lips." Lies are the lanj,'uage of craftiness. The crafty uses them as conceal- ment and defence, but the eternal law of providence makes them snares. One lie leads to another, and so on, until they become so numerous, that the author involves himself in contradictions, and he falls and founders like a wild beast in a snare. The other principle which the words bring under notice is : — Honesty. — "The root of the righteous yieldeth fruit." First: //oms/v is sfroiig in its (Kcu s/n'//jf///. It has a root. It does not live by cunning and stratagems, but by its own natural force and growth. Honesty has roots that will stand all storms. Secondly: Honesty ivill extricate from Ui^cnlties. "The just shall come out of trouble." The just man may get into troubles, and often does, but by his [upright principles, under (rod, he shall come out of them. "Honesty is the best policy." It may have difficulties, it may involve temporary trouble, but it will ultimately work lout its deliverance. •'An honest soul is like a ship al sea. Tliat sleeps at anchor on the ocean's calm ; liut when it rages, and the wind blows hijjli, She cuts her way with skill and majesty," (READING LXXVII. - MARCH 18.) lietributiotts of tlic $ij? iml) Sift. "A man shall be satisfied with good by the fruit of hU mouth : and the re- iDmpencc of a man's hands shall be rendered unto him."— /'/w. xii. 14. Iere are — The retributions of the up.— "A man shall be atibtied with good by the fruit of his mouth." The person 1 \ ^^- i6d The Practical PJiilosoplier, It here must of course be supposed to be a g^ood man, forhf> speaks " good." What must speech be to be pfood ? Sincere. It must accord exactly with what is in the mind ; all oth^r speech is hollow and hypocritical. It must be tnttliful. It must agree exactly with the facts or realities to whiili it refers. Speech may be sincere, and yet not truthful. Jr may correspond with what is in th<.' mind, but what is in the mind may not correspond with facts. It must b bcucvohnt. It must be used for the jjurpose of usefulness not to injure, delude, or pain. Now the speech of such a man will satisfy him with "good." "If any man ofR'nd not in word, the same is a perfect man, and able also to bridle the whole body.' How will such speech satisfy a man ? First : In its action upon Iiis oivn mind. There is a pleasure in the act of speaking a true thing, and there is a higher pleasure in the reflection of having done so. " Speech is the light, the morning "f tlic mind ; U '■jircads the bcaittcoiis imafjc^ ahroad Which else lie furled and shrouded in the soul." — Drvdkn. ^rcondl)' : /// tlic ctf'cct he sees produced upon others. Ho will see in the circle in which he moves, intelligence, goodness, spring up around as Ik? speaks. J lis spcerli gives brightness and music to the atmosphere of lii^ list(Miing audi(Mire. 'J'hirdiv: /// ////' c<>useiotis approlnjfion of (jod. " Thov that feared the Lord spake often one to another: and th'^ Lord hearkened, and heard it ; and a book of remembrance was written for them." Mere arc also : — The RKTRlBUTioxs OF iiiK T.iFK. — "And the recom- pense of the man's hand shall be rendered unto him. The "hand" here stands for the whole conduct of life Jt means that man should receive the rewards of his works. And this is inevitable. First : From the taw of Cinisntin. We are to-day the result of our conduct yesterday, and the cause of our conduct to-morrow ; and thus ever muit we reap the work of our own hands. Secondly : From the leni:i'>i cousdencc. The pai'.t v.-orks of our hands are not lo:.t. .Mc- • J niKS iii. 13. « t Mnhvhi iii. iC, I". Tlic Proiinnl PJiihsophcr, 1 60 nion' g"athors up the frajTments of our life ; and conscience stinjjs or smiles, according to their character. Thirdly : /•/,)/// the laiv of rii^htionsnan;. There is justice in the uni- wrso; and justice will cner punish the wicked and reward thi' iT^'id. " 13e not deceived: (iod is not mocked: what- sjavcr a man soweth, that shall he reap." " Ilcavcnls most just, and of our pleasant vices Malics instruments to scourge us." (READING LXXVIII.-MARCH 19.) 1\]t (Dpinionutcb \\\\\i the Jparilc. " The way of a fool /!» ri;,'ht in his own eyes : but he that hcarkcncth unto I cotin-fl /.f wise."— y'/v)j/. xii. 15. lliiRK are two distinct characters — Till': oiUNiATED. — He is a "fool," and his way is [always "right in his own eyes." He has .such a high i>timato of himself that he ignores the opinions of others, and adopts his own notions as the infallible criterion and 1 rule. Such a man, Solomon says, is a " fool." Why r First : llmusc he deprives liinnelf of (he advantages of other meiis iiiklligeriee. It is the law of Providence that men should learn by the knowledge which others have reached by I ubser\'ation, study, and experience. The past should be regarded as the schoolma.ster of the present. But the con- fcitcd man shuts out all this light. He is too clever to learn. He is so inflated with his own opinions, that he [ cannot admit the ideas of other men. Secondly : Because he (xposcs himself to the scorn of society. Self-conceit is the I most contemptible of attributes : all men despise it in I others. A vain man is a social offence. The other cha- i racter here is — The Docile. — " He that hearkeneth unto counsel is I wise." Why? Because he enriches his mental resources. His ear is ever open to the voice of intelligence, which [drops priceless sentences of truth every hour. He consults m\ i \f\ k1> "^ ^•v. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) k A /^/j^ /- r/^ & ^ 1.0 I.I b£|28 |2.5 ■ 50 "^" lis 12.2 ^ m US u |40 luui. 11-25 II 1.4 2j0 1.6 m Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STRUT WEBSTER, NY. MS80 (716) 872-4503 '^ <5p l/j 1 70 The Practical Philosopher^ books, men, and nature, and " he increaseth knowledge." "Wise," why ? Because he increases his power of influent Knowledge is power. The more intelligence a man has, the wider and higher his dominion over others ; and " the man that hearkeneth unto the counsel of the wise " is constantlv adding to his stock of wisdom. " Wise," why r Because k increases his securities of safety. " In the multitude of couii- sellors there is safety." Young men, avoid, as you would avoid a fiend, the spirit and manners of self-conceited men, "There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond ; And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; As who should say, / am Sir Oracle, And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark ! I do know of these. That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing."— Shakespeare. (READING LXXIX.— MARCH 20.) "A fool's wrath is presently known : but a prudent man covereth shame. Ik at speaketh truth sheweth forth righteousness : but a false witness deceit. There that speaketh like the piercings of a sword : but the tongue of the wise ii health. The lip of truth shall be established for ever : but a lying tongue is but for a moment. Deceit is in the heart of them that imagine evil : but to the counsellors of peace is joy. There shall no evil happen to the just : but tie wicked shall be filled with mischief. Lying lips are abomination to the Lord; but they that deal truly are his delight. A prudent man concealeth knowledge; but the heart of fools proclaimeth foolishness." — Frov. xii. 16 to 23 Speech is again the subject of these verses. Thomas Carlyle has said many strong and striking things about speech and silence. But his finest utterance on the subject will scarcely bear comparison in pith, point, and pro- fundity with those of Solomon. In these verses he draws a contrast between different kinds of speech. Here we have — The Practical PJiilosopJicr. ni The rash and the prudent. — "The fool's wrath is presently known." Anger fires the fool's soul ; thoughts are forged in flame, and he speaks them out at once. His wrath is "presently known." "A fool uttereth all his mind." Such rash speech as this is very foolish. Why ? Because anger is seldom worthy of speech, and rash speech may do immense mischief. In contrast with this is the prudent man, " who covereth shame." An angry passion may blaze up in his nature, but he covereth it ; he does not speak it out ; but rather quenches it by suppression. Here we have — The true and the false. — "He that speaketh 'ruth, showeth forth righteousness." What is it to speak " truth" ? Xot merely to speak our conceptions of it, for our con- ceptions may be false. But to speak those conceptions of truth that agree with the nature of things. Speaking such conceptions is a manifestation of righteousness. The words are radiations of right. " But a false witness deceit." The man who speaks falsehood, instead of show- ing forth righteousness, shows forth " deceit." He cheats with his tc ngue. Here we have — The wounding and the healing. — "There is that speaketh like the piercing of the sword." There is a spiteful, malignant speech, that acts as a javelin, it " pierces " —it is designed to wound — and it does wound. There are those in society, whose " teeth are spears and arrows, and whose tongues are sharp swords." David was frequently wounded by such speech. " As with a sword in my bones mine enemies reproach me." How many there are who cannot speak a kind word : " the poison of asps is under their lips." In contrast with this is the healing tongue. "The tongue of the wise is health." There is a speech that is calming, succouring, strengthening — a tonic to the heart. Here we have — The permanent and the transient. — "The lip of truth shall be established for ever." Truth is an im- perishable thing. He that speaks it drops that into the 1 i V-m If it s* M 172 Tlic Practical Philosopher. pH world which will outlive all human institutions, survive kingdoms and grow through the ages. It is the incor- ruptible seed, " that liveth and abideth for ever." In con- trast with this is the transient : a lying tongue " is but for a moment." Falsehood cannot live long. The laws of the universe are against it. It is a bubble that floats on the stream, but breaks with one puff of air, and is lost in the whelming current of destiny. Here we have — The mischievous and the pacific. — " Deceit is in the heart of them that imagine evil, but to the counsellors of peace is joy. There shall no evil happen to the just but the wicked shall be filled with mischief." There is a speech that is mischievous : it comes from the heart of him whfo is unrighteous, and who imagines evil. It disturbs social order, generates strife ; it creates wars. In contrast with this is the pacific : " to the counsellors of peace is joy." " Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God." Here we have — The condemned and the approved. — The false are condemned. " Lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord." God is a God of truth, and falsehood is an abomi- nation unto Him. On the other hand, they that deal truly are "his delight." A man of truth is a man of God. Honesty is truth in conduct, and truth is honesty in words. "We should make conscience of truth," says an old author, " not only in our words, but in all our actions ; because those that deal truly and sincerely in all their dealings are his delight, and he is well pleased with them. We delight to converse with and make use of those that are honest, and that we may put a confidence in : such, therefore, let us be, that we may recommend ourselves to the favour both of God and man." Here we have — The recki.ess and the thoughtful. — "A prudent man concealeth knowledge ; but the heart of fools pro- claimeth foohsimess." The language does not mean that a prudent man never speaks out his knowledge, but that 21ie ^radical Philosopho'. 173 lie is not hasty in speech. He reflects and deliberates; whereas the fool speaks out everything at once that comes into his mind ; all the absurd and filthy things of his heart. "The tongue of the wise useth knowledge aright, but the mouth of fools poureth out foolishness."* We are told that the prudent man should keep silence. "Let us be silent," says Emerson, "that we may hear the whisper of iJiegods." (READING LXXX.— MARCH 21.) "The hand of the diligent shall bear rule; but the slothful shall be under Iribute."— /Vol', xii. 24. liXPl^sslONS parallel to the text have already frequently occurred, and will occur again as we proceed ; our notice, therefore, shall be brief. Here is — Diligence and dignity. — " The hand of the diligent j;hall bear rule." All men desire rule, and some kind of rule every man may obtain. Social, civil, and, what is higher still, mental and spiritual. Rule over men's thoughts and hearts. Any of these dominions diligence can achieve. Diligence in study may get a knowledge that may sway an age. Diligence in business may obtain wealth that shall govern commerce. Diligence in goodness may achieve an excellence before which the soul of nations shall kneel. The remarks of Confucius on this point are good. " The expectations of life depend upon diligence ; and the mechanic that would perfect his work must first sharpen his tools." Here is — Slotiifulness and servility. — " But the slothful shall be under tribute." An indolent man will never be- lonio royal in anything. Ho will be tho mere tool oi bocicty, the mere servile attendant upon others. !Mcn will • I'rov. xv. 3, \ I ^■f 174 The Practical Philosopher. use him, make him a runiif in the ladder of their ascent. The slothful man gets neither knowledge, wealth, nor goodness. He never reaches an imperial altitude. He shall be under tribute evermore. That which he hath is ,, ultimately taken from him ; and into the outer darkness of obscurity he falls. The words of an able writer are worthy of quotation : " I would have every one lay to heart that a si ate of idleness is a state of damnable sin. Idleness is directly repugnant to the great ends of God, both in our creation and redemption. As to our creation : can we imagine that God, who created not anything but for some excellent end, should create man for none, or for a silly one ? The spirit within us is an active and vivacious principle. Our rational faculties capacitate and qualify us for doing good : this is the proper work of reason, the truest and most natural pleasure of a rational soul. Who can think, now, that our wise Creator lighted this candle within us that we might oppress and stifle it by negligence and idleness r that He contrived and destined such a mind to squander and fool away its talents in vanity and im- pertinence ? " (READING LXXXI.-MARCH 22.) " Heaviness in the heart of man maketh it stoop : but a good word niakctli it glad." — Prov. xii. 25. Here we have — The saddening in life. — " Heaviness in the heart of man maketh it stoop." There is a soul-crushing sadness here. Millions of hearts are " stooping " under the weight of sorrow. There is personal affliction, that maketh the "heart stoop." Sufferings of the body, mind, conscience, estate. There is social affliction, that maketh " the heart stoop. The unfaithfulness of friends, the malice of ene- The Practical Philosopher, «75 niies, the bereavements of death — what a load of sorrow rests on human souls ! Here we have — The succouring in life. — "A good word maketh it dad." First: What are *^ good words'' 1 "Good words" must be true words. False words may be pleasant for a time, but ultimately they will increase the suffering" by terminating in disappointment. Good words must be true, true to reason, conscience, character, God. " Good words" must be kind words — words originating in a loving heart, and instinct with a loving spirit. " Good words " must be suitable words, suitable to the particular state of the sufferer — must be fitted exactly to his condition. Secondly : Where arc good iiwrds ? Where is the good word to be found that will make the stooping heart glad ? The crospel is that word. "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord hath appointed me to preach good tidings to the meek ; he hath sent me to bind up the broken- hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, to comfort all that mourn." Here is a word about Providence, to make the man whose heart stoops under the weight of worldly cares " glad." Here is a word about pardon, to make the man whose heart stoops under the sense of guilt " glad." Here is a word about the resurrection, to make the man whose heart stoops under the weight of bereavement " glad." Oh ! here is a word to comfort us in all our tribulations, " that we may be able to comfort them that are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God."-^ ! ' ; • 11. Cor. i. 4. \s'-\^< ) \ 176 The Practical Philosopher* (READING LXXX^T.—MARCH 21.) m " The righteous is more excellent than his neighbour : but the way of tin; wi.^ked seduceth them." — Prov. xii. 26. "In the way of righteousness is Hfej and in the ^aihwAy thereof iJien ^ no death."— r^/-j %m, " A wise son heareth his father's instruction : but a scomer hcareth not rebuke." — /'/vz'. xiii. I. The teachable son.—" A wise son hcareth his father's instruction." Solomon, of course, supposes that the father is what a father ouglit to be. There are men sustaining the paternal relationship who can scarcely be called fathers. ■ ;^ ir i8o TJic Practical Philosofhcr. P i J 4 t If \ I They have not the fatherly instincts, the fatherly lovo, ijio fatherly wisdom, the fatherly royalt}'. A son woulil scarcely be wise in listening to a father of this cla>s. When we are commanded to honour our father, and to honour the king, it is always supposed that the father and the king are honour-worthy, and realize, tf) some extern, the ideal of the relationship. He who attends to the in- struction of a father, vSolomon says, is wise. He is \viM, because he attends to the Divine condition of human improvement. The Creator has ordained that the risinis' generation should get its wisdom from the teachings of it;, parents. It is by generations learning of their predecessors, that the race advances. Because he gratifies the heart ot his best earthly friend. The counsels of a /rz/c father are always sincere, dictated by the truest love, and intended to serve the interests of his children, and nothing is more gratifying to his paternal nature than to see them rightlv attended to. The UNTEACHABLE SOX. — "A scorner heareth not rebuke." Scorn is derision, contempt, and may be directed either to a person or a thing. It is not necessarily a wrong state of mind ; its moral character, good or othenvise, depends upon the person or thing to which it is directed. Some persons justly merit derision ; some filings merit contempt. A son who scorns either the person or the counsels of his father, is not in a state of mind to hear rebuke — he is unteachablc. The son who has got to scorn the character and counsels of a worthy father, has reached the last degree of depravity, and passed beyond the paloutj parental instruction : — " The sport of ridicule .md of detraction 'I'unis every virtue to its bordering fault, v\nd never gives to Truth and Merit that AVliich simpleness and true desert should purchase." bHAKESrEAKE. done the worlv The Practical Philosopher, 18 1 (READING LXXXV.-MARCH 26.) Han ^ijenlung. « A ma" sli'1^1 cat good by the frait of Jiis mouth : but the soul of the trans- I „fis,i)is shall cat violence. He tliat keepeth his mouth kccpcth his life : but he .:,iiopencth wide his lips shall have destruction."— /Vw. xiii. 2, 3. Here we have sevenil kinds of speech : — The SKLF-PROFITIXfr AND SELF-RUIXOUS IN SPEECH. — I W'e have here, First : Thcsclf-profitiug in speech. " A man Lhall eat good by the fruit of his mouth." The speech of a good man which is enlightened, truthful, pure, generous, is of service to himself in many ways. By it he promotes I the development of his own spiritual being, he gratifies his own moral nature, and produces in hearers results which are delightful to his own observation; thus "he eats good by the fruit of his mouth." Here we have, Secondly: The self-ruinous in speech. "The soul of the transgressors shall eat violence." The corrupt speech of the ungodly is a violence to reason, conscience, social pro- priety. The sinful tongue of the transgressor, of all violent weapons, inflicts the most violent injuries on his I own nature. We have here also : — The self-controlled and the self-reckless in I SPEECH. — First: Controlled speech may be useful. "He that keepeth his mouth, keepeth his life." The tongue is a member that requires controlling. Passion and impulse are constantly stimulating it to action. Hence the impor- tince of its being properly " bridled ;" held firmly by the reins of reason. Secondly : Reckless speech may he dan- Vpous. "He that openeth wide his lips shall have destruc- tion." Who can tell the evils that a lawless tongue has done the world ? One .spark from it has often kindled con- |llagrations in families, churches, and nations. " If any pan among you seemeth to be religious, and bridleth not [his tongue, butdeceiveth his own heart, this man's religion lis vain."* " Give not thy tongue," says Quarles, " too * James iii. 8, 9. i\\ Iffll n " nH^I'' ' 'I^IH H^u^Hi ^^^^^n ij! H, im : ;' III H '' t [j ',■'&, , wpI 1 Ilk M U' ll PpT''^ '1; ■ I fl ' ||^,''"^i \ \ n If ii 1 Jii ' ■ ' Bi \ . I M] ■ ' Ij 1 4ilJlii In 1 ' iI^BhII ■' II i * ■■Rnll 1 wk- II 1 Iff' !l| ■ t ' .^ J< J mil Mn'' 'It!')' ll H ' mfl j 1 'iP III 1 ^iilililS i 1 1 ' '^'M^ 1' ni H ;i ili^f 1 {|i|l llii'i:if hID 1 iiHlifiliml M ^B« )' ^Br K bI^H^^^S '{ fl^i miW 'ir iflH 10 iliitHE^ K^ln 1^1 ^rBJi M wn 1 Pff i lifil ^ H h|H Hi' ill [ 1 t '^ a ' ,1 i SK mSlL ' ' 1 i'U ra ,i;- f 1 If ijl M* tM S''-n-l|5 ll ^1 T '' i - ^' '■■ >^!S'kI'^^I / ^' iiVli^H -1 si uLJ^^B ^^^K"I ^HIv^^^I 1 ' ' tr *'] fnffli'a K^l ■Mk :% mwmm^ l82 The Practical Philosopher. great a liberty, lest it take thee prisoner. A word unspoken is, like the SAVord in the scabbard, thine; if vented, thy sword is in another's hand. If thou desire to be held wise, be so wise as to hold thy tongue." " Set a watch, Lord, before my mouth ; keep the door of my lips !" (READING LXXXVI.— MARCH 27.) -i) !1 OMl faiJUlQ. " Til e soul of the sluggard desireth, and Art^A nothing: but the soul of the diligent shall be made fa.t."—P/ov. xiii. 4. These words suggest — That soul craving is common to all. — Both the soul of the sluggard and the diligent "desire." Souls have a hunger as well as bodies, and the hunger of the soul is a much more serious thing. You may see physical hunger depicted in the wretched looks of those who crowd the alleys of St. Giles', and you may see the hunger of souls depicted on the faces of those that roll in their chariots of opulence through Rotten-row. What is the cnimi that makes miserable the rich, but the unsatisfied hunger of the soul ? First : The hunger of the soul as iccl! as the hunger of the body implies the existence of food some- where. It is natural to infer from the benevolence of the Creator that wherever hunger exists in any creature there is a provision for its gratification. Observation and science show that it is so. The God of infinite bountyhood has, in his spiritual kingdom, provided for all the cravings of j the human heart. Secondly : The nv.satisfied hunger of tk soul as well as the body is painful and ruinous. Nothing is more distressing and destroying than unappeased animal hunger ; it tortures the system and breaks it up. It is more so in the case of souls. " My heart and my flesli I 1: The Practical Philosopher, 18; crieth out for the living God." The unsatisfying of that cry is hell. SOLL CRAVING CAN BE ALLAYED ONLY BY LABOUR.— "The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing, but the soul of the diligent shall be made fat." Charity, acci- lent, or fortune may allay the physical hunger of the man, ir.ay make fat even the sluggard's body; but personal labour, diligent effort, is essential to allay the hunger of the soul. Men must labour before they can get the soul's true bread. There must be the sowing, the culturing, the reaping, and the threshing by the individual man, in order to get hold of that bread which can make '■^ fat" the soul. Spiritually, I cannot live on the produce of other men, and the law hold., absolute that ^^he " who does not work shall not eat." !| (READING LXXXVII — I^IARCH 28.) Hiatal ^Erutlfuliiccs. " A righteous wan hateth lying : but a wicked man is loathsome, and comcth to shame. Righteousness kecpcth him that is upright in the Avay : but wickedness overthroweth the sinner."— /'ro^'. xiii. 5, 6. Moral truthfulness is an instinct to the right- eous. — " A righteous man Jiatcth lying." A soul that has been made right in relation to the laws of its own spiritual being, to the universe, and to God, has an instinctive repug- nance to falsehood. A right-hearted man cannot be false in speech or life. " He //rt/^j' lying." All tricks in business, all shams in society, all pretences in religion, are to him revolting. He stands for reality, will die rather than desert or disguise fact, •' There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats j For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind Which I respect not."— Shakkspkark, : (' . 184 The Practical Pliilosophcr, The prayer of his soul is, " Remove from me the A\ay of lying : and grant me thy law graciously."* Moral truthfulness is a safeguard against evil. — ^The evils specified in these two verses " n connection with the wicked must be regarded as kept off from the righteous by his moral truthfulness. This, indeed, seems implied. What are the evils here implied as connected with false- hood? First: Loafhsomoicss. A wicked man is loathsome." A liar is an unlovely and an unloveable object ; he is detest- able ; he attracts none ; he repels all. Secondly : Shame, He " cometh to shame." h liar either in lip, or life, or both, must come to shame. A rigorous destiny will strip off his mask, and leave him exposed, a hideous hypocrite to the scorn of men and angels. Thirdly : Dcsiniction, " Wickedness overthroweth the sinner." Inevitable de- struction is the doom of the false. They have built their houses on the sand of fiction, and the storms of reality will lay them in ruins. From all these evils, moral truthfulness guards the righteous. His truthfulness guards him against the loath- some, the disgraceful, and the ruinous : — •'An honest man's the noblest work of God." — Popk, (READING LXXXVIII.— :MARCH 29.) "There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing: there is that makelli himself poor, yet hath great riches. The ransom of a man's life are his iiclic>; but the poor heareth not rebuke."— 7Vo7;. xiii. 7, 8. The seventh verse bears a resemblance to the twenty-fourtli of the eleventh chapter. — " There is that scattereth and yet increaseth, and there is that withholdcth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty." But the meaning is not • Psalm cxix. 29. i The Practical Philosopher, 185 identical. If we are to attach to the words rich and poor a spiritual rather than a literal meaning, the seventh verse ^^.Quld express an important fact, viz., that there is a principle of action which aims at results the opposite of what it attains. Selfishness aims at personal wealth and greatness, but instead of making a man rich, it leaves him with nothing : he works out his ruin by the principle which urges him to work for his happiness. Whereas the principle of benevolence works in the opposite way — whilst it sinks a man's own personal interest so that he becomes poor, he reaches the true riches. And this illus- trates Christ's words : " He that seeketh his life shall lose it." But I take the verses as presenting two subjects of thought :— The MISREPRESENTATION of poverty and riches. — "There is that maketh himself rich, and yet hath nothing ; there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches." These characters abound in modern society. There are poor men who profess to be very wealthy, and they often do so not merely from vanity but from greed also. In business they hire large warehouses, embark in extensive speculations, occupy mansions as their homes, and live in a magnificent style in order to create a false credit. Paupers put on the costume of princes, in order to swindle oi a gigantic scale ; sometimes they succeed, and by a pretence of large capital obtain the real one, and biiild up the real one — always at the expense of others. But often, on the other hand, the sparkling bubble bursts, the dazzling meteor sweeps into midnight. These characters abound in modern Eng- land, they crowd our scenes of merchandise, they create panics, they are a curse to the country. Then, also, we have amongst us a different class, men who appear to be \ery poor, but who are, nevertheless, very rich. These are, if not so injurious, yet as contemptible as the others ; they are the wretched misers ; men who are pinching themselves and families, and clutching from others, in order to gratify their wretched greed of pelf. The POWER of poverty and riches. — " The ransom of a N i):.', ■m J! i86 The Practical Philosopher, manS life are his riches ; but the poor man heareth not rebuke." There is a kind of protection in both. "The verse," says an able expositor, " has been understood in different ways. The import of it has been given thus :-. * a rich man, when he fears any evil from his enemies, can divert it by a sum of money ; but the poor man, when ho is threatened, dares not stay, but runs away.' He does not stand to defend or buy himself off, but the moment he hears rebuke or threatening, aware that he has no resources, he stops not to hear it out, but immediately makes good his escape — takes himself off. I prefer another interpretation according to which the verse sets forth the comparative benefits of poverty and riches. The rich are objects of envy, exposed to false accusation, robbery, theft, and to the risk of life. It is true that in their circumstances they may, in seasons of public calamity, redeem their lives by a ransom from their abundant store. But the poor are still better off. 1 hey are not exposed to danger ; they are no^ envied ; they are not looked at askance, with 'jealous leer malign,' with the evil eye of covetousness ; nor arp they molested with the harassing disquietudes arising from such causes. Who thinks of en\7^ing, or persecuting, or de- frauding, or taking the life of the man who has nothing ? Who ever thinks of robbing or murdering a beggar r He is everywhere safe and free from molestation from whom there is nothing to be had. Poverty, then, is not without its advantages. They are, to Ibe sure, of a negative kind, and not likely to make men give the preference to poverty; 3ior do I mention them because it should, or that it may. All that is meant is, that such considerations should con- tribute to reconcile the poor to their providential lot." Mundane wealth and mundane poverty are alike tran- sient ; neither can deliver from death, neither can survive it. The wealth essential to us all, is that of moral good- ness ; the poverty we should aspire to, is that of a lowly heart, " Blessed are the poor in spirit." The Practical Philosopher, (READING LXXXIX.— MARCH 30.) 187 W fiQljt of 3ouls. «The light of the righteous rcjoiccth : but the lamp of the wicked shall be put wXr—Prov. xiii. 9. "Light," if not essential to life, is essential to its well- being. Life without light, could it be, would be cold, chaotic, wretched. There are different kinds of light even in the material world — some feeble, flickering, transient ; others as the lights of heaven, strong, steady, permanent. There are different moral lights — the lights of soul. The text leads us to consider two : — The joyous light of soul. — "The light of the right- eous rejoiceth." In what does the light of the soul consist ? There are at least three elements — faith, hope, love. The first fills the soul with the light of ideas ; the second with the light of a bright future ; the third, with the light of happy affections. In all souls on earth these three exist. There is a faith in all, a hope in all, a love in all. Extin- guish these in any soul, and there is the blackness of darkness for ever. The righteous have these as dimne im- partations, as beams from " the Father of lights," and in their radiance they live, walk, and rejoice. They rejoice in their faith. Their faith connects them with the Ever- lasting Sun. They rejoice in their hope. Their hope bears them into the regions of the blest. The-- rejoice in their love. Their love fixes their enrapturing gaze on Him in Whose presence there is fulness of joy. The transient light of soul. — "The lamp of the wicked shall be put out." It is implied that the light of the righteous is permanent. And so it is. It is inex- tinguishable. " It shines brighter and brighter, e'en unto the perfect day." Not so the light of the wicked. Their Hght, too, is in their faith, their hope, their love. But their faith is in the false, and it must give way. The temple of their hope is built on sand, and the storm of \ t ii \\ - \ •■ JLi> V- . i88 The Practical Philosopher, destiny will destroy it. Their love is on corrupt things an i all that is corrupt must be burnt by the all-consuming fire of eternal justice. Thus the lamp of the wicked must be put out. The light of the righteous is an inex<-mguish- able sun — that of the wicked a mere flickering "lamp;" the breath of destiny will put it out. " How oft is the candle of the wicked put out." To live in a world without a sun, were it possible, would be wretched existence— such a world a;^ Byron describes : — a world as Byron describes : — " The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander darkening in the eternal space, Rayless and pathless ; and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air." But to live without faith, hope, charity, is infinitely more calamitous. (READING XC— MARCH 31.) " Only by pride cometh contention : but with tl)c well advi;?ed is wisdom."- Piov. xiii. 10. Pride is an exaggerated estimate of our own superiority, leading often to an insolent exultation. " There is no such thing," says Fuller, " as proper pride, a reasonable and judicious estimate of one's character has nothing to do with it." From the text we learn — That pride generates discords. — " Only by pride cometh contention." " Pride," says Collier, " is so un- sociable a vice, and does all things with so ill a grace, that there is no closing with it. A proud man will be sure to challenge more than belongs to him. You must expect him stiff in conversation, fulsome in commending himself, and bitter in his reproofs." And Colton says, " Pride either finds a desert or makes one ; submission cannot tame its The Practical Philosopher. 180 ferocity, nor satisfy or fill its voracity, and it requires xo.xy costly food — its keeper's happiness.'' Being in society essentially exacting^ insolent^ heartless^ detractingy it is ever venerating " contention." " No wise man," says Taylor, " ever lost anything by cession ; but he receives the hos- tility of violent persons into his embraces like a stone into a lap of wool : it rests and sets down softly and innocently. But a stone falling upon a stone makes a collision, and extracts fire, and finds no rest ; and just so are two proud persons despised by each other ; contemned by all ; living in perpetual dissonances; always fighting against affronts, jealous of every person, rJ'sturbed by every accident — a perpetual storm within, anu daily hissings from without." That pride rejects counsels.— This is implied in the last clause rather than expressed. " But with the well advised is wisdom." The proud man is too great to take the counsel of any. " Pride," says Gurnell, " takes for its motto great /, and little jyt*/^." • Who can teach him ? Truly humility becomes us all. " A humble saint," says .Seeker, "looks most like a citizen of heaven. 'Whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant.' He is the most kccly professor who is the most loidy professor. As incense smells the sweetest when it is beaten the smallest, so saints look fairest when they lie lowest. Arrogance in the soul resembles the spleen in the body, which grows most while other parts are decaying. God will not suffer such a weed to grow in His garden without taking some course to root it up. A believer is like a vessel cast into the sea : the more it fills the more it sinks." " Pride (of all others, the most dangerous fault) Proceeds from want of sense, or want of thought. . . The men who labour and digest things most. Will lie much apter to despond than boast ; For if your author be profoundly good, 'Twill cost you dear before he's understood."— PoPR» ' ! \ ! %% fl!^ I go The Practical Philosopher, APRIL. (READING XCI.— APRIL i.) " Wealth gotten by vanity shall be diminished : but he that gathcrcth by labour shall increase."— i'rot'. xiii. ii. THIS verse implies three things — That worldly wealth IS A GOOD THING.— The universal feeling of man shows this — all men strive after it. The services it can render show this. Man's physical comforts, intellectual opportunities, social resources, and the progress of his religious institutions greatly depend upon this. The Word of God shows this. "Money," says Solomon, " answers all things." The Bible does not despise wealth. It legislates for its employment and denounces its abuse. We infer — Thatworldly wealth maybe obtained IN different ways. — There are two ways referred to in the text. The 7vay 0} vanity. "Wealth gotten by vanity." The word " vanity" may represent all those tricks of trade, reckless specula- tions, and idle gambling, by which large fortunes are often easily gained. Within our own circle of acquaintance, there are not a few who have become millionaires by guilty hits. Secondly : The way of labour. " He that gathereth by labour." Honest, industrious, frugal labour, is the legiti- mate way to wealth. Honest industry is God's road to fortune. We infer — That the decrease or increase of worldly wealth is DETERMINED BY THE METHOD IN WHICH IT HAS BEEN OBTAINED. — " The wealth gotten by vanity shall be dimi- nished : but he that gathereth by labour shall increase." Two facts in human nature will illustrate this principle. First ; What man docs not highly value he is likely to squander. representative of T)ic Practical PJulosophcr. tQl That wliich we hold cheaply we are not cautious in gnard- inir or tenacious in holding. Secondly : What comes to jiiui zvithoiit labour he h not likely highly to appreciate. We rfenerally value a thing in proportion to the difficulty in getting it. The man who has toiled hard for what he has ,rot, will take care of it ; whereas he who has got it easily bv a hit or by a trick, treats it with less caution, and is more likely to squander it away. Thus the text announces a law in human experience : " Wealth gotten by vanity bhall be diminished : but he that gathereth by labour shall increase." Brothers, whilst we would not have you to disparage worldly wealth, we would not have you put it in its wrong place. Use it as the instrument of action, not as the representative of greatness or the source of happiness, " To purchase heaven, has gold the power ? Can gold remove the mortal hour ? In life, can love be bought with gold ? Are Friendship's pleasures to be sold ? No ; all that's worth a wish, a thought, Fair Virtue gives, unbribed, unbought. Cease, then, on trash thy hopes to bind ; Let nobler views engage thy miud." — ^JoHiNSON, (READING XCII.— APRIL 2.) §fi|c §tffm^. h " Hope deferred niaketh the heart sick : but when the desire cometh, it is a trceoflife,"— /'/-(JZ'. xiii. 12. , Hope is a complex state of mind — desire and expectation are its constituents. We define it as an expectant desire. It implies the existence of a future good, and a belief in the possibility of obtaining it. The text leads us to make three remarks concerning it. That man's object of hope is often loxg delayed. —"Hope deferred." The future good which men hope for '4i 192 The Practical Philosopher they seldom get at once. Long years of struggle often intervene. It looms a far distant thing before their vision There is kindness in this arrangement, although we may sometimes fail to see it. First : It serves to stimulate effort. It is the goal before the eye of the racer, keeping even- muscle on the stretch. Secondly : It serves to culture patience. We have need of patience. If what we hope for came at once, was not " deferred," not a tithe of our manhood would be brought out. That the delay is generally very trying.--" it maketh the heart sick." It is trying to the strength^ to the temper y and to the religion of man. Still, those "sick" men will not give up the hope. " Hope," says Diogenes, " is the last thing that dies in man." Pandora's fabled box contained all the miseries of mankind, and when her husband took off its lid, all rushed away, but hope re- mained at the bottom. Ay, hope sticks to the last. How- ever sick at heart, we hold it still. •' The wretch condemned with life to part, Still, still on hope relies ; And every pang that rends the heart Bids expectation rise. Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way, And still, the darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray." That the trial of the delay is fully compen- sated IN ITS realization. — "When the desire cometh, it is a tree of life." The longer and more anxiously you wait and toil for a good, the higher the enjoyment when it is grasped. Hence the delight of Simeon, who waited for the consolation of Israel, when lie clasped the infant Jesus i^ his arms, and said, " Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.'* A realized divine hope is, indeed, "a tree of life," and especially so when realized in the pure heavens of God. Hope in fruition is the Eden of the soul. "Oh! how blest, . ,., To look from this dark prison to that shrine, To inhale one breath of Paradise divine ; ■ (.". And enter into that eternal rest '^ Which waits the sons of God."— BowRlNO. V' i1 T/ie Practical Philosoplicr, »93 (READING XCIII.— APRIL 3.) "Whoso despiseth the word shall be destroyed: but he that feareth the commandment shall be rewarded." — Prov. xiii. 13. The world abounds with words. Oral ones load the air, and written ones crowd our libraries. Some human words are unspeakably more valuable than others. The word that expresses the noblest heart, the strongest intellect, the loftiest genius, the highest intelligence, is the best human word on earth. A human word is at once the mind's mirror, and the mind's weapon. In it the soul of the speaker is seen, and by it the soul of the speaker wins its bloodless victories over others. But there is one word on earth incomparably arid infinitely above all others. It is emphatically the " Word "—the Word of God. The text teaches us two things concerning this Word. This word despised IS RUIN. — "Whoso despiseth the word shall be destroyed." Who is the despiser of this word ? The scorner, the rejector y the unheliever^ the neglectory the triflcr. Why is ruin involved in despising it ? First : Because he who despises, rejects the only mstrument of soul- salvation. The Gospel is the Word of salvation. " Unto you is the word of this salvation sent." It is the only word that can save, the only balm for the diseased, the only quickening power for the dead. Second : Because he who despises it brings on his nature the condem- nation of Heaven. Most tremendous guilt is contracted in despising this word. " See that ye refuse not him that speaketh, for if they escaped not," &c.* This word reverenced IS BLESSEDNESS. — "He that feareth the commandment shall be rewarded." The word is a " commandment," it is an authoritative utterance, and to fear it, in a Scriptural sense, is to have a proper prac- tical regard for it. First : Such a man is " rewarded " in its ♦ Hcb xii. 25. ' ■ ' r ' it Mi m 194 The Pnutical Philosopher, blessed iuflueticcs upon his orvn soul. It enlig"htens, purifies choers, ennobles. Second : Such a man is "rewarded" -duUi /he approhiition of Heaven. " Unto that man Avill I look who is of a broken heart, and contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word." What a wonderful thing is the Word ! Man's character and destiny are determined by his conduct to- wards it. How few in this age treat this Word as it ougjit to be treated ! In proportion to its aboundings men seem to despise it. There was a time, in Edward l.'s reign when one volume cost;^37, to gain which, a labouring man would have to work fifteen long years. (READING XCIV.— APRIL 4.) " The law of the wise is a fountain of life, to depart from the snares of dcalli." — Prov. xiii. 14. This proverb teaches two things : — That — The good are ruled by " law." — " The law of the wise." Whatis law ? There are many definitions ; many most unphilosophic, some most conflicting. The clearest and most general idea I have of it is — rule of motion. In this sense all things are under law, for all things are in motion. The material universe is in motion, and there is the law that regulates it. The spiritual uni- verse is in motion, and law presides over it. " Of law," says Hooker, " there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world. All things do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power ; both angels and men, and creatures of what condition soever, though each in different sort and manner, yet all with uniform consent, admiring her as the mother of their peace and joy." But what is the law of the good — that which rules them in all their activities ? Sttpremc love to the supremely good. It is not a written commandment, The Practical Philosopher, 195 but an all-pervading', inspiring spirit, called in Scripture, "the royal law," the "law of liberty," the "law of the Spirit." This proverb teaches also that — The "law" that rules the good is beneficent.— " The law of the wise is a fountain of life, to depart from [he snares of death." First : TJiis law delivers from death. The word "death" here nittstnothe regarded as the separation of body from soul, but as the separation of the soul from God. This is the awfullest death, and supreme love to God is a guarantee against this. Secondly : Thi'- laiv secures an abundance of life. "The law of the wise is a fountain of life ;" a fountain gives an idea of activity^ pleni- tiidc, perennialncss. The law of the good is happiness. The happiness of the true soul is not something then and yonder, but it is something in the law that controls him. In the midst of his privations and dangers, John Howard, England's illustrious philanthropist, wrote from Riga these words, " I hope I have sources of enjoyment that depend not on the particular spot I inhabit. A rightly cultivated mind, under the power of religion, and the exercise of beneficent dispositions, affords a ground of satisfaction little affected by hercs^xA Iheres.*' " If solid happiness we prize, Witliin our breast this jewel lies ; The world has nothing to bestow,— From our own selves our joy must flov;." (READING XCV.-APRIL 5.) "Good understanding giveth favour."— /yro^/a5lc, they "have the lips of knowledge," their words are tnitJiful. •' The wisdom of the prudent is to understand his way." And where can he get understanding r Only in the society of the good. " Among the righteous there is favour." With them there is genuine love, faithful attachment, and holy principle ; they cleave to each other from a mutual recogni- tion of goodness, and with mutual love as strong as death. Avoid evil companions. — St. Augustine has well said, " Bad company is like a nail driven into a post which, after the first and second blow, may be drawn out with little difficulty ; but being once driven up to the head the pincers cannot take hold to draw it out, but which can only be clone by the destruction of the wood." *•' One rotten apple," says Feltham, "will infect the store, the putrid grape corrupts the whole sound cluster. If I have found any good companions, I will cherish them as the choicest of men, or as angels which are sent as guardians to me. If I have any bad ones I will study to lose them, lest by keeping them I lose myself in the end." w (READING CXII.— APRIL 22.) " The heart knowcth his own bittemcFo : and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy." — Pnri.'. xiv. 10. Though men live in towns and cities, and in social gatherings, each man is a world to himself. He is as distinct, even from him who is in closest material or mental contact with him, as one orb of heaven is from another. Though governed by the common laws of his race, he has an orbit of his own, an atmosphere of his own, and abysses of life into which no eye but the eye of God can pierce. The heart has hidden depths of SORROW. — " The heart knoweth his own bitterness." There is bitterness in most if! (-, ■ if ill 2 - WX. iii-'-'i^i k dfit m Z24 The Practical Philosopher. n hearts. There is the bitterness of disappointed lave — the soul recoiling with agony at the discovery that its affections have been misplaced. There is the bitterness of social bereavement — Rachels weeping for their children, and Davids for their Absaloms. There is the bitterness of moral remorse going forth in the cry, " O wretched man that I am ; who shall deliver me from this body of sin and death ?" All this is hidden where it is the most deep. The profoundest sorrow in the human heart is hidden from others, from three causes. First: The tJis u latin g tendency of deep grief. Deep sorrow draws from society, and seeks some Gethsemane of solitude, to pour out its anguish in loneliness. A greater outrage we can scarcely commit than to intrude on the notice of our fellow men in grief. Secondly : The concealing iiistinct of deep grief. ]\Ien parade little sorrows, but conceal great ones. " The man of sorrows and acquainted with grief," mentioned His distress to no one but the Infinite Father. Great sorrows roll as the deep river underground. Thirdly : The incapacity of one sold to sound the depths of another's grief. There is such a peculiarity in the constitution and circumstances of each soul, that one can never fully understand another. The deepest things in man are unknown even to himself, and his fellow men have no eye to penetrate into that abyss. Souls are strangers to each other; the acquaintance, even of the most intimate, is superficial. Every man has in him what he cannot speak out. The greater the soul the deeper its sense of loneliness, and the more incapable of communicating itself to others. Observe here also that — The heart has hide en depths of JOY. — "A stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy." Though joy is less self- concealing than sorrow, yet it has depths unknown to any but its possessor and its God. The joy that rushed into Abraham's heart when Isaac descended with him from the altar of Moriah ; the joy of the father when he pressed his prodigal son to his bosom ; the joy of the widow of Nain when her only son raised himself from the bier, and returned to gladden her lonely home ; the joy of the heart- broken woman all forgiven thc( eve could pcnel Christian is indel This subject fur| amongst men. we ought to be " What man knol ofa man which is I Though men kn( man, and more, " In all their affl His presence sav( redeemed them, the days of old."* (R " The house of the v upright shall flourish." — j The "house" anc must be taken in t than the mere te or canvas, in wh words may mean which he feels the most pleasure, and surroundings of li naclc in which the In the case of tl —"The house of kmncss the home The Practical Philosopher. 225 bro'ccn woman when she heard Christ say, " Thy sins are all forj^i'ivcn thee " — such joys have depths that no outward eve could penetrate or fathom. The joy of the true Christian is indeed a joy "unspeakable, and full of glory." This subject furnishes an argument. First : for candour mon^^st men. We do not fully know each other, therefore we ought to be generous and candid in our treatment. "What man knowcth the things of a man, save the spirit ofa man which is in him." Secondly: For ptcty toimrds God. Though men know us not, He does. He knows what is in man, and more. He has the deepest interest in our sorrows. " In all their affliction He w^as afflicted, and the angel of His presence saved them. In His love, and in His pity He redeemed them, and He bare them, and carried them all the days of old."* <» i. (READING CXIII.— APRIL 23.) . %\]% f our.'i |)0mc. " The house of the wicked sliall be overthrown : but the tabernacle of the upright shall flourish." — Prov. xiv. il. The "house" and the "tabernacle" in the passage here, must be taken in the most goncric sense, as meaning more than the mere tenement, whether of bricks, or stone, or canvas, in which the man physically resides. The words may mean all that cxtcrnalisni of a man's life in which he feels the most interest, from which he derives the most pleasure, and that is usually his home. The pleasing surroundings of life constitute the real house or taber- nacle in which the man lives. The Proverb teaches that — In the case of the WICKED this home is doomed to ruin. — —"The house of the wicked shall be overthrown." Is kst'ncss the home of his soul ? Does he, the thinking, * Isaiali l\'.ii. y. ■, f 226 The Practical Philosopher. i \ ■ conscious man, dwell more in it than anywhere else ? His business will depart from him — his warehouses, stock-in- trade, clerks, will all be overthrown. Is wealth the house of his soul ? Some men live in their gold ; it is the sphere in which all their faculties operate, the centre of all their sympathies. This house " shall be overthrown." " We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain wo can carry nothing out." Is society the home of his soul r There are many who live in company, they are never at home on their own hearths — the fellowship of others is their home ; this is always the case of the wicked, and this house is doomed to be " overthrown." There are no friendships for the ungodly in the future. It is here further taught that : — In the case of the righteous this house is destined to prosper. — " The tabernacle of the upright shall flourish." Where is the home of the righteous ? Where his heart is. And where is that ? First : In the cause of Divine bene- volence. In the advance of truth, in the extension of goodness, the progress of humanity, he feels the strongest interest. His cause shall flourish. It must go on ; heaven and earth shall pass away sooner than it shall fail. Secondly : In the society of the holy and the true. The fellowship of the true disciple of Christ is the heaven of his nature; and that shall flourish, it shall increase in numbers, purity, goodness, and influence. "We then having received a kingdom that cannot be moved, let us have grace to worship in reverence and godly fear." I'he upright shall flourish for ever, — v.diat a prospect! " For evermore ! " — words easily uttered " but in com- prehension," says Archer Butler, " vaster than human thought can grasp ; entering upon eternity, men shall ri: j Avith faculties fitted for the scene. For evermore ! for an existence to which the age of the earth, of the starry heavens, of the whole vast universe is less than a morn- ing's dream ; for a life, which, after the reiteration oi" millions of centuries, shall begin the endless state with the freshness of infancy, and all the eagerness tiiat welcomes enjoyments ever new." The Practical Philosopher, (READING CXIV.— APRIL 24.) 227 «« There is a way which sccmcth right unto a man, but the end thereof ate tiie ways of death." — Prm. xiv. 12. I^lANY of the ways which men pursue cannot even " seem rioiit." The way of the habitual blasphemer, sabbath- breaker, debauchee, and such characters, can scarcely appear right to any man. They are manifestly wrong-. What are the ways that often " seem right " to men and that are ruinous ? We may mention three. The "way" of the conventionally moral "seems right," but is nevertheless ruinous. — Civilised society has its recognised rules of conduct. But these rules regard only the external life of man. They take no cognisance of thought, feeling, desire, and the unexpressed things of the soul. Industry, sobriety, veracity, honesty, these are the extent of its demands, and if these are conformed to, society approves and applauds. Thousands consider these conven- tional rules to be the standards of character, and pride themselves in their conformity thereto. Because they are diligent in their business, deceive no one, pay every man his due, they consider their way right. Without disparag- ing in the least this social morality, we are bound to say, that what is convcntiomiUy moral may be essentially wrong. It may spring from wrong motives, and be governed by wrong reasons. The Scribes and Pharisees of old were conventionally rignt. Albeit they were rotten to the core. He who read their natures through and through, denounced them as " whited sepulchres." The end of such a way is "death." Death to all the elements of well-being. The "way" of the FORMALisncALLY religious "seems right," but is nevertheless ruinous. Religion has its forms, its places, and times of worship, its order of service, its benevolent institutions. A correct and constant attention to such forms is considered by thousands as religion it- ■i t I if / 228 The Practical Philosopher, \- ! 'I I. self. Regularity in church, conformity to all the recognised rites of worship, contributions according to the general standard of the congregation, all this passes for religion but it is not religion. It is mechanism, nothing more. The motions of machinery, not the actions of the heart. There is no life in it, and it cannot lead to life, but to "death." "The letter killeth." "God is a Spirit, and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." "As the strength of sin," says Charnock, "lies in the inward frame of the heart, so the strength of worship in tli( inward complexion and temper of the soul. Shadov.s are not to be offered instead of substances. God asks for the heart in worship, and commands outward ceremonies as subservient to inward worship, and goads and spears into it. What 's the oblation of our bodies without a priestly act of tue spirit in the presentation of it? To offer a body with a sapless spirit, is a sacrilege of the same na- ture with that of the Israelites, when they offered dead beasts. One sound sacrifice is better than a thousand rotten one." The "way" of the selfishly evangelical seems right, but is nevertheless ruinous. — Evangelical religion, in the sense of a participation of the spirit of Christ, is the trtie religion ot man. But the' thing that Is now called evangelical, is, to a fearful extent, intensely selfish. Con- ventional evangelicalism is the devil of selfishness in the c;ostume of piety and benevolence. Its appeals are all to the hopes and fears of men. Its prcoching makes men feel, but their feelings are all concerned for their own in- terest ; makes men pra}-, but their prayer is a selfish en- treaty for deliverance from misery, and for the attainment -^happiness. Fire and brimstone, not love to God, bring men together into congregations and churches. We fear that much that is called the evangelical religion of this age stands in direct opposition to the teachings of Ilim who said, " He that seeketh his life shall lose it," an'l also to the teaching of Paul, who said, " Without charity I am nothing." A sc/Jish evangelicalism is the " way of dCvith." The Practical Philosopher. 229 Men cro to hell through churches. What, then, is the way that is really right ? Here it is : "I im the wa)'-." Follow- ing Christ alone leads to life. " If any man have not the Spirit of Christ he is none of His." Right and wrong are independent of men's opinions^ what seems right to men is often wrong, and the reverse. Nevertheless men are held responsible for their beliefs. A wrong belief, however sincere, will lead to ruin. READING CXV.— APRIL 25.) Sinful Pivtli. "Even in laufjMcr the heart is sorrowful, and the unJ of that mirth i!f heaviness." — Prov. xiv. 13. There is an innocent mirth, a sunny, sparkling, cheerful- ness, arising from a happy natural temperament. There is a virtuous mirth. A mirth that has moral worth in it, springing from holy states of heart. This mirth, all should have. We are commanded "to rejoice evermore." There is a sinful mirth, and of this the text speaks. Three things are suggested concerning this. It is boisterous in expression.— The " laughter " to ^Yhich Solomon here refers is of a certain kind. Laughter in itself is not wrong. " It is," says Steele, " that which strikes upon the mind, and being too volatile and strong, breaks out in the tremor of the voice." And this author speaks of different ki'v's of laughers — the " dimplers," the "smilers," the " grinners," and the "horse laughers." A man's laugh is often the best index to his character. " How much," says Carlyle, " lies in laughter — the cipher-key wherewith we decipher the whole man ! Some men wear an everla.'ting barren simper ; in the smile of others lies the cold glitter, as of ice ; the fewest are able to laugh whai can be called laughing, but only sniff, and titter, and I ;Hl 1 i l.t. 'li ^ ^ \\ it 230 T/ie Practical Philosopher, sniggle from the throat outwards, or, at least, produce some whiffling, husky cachinnation, as if they were laughing through wool. Of none such come good. The man who cannot laugh is not only fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils : but his own life is already a treason and a strata- gem." The laughter of which Solomon speaks, however, is not a natural laughter. It is a hypocritical laughter ; it is the laughter of a man who has little or no joy in him— a man ill at ease. It is what Solomon calls elsewhere " the laughter of the fool," and he said of it, " it is mad ! " The laughter of a corrupt heart. It is the roar of the maniac ; the laugh of the drunkard, who is about stepping over a fearful precipice, is not more mad than the laughter of him who goes through life with a heart in hostility to God. It is sad in spirit. — " Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful." The jovial merriment ot the social board, the joke, and the laugh, as the glass goes round, are but a veil drawn to conceal a world of misery within. Beneath all, the heart is sorrowful, with dark moral memories of the past, with gloomy forebodings as to the future. Sinful laughter is but misery mimicking happiness. Judge not men by appearance. The most miserable may often show the most merriment. A sorrowful heart lies under all that's gay, and jovial, and sparkling in the circles of wickedness. " iMirth at a funeral," says Dr. Young, " is scarce more in- decent or unnatural than a perpetual flight of gaiety and bi*rst of exultation in a world like this, a world which ever seems a paradise to fools, but is a hospital to the wise." It is wretched in end. — " The end of that mirth is heaviness." Sinful mirth will hrve an end. Its jestings and carousings will not go on for ever. Disease, age, decay, death, hush all laughter, and quench in deepest gloom all the flashes of ungodly merriment. "The end is heaviness." There is a terrible reaction. The glitter gives way to gloom, the shout to shrieks. Is there any laughter in the agonies of death ? will there be any laughter in hell? The Practical Philosopher » 231 (READING CXVI. -APRIL 26.) %\t JEificvn 0! % Upstate, unJr S^t fiijprpttt^s cf th 600^. « The backslider in heart shall be filled with his own ways : and a good man ihall he satisfied from himself."— P/-ot/. xiv. 14. There are two important subjects here to be observed : — ' Tpie misery of the apostate. — "The backslider in heart shall be filled with his own ways." First : the des- cription of the apostate. " He is a backslider in heart." There is a sense in which all men are backsliders. Sin is an apostacy. It is the turning away of the soul from virtue and from God. The backslider here, however, refers to one who, by God's grace, had been restored to moral good- ness, but who had fallen away, " left his first love." Such apostacy, or backsliding, is too general in the world ; Judas, Demas, Peter, David, are examples. The real backslider is he that backslides in heart. There are many who seem not to backslide in their conduct ; their external life in relation to the true thing continues the same as ever, but their heart has changed. The backslider in the eye of God is the man who apostatizes in heart. Secondly : The doom of the apostate. " Filled with his own ways." Misery inevitably folloAvs his conduct. If he is restored he will suffer, he will be " filled with his own ways." How deeply did David feci this, and Peter too — how bitterly he wept. But should he not be restored here, how much greater will be his misery. He will be " filled with his own ways." This is the punishment. The upas germ of sin ripened into a har- vest. Combustible sin breaking into conflagration. The happiness of the good. — " A good man shall be satisfied from himself." Who is the good man ? The man li'ho loves the supreme good supremely. Such a man " shall be satisfied from himself." As the backslider's misery springs out of himself, so the happiness of the good man wells up in his own nature. The happiness of ungodly men, such as it is, is not in themselves, it is something m. ^r, \ ,: V'i: 232 7he Practical Philosopher, outside of them, their children, their business, their friend- ships, their position, their property. Not so the happiness of the good man, it is in himself, it is independent of cir- cumstances. He carries it wherever he goes. It is a well of water springing up into everlasting life. It is — " "What nothing earthly gives or can destroy, The soul's calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy." — Pope. (READING CXVII.-APRIL 27.) %\t Crfbiiluus u«ir lire Cautiotts, *' The simple belicveth every word : but the prudent man looketh well to his going. A wise man feareth, and departeth from evil : but the fool rageth, and is confident, lie that is soon angry dealeth foolishly : and a man of wicked devices is hated. The simple inherit folly : but the prudent are crowned with knowledge." —Prov. xiv. 15—18. " Simple " and " foolish " in these verses must be regarded as convertible, and represent the same character. So also the words " wise " and " prudent." We have, therefore, two characters, the hastily credulous and the cautiously believing. The hastily credulous. — "The simple believeth every word." First : One of the strongest tendencies in mmi's mental nature is his propensity to believe. It is one of the most voracious appetites of the soul. The child opens its mental mouth, hungering for tales from the nurse's lips, and will eagerly swallow everything that is said. " As the young birds," says a modern author, "instinctively open their mouths for food, and their mothers not even once since the creation of the world have thrown in chaff to mock their hunger, so the trustfulness of children is the opening of their mouth for truth. If we fling falsehood in, and laugh at their disappointment, the Lord will require it." Alas, this is done, and the child grows up to man- hood disappointed, sceptical, and suspicious, (i) This pro- pensity to belie exist. AVere m ;ill error and de beneficial thin^f ance, and to coi of .society for w \\% comes into propensity to I Priestcraft feeds of the soul. Ai: )\hich have ever be accounted for Credulity ever h; the world. :'3) T ness of the condit of man to depend The act of faith i perform, but he h Hence there is n^ speaking of this ( be of grace." Secondly : The immense loss. " T sees no danger, c forward into miscl Counsels and warn and reproofs, fall matter. They thn of passion. He is (Joes he care about you, he laughs at t! angry dealeth fooli impetuous irritabil that bring back on He is despised. ' The man who has 1 this. He is passic belief, he cannot b TJtc Practical Philosopher, 233 pcnsity to believe implies a state of society that does not exist. Were men born into heaven, were society free from ;ill error and deception, it would be not only a right, but a beneficial thin^f to believe every word, to credit every utter- ance, and to confide in every character. This is the state of .society for which man was created, but he has lost it. lie comes into a world of sham and falsehood. (2) This propensity to believe explains the reign of priesthood. Priestcraft feeds and fattens on the natural credulousness of the soul. All the errors, superstitions, and absurdities which have ever prevailed in connection with religion, may be accounted for by the soul's hunger for things to believe. Credulity ever has been and still is one of the curses of the world, f.s) This propensity to believe shows the easi- ness of the condition on which God has made the salvation of man to depend. "He that be;'oveth shall be saved." The act of faith is not only the easiest act for a man to perform, but he has a s'rong tendency to its performance. Hence there is no merit in the act, and Paul says, in speaking of this condition, " that it is of faith that it may be of grace." Secondly : The thoits^htless yielding to this tendency is an iiiimcnsc loss. " The fool rageth and is confident." Ke sees no danger, dreads no harm. He rushes recklessly forward into mischief. He is passionate. He " rageth." Counsels and warnings only irritate him. Advice, cautions, and reproofs, fall on his soul as sparks on combustible matter. They throw his whole nature into a raging flame of passion. He is stubborn. He is "confident." AVhat does he care about your warnings r Nothing. He despises YOU, he laughs at them. He is foolish. " He that is soon ann^ry dealeth foolishly," and he " inherits folly." In his impetuous irritability he gives rash utterance to things that bring back on him the utmost chagrin and confusion. He is despised. "A man of wicked devices is hated." The man who has given way to his credulity becomes all this. He is passionate, ignorant of thci grounds of his belief, he cannot brook contradiction, his opinions being li :l'i' U'\ I: 234 The Practical Philosopher, prejudices, he is stubborn in holding them, and in all this he is " foolish " and " hated." The cautiously believing. — " The prudent man looketh well to his going." True prudence is indicated by two things — First : A dread of evil. "A wise man feareth." True dread of evil is consistent with true courage Few ir any, displayed more heroism than Noah, yet, beinJ " moved by fear, he prepared an ark." Evil, both physical and moral, is a bad thing in the universe, and it is right to dread it as we dread poisonous serpents and ravenous beasts. True prudence is indicated by. Secondly: A departure from evil. "He departeth from evil." Moral evil is the heart of all evil, and this he forsakes. He shuns it as an enemy to God and the universe. The prudence is indicated by. Thirdly : Mental greatness. He is "crowned with knowledge." Caution in believing is necessary for three reasons. The strength of man's tendency to belisve, the prevalence of error in society, and the damning influence of falsehood on the soul. (READING CXVIII.— APRIL 28.) "The evil bow before the good : and the wicked at the gates of the righteous." — Prov. xiv. 19. , • Three remarks are suggested by the social state indicated in these words ; the state in which the wicked are prostrate in reverence and entreaty before the good. It is a social state which SELDOisi APPEARS TO BE.— The wicked generally sit supreme in society, they have done so through all past ages and are doing so now, and that to a great extent even in what is called " Christian society." The influence, the wealth, the rule of the world, appear to be with the wicked. Evil seems still the "prince of the The Practical Philosopher. ^Yo »> power" of the social atmosphere. The good are for the most part the destitute, despised, and oppressed. This has always been to reflecting saints one of the greatest dif- ficulties connected with the government of God. " Where- fnn; doth the wicked prosper:"* "Wherefore are all they happy that deal very treacherously r" " But as for me, my feet were almost gone ; my steps had well nigh slipped. For I was envious of the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked."! It is a social state which ALWAYS OUGHT TO BE. — It ought to be — First, As a matter of right. The good alone are the truly dignified, the truly royal. Their lineage, their inheritance, their characters, their friendships, their en- gagements, are all regal. " They are kings and priests unto God." There is more royalty in the hut of a godly pauper than in all the palaces of unregenerate monarchs. Secondly : As a matter of expediency. What is right is always expedient. The wicked could not even live on the earth without the good. Unmixed wickedness would soon reduce our world to a Sodom and Gomorrah. The good are "the salt of the earth." Governments never stand long that are not fashioned by the principles of the true. Evil, therefore, ought to " bow before the good." It is a social state which inevitably MUST BE. — First : con- sciencc necessitates it. Even the worst men now and here are compelled by the laws of their moral nature to render homage to the good. Chastity, truth, honesty, disin- terestedness, moral heroism, where is there a conscience that bows not to these ? vSecondly : retribution necessitates it . When trials, and sufferings and dangers overtake the wicked, do they not always go for refuge to the good ? They will cringe at their "gate," they will fawn at their feet. " Give us of your oil, for our lamps are gone out." How did the 260 souls bow before Paul, the prisoner, amidst the dangers of the storm on the Adriatic Sea ! He became the moral commander of all on board as the perils thickened around them. \^ KR * Jcr. xii. I -3. t Psalm Ixxiii. 2, 3, vm 236 The Practical Philosopher, (READING CXIX.-APRIL 39.J % 6roujj 0f .^0ciul DviwtiiJlffJ. '• The poor is hated even of his own neighbour : but the rich hath mnnv friends. He that despiscth his neighbour sinneth : but he that hath mercy on the poor, happy i% he. Do they not err that devise evil ? but mercy and truth shM he to them that devise good." — Prcrv, xiv. 20—22. These verses indicate certain principles which seem every- where at work in the social system of our world. Here is— Inhumanity. — The poor is here spoken of as " hated," " despised," and injured by those that " devise evil." There have always been men in society, and still are, who hate and oppress the poor. There are many who havo professed great friendship to those in wealth, whom they have despised when they have sunk into poverty. These are what an old expositor calls " swallow friends, that leave in winter." Why are the poor thus despised ? First, Because of selfishness. There is nothing" to be got from them — no money, no patronage, no fame. Their f,'-oocl word goes not for much in the world. Their opinions are neither quoted nor respected. Secondly: Because of /ni/t'. Pride is a form of selfishness. It is not thought respectable to notice the poor. A poor relation must be ignored. All this is iiihuman^ and, therefore, sinful. "He that despiseth his neighbour, sinneth." In such conduct there is sin against the best feelings of our nature, against the ar- rangements of God's providence, against Heaven's method for developing benevolence amongst men. Here is — Servility. — "The rich hath many friends." There is a keen satire in these words. There are base-natured people in all Society, and their name is " legion," who court the rich. Even in the " Christian world," as it is called, there are men who will fawn on the man of purse, and flatter him with adulations. Men, though swindlers in heart, are made chairmen of their public meetings and presidents of their societies. It is humiliating to see men, calling themselves the ministers wealthy, and teem with pa know I not; ui will Christian shall practica united, as the rich hath man has not the mo may be the an only be the fa (IKXEROSITY liappy is he." is seen in the n that crowd Chri happy. First : Mercy is an elc it ble.sses him t are happy. Su " Blessed is he deliver him in ti hath given to 1 ever ; his horn : well said " a be: the earth, and delightful and ir Retribution, mercy and truth those that have sooner or later, find that the "; is meted back t truth shall he t( deviseth liberal stand. Read tl Matthew, in ord( will meet with a It gives back to • Tsahn x'i The Practical Philosopher', 237 the ministers of Christ, cringing before the chair of the wealthy, and cheering every utterance. All sect churches teem with parasites. A more miserable spirit than this know I not; unchristian, unmanly, most pernicious. Never will Christianity be truly represented, until its disciples shall practically regard intellectual and moral worth united, as the only title to honour and position. "The rich hath many friends." Professed friends, for if a man has not the morally excellent and lovable in him, whatever may be the amount of his wealth, the friends he gets will only be the false and the fawning. (tKXKKOSITY. — "He that hath mercy upon the poor, happy is he." There is mercy for the poor in Society. It is seen in the numerous and varied benevolent institutions that crowd Christendom. Those who have this mercy are happy. First : /// tJic approbation of their oii'ii consciences. Mercy is an element of happiness. " It is twice blessed ; it blesses him that gives and him that takes," he. They are happy. Secondly : In the commendation of tlieir God. " lUessed is he that considereth the poor ; the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble. '* " He hath dispersed, he hath given to the poor; his righteousness endureth for ever ; his horn shall be exalted with honour."t Epicurus well said " a beneficent person is like a fountain watering the earth, and spreading fertility : it is therefore more delightful and more honourable to give than to receive." Retribution. — " Do not they err that devise evil, but mercy and truth shall he to them that devise good r" Yes, those that have devised evil against the poor will find, Nooner or later, that they have greatly erred. They will find that the "measure that they meted out unto others is meted back to them." On the contrary, "mercy and truth shall be to them that devise good." The liberal deviseth liberal things, and by liberal things shall he stand. Read the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew, in order to see the retribution that the unmerciftd will meet with at last. vSociety is like the echoing hills. It gives back to the speaker his words ; groan for groan, • PsalnixU. I. t Psalm c.\ii. 9. .^.nt ri, !' W\ fl i: •Ji# 238 The Practical Philosopher. song for song. Wouldest thou have thy social scenes to resound with music ? Then speak ever in the melodious strains of truth and love. " With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." (READING CXX. -APRIL 30.) ; I Sabour, (J^iilh, ailcultlr. "In all Labour there is profit; but the talk of the lins tendcth only to pcnur)-. The crown of the wise is their riches : but the foolishness of fools /* folly,"— — Prov. xiv, 23. 24. Here we have — Profitable labour. — " In all labour there is profit." The word " all" here of course must be taken with limita- tion, for ill-directed labour is not profitable. Labour is profitable to our physical health. Exercise is one of the fundamental conditions of corporeal health and strength. Labour is profitable to otir character. It conduces to force of thought, energy of will, pov/er of endurance, capacity of application. Labour is profitable to our social comforts. By honest, well-directed labour, man gets not only the necessities, but the comforts, the luxuries, the elegances, and the elevated positions of life. In all labour, then— — well directed labour — "there is profit." Every honest effort has its reward. There is no true labour that is vain. "It is only by labour," says Ruskin, " that thought can be made healthy ; and the two cannot be separated with im- punity." Impoverishing talk. — "The talk of the lips fcndcth only to penury." All talk does not tend to penury. There is a talk that is profitable. The talk of the preacher, the locturf^r, the statesman, the barrister, more often tend to affluence than to penury. The talk here is the talk of useless gossip. The desire for talk in some people is a ruling passion. Their tongues are in perpetual motion; The Practical Philosopher, i^Q they are ever in search of listeners. Their highest pleasure is in prosy, frothy, useless tattle. As a rule, in proportion to the strength of this desire to talk, is the disinclination to work, and henco penury comes. vSir Walter Raleigh says, " He that is lavish in words is a niggard in deeds. The shuttle, the needle, the spade, the brush, the chisel, all are still but the tongue." Dignifying wealth. — " The crown of the wise is their riches." The idea is that a wise man would so use his wealth that it would become a crown to him. By using it to promote his own mental and spiritual cultivation, and to ameliorate the woes and augment the happiness of the world, his wealth gives to him a diadem more lustrous far than all the diamond crowns of kings. " But the foolish- ness of fools is folly." This looked at antithetically means that the wealth of a fool adds no dignity to his character. Gotthold saw a bee flutter for a while around a pot of honey and at last light upon it, intending to feast to its heart's content. It, however, fell in, and, being besmeared in every limb, miserably perished. On this he mused and said, " It is the same with temporal prosperity and that abundance of wealth, honour, and pleasure which are sought for by the world as greedily as honey is by the bee. A bee is a happy creature so long as it is assiduously occu- pied in gathering honey from the flowers, and by slow degrees accumulating a store of it. When, however, it meets with a hoard like this it knows not what to do, and is betrayed into ruin." !Man ! be thou like the bee abroad in the meadows, drinking the nectar of flowers, sporting in the sunshine and pouring some little music into the air, rather than the bee with its wing crippled and its body sub- merged even in honc.-y ! !:(':■ ;^o The Practical Philosopher, I MAY. CREADIXG CXXr.-MAV i.) Vat ^rue (»Bif«fJi.')'. "A tnic witness delivcrcth souls: but a ilcccitful k'////mj spcalcclli lic<;,"_ Prom. xiv. 25. "V^/E make three remarks on this sentence : — V V In Judiciary matters the thing here asserted is xor ALWAYS TRUE.— The lestimony of a true witness in a court of justice, where the facts are criminatory must go not to the deliverance but to the condemnation and ruin of the cri- minal. Though he may be such a merciful man as tn desire intensely to save the prisoner, still because he is " true," he must state the facts regardless of the results. It is only when the facts are vindicatory the "true" witness can deliver. /;/ ///.; disposition of the mind the thing here asserted is GENERALLY TKUE. — " It is probable," says an able expo- sitor, " that the intended antithesis relates, not so much to the actual fact of truth saving and falsehood condon1ni^),^ as to the dispositions and intentions of the faithful witness on the one hand, and the lying witneis on the other. The faithful \\ tn ss delights in giving testimony that will savi; life, that will be salutary, beneficial to his fellow-creatures. The lying witness will, in general, be found actuated by a malevolent and wicked purpose, having pleasure in giving testimony that will go to condemn the object of his malice. The sentiment will thus be, that truth is mosti}riii- rally found in union 7(Uth Icindness of hearty and falscliood -iOith nuitei'olence, \\vl this is natural ; the former boinj^ both good, the latter both evil ; falsehood is more naturally akin to malice and truth to love." In the evangelical ministry the thing here asserted is The Praclical Philosopher. 241 IXVARIABLY TRUE. — " A true witness " to Gospel fcicts "de- livereth souls." The true work of a Gospel minister is that of a witness. " Ye shall receive power after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you, and ye shall be witnesses unto me, both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea. nd in Samaria, and unto the uttermost parts of the earth."* A true wit- ness in the evangelical sense must be distinguished by three things. He must be thoroughly conversant with the facts. He must honestly propound the facts. He must live /// accordance with the facts. Such a witness " delivereth souls." " Tcike heed unto thyself and unto the doctrine ; continue in them ; for in doing this thou shalt save thyself and them that hear thee.'f Gospel facts are the great redemptive forces in human history. Silently and con- stantly as the laws of vegetation do they operate in the moral soul of the world. Ever are they unloosening the prison doors, breaking the fetters, and working out the emancipation of human souls. (READING CXXn.-MAY 3.) (Ooblincsfi, ^afctn, M %\k. " In the fear of the Lord in htroii},' coiilklencc : and liis children shall have a pLicc of refuse. The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life, lo depart from the -\\.\\x> ol death. -Pnr;', xiv, 36, 27. Wi; learn from those words — That godliness is safety. — "The fear of the Lord is strong confidence." By " the fear of the Lord" is meant, as we have frequently seen, no slavish emotion, nothing asso- ciated with terror, suspicion, and forebodement. It is loyal love and unbounded confidence, it exorcises all that is servile and cowardly. It is the root of true liberty, it is '.he sun of jo}', it is the heart of heroism. The godly are "his chiklren" and they have " a plc*ce of refuge." " God is their refuge and strength." They " will not fear though the earth be removed." We make three remarks about • Acts. i. 8. t I Tim. iv. 16. 242 The Practical Philosopher, \\ this " place of refuge." It is a provision against immense dangers. The sinner is exposed to enormous evils, to countless formidable foes. All the " principalities and powers " of the dark worlds of rebellion are marshalled against him. // ad/nits of the greatest freedom of action, A prison is a "place of refuge" as well as a fortress. The iiimate is well guarded by massive bars and granite walls from all without, but he has no liberty. But here all have ample scope for action. The sphere is as boundless as infinitude. // is accessible at all times and for all persons. Its gates are open day and night. It extends to men on every zone of the globe. Yet foolish men will not enter. They stand shivering without, while the overwhelming storm is gathering. Ancient saints, confessors, and martyrs were in this "place of refuge," and they sang triumphant^ while the tempest raged at the height of its fury. Hear the language of one of its inmates, " I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor d^pth, or any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."* That godliness is life. — " Th fear of the Lord is a fountain of life to depart from the snares of death." What is said here of the fear of the Lord is said elsewhere.f Not only life but a fountain of life, — abundant and perennial. There is nothing circumscribed in the resources of a genuinely religious soul. Its subjects of thought are as vast as immensity, its objects of love are as boundless as the perfections of Jehovah, its sphere of service and its prospects of futurity are wider than the universe, immea- surable as eternity. " The water that I shall give you shall be as a well within you springing up to everlasting life." In the life of the noble and the true — " J'licrc's no niylit fi)llc)\ving on their daylight hours, Xo fadinj,' lime for amaranthine flowers : No chan{,'e, no death, no harp that lies unstrung, No vacant place those hallow'd hills amon^j." K. MONTGOXIRRV. • Rom. viii. 38, 39. t Prov. xiii. 14. The Practical Philosopher. 243 (READING CXXIII.— MAY 3.) ^[rc |)0pitlutian 0f ait (Bm|?irt "III the multitude of the people /r the king's honour: but in the want of iioople i^ ^'^ dcitniction of the prince." — Ptorv. xiv. 28. The text teaches two things concerning the increase of the population of an empire — It reflects honour on the government.— Where the population of a country thrives, three good things are implied. First : Peace. Murders, insurrections, wars, and violence in all its forms go to thin the population. Hence, wherever it is found to multiply rapidly, the government is more or less a reign of peace. Another good thing implied when the population increases is, — Secondly : Sufficiency. Scarcity of provisions, destitution, tend to starvation, and often drive the people to emigrate to distant shores. A coun- try where there is sufficiency of food for the people reflects honour on the go'' ernment. It shows scope for enterprise and freedom in labour and trade. Another good thing implied when the population increases is, — Thirdly: Salittarincss. Pestilence thins a population. Diseases spring from a neglect and transgression of sanatoria! laws. Where a population grows, therefore, it shows that sanitary ordi- nances are more or less respected and obeyed. Thus the increase of a population in any country reflects honour on the Ruler. " In the multitude of the people is the king's honour." Another thing taught concerning the increase of the population of an empire is, — It preserves the existence of the government. — "In the want of people is the destruction of the prince." First : The more people the more defence. The king whose subjects are few and decreasing has but little protection. He is exposed to invasions. S.Tiall states are powerless before mighty empires. Secondly : The more people the more rmiiiic. Money, which is the sinew of war, is also the i i 44 Tkc Pradicat Philosopher. architect of noble institutions and the caterer to royal needs and tcistes, and pageantries. Thus it is true, that " in tho multitude of people is the king's honour ; but in the want of people is the destruction of the prince." In the lan- guage of another, "the prince, who reigns over a nume- rous, thriving, and contented people niciy be likened to the proprietor of a vineyard, where all is rich, flourishinir fruitful, productive, thus fully rewarding his expense time, and care, bringing him at once credit and profit. AV'hereas the prince who sways his sceptre over a drained exhausted, and dispirited people, is like the proprietor whose vineyard, for want of cultivation and judicious management, becomes in its vines stunted and sapless, and in its soil weedy, poor, and sterile — at once his disgrace and its ruin." (READING CXXIV.— ^[AY 4.) temper. " He thai Is slow to wrath is of great undcrstandiiifj : bm he that is liasty of vpiiit cxallclli folly."— T/w. xiv. 29. MVKHY man has what is called Temper — a kind of inner atmosphere in which ho lives, breathes, and works. This atmosphere has great varieties of temperature from zero to blood heat, and great changes of weather too, severe and stormy, cloudy and sunny. This temper, however, unlike the outward atmosphere, is controllable by man. He can regulate his temperatures and weathers. Me can change irom the arctic to the torrid, from the tempestuous to the serene and the reverse. The passage leads us to look at temper in two aspects — As CONTKULI.ED. — " He that is slow to wrath is of great understanding." First: Jt rnjitins the efforts of a groat understanding rightly to control tcMiiper. There arc some ^vhose tempers are are so combustibh them in flames. are constantly plej liation of their im| to do this. Our Ci control our passioi a man is always ec mighty passions tli| will match and m< scarcely have than! majestically calm ii snows a "great u bids the heaving b peace. Secondly standing rightly to are the victories ove those vexatious fee trarieties of life are nerative of labours u^iure which meanei an example of disc sence of His enemie self-command.* Th As UNCOXTROLLE folly." He exalts f the sceptre, and pi a violent dominion. created everv dav, l has very graphica temper, — " Some fre You .ilw: You spcn Your clc You fall That's w The soul You rise T^ e Practical Philosopher. 245 whose tempers are naturally choleric and stormy. They are so combustible that the tiniest spark of oifence will set them in flames. Can such tempers be controlled r Somo are constantly pleadings their natural dispositions as a pal- liation of their imperfections and their crimes. It is vain to do this. Our Creator has given us an understanding to control our passions. As a rule, the force of intellect in a man is always equal to his impulses. Where there are mighty passions there is generally an uno'*^rstanding that will match and master them. A sublimei sight one can scarcely have than that of a man with powerful passions majestically calm in irritating circumstances. Such a man snows a "great understanding," an understanding that bids the heaving billows within be calm, and they are at peace. Secondly r It repays the efforts of a great under- standing rightly to control temper. The highest victories are the victories over temper. To raise our nature above those vexatious feelings which the annoyances and con- trarieties of life are calculated lo excite, is the most remu- nerative of labours. It gives a royalty to a man's b-^'rig ui^iure which meaner spirits bow. ]\Ioses at the Red Sea is an example of disciplined temper, and Christ in the pre- sence of His enemies was a sublime illustration of moral self-command.* The passage leads us to look at temper— As UNCONTROLLED. — "He that is hasty of spirit exalteth folly." He exalts folly by giving passion the throne and tho sceptre, and placing the soul under her capricious and violent dominion. What crimes are committed, what woes created every day, by giving the reins to passion. Cowper has very graphically described an ungoverned, fretful temper, — " Some fretful tempers wince at every touch : You .ilways do too little, or too much. You speak with life, in hopes to entertain ; Your elevated voice goes through the brain. You fall at once into a lower key : That's worse !— the drone-pipe of an humble bee. The southern sash admits too strong a light ; vM H You rise and drop the curtain ; now 'tis night. * J Peter ii. 31—23. 246 TJic Practical PJiilosophcr. He shakes with cold : you stir tlic fire, and strive To make a blaze ; — that's roasting him alive. Serve him withver'son, and he chooses fish ; "With sole— that's just the sort he would not wi>)h. He takes what he at first professed to loathe, And in due time feeds heartily on both ; Yet, still o'crclouded with a constant frown, He does not swallow, but he gulps it down. Your hope to please him vain on every plan. Himself should work that wonder, if he can ! Alas ! his efforts double his distress : He likes you little, and his own still less. Thus, always teasing others, always teased, ■ His only pleasure is— to be displeased." '^ f-i-. {READING CXXV.— MAY 5.) f fart uwb- lfull|f. «« A sound heart is the life of the flesh : but envy the rottenness of (he bones."— Prtw. xiv. 30. "A SOUND heart" is a heart that gives its supreme affection to the Supremely Good. All other hearts are, more or less, rotten. Such a heart, the text informs us, is the condition of physical health ; it is the very " life of the flesh." True science can demonstrate this fact in many ways. The fol- lowing line of argument would conduct to the conclusion. Physical health requires attention to certain laws; those laws to be attended to must be understood ;— the under- standing of these laws requires study ;— the proper study of them is only insured by a supreme .sympathy of heart with the law-giver. Every man's experiencCy as well as science, attests this fact. The influence of the emotions of the heart upon the state of the body, even the dullest recognises. The passion of grief, disappointment, anger, jealousy, and revenge, in proportion to their strength derange the bodily system. On the other hand pleasurable emotioni, give The Practical Philosopher, 247 buoyancy and vigour to the body. " A merry heart doeth good like a medicine, but a broken-hearted spirit drieth the bones." Quackery takes advantage of this fact, and often effects its cures by an endeavour to raise ple^isurable emotions in the heart. It is, of course, easy t- show, that these pleasurable emotions cannot exist a any elevated, true, and lasting form, where the supreme affection is not centred in God. From this undeniable fact the following conclusions may be drawn : — That a :man's bodily health, avhere the organi- zation IS NORMALLY GOOD, IS VERY J^IUCH IN HIS OWN HANDS. — ^There are not a few in this artificial age, who, in answer to enquirv after the state of their health, seem to think that it i; sc ^i^cely virtuous or respectable to say that they are well, ."lobust health is not genteel or pious with many in these days. Many of the complaints of these people deserve n^ore censure than pity. They spring from certain unv/orthy and unvirtuous states of the heart. Man is resp .sible for the condition of his heart, and in Christianity gracious heaven has given us at once the means and the motives to cultivate happ)'' conditions of the heart. "Keep thy heart with all diligence." We infer from this fact again : — That Christianity is an indispensable agent in REMOVING man's PHYSICAL DISEASES. — If a " SOUnd heart" be the "life of the flesh," and a "sound heart" means a heart centering its affections upon God, then Christianity is indispensable to this health. First : Christianity is the only system that has generated in depraved hearts this supreme affection. And, Secondly : Christianity is the only system that ever can do so. We infer from this fact further : — That medical science will always be ineffective until it practically concerns itself avith the moral diseases and cures of the mind. — ^A\^ith all the parade of scientific progress in the medical realm, mortality, it seems, is not lessened. The medical practi- tioner should know (i) That it is unscientific to ignore the 248 The Practical Philosopher. fact that moral evil is the source of all physical evil, and (2) That it is unscientific to ignore the fact that there is no ag-ent to remove moral evil but Christianity. Furthormore we infer from this fact : — That as the true morality of ihe world ad- vances, THE PJIYSICAL HEALTH OF THE WORLD WILI, IMPROVE. — This seems an inevitable conclusion. Let all the morally unwholesome passions of the world's heart bo exorcised, and let all its thoughts and emotions be such only, as are the outgrowths of supreme sympathy with the Supremely Good, and then physical health and hilarity will everywhere prevail. Truly in those days the centenarian will be considered a child in years. Whilst we rejoice in sanatory science in its physical department, we feel assured that its advance in its moral department is the most essential. A drainage to carry away all the foul passions of the heart is the desideratum. The man who is the most successful in his efforts, through Christianity, to promote a moral renovation of hearts, is the greatest philanthropist and sucessful physician. (READING CXXVI.-MAY 6.) " He that oppresseth the poor rcproacheth his Maker : but he that honourcth him hath mercy on the poor." — Prcn\ xiv. 31. Godliness and humanity, in other words piety and philan- thropy, are essentially one. Wherever there is genuine piety, there is philanthropy. Philanthropy is at once the offspring, and the ritualism, of all true religion. "Pure religion and undetiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction." * The text teaches — That inhumanity is ungodliness. — " He that oppres- seth the poor reproacheth his Maker." There is a great ileal of inhumanity in the world, the poor have to endure * James i, 27. not a little " op exact their laboi and thus to " g proacheth his identity of nattm classes. There poor. "God hat tions." The sam bates belong to a all ; the same dest ing those laius whicl Everywhere we compassionate th( brother be waxen then shalt thou te or a sojourner, th, usury of him, or brother may live cease out of the lai Thou shalt open tl poor, and to thy n( is ungodliness. " hateth his brother, True humanity him, hath mercy o By loving Him su we love one anoth glorify God, to sho\ There is, it is true the poor, which has is not true humani sympathises with n of moral evil, the < crates itself in the S and redeem his soul development. " Is i loose the bands of \ and to let the oppn • Lev. XXV, 35, 36. The Practical Philosopher. 249 not a little " oppression." Superior force is exerted to exact their labours for the most inadequate remuneration, and thus to " grind their faces." He who does it " re- proacheth his Maker." First: By disregarding that ukntity of nature with which our Maker has endotvcd all classes. There is no distinction of nature in rich and poor. " God hath made of one flesh and blood all na- tions." The same blood flows through all, the same attri- butes belong to all ; the same relations are sustained by- all ; the same destiny awaits all. Secondly : By disregard- ing f/iose lazvs which our Maker has enjoined concerning the poor. Everywhere we are exhorted to remember the poor, to compassionate the poor, to help the poor. " And if thy brother be waxen poor, and fallen into decay with thee, then shalt thou relieve him ; yea, though he be a stranger, or a sojourner, that he may live with thee. Take thou no usury of him, or increase, but fear thy God ; that thy brother may live with thee." * " The poor shall never cease out of the land ; therefore I command thee, saying, Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy, in thy land."t Inhumanity, then, is ungodliness. " He that saith he is in the light, and hateth his brother, is in darkness, even until now." + True humanity is godliness. — "But he that honoureth him, hath mercy on the poor." Honoureth Him, How ? By loving Him supremely and serving Him loyally. " If we love one another, God dwelleth in us." The way to glorify God, to show our love for Him, is to serve our race. There is, it is true, a fickle, sentimental, mercifulness for the poor, which has no connection with godliness, but this is not true humanity. True philanthropy is that which sympathises with man, as the offspring of God, the victim of moral evil, the child of immortality, and which conse- crates itself in the Spirit of Christ to ameliorate his woes, and redeem his soul, and this is godliness in its practical development. " Is not this the fast that I have chosen ? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every IjI ti * Lev. XXV, 35, 36. t Deut. XV. II. X I John ii. 9. R 2 50 llic Pnicfical Philosopher. I ' yoke ? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house r avIkh tluni soest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh." * A poet has thus described the spirit of true humanity :— *• A sense of an earnest will ^ To help the lowly living, And a ten ibie heart-thrill, If you had no power of Riving ; An arm of aid to the weak, A friendly hand to the friendless : Kind words, so short to speak, Put whose echo is endless : The world is wide, these things arc small : They may be nothing, but they are all." (REA.DING CXXVII.-MAY 7.) " The wicked is driven away in his wickedness : but the righteous hath Iiopc in his death."— /'/w. xiv, 32. The word death has different meanings to different men ; it is, in fact, a different event to different men. It is ever- more to a man according to his character. The words point us to death in relation to two opposite characters— the wicked and the righteous. Observe — Death in relation to the wicked. — "The wicked is driven away in his wickedness." Three things are im- plied in these words concerning death. First: A verj' solemn change. He is " driven away." Whence ? From all existing enjoyment, the beauties of lature, the circles of friendship, the pleasures of life. From all secular engage- ments, those of the farmer, lawyer, and statesman. From all means of moral improvement: from churches. Bibles, teachers. Whither ? To the grave as to his body, to eternal * Isaiah Iviii. 6, 7. retribution as to h Secondly : A gre away; he is not the sympathies They are all twine the old castle. earth than the oa the world is eve terribly repulsive through its treme starless thunder-c tenacity he clings he must be " driven the ripened fruit fro oak, uprooted, and Avind. It is not lik but like a barque shrinks from with of the w. 'ced imp character. Is "dr carries his wickedne the whole. He can sinful purposes, dej with him. He will this -this adheres t than from himself. to press downward the poison that will that will feed the fla wickedness at the fo( Cross ! Observe — Death in relation hath hope in his de any circumstances if heart is a great magi by the wave of its w; shine, outer thunder- prisons into palaces, nealth. Death is no The Practical Philosopher. 2',\ retribution as to his soul. The death of the wicked implies — Secondly : A great personal reluctance. He does not go away ; he is not drawn away : he is " driven away." All the sympathies of his nature are centred in this life. They are all twined round earthly objects as the ivy round the old castle. They are all more deeply rooted in the earth than the oak of centuries. He is in the world, and the world is everything to him. The future world is terribly repulsive to him. Not a ray of hope breaks through its tremendous gloom : it is one dense mass of starless thunder-cloud. This being the case, with what tenacity he clings to life ! He will not go, h ^ cannot go ; he must be " driven." His death is not like the gentle fall of the ripened fruit from its old branch in autumn, but like the oak, uprooted, and dashed into the air by a mighty whirl- wind. It is not like a vessel gliding to its chosen haven, but like a barque driven by a furious wind to a shore it shrinks from with horror. " Driven away ! " The death of the Wi 'ced implies — Thirdly : A terrible retention of character. Is "driven away in his wickedness." Hq carries his wickedness with him. This is the worst part of the whole. He carries his vile thoughts, corrupt passions, sinful purposes, depraved habits, and accumulated guilt with him. He will leave P'. cything else behind him but this -this adheres to him. He can no more flee from it than from himself. This wickedness will be the millstone to press downward into deeper, darker depths for ever ; the poison that will rankle in the veins for ever, the fuel that will feed the flames for ever. O sinner, lay down this wickedness at the foot of the atoning and soul-renovating Cross ! Observe — Death in relation to the RIGHTEOUS. — " The righteous hath hope in his death." A man is not badly off under any circumstances if he has hope in him. Hope in the heart is a great magician ; it changes aP things to a man by the wave of its wand. Outward clouds break into sun- shine, outer thunder-storms sink into zephyrs, hope turns prisons into palaces, darkness in* light, and poverty into wealth. Death is nothing to a ; ^n who has strong hope \\ < v\ % w 252 The Practical Philosopher, I in Him. The strength of hope, however, depends always on two things, (i) On the grandeur of its object — the smaller the things hoped for, the weaker the hope, and the reverse. Its power depends (2) On the strength of its foundation. Hope for the grandest objects with weak reasons, will not be a strong hope. The righteous man has these two conditions of a strong hope. He has the grandest objects, the highest liberty, the most enchanting beauties, the noblest services, the sublimest friendships, the vision of God, the fellow- ship of His blessed Son, and communion with the illustrious of all mankind. For all this he has the strongest ground — the unalterable promises of God, and the assur- ances of his own heart. Give me this hope, and I shall transform the " King of terrors " into an angel of mercy; the dark, deep grave into a sunny pathway to a soul-tran- sporting elysium. Hast thou this hope, my brother ? " The world," says Archbishop Leighton, " dares say no more of its devices than dum spiro spcro (whilst I breathe I hope), but the children of God can add by virtue of this living hope, dum I'xpiro spcro (whilst I expire I hope)." " The good man's hope is laid far, far beyond The sway of tempests, or the furious sweep Of mortal desolation."— H. K. WiuiE, (READING CXXVIII.— MAY 8.) ^ctiamt uuJr SuquircitiT. " Wisdom resteth in the heart of him that hath understanding : but that •ttihich is in the midst of fools is made known."— i';'<;i'. xiv. 33. The words suggest two things— That reticence is often a mark of wisdom.— We say often, not always. It is sometimes a sign of stiif'idily. There are those whose tongues are sluggish, because their The Practical Philosopher, ^hl souls are dormant and benighted. It is sometimes a sign Qisidkincss, There is a morose, unsocial nature, that tends to silence. There is " a dumb devil. " But reticence is a sign of wisdom when " wisdom resteth " — or, as some read, quietly "abideth in the heart." It is there biding its opportunity ; there for use, not for display. As a rulo, wise men are slow and cautious in speech. Two things account for this. First : niiinility. Great intelligence tends to great humility, and humility is ever diffident. It shrinks from parade. It courts the shady and the silent. Pride, on the other hand, is garrulous. Its instinct is display. Another thing that accounts for reticence in a wise man is — Secondly : Conscientiousness. A truly wise man is a conscientious man. Feeling the responsibility of language, he weighs his words. He knows for every idle word there is a judgment. The words suggest again — That loquacity is ever an indication of folly. — "But that which is in the midst of fools is made known." The emptier the mind, the more active the tongue. This is exemplified in the prattle of children and the fluency of unthoughtful preachers. Volubility is the offspring of vacuity. It has been said that the editor of one of our greatest daily journals will never trust a writer to write a " Leader" on a subject which he has thoroughly compassed. The reason is obvious. The article would lack that flip- pancy, wordiness, and positivity which are attractive to the common reader. Fools are vain and reckless ; hence they are loquacious. Homer, in his Iliad^ hath appointed unto dreams two doors, the one a door of horn, which was the door of truth, the other a door of ivory, which was the door of deceit, for horn, as they say, may be looked through, but ivory, being thick and dark, is not transparent. " These doors," it has been said, " may very well be applied to the mouths of men, which are as the indices and tables of the heart ; for to some it is a door of glass, which is soon broke opc^n, and easily giveth pass to a multitude of words, wherein the folly of their hearts and minds is discerned ; to others it is a door of brass, firm and solid in keeping in their I * \\^ !54 The Practical Philosopher. words with more care and circumspection, and showinT the firm solidity of their hearts and minds," (READING CXXIX.-MAY 9.) Z\t politiral auJ^ %miS. JmiJartuurc 0! ?HoraIitir. " Rij^litcousncss cxallcth a nation : but sin w a rcproadi to any people. The kiii},''s favour i^ towards a wise servant : but his wrath is against liim tliat causclli blu;mc." — I'lin', xiv. 3.|, 35. Tin", text teaches — The POLITICAL importance of morality. — " Rip;1itoou.s- ncss '* — rectitude of character — " exalteth a nation :" but " sin " — immorality — is " a reproach to any people." It is here said, First : Rectitude " exalts " a nation. It exalts it in many ways. In material wealth. Truth, honost\-, integrity, in a people are the best guarantees of commercial advancement. Credit is the best capital in the business of a nation as well as in the business of an individual, r.nd credit is built on righteous principles. The more credit a nation has, the more business it can do; and the more business, if rightly conducted, the more will bo the accumulation of wealth. It exalts it in social enjoyments. According is the principles of veracity, uprightness, and honour reign in society, will be the frei- nes.s, the heartiness, and the enjoyment of .social intercourse, It exalts it in moral fmver. The true majesty of a kingdom lies in its moral virtues. The state whose hear; beats loyally to the eternal principles of rectitude gains an influence upon the earth mightier than the mightiest armies or battalions can impart. Secondly: Unrighlnm- ness (Icj^rades a nation. " Sin is a reproach to an)' people. The jirevalence of immorality amongst a people tends, in the very nature of the case, to ignominy and ruin. Neither The Practical Philosopher ■03 rommerce, nor arms, nor science, nor art, can long sustain a morally corrupt people. Immutable Heaven has decreed their destruction. " At whiat instant I shall speak con- cerning" a nation, and concerning a kingdom, to pluck up, and to pull down, and to destroy it ; if that nation, against whom I have pronounced, turn from their evil, I will r:pent of the evil that I thought to do unto t' om. And at what instant I shall speak concerning a nation, and con- cerning a kingdom, to build, and to plant it ; if it do evil in my sight, that it obey not my voice, then I will repent ol the good wherewith I said I would benefit them."* The text tenches — The SOCIAL importance of morality. — " The king'3 favour is towards a wise servant, but his wrath is against him that causeth shame." The idea is, that the king, the man worthy of the name, will treat his servants according to their character. The king's servants either mean his ministers of state, those who servu him in his regal capacity, or those who attend upon him in his more private and domestic relations. Rectitude in his service will be pleasing to him, and honourable to him in either case. All employers throughout society are the best served bv those whose characters are distinguished by unswerving truth and incorruptible honesty. Few kings, however t.iilen in character, have so far gone as to feel any real respect for fawning sycophants and unprincipled time- servers. He serves best and is honoured most, whether he is engaged in the interest of a state, a business, or a Umily, whose conduct in all things is controlled by righteousness. This subject teaches. First : Thai men who ui'i ruled by righteousness arc the men most to be valued in a vunlry. It is not the warrior, the merchant, or even the man of science and art, that are the most valuable to a state. It is the man of goodness. Goodness is to a country what the breeze is to the atmosphere, preventing ^la^•llation and quickening the blood of the world. Nil Dndly : That the promotion of true morality is the best way 1 1 fro/Note the interests of a state. A healthy press, useful • Tcr, xvi i. 7- 10. II' \\* t}- » ! ! 25' The Pradlr d Philosopher. ..■^■hools, f' 111 i^li toned pulr,.;:>;^ tj promote these is to giv( ptuce, dii nity, and stability to kingdoms. "What constitutes a state ? 2. 'It hi^h-raiscd battlement, or laboured mound, Thick wall, or moated gate ; Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crown'd, Nor bays and broad-armed po' ts, Whf re, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride : Nor starred and spangled courts, T'here low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride. No ! J/(f«— high-minded witf>.j."--SiR William Jones. (READING CXXX.-MAY lo.) " A Svif; . iiswer tumcth away wrath : but grievous words stir up anRcr. The tongue of t' c wise uscth knowledge aright : but the mouth of fools pourctli out foolishness.'.' — Ftirv. xv. I, 2. Fey; writers, ancient or modern, say so much about words as Solomon, and no man of extensive observation and deep tViouf>ht can fall to be impressed with the importance of coords. " Words," says Richter, " are often everywhere as the minute hands of the soul, more important than even the hour hands of action." "^len suppose," says the father of the inductive philosophy, "that their reason has command over their words ; still it happens that words in return exercise authority and reason." The text leads us to con- sider two thinpfs — The PAcirYiNG and irritating power of words.- l-'irst : The paci/yt'iisf pmvcr of li'ords. " A soft answer turneth away wrath." Several things arc implied in this •^hort utterance, (i) The existence of anger against you. You have an enemy. There is a man whose soul is fired with indignation, speaking to you cither by pen or tonijue, \Vh<>th(T that anger has been justly excited by j'ou, it niatters not : there it is, in thunder and tlamc. [z] Tiic The Praclical PhiJosopJicr. 257 itTiportanco of turnin.c^ av My tliis ur^jc. It is a very unde- s'lcU'ie thing" co hruM indignaiic s burni'ip" hi un immortal breast toward you ; it is not well to b-'^ bitted a,nd damned by any one, not even by a child. ''3 Tb'.rp is an effective method of turning- away wrath. ^A\'jvit is diat ^ A. ^* soft diiswrr." A response free from exci' •m.'ni and r3sentment, uttered in the low tone of magnaniiiioa.-^ forbearance. At first, in some cases, the display of such calmness towards an enraged enemy may only intensify the passion. But when reflection comes, as come it must, the " soft answer " works as oil on the troubled waves. A " soft answer," like a conducting-rod, can carry the lightning of an enemy into the ground, and bury it in silence. Among many examples of the pacifying power of soft words, the reply of Gideon to the exasperated men of Ephrnim may be given, and also the conduct of Abigail to David. ^ Secondly : The irritat- iii!^ power of words. " Grievous words stir up anger." There is a great tendency in the insulting and denunciatory language of your enemy to induce you to use " grievous words," but the use of such words will, instead of mending the matter, increase the evil, and " stir up anger." They only add fuel to the flame. There are :nen whose natures arc so unsocial and splenetic, that their words are always of that "grievous" sort that "stir uv> anger," Wherever they go, they scratch and irritu.'.\ i '--i cur'- bark, and even the calm mastiffs get excite-: Tut: RKiHT AND AVROXd LlSE OF WORDS.— First : The rii^lif use. 0/ 7C()rds. "The to; i true of the wise useth know- K'dge aright." A similar but m r identical sentiment has more than cm o- come under our notice in our piith through this book.t Knowledge is good ; it is well to have tho mind richly furnished with useful information, but this l^jood thing may be, and often is, wrongly used by words. There is a right use of knov;ledge in speech. What is that: It is to communicate it at right times, tc proper persons, in suitable places, and in a becoming spirit. Secondly : The 'vrofii^ use of ivords, " TIk^ mouth of fools poureth out ibolishncss." " Out of the abundaricc? of the • I Sam. ..vv. 3.?, 33. t Sec chais xii. 23; xi.i. lO; .viv. ^y >■ :m The Practical Philosopher. M heart the mouth speaketh." The fool's heart is full of folly, and folly flows from his lips. Foolish words are cither words without meaning, empty jargon, or words of bad meaning, the vehicles of filth, insubordination, and blasphemy. Bishop Home well remarks that, " Amontf the sources of those innumerable calamities which from age to age have overwhelmed mankind, may be reckoned as one of the principal, the abuse of words." (READING CXXXI.— MAY ii.) " The eyes of tlic Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and tliu good." — Prov. XV. 3. The language of the Bible is often very anthropoinorphlc. It represents the Infinite Spirit as having the bodily parts of men — hands, feet, head, back, heart, eyes, ears, and tongue. It also sometimes represents Ilim as having the mental passions of men — revenge, jealousy, indignation, hope, disappointment, and regret. All this, of course, is an accommodation to our limited faculties and modes of thought. The text is an instance of this feature of Divine revelation ; it speaks of the " eyes of the Lord." The lan- guage expresses that which undoubtedly belongs to God, an \Vi^\\\\.Q capacity of discernvie lit. He knows at every mo- ment everything^ in every place. The Bible is full of this doctrine.* The text suggests a few thoughts concerning God's inspection of men. The inspection is PERSONAL. — He does not inspect men through the eyes of others, but through his own. We often get our knowledge of men from i;he observation of others. Karthly kings get their knowledge of their subjects thus ; but God gets His knowledge from Himself. When lie * IVilm cxxr.ix. ; Provcilw v. 21. ; Jcr. xvi. 17 ; 2 Chion. xvi. 9. comes to judge (lopond for infer Xo one will be no eloquence w formed. He kno His inspection are in every plac( on ocean, on la bustle of busines; we are, His eyes cannot escape th heaven, they are there. They penc ll:c jjrofoundcst d; Of( Oini The inspection die good." There not either good c quality. He knov most incipient, as "There is not a \ knowest it altogetl for the good. Ye mi a,i,^ainst mighty od afflictions. The g on you — take heai earning for the 7U, evil work is not e: the sons of men ar (May, conclude not the notice of the • subject urges, Thirc eyes are always on ii'ols, but as wise, i are evil." •MIow dreadful," on him who wants 1 The Practical PhilosopJier. 259 comos to judg-o the world, He will not, like earthly judges, (lopend for information upon the testimony of witnesses. Xo one will be able to give Him any fresh information ; no eloquence will change the judgment that He has formed. He knows all " of Himself." His inspection is UNIVERSAL. — "The eyes of the Lord are in every place." There is no place where they are not : on ocean, on land, in society, and in solitude, in the bustle of business, and in scenes of recreation ; wherever we are, His eyes are. We cannot go from those eyes, we cannot escape their glance an instant. If we ascend to heaven, they are there ; if we plunge into hell, they are there. They penetrate the lowest abysses ; they peer into ilx' profoundcst darkness. " What can 'scape the eye Of God, all-seciiij^, or deceive His heart Omniscient ? "—Milton. The inspection is THOROUGH. — " Beholding the evil and ilie fjfood." There is nothing in the history of man that is not cither good or evil. There is no third, no neutral quality. He knows all the good and all the evil in the most incipient, as well as in the most developed stages. "There is not a word on our tongue, but, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether." This subject urges. First ; Courage for the good. Ye men of truth and virtue, who struggle here ai^ainst mighty odds, take courage under your trials and afflictions. The great Master sees you. His eyes are on you — take heart. The subject urges. Secondly : A vaniing for the wicked. " Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the hearts of liie sons of men are fully set to do evil." Because of the (i lay, conclude not, O sinner, that thy conduct has escaped the notice of the just God. Judgment is coming. The subject urges. Thirdly : Circumspection for all. Since God's eyes are always on us, let us " walk circumspectly, not as iuols, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days arc evil." •' How dreadful," says Dr. J. Todd, " is the eye of God on him who wants to sin ! Do you know about Lafayette, ' N^ :'t i iV l« jf iGo The Practical PJiilosopJicr. that great man who was the friend of Washington r He tells us that he was once shut up in a little room in a gloomy prison for a great while. In the door of his littlo cell was a very small hole cut. At this hole a soldier was placed day and night to watch him. All he could sec was the soldier's eye, but that eye was always there. Day and night, every moment when he looked up, he always saw that eye. Oh, he says, it was dreadful ! There was no escape, no hiding ; when he laid down, and when he rose up, that eye was watching him. How dreadful will the eye of God be on the sinner as it watches him in the eternal world for ever ! " (READING CXXXII.— MAY i-'.) " A wholesome tongue u a tree of life : but pen'cisencss therein is a bicacli ill tlic spirit. . . The lijis of the wise disperse knowlcdj^e : but the heart of the foolish doeth not so." — Prov, xv. 4 and 7. It would seem that .Solomon could not say enough about speech ; it occurs to him again and again. As he thinks of it, some new point strikes him, and he notes it down. ].et us notice what he here says about the speech of the wise and the foolish : — The speech of the wlSE.-^First : It is a Iicaling speech. The " wholesome tongue," or, literally, as in the margin, a " healing tongue," " is a tree of lif(}." There are woundod souls in society ; souls wounded by insults, slanders, bereavements, disappointments, losses, moral convictions. There is a speech that is healing to those woutids, and that speech is used by " the wise." '.riiere are societies, too, that arc wounded by divisions, animosities ; the social body bleeds. There is a speech which heals social divisions, and '• the wise " employ it. Secondly: It is a living- speech. It is "a tree of life." It is at once thu The Practical Philosopher. 261 product ■ and. producer of life. The speech of the wise is not the vehicle of sapless platitudes, it is the offspring- of living" conviction. It is a germ falling from the ever- growing tree of living thought : it lives and produces life. "Cast forth," says Carlyle, "thy act, thy word, into the everlasting, ever-growing universe : it is a seed-grain that cannot die, unnoticed to-day ; it will be found flourishing as a banyan grove — perhaps, alas ! as a hemlock forest, after a thousand years." But the word of the wise is not as a hemlock seed ; it is a seed that falls from that " tree of life," which is to be the healing of the nations. Thirdly : It is an enlighfening speech. " The lips of the wise disperse knowledge." The words of the wise are beams reflected from the great Sun of Truth, and they break upon the darkn(!ss with which error has clouded the world. Solomon was himself an exemplification of this (^lightening speech. "He taught the people knowledge; yea, he gave good heed, and sought out, and set in order many proverbs. The preacher sought to find out acceptable words ; and that which was written was upright, even words of truth."* The speech of the foolish. — First : The speech of the foolish is a wounding speech. " Perverseness therein is a breach in the spirit." The unkind slanders, irritating words, of wicked men, have often made a " breach in the spirit " of individuals^ soeielies, and comnwnivealths. Alany a female servant in our England will show you by her hatjR'ard and desponding looks what breaches have been produced in her spirit by the querulous and ill-tempered words of her mistress even in one short month. There are annoying, nagging words usee by masters, parents, husbands, wives, that slowly kill people, and their authors should be denounced as murderers. The poison of asps is on tlieir lips, and their words instil the venom into the constitutions of their listeners. Secondly : The speech of the foolish is an empty speech. "The heart of the foolish doeth not so." " The heart " is here the antithesis to the "lips." The meaning unquestionably is, that the foolish * Eccles. xii. 9, 10, h I' \ II •«a> I 262 The Practical Philosopher. man does not disperse knowledge, but that the wise does. The fool has no knowledge to disperse. He has never sought after knowledge, therefore is ignorant; and, beinjf ignorant, his speech cannot enlighten. A (READING CXXXIII.-:MAY l^., Dibcrfif Jamiliw. " A fool despiseth his father's instruction : but he that rejfardcth reproof is prudent. In the house of tlie righteous i.v much treasure : but in the revenues of the wicked is trouble."— /'/w. xv. 5, 6. These two verses are a domestic sketch. Two families appear before us. In the one there is filial folly ; in the other, filial wisdom : in the one, enjoyable riches ; in the other, troublesome wealth. There are filial folly and filial wisdom.— Notice — First: VWxdX folly. "A fool despiseth his father's in- struction." Why is he a fool for doing it? A father's instruction is the best kind of tuition. (1) It is authorita- tive. A father has a right to instruct his child. The Eternal Himself commands him to "train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." (2) It is experimental. He seeks to give to his child what he has learnt not merely from books or from other men, but from his own long-tried and struggling life. (3) It is loving. Who feels a deeper interest in his son tlian he ? His counsels are dicta^^ed by the deepest and divinest affections of the human heart. What egregious folly it is, therefore, for a son to despise such instruction ! Despise- not merely neglect, or reject, but to regard it with contempt. A state of mind lost to everything that is true and noble in sentiment. Notice, Secondly : Filial wisdom. " lie that rcgardeth reproof is prudent" — wise. It is wise because it is one of the best means to avoid the evils of The Practical Philosopher, 263 life. A father's instruction points out the slippery places in the path of life, the rocks ahead on the trackless voyage. It is the best means to attain the possible good. A "father's instruction " will point to the direction where the good things lie. That son is wise therefore who attends to a father's admonitions. TlIKRE ARH ENJOYABLE RICHES AND TROUBLESO>rE v.i:alth. — First : There are enjoyable riches. " In the house of the righteous is much treasure." Whatever is possessed in the house of the righteous, whether children, friends, books, money, is a treasure. "A little that a righteous nicin hath is better than the riches of many wicked.'* The righteous man enjoys what he has. His treasures have been righteously won, are righteously held, and righteously used, and in all he has righteous enjoyment. Secondly : There is troublesome wealth. " In the revenues of the wicked is trouble." The wealth of the wicked, instead of yielding real happiness engenders anxieties, jealousies, apprehensions, and greatly truuble the spirit. The wicked man often in getting his riches has trouble. lie has to go against the dictates of his conscience, and to war with the nobler instincts of his being. In keeping them, too, he has trouble. He holds them with a nervous grasp, fearing lest they should be snatched from his clutch. In leaving them he has trouble. His wealth gives terror to his dying-bed. " There is a sore evil which I have seen under the sun, namely, riches kept for the owners thereof, to their hurt." " Gold will make black white : Wrong right : base noble : old young : cowaril valiant : Plucks stout men's pillows from below their heads. This yellow slave Will knit and break religions ; bless the accur&t : Make the hoar leprosy ador'd : place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation With senators on the bench. —Shakespeare, i ti v\\m < ri^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) '7 m [/ 7 1.0 I.I ■so IL25 i 1.4 1.6 % Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WIST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. MSSO (716) S73 4S03 V :\ \ rv ;\ fe z /. ^ :\ \ ^1> c,^ %" 264 T]ie Practical Philosopho'. ^READING CXXXIV.— MAY 14.) \% a i/>f' w > h' Zh "^im-bm'ti 67 own superiority or worth. It is not necessarily bad. Scorn for the meaa and immoral is a state of mind both virtuous and praiseworthy, but scorn for the true and the right, the noble and the divine, is a state of mind akin to that of the worst spirit in hell itself. It is to such the text re- fers. The scomer here is one who scoffs at religion and God. As this character has frequently come under cur attention in passing through this book,* we shall very briefly state three things that are here implied concerning him. He REQUIRES reproof. — ^Truly if the scorner requires not reproof, who does ? He should be reproved. First : for his self -Ignorance. He who arrogates to himself a superiority to divine teaching, is utterly unacquainted with his own limited faculties, moral relations, and spiritual needs. Of all ignorance, self- ignorance is the most inexcusable, criminal, and ruinous. He should be reproved. Secondly : For his impious presumption. The scorner sets his mouth against the heavens. He dares not only to adjudicate on the doings of God, but to ridicule the utterances of infinite wisdom. Surely such a man requires reproof. He SHUNS reproof. — " He will not go unto the wise." Why ? Because the wise would reprove him. The very instinct of a truly wise man leads to the moral castigation of such characters as scorners. The wise man cannot tolerate such iniquity. The scoffer knows it, and he shuns the society of the good. He will not read books that will deal seriously and honestly with his character. He will not attend a ministry that will expose his character in the broad light of eternal law ; nor will he join the society that will deal truthfully with its members. The scorner "will not go unto the wise." Not he. He shrinks from the light. He has a horror of having his own proud con- ceit and haughty imaginations denounced and brought to contempt. He KATES reproof. — " The scorner loveth not one that reproveth him." He deems the man his enemy who tells him the truth ; hence, he hates the honest Christian. Albeit, ♦ Sec Reading on chap, xiv, 5, 6. \ i b ^ 1 I \ ' 3 :'|: \ w li I ' 268 77/6' Practical Philosopher. O scorner ! the man who will "ring thee such a piece of chiding," as will make thee feel the moral turpitude of thy character, is thy friend. The man to whom thou canst say, " Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul, and there I se(> such black and grained spots, as will not leave their tint," thou shalt feel one day to be the truest friend thou hast ever met. (READING CXXXVI.— MAY i6.) " A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance : but by sonow of the heart the spirit is broken. The heart of him that hath understanding seekcth know- ledge : but the mouth of fools feedeth on foolishness. All the days of the afflicted are evil : but he that is of a merry heart hath a continual feast." — Prov, xv, 13—15- The Bible speaks much about human hearts and much to human hearts. It is a book pre-eminently for the heart. Why ? Because the heart is the spring of man's activities, and the fountain of his history. In the text there is a reference to different kinds of hearts. Here is the " n^ erry' and the mournful heart, the understanding and the foolish heart. Here is the merry and the mournful heart.- Notice. First : The merry heart. By the merry heart we shall understand the Christly cheerful heart ; not the light, frivolous heart of the thoughtless and the gay. Christ- liness evermore fills the whole soul with cheerfulness. Two things are said in the text of this " merry heart." (i) It is a radiance to the face. It maketh "a cheerful countenance." A man's countenance is a mirror in which you can see his soul. Emotions chisel their features on the brow. Man has an instinct to recognise this fact. We are physiognomists from childhood, judging character always from the face. This fact is a great The Practical Philosopher, 269 advantage in our social life. Did men show no soul in their faces their presence would be as uninteresting as statues. Human society, if it could exist, would be oppres- sively monotonous. This fact suggests also the true method of beautifying the face. Beauty of countenance consisteth not in features, or complexion, so much as in expression. A genial, frank, sunny look is that which fascinates and pleases the beholder. History and observation show that in proportion to the moral depravity of countries is the physical ugliness of the population. Hence, make hearts cheerful by promoting Christianity, and you will make the presence of men and women mutually more attractive and pleasing. Stephen's Christianity made his face beam like that of an angel. Another thing said of this " merry heart" is, (2) It is a feast to the soul. "A merry heart hath a continual feast." The gratitude, the reliance, the hope, the love of Christian cheerfulness, constitute the soul's best banquet. The banquet continues amidst material pau- perism. " Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines, the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat, the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my sal- vation."* It is a " continual feast." Notice. Secondly: The vwiirnful heart. Two things are here said of the mournful heart." It breaks the spirit. " By sorrow of heart the spirit is broken." There are hearts over which there hangs a leaden cloud of gloom. All is discontent and foreboding sadness. This breaks the spirit. It steals away all vigour and elasticity from the soul. The faculty -rallying force — is gone ; and the machine falls to pieces. The mournful heart also curses the whole life. " All the days of the afflicted are evil." The " afflicted " here are those whose sorrow of heart has broken their spirit. Truly this gloom turns the whole of a man's life into a night with scarcely a star to relieve the encircling dark- ness. Here is THE UNDERSTANDING AND THE FOOLISH HEART, • Ilab. iii. 17, N F 1 .1 •* i' i ; '> 70 The Practical Philosopher. First : The one " seeketh knowledge." " The heart of him that hath understanding, seeketh knowledge." The man who hath a true understanding, an unsophisticated, unbiassed heart, seeketh knowledge, the highest knowledge, the knowledge of God, which is the centre and soul oi" all science. Such was the heart of Nicodernus, who came a^ night to Jesus in quest of truth. Such was the heart of Mary, who sat at the feet of the Great Teacher ; such also that of the Bereans, who searched the Scriptures for themselves. Secondly : The other '■^feedeth on foolishness." Souls, like bodies, have different tastes. Some souls have a taste- not a natural, but an acquired one — for " foolishness." They have a relish for things which in the sight of reason and God are foolish, they seize them with voracity, and with a zest ruminate on them afterwards. Which of these hearts throbs in thee, my brother ? Men have different moral hearts. Hast thou the cheerful or the mourning heart, the understanding or foolish ? Remember that as thy heari, so art thou — so art thou in thy character, in the universe, and before God. (READING CXXXV^I.— MAY 17.^ %\t giitiwr 0f If^rb.'j aitir ^t Stalker ©.¥. "Better is little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure and trouble therewith. Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith." — Prov. xv. 16, 17. These v^ords present to us three subjects of thought. The secularly little with the spiritually good, the secularly much with the spiritually bad, and the better conjunction for man of the two. The secularly "little" with the spiritually good. — Solomon gives a specimen here of the secidarly little— •' A dinner of herbs." A meaner repast one could scarcely have — the mere food that nature gives the unreasoning The Practical Philosopher, 271 cattle that feed in the meadow. The spiritually good he describes as " the fear of the Lord" — a loving reverence for the Great One. This is religion, this is moral goodness. The picture he brings before us, therefore, is that of a good man in great poverty. This has ever been, and still is, a common sight. Some of the truest and the holiest men that ever trod this earth have had to feed on such humble fare as " a dinner of herbs." Lazarus, who found his home in Abraham's bosom, was a beggar. The Son of God had " nowhere to lay his head." This shows two things. First : That poverty is not always a disgrace. It is sometimes so. When it can be traced to indolence, extravagance, and in- temperance, it is a disgrace. But where you find it in con- nection with the " fear of the Lord," it has nothing dis- reputable about it. The very rags of the good are far more honourable than the purple of the wicked. This shows, Secondly : That there are higher rrwards for m'rtue than material wealth. If riches were the Divine rewards for goodness, men would always be wealthy in proportion to their spiritual excellence. But it is not so. There are higher rewards for virtue than money. Spiritual free- dom, a commending conscience, uplifting hopes, inspiring purposes, fellowship with the Divine, these are the rewards of goodness. Another subject here presented is — The secularly "much" with the sphutually bad. — Here is a specimen of the secularly much. "A stalled ox," not a single joint. This brings up to us the picture of a man with his family and friends sitting around the table enjoying a splendid banquet, a well-fed, well-cooked, well- served ox, with all his attendant luxuries before him, but he has no spiritual goodness, he does not " fear the Lord." He has no love in him ; spiritually he is " in the gall of bitterness, and il the bonds of iniquity." This is a social scene as prevalent as the former. Wickedness and wealth '.ve see everywhere associpted ; and this has been felt in all ages, by the thoughtful, as one of the most painful and perplexing enigmas in the government of God. " I was envious," said Asaph, " at the foolish ' .hen I saw the pros- perity of the wicked." m * in i'. i f 272 The Practical Pliilosoplicr. !: ( 1- ' t V i The other subject here presented is — The better conjunction for man of the tavo.— " Bctfcr is little with the fear of the Lord than great trea- sure and trouble therewith." ]\Iark, he does not say a *' dinner of herbs " is better than a feast off the " stalled ox," this would be absurd, contrary to the common sense and experience of mankind. Poverty is not better than riches, but the reverse. Poverty is a serious disadvantage, and wealth in itself is a great blessing. But what he says is this : it is better to be poor with religion, than to bo rich without it. Take two men, one shall be an averagely rich ungodly man, the other an averagely poor and pious one. Solomon would say that the condition of the latter is better than that of the former, and truly so for two rea- sons. First : His condition zvould be a more enjoyahh viic* He would have a higher happiness. His happiness would spring from within, that of the other from without. The happiness of the one, therefore, would be sensational, the other spiritual ; the one selfish, the other generous ; the one decreasing, the other heightening. The ungodly rich have their *^ portion in tJiis life," and in this life only. Secondly: His condition ivould he a more honourable one. The one is honoured for what he has, the other for what he is. The one is honoured less and less as people get morally en- lightened, the other more and more. The one is honoured only hcj'e by the depraved, the other is honoured yonder by angels and by God. ;My poor pious brother, let not thy poverty oppress tiiee : riches and poverty are more in the hand than in the heart; " a man's liie consisteth not in the abundance of things which he possesseth." The contented are ever wealthy, the ava- ricious ever poor. By thy dinner of herbs may rest the foot of that Jacob's ladder, by which thou canst hold com- pany with the skies, and exchange visits witl the celestial. • Sec HoMiLisT, second series, vol. ii. p. 591. i I The Practical Philosophcf. 273 (READING CX XXVIII.— :M AY ;8.) " A wrathful man slirrctli up strife : but he that is slow to anger appeasclh ^mk^'—Prov. XV. 18. The text leads us to consider three things : — The EVIL of social discord. — It is implied that strife is an evil, and so it is. First : In its essence. Ill feeling is a bad thing. It is opposed to the great moral law of the creation —the law of universal love. " Be not angry with each other ; JIan is made to love his brother." So said the poet postman of Devonshire ; and the utter- ance is divinely true. Souls are made for love. Con- science and the Bible show this. Ill feeling is everywhere prohibited, and love everywhere inculcated in the New Testament. " He that lovcth not, knoweth not God, for God is love." It is evil — Secondly : In its influence. Strife in a family, in a church, or in a nation, is most bane- iul in its influence. It obstructs progress, it entails miseries, it dishonours tru*^ Strife is one of the worst of social fiends. It is the n of hell. The inu)MOTloN of social di.^^ ord. — How is it promoted ? Pv the malicious. "A wrathful man stirreth up strife." Men can only give to society what is in them. They sow their own passions, and like begets like ; the wrathful man produces strife. There are men and women in society who are, somehow or other, terribly charged with the malign. " The poison of asps is under their lips." They are social incendiaries. By their temper, their inuendoes, their slanders, they kindle, feed, and fan the flame of social strife. Discord is the music of their souls. " Hatred stirreth up strife."* The APPEASERS of social discord. — " He that is slow to * See Reading on chap. x. 12. '» I i 1 ' ■■A.. I 1 IsW/A f'. n ■ ; 1 1,' I ■ 1 1. • ' ' I . u i I I I 1 1. ), 274 77/5 Practical Philosopher. anger appeaseth strife." "A soft answer turneth away wrath."* "It is an easy matter," says Plutarch, "to stop the fire that is kindled only in hair, wool, can- dlewick, or a little chaff: but if it once have taken hold of matter that hath solidity and thickness, it .soon inflames and consumes — advances the highest timber of the roof, as ^schylus sailh ; so he that observes anger, while it is in its beginning, and sees it by degrees smoking and taking fire from some speech or chaff-like scurrility, he need take no great pains to extinguish it ; but often- times puts an end to it only by silence or neglect. For as he that adds no fuel to fire hath already as good as put it out, so he that doth not feel anger at the first, nor blow the fire in himself, hath prevented and destroyed it." As certain as water quencheth fire, love will extinguish strife. " Peace hath her victories No less renown'd than war."— MiLTON, (READING CXXXIX.— MAY 19.) «« The way of the slothful man is as an hedge of thorns : but the way of the righteous is made plain." — Prov. xv. 19. There is a very important principle involved in this antithesis. It is this : that indolence is unrighteousness. A principle this, which, though generally overlooked, is obvi- ously true, and of great practical importance. A lazy man, though legally he may pay every man his due, is notwith- standing dishonest. He lives on the labours of other men: his life is a life of larceny. The divine law is, that if a man does not work, neither should he eat. The slothful servant Christ calls " wicked." The text indicates the ten- dency of the indolent and the righteous. The TENDE^xY of the indolent is to create dif- ♦ See Reading on chap. xv. I. The Practical Philosopher, 275 FICULTIES. — " The way of the slothful man is an hedge of thorns." Deep in the moral nature of man is the feeling" that he inspiration of Go Farmers, unless tl unless the Lord tlie Lord write the the measure : preac that is, unless He labour is in vain. yield you true satis r The Practical Philosopher. 297 of vast importance to man to have his thoughts csiablishcd. So established as to have all desires gratified, all hopes realized, all activities rewarded. It is also taught con- cerning such thoughts, — That Godly works are essential to their establish- ment. — " Commit thy works unto the Lord." Men always work to carry out their purposes, but none of their works can truly succeed that are not of a godly sort. What is meant by " committing thy works unto the Lord r" It may include two things. First : Submit them to his approval when ihcy arc in embryo. A thought is work in germ, the pro- toplasm of all history. We should lay our works before the Lord when they exist in this thought state, and invoke Him if they are wrong to destroy them in their embryo, if they are right to develop them to perfection. We should seek His counsel before the first step is taken. It may include, Secondly : The invocation of His blessing upon them when they are accomplished. " Commit thy works unto the Lord." " The Hebrew idiom gives peculiar emphasis to the pre- cept — roll it over on Jehovah." " Whatsoever we do in word or deed, we should do to the glory of God." It is only as we attend to this precept, that we can get our thoughts established, and thus actualize those purposes and aspirations of the soul, in which we really live. Truly all is vain in human labour unless God is in it. " Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it ; except the Lord keep the city, the watchman yaketh but in vain."* Man's spiritual constitution is such that he cannot be happy in any labour that springs not from the true inspiration of God. Thus labour without God is vain : Farmers, unless the Lord cultivate the field : merchants, unless the Lord effect the transactions ; authors, unless the Lord write the book ; statesmen, unless the Lord enact the measure : preachers, unless the Lord make the sermons ; that is, unless He is the inspiration of all your efforts, your labour is in vain. It will neither meet His approval nor yield you true satisfaction. • Psalm cxxvii, r. 1 I'- ll ' rr i U i' d- ft ^ 293 The Practical Philosopher, JUNE. (READING CLII.— JUNE i.) " Tlie Lord hatli made all things for himself: yea, even the wicked for tlie day of evil."— /'^•oz'. xvi. 4. THE verse teaches two things — That all existence has ONE author. — "The Lord hath made all things for himself." This statement stands op- jDosed to three cosmological absurdities, (i) To the eternity of the universe. Contingency is a law running through all parts of creation : one thing is ever found depending upon another. This contingency implies the incontingent and absolute. (2) To the chance production of nature. That the universe rose from a fortuitous concourse of atoms is in- finitely more absurd than the supposition that " Paradise Lost " rose out of a promiscuous throwing of the twenty-six letters of our alphabet together. (3) To the phiraltty of creators. There is one Being, who has made all. " The Lord." That all existence has One Author is a fact which agrees with all sound philosophy. All scientific induction takes the mind up to one primal origin. It is a fact that is taught in every part of the Holy Scriptures too. The Bible is full of it. " In the beginning the Lord created the heavens and the earth." " Of him, and through him, and to him are all things." "The foootprint," says Hugh Miller, " of the savage traced in the sand is sufficient to attest the presence of man to the atheist who will not recognise God, whose hand is impressed upon the entire universe." " The heavens are a ""int from the pen of His perfection ; The world is a rost jd from the bower of His beauty ; The sun is a spark from the light of His wisdom, And the sky a bubble on the sea of His power. The verse tOc That all exis made all things but the end of t to Him. This i joyousy for he is His benevolence others. But the v of evil," lie has n It does not mean, The supposition gathered from nai our own spirits. ture wicked. Thi derogatory to His a creature to be repugnant to the inspiration, and t\ means is, that He gloiy. Is not this the world, there are never have come ou and forgiving love makes the backgroi n majesty, certaii get me honour on p] might say of every , of man to praise hi V^fr How great P"dthe End of all r^ '^m He subordir J^"deavour to reach a P^"<' says Lord B^ The Practical Phtlosopher. 299 Hidden ma veil of thick darkness -ro thy cle::! eTn" ^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^''^ -n face o„ eve^ ato. • When thou re^jals?,. ''^-T''''' '' ^'''' ' ^«-<^estUa„ght. is a reflection fro. His race... The verse teaches- ^'' ^^"""^'' •^°^='^- That all existence has ovi. ,./ but the end of thp 7,«,\ ^'^ "<^t only thp nnfi « *^A i-fle universe An c<.- ^ -^ '■"^ author. '" """; This is ..^^,, fo,;,^^f f:n.«T «™. all run /?)m, for he is Zoz,,. He mil ^^ ^^'""' ""'' ^ 'his is H.S benevolence-His desLT ^^ ""'^^"<= t° gratify others. But the verse aylw.V"P\" «'^ blessedness tt ;^evi,." He has made forffi:Lrma?f'"=' '"' '"^ ^^4 ft does not mean, (,) That Godev™ °"' ""^ ™P°«? The supposition clashes with In T ■'!.'""'''''' ^^^""e. gathered from nature, and Is In °"' """^^ °f Him as 0- own spirits. No;, ("f tLThI"^ "" '"' '"'"■"on^ of ture wicked. This is eauall,; ^™'' •"="•« ^ holy crea a creature to be miserable Tn ^^^ J"*" ^e ever made repugnant to the teaching-L nf !" ««PPositions are ■nspiration, and the intu^^ f. ^'T' *« "ocines of "leans is, that He makes^h! • ? *"""*" ^°"'- All it ^'»^- Is not this eWden ./ wretf ^'^^^^ «- -n the world, there are certain attrih?/ ? "° ^"ckedness i„ never have come out to IV f ». ' °'^ ^""^ ^^'^h would '»d forgiving love : The bkcTV' "f""'"' '^°'"P-^m "fc the background on wh eh to" ^-r-"^' "="' God "^ majesty, certain perfecUons of H ^^" '" overwhelm- Set me honour on PharanlT'' ! ? ^'^ "^'^e. " I will *t say of eve/X\-f "f °^°'\ And thfs H «f man to praise him a„H '' • "^ "'^''oth the wrath »'«*■■ Howgreat t'C/, "^^TT.*^ -mainderof »■) tlie End of all thin^ ';„ ,u ' "'.'' ^^'^^' ">e Means 7 ™ He subordinates to H ""'^^'■^^' '^"' ^in, and ™deavour to reach afer Joif -7" '^'«^'' ''"''^- Lotus '«'-." «ys Lord Bac n,"< tot™ " "' ''°'- " '' -" ' tohme no opinion of God at t% i ■00 The Practical Philosopher. all, than such an opinion as is unwoi'thy of Him, for the one is unbelief, and the other is contumely, and certainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity." (READING CLIII.— JUNE 2.) " Eveiy one that is proud in heart is an abomination to the Lord : thouA hand join in hand, he shall not be unpunisheif.. By mercy and truth iniquitv is purged : and by the fear of the Lord men depart from evil." — Prov. xvi. 5, 6, " Pride," says an old writer, " had her beginning among the angels that fell, her continuance on earth, her end in hell." The Bible says much against pride, and authors have dealt largely with the hideous theme. It not un- frequently stands in the Bible to represent sin in general, and in some of its forms it is in truth the quintessence of evil. Notice two things in these verses concerning evil in general. Its essential odiousness, and necessary punish- ability. — Note its essential odiousness. "Every one that is proud is an abomination to the Lord." " God resisteth the proud." Pride in all its forms — pride of self-righteous- ness — pride of wisdom, station, as well as the pride of re- bellion, is abhorrent to Him. "God," says old Henry Smith, "was wroth with the angels, and drove them out of heaven. God was wroth with Adam, and thrust him out of Paradise. God was wroth with Nebuchad- nezzar, and turned him out of his palace. God was wroth with Cain, and though he were the first man born of a woman, yet God made him a vagabond upon his own land. God was wroth with Saul, and though he was the first king that ever was anointed, yet God made his own : hand his executioner." Note again its necessary punhh ability. "Though hand join in hand, he shall not bej unpunished." Evil must be punished ; the moral con- 1 stitution of Almightiness futile. " Wo the potsherd Though the li shall laugh a vex them with no understand Its divine TION-.— Note : "Mercy and These are the Ihey came int( ■' Grace and tri the Gospel. T for the washing the fire which C corruptions of t: do they operate fear of the Lore ments, mercy ai supreme, loving "depart from ev in the soul, there the man walks 01 behind as Lot le: rid of every sin. ment." One lea spark in a house the soul. * IsaJah X The Practical Philosopher. 301 stitution of the soul, the justice of the universe, the Almightiness of God, render all human efforts to avoid it futile. " Woe unto him that striveth with his Maker ; let the potsherd strive with the potsherd of the earth." * Though the heathen rage, he that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh and have them in derision, and ultimately vex them with His sore displeasure. " There is no wisdom, no understanding, no counsel against the Lord."* Notice Its divine correctives, and their moral opera- tion. — Note : Its divine correctives. What are they ? " ]\Iercy and truth." By them " iniquity is purged.^' These are the two great Divine elements to destroy sin. Iliey came into the world in their perfect form by Christ. ■' Grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." They constitute the Gospel. They are the fountain opened on this earth for the washing away of sin and uncleanness. They are the fire which Christ kindled in order to burn up the moral corruptions of this planet. Note its moral operation. How do they operate in the soul so as to remove sin ? " By the fear of the Lord men depart from evil." These two ele- ments, mercy and truth, generate in the human heart that supreme, loving reverence for God, which leads men to "depart from evil." Wherever there is a true godly love in the soul, there is a departure from wrong. Step by step the man walks out of it, until at length he leaves it entirely behind as Lot left Sodom. No man is safe until he gets rid of every sin. Even one sin is the "dead fly in the oint- ment." One leak in a vessel may cause it to sink, one spark in a house may burn up a city, one sin may damn the soul. !i Isaiah xlv. 9. t Chap. xxi. 30, ' I ■ \\m '•' i .\02 The Practical Philosopher, (READING CLIV.-JU.NE 3.) I i " When a man's ways please the Lord, He maketh even His enemies to be at peace with him." — Prov, xvi. 7. This verse directs us to the greatest of all subjects, the subject of pleasing Him who is the Author of the universe and Whose will decides the destiny of all. This subject is here presented in two aspects. As A GLORIOUS POSSIBILITY FOR MAN. — " When a man's ways please the Lord." Then there are ways in which a man can please Him. How ? Not by mere external ser- vices. Some imagine that they can please God by good psalmody, by fine prayers, by flattering addresses, by monetary contributions, by gorgeous ritualisnl. But all this is an abomination to Him, if the heart is not in love with His character, and in sympathy with His will. " To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me r saith tho Lord : I am full of the burnt-offerings of rams, and the fat of fed beasts ; and I delight not in the blood of bullocks, or of lambs, or of he-goats. When ye come to appear bclore mo, who hath required this at your hand, to tread my courts ? Bring no more vain oblations ; incense is an abomination unto me ; the new moons, and Sabbaths, and calling oi . jsemblies, I cannot away with ; it is iniquity, even the solemn meeting. Your new moons and your ap- pointed feasts, my soul hateth ; they are a trouble unto me : I am weary to bear them. And when you spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you : yea, when ye make many prayers, I will not hear : your hands are full of blood."* The way to please Him is by a lovin« obedience to His will. The outward service must be the effect and expression of supreme love. He who has this love, and all may and should have it, can please his i\Iaker. As a child may please a man who is the master of empires, * Isaiah i. 11 — 15. SO humble m is the siunrnti) can please oiirL self till he {qqX constitution re spiritual unive the creation c£ not the E tern a of his existen present or abi subject is here As WINNING man's ways pie to be at peace 1 man has enemi " before it hatec woman and the veterate, and ei overcoming of 1 well to have enr taught that plec come it. Our r enemies reconci] be allowed to ha sciences and ma) Brothers, let our speak and act, n our hearts. " Better is a little \ h-ffo, xvi. 8. The verse sugges Good men ma' <.?r 1' I 7lic Practical Philosopher. 303 so humble man may please the Infinite. To please Him is the sunumtin boniiin of existence. By so doing we alone can please ourselves. Man can never be pleased with him- self till he feels that he has pleased his ^laker. His moral constitution renders it impossible. Nor can we please the spiritual universe without pleasing Him. What spirit in the creation can be pleased with us if our conduct pleaseth not the Eternal Father r Paul felt this to be the grand end of his existence. " Wherefore we labour, that whether present or absent, we may be accepted of him." * This subject is here presented — As WINNING THE GOODWILL OF ENEMIES. — "When a man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him." It is here implied that a good iiKiii has enemies. " The world hated me," said Christ, " before it hated you." The enmity between the seed of th« woman and the seed of the serpent is of long standing, in- veterate, and ever operative. It is also implied that the overcoming of their enmity is a desirable thing. It is not well to have enmity in any heart towards us, and it is here taught that pleasing the Lord is the surest way to over- come it. Our reconciliation to God is the way to get our enemies reconciled to us. If we please Him, they will not be allowed to harm us, they will respect us with their con- sciences and may be transformed by our spirit and example. Brothers, let our grand object be to please God. Let us speak and act, not as pleasing men, but God, which trieth our hearts. : : :i . (READING CLV.— JUNE 4.) " Better is a little with righteousness than great revenues without right."- Piw. xvi. 8. The verse suggests three facts : — Good men may have but little of the world.- * 2 Cor. iv. 9. ■i^M^: m 304 The Practical Philosopher. \ " Better is a little." The great majority of good men in all ages have been poor. This fact, which has been through all time a perplexity to all saints, can be accounted for in various ways. First : The acquisition of wealth is not the grand purpose of a godly man's life. The men who ghc their energies, their very being t ^ the accumulation of pro- perty, are those who of course become the largest inheritors of earthly good. The godly man does not go in for this ; he has other and far higher aims, namely, the culture of his soul, the extension of truth, the raising of humanity. Secondly : The principles of a godly man's life preclude him from obeying the conditions by which wealth is gene- rally obtained. Reckless speculation, dishonourable tricks avaricious over-reachings, greed riding over conscience, are often the most successful means of gaining large pos- sessions. As the world stands, virtue in a man's soul is a hindrance to fortune-making. The verse suggests — Bad men have much of the world. — ''Great revenues." Asaph, in his day, observed this, and said, " I was envious at the foolish when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. For there are no bands in their death, but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other men : neither are they plagued like other men. Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain ; violence covereth them as a garment. Their eyes stand out with fatness, they have more than their heart could wish."* The fool, the wicked man, referred to by Christ, was so prosperous that he knew not where to store his goods. Who now are your millionaires r What in this age is the character of the men who hold the great prizes of the world in their grasp ? Not such as a rule, I trow, that will bear the test of God's holy law. They are not men who " do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God." The verse suggests — Good men with their little are better off than BAD MEN WITH THEIR MUCH. — "Better is a little with righteousness, than great revenues without right." First : ♦ Psalm Ixxiii. 3—7. I S ,/ The Practical Philosopher, 305 The condition of sudi a man is more enjoyable. His hap- uiness is spiritual, tliat of the other is sensational ; his is generous, that of the other is selfish ; his is imperishable, that of the other is U;ansient. Secondly : The condition of such a man is more honourable. He is honoured for what he is not for what ho has. He is honoured in proportion to people's intelligence, the other is honoured in proportion to people's ignorance. He is honoured yonder by angels and by God, the other is honoured only here by the depraved.* The good man then may well be contented with his lot. "The nature of true content," says an old writer, " is to fill all the chinks of our desires, as the wax does the seal. Con- tent is the poor man's riches, and desire is the rich man's poverty. Riches and poverty are more in the heart than in the hand ; he is wealthy that is contented, he is poor that wants it. O poor Ahab, that carest not for thine own large possessions, because thou mayest not have another's. rich Naboth, that carest not for all the dominions of Ahab, so thou mayest enjoy thine own." ¥ % (READING CLVI.-JUNE 5.) l\]t |)Iau 0f Slaw, \m)i tire |1Iuu ai ^u^, m frnxm Sifc. " A man's heart deviseth his way : but the Lord directeth his steps."— Vivv. xvi. 9. There are many passages parallel in meaning with this, such as, " O Lord, 1 know that the way of man is not in himself; it is not in man thatwalketh to direct his steps."t " The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord : and he delighteth in his way."J " Man's goings are of the Lord : how can a man then understand his own way :'% Every man's life is ruled by two plans, the one formulated by his own mind, the other by the mind of God. These two plans are referred to in the verse — * Sec Reading on cliap. xv. 16, i", t Jcr. X. 23. X Psahn xxxvii. ij. j Prov. xx. 24. li t f« 3o6 The Practical Philosopher. Man's own plan. — " A man's heart deviseth his way." Every man forms a programme of his daily life. He " deviseth his way." He sets before him an object, he adapts the means, and he arranges the time and effort for attaining his purpose. When he moves rationally, he does not move by blind impulse, nor does he even feel himself the creature of grim fate. That man's history is self-ori- ginated and self-arranged is manifested by three things. First : Society holds every man responsible for his actions. All the laws of society recognise his freedom of action, recognise the fact that he is the sole author of his conduct. Society docs not treat him either as a brute or as a machine, but as a free agent, as one whose "heart de- viseth his way." Secondly : The Bible appeals to every man as having a personal sovereignty. The Holy Word every- where recognises him as having a power to abandon or modify his old course of conduct and adopt another. All its precepts, menaces, promises, encouragements imply this. It everywhere appeals to his will. Thirdly : Every man's consciousness attests his freedom of action. If the sin- ner felt himself the mere creature of forces he could not control, could he experience any remorse ? If the saint felt that the good deed he wrought was forced from him, could he enjoy any self-commendation ? Man feels that his life is fashioned by his own plan, that he is the undis- puted monarch of his own inner world. " It is a contra- diction," says F. W. Robertson, " to let man be free, and force hin to do right. God has performed this marvel of creating a being v ith free will, independent so to speak of Himself — a real cause in His universe. To say that He has created such a one is to say that he has given him the power to fail. Without free will there could be no human goodness. It is wise, therefore, and good in God to give birth to free will. But once acknowledged free will in man, and the origin of evil does not lie in God." God's own plan. — " The Lord directeth his steps." God has a plan concerning every man's life. A plan which, though it compasses and controls every activity, leaves the man in undisturbed freedom. This is the great problem of The Pnictical Philosopher, 307 the world's history, man's freedom and God's control. " Experience," says an able expositor, " gives a demon- strable stamp of evidence even in all the minutiae of cir- cumstances which form the parts and pieces of the Divine plan. A matter of common business, the indulgence ot curiosity, the supply of necessary want, a journey from home, all are connected with infinitely important results. .\nd often when our purpose seemed as clearly fixed, and as sure of accomplishment as a journey to London, this way of our ozmt devising has been blocked up by unexpected difficulties, and unexpected facilities have opened an oppo- site way, with the ultimate acknowledgment, ' He led me forth in the right way.' The Divine control of the apostles' movements, apparently thwarting their present usefulness, turned out rather to the furtherance of the Gospel. Phillip was transferred from an important sphere in Samaria, from preaching to thousands, into a desert. But the Ethiopian eunuch was his noble convert, and through him the Gospel was doubtless widely circulated.* Paul was turned aside from a wide field of labour to a more contracted ministry. A few women and a family were his only church. Yet how did these small beginnings issue in the planting of flourishing churches ? After all, however, we need much discipline to wean us from our devices, that we may seek the Lord's direction in the first place. The fruit of this discipline will be a dread of being left to our own devices, as before we were eager to follow them. So truly do we find our happiness and security in yielding up our will to our Heavenly Guide ! He knows the whole way, every step of the way : ' The end from the beginning." And never shall we miss either the way or the end, if we only resign ourselves with unreserved confi- dence to his keeping and direetion of our steps." " Tliou cam'st not to tliy i)lace by accident ; It is the very j^lace God meant for tlice. And should'st thou there small scope for action see ; Do not for this <^ive room for discontent, Nor let the time thou owcst to God be .spent In idle dieaminy how thou mightest Lie, • Acts viii. 37-39. V ii^ 1 ' 3o8 The Practical Philosopher. V. . it J / ■•-, \ I ■ In what concerns thy spiritual life, more free From outward hindrance or impediment ; For presently this hindrance thou shalt find That without which all goodness were a task So slight, that virtue never could grow strong. And would'st thou do one duty to His mind — The Imposer's overburdened, thou shalt ask And own thy need of grace to help ere long."— French. (READING CLVII.-JUNE 6.) " A divine sentence is in the lips of the king : his mouth transpcsseth not in judgment. A just weight and balance are the Lord's : all the weights of thf bag are His work. // is an abomination to kings to commit wickedness : for the tliionc is established by righteousness. Righteous lips are the delight of kings ; and they love him that speaketh right. The wrath of a king is as messengers of death : but a wise man »vill pacify it. In the light of the king's countenance is life ; and his favour is as a cloud of the latter rain." — Prorv. xvi. lo — 15. The Bible often speaks of kings as of parents and other relations, not as they are actually found in human life, but as they ought to be — the ideals are sketched . Thus we are commanded to honour our parents, which command im- plies that our parents are honour-worthy. It would be an offence to human nature, an offence to God and the uni- verse, to honour some parents. Thus when we are com- manded to honour kings, it implies that the kings have in their character and procedure that which is adapted to call forth the reverence of souls. All that is divine within and without us calls upon us to loathe and contemn some of the kings that figure on the page of human history. The sketch which Paul gives of rulers in Rom. xiii. is not that of actual rulers, but of ideal ones. It is the "higher powers," that are " ordained of God," and that are a " terror not to the good works, but to the evil." It is the ruler who is a "minister of God for good," that he "commands every soul to be subject to."* Solomon in * See IIoM!LiST, vol. i„ second series, p. 141, this passag( gives concei He SPEAJ of the king Every man pressions. obligation. First : Trut) the real mea sentence can true expone Secondly : speaker, his cordance wit be veracious to his own s No sentence 1 does not inch is a Divine His sympathi pose ; his judi nouncements " transgresset "He JUDGE are the Lord's This sentence king. The pa rectitude. All ings, hard bar are enormities the Scriptures. social rectitude. and man. He his example to that the golde: his kingdom, unto you, do ye He FEELS th commit wickec The Practical Philosopher, 309 this passage sketches such a King. Four particulars he gives concerning him. He SPEAKS the right. — " A divine sentence is in the lips of the king; his mouth transgresseth not in judgment." Every man is morally bound to be veracious in ex- pressions. But the high office of a king increases the obligation. "A divine sentence" includes two things. First : Truth in expression. The sentence must express the real meaning of the speakery no more and no less. No sentence can alone be regarded as "divine" that is not the true exponent of the speaker's soul. It includes also, Secondly : Truth in meaning. The meaning of the speaker, his thought, feeling, purpose, must be in ac- cordance with the eternal reality of things. A man may be veracious and yet false, although his words may be true to his own soul, his soul may be untrue to eternal facts. No sentence can be considered a " divine sentence " that does not include these two things. A true king, therefore, is a Divine man ; emphatically the " minister of God." His sympathies must be in keeping with the eternal pur- pose ; his judgments ruled by the eternal law, and his pro- nouncements in keeping with both, and thus his mouth " transgresseth not in judgment." " He JUDGES the right." — " A just weight and balance are the Lord's ; all the weights of the bag are his w^ork." This sentence is evidently intended to characterise the true king. The passage means. First : That God demands social rectitude. All impositions, double-dealings, over-reach- ings, hard bargains struck with over-grasping shrewdness, are enormities in the sight of Heaven, and condemned in the Scriptures. Secondly : That a true king is a minister of social rectitude. He sees that equity is done between man and man. He enforces it, not merely by his laws, but by his example too. His prerogative is to be so employed that the golden rule is acted out in every department of his kingdom. " Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them." He FEELS the right. — " It is an abomination to kings to commit wickedness : for the throne is established by i fS I I I V 1 • i; 310 T^c Practical Philosopher. righteousness." "Wickedness" in all its forms of falsehood, fraud, oppression, greed, cruelty, is an abomination to the heart of the true king, the God-made king. " The God of Israel said, He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling in the fear of God. And he shall be as the light of the morning when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds, as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear shining of rain." Shakespeare's idea of a true king was somewhat of this fashion — " The king-becoming graces," said he, " are just, verity, temperance, stableness, bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, devotion, patience, courage, fortitude." The verse suggests two things. First : That the loathing of wickedness in a king is the pursuit of righteousness. Loath- ing the wrong ever springs from loving the right. And secondly: That the pursuit of righteousness in a king is the stability of his throne. No throne can stand long where righteousness is disregarded, where wickedness is practised or countenanced. No bayonets, swords, armies, navies, bu "-arks, can long sustain a throne where virtue is ignored. The nation from whose heart rectitude is gone, in whose soul vice runs riot, has its throne built on moral gunpowder. He VINDICATES the right. — How ? First : By approving the right in his snhjects. '* Righteous lips are the delights of kings; and they love him that speaketh right." This accords not with the actual character of kings, either as they appear in the history of the past, or in their present con- duct throughout Europe and the world. Actual kings have generally approveu of the flatteries and falsehoods of cour- tiers, and sycophants, and parasites. The tones of adula- tion are music to their ears ; not so the true king. He " loves him that speaketh right." " He's a king, A true, right king, that dare do auglit save wrong ; Fears nothing mortal but to be unjust ; Who is not blown up with flattering pufTs Of spongy sycophants ; who stands unmoved Despite the jostling of opinion." Until the world gets kings that will hate flatterers, let it learn to Honour and encourage those ministers of kings who have The Practical Philosopher. 3" the manly courage to tell their royal masters the truth. "Clarendon, perhaps, was the finest example in modern times of unbending rectitude, boldly reproving his flagitious master, and beseeching him * not to believe that he had a prerogative to declare vice to be virtue.' Well had it been for Charles had these righteous lips been his delight." Honest lieges are the best lions to guard the throne. Secondly: By avc?iging the wrong on his subjects. "The wrath of a king is as messengers of death ; but a wise man will pacify it." " The true king beareth not the sword in vain, for he is the minister of God and a revenger to exe- cute wrath upon him that doeth evil :" — " Upon him that doeth evil." Mark ! evil, not as judged by the public sen- timent of a corrupt age, nor the edicts of despots, nor the laws of unrighteous governments, but as judged by the moral law of God. Such evil must be punished, and God employs kings to punish it. " But a wise man will pacify it." That is, a wise man will give such proofs of repen- tance for the wrong, and will make such amends for it as will pacify the wrath. The wrath of a true king is never unappeasable. Thirdly : By encouraging the true in his subjects. The light of the king's countenance is life ; and his favour is as a cloud of the latter rain." Life here means happiness. As the vernal sun to the earth, so is the influence of a true king to his people. The subject teaches that honesty is the best policy in a nation. Honesty is the best policy for a king to pursue to his people, and honesty is the best policy for them to pursue to him. " Constantius, the father of Constantine, tested the character of his Christian servants, by the imperative commands to offer sacrifices to h?^ gods. Some sink under the trial. Those who had really * bought the truth ' would sell it for no price. They were inflexible. He banished tho base compliants from his service. The true confessors he entrusted with the care of his own person. 'These men,' said he, ' I can trust. I value them more than all my treasures.* This was sound judgment. For who are so likely to be faithful to their king as those that have proved themselves faithful to their God." : It *• -n. iWii;"'- 12 The Practical Philosopher, (READING CLVIII.— JUNE 7.) *,' 3.. i' i i " How much better is it to get wisdom than gold ! and to get understanding rather to be chosen than silver." — Prcrv. xvi. 16. " There are two things implied in this verse. First : That ■material wealth is a good thing. " Gold and silver " are not to be despised. They are good as the creatures of God All the silver and gold found locked up in the chests of mountains He made. Ha created nothing in vain. Thev are good as the means of usefulness. How much good can be accomplished by material wealth. Good of all kinds :— Intellectual, social, moral, religious good. It is implied Secondly : That the pursuit of material zvealth is a legitimate thing. The statement of Solomon " that it is better to get wisdom than gold," indicates that it is not wrong to fret gold. It is undoubtedly right for men so to develoD the resources of nature as to improve their secular condition. Honest industry in the pursuit of wealth is a great blessing to a community. There is no need, however, to urge men to this pursuit. The v/orld gallops after gold. But what the text asserts is this, that moral wealth — the wealth of soul — is better both in its possession and in its pursuit than material. It is " better " in its possession. — First : It is better be- cause it enriches the man himself. The wealth of Croesus cannot add a fraction of value to the man. " The gold is but the guinea stamp." Millionaires are often moral paupers. But moral wealth — the wealth of holy loves, great thoughts, divine aims, and immortal hopes — enrich the man himself. Secondly : It is better, because it creates higher enjoyments. Money has no necessary power to make men happy. It may conduce to human pleasure, but it often produces nothing but heart agony and con- fusion. Not so with moral wealth. It is in itself a fountain of joy springing up into everlasting life. " I glory in tri- bulation," says Paul. Thirdly : It is better, because it invests with the pageantri headed mob, ship. But mc 0^ true men. moral goodne royalty. Fou: longer endun material wealt we into the wo: nothing into t nothing out." honours everla and its crown is l^ is "bette getting. First ; mere pursuit of j faculties, cramp; Jities. Often in might have exp, .Yot so with the j faculties are brou might and maje heavenly. Anion heaven not one s( as an end. But e spiritual attainme approach and a Thirdly; The pur for material iveali of human enterpri all their might in t 'Plough of pauperis find one who ever bailed. Eveiytrue ''^^ way, therefo nal.* 1 • See H( The Practical Philosopher. j>n invests with higher dignities. Material wealh can create the pageantries which the thoughtless populace, the puny- headed mob, and the hollow-hearted parasite maywor- ship. But moral wealth alone can command the reverence of true men. The true dignity of man is the dignity of moral goodness. A noble heart is the soul of all true royalty. Fourthly : It is better, because it is destined to a longer endurance. All the pleasures and honours of material wealth are of only short duration. " Naked came we into the world, and naked shall we return. We Drought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out." But moral wealth produces pleasures and honours everlasting. "Its inheritance is incorruptible and its crown is eternal." It is "better" in its PURSUIT. — It is better in the getting. First : The pursuit is more ennobling. The mere pursuit of material wealth, whilst it develops certain faculties, cramps others, and deadens the moral sensibi- Hties. Often in the pursuit of riches we see souls that might have expanded into seraphs running into grubs. Not so with the pursuit of true spiritual wisdom. All the faculties are brought into play, and the whole soul rises in might and majesty. Secondly: The pursuit is more heavenly. Amongst the millions in the hierarchies of heaven not one soul can be found pursuing material good as an end. But each presses on to higher intellectual and spiritual attainments. Their " excelsior " is for a nearer approach and a higher assimilation to the Infinite. Thirdly: The pursuit is more successful. Thousands try for material wealth and fail. The ditches along the road of human enterprise are crowded with those who ran with all their might in the race for wealth, but who fell into the slough of pauperism and destitution. But you will not find one who ever earnestly sought spiritual wealth who failed. Every true eifort involves positive attainment. In every way, therefore, moral wealth is better than mate- rial* '■• . - ' • See HOMILIST, vol, iv„ third series, p. 226. I !: ' t: ■1: i * i i f "I X 314 The Practical Philosopher, (READING CLIX.— JUNE 8.) %ht Mnii 0f tire (lil'ijnffbt. " The highway of the upright is to depart from evil : he that kecpetli liis way preserveth his soul." — /'/•cz'. xvi. 17. As in every civilized country there are private roads, and high roads, ways that are occasionally used, and roads on which the common traffic runs, so in every man's life there are occasional and incidental lines of action, as well as one regular, common every-day path — the "highway." The man's occasional actions are his by-paths. His general conduct, his average life, his " highway." Every man has his own "highway," the road on which he is to be found during the greater portion of his active life. The " high- ways " of some are crooked, boggy, perilous. The verse directs us to the " highway " of the upright. The man whose heart is right in sympathy and in aim — the man who has been justified (rectified) by faith — made right by faith in Christ. Two things are here said of this man's "highway." It is a SIN-DESERTING way. — " The highway o: the up- right is to depart from evil." He departs from evil. Ob- se, ve, First : That there is evil in the zvorld. It is here in a thousand forms — theoretical, emotional, practical, institu- tional. It is a moral Babylon in which humanity lives. Secondly : There is a way in zuhich men can escape it. With- out figure, and in Scriptural language, this way is" re- pentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ." The traveller has been in the evil that lies behind him, like the old "cities of the plain," seething in corruption and black with those combustible elements that will soon take fire. But every step in this " highway " takes him further and further from it, and as he moves on the fire becomes dim in the distance. And though his old world should be wrapt in conflagration, no spark shall fly far enough to reach him. He departs from evil. The Practical Philosopher. 315 It is a SOUL-PRESERVING wav- — " He that keepeth his way presen-eth his soul." Taking the word " soul " here in its generally accepted sense, two remarks are implied. First : That man has a soul. Most men theoretically acknowledge, but at the same time practically deny this. Thousands who are spiritualists in creed are materialists in conduct. iMen live after the flesh. Matter rules mind everywhere. The world is busy in obeying the Satanic be- hest, commanding " stones to be made bread." Out of the earth it is endeavouring to get the staff of its being. vStill man has a soul ; philosophy, universal consciousness, the word of God demonstrate that we have an existence dis- tinct from matter, that wiil survive all earthly dissolutions. Philosophy, universal consciousness, and the Word of God prove this. It is implied. Secondly: That tJie preservation ,)/■ his soul depends upon his conduct. A corrupted and a popular evangelicalism preaches that a certain and senti- mental belief is enough to save the soul. But reason and the Bible alike show that upon conduct its growth and destiny depend. It is true that a right conduct must have the right beliefs, and that the right beliefs must be directed to Christ. But the genuineness and worth of those beliefs are alone demonstrated by holiness of life. " Show me your faith by your works." " He that keepeth his way preserveth his soul." Coleridge well says, " Good works may exist without saving principles, and therefore cannot contain in themselves principles of salvation ; but saving- principles never did, never can exist without good works." Brothers, enter this "highway," the " highway of the upright," go on no other road. "The miners," says Dr. Arnott, " in the gold fields of Australia, when they have gathered a large quantity of the dust, make for the city with the treasure. The mine is far in the interior • the country is wild ; the bush is infested by robbers. The miners keep the road and the daylight. They march in company, and close by the guard sent to protect them. They do not stray from the path among the woods, for they bear with them a treasure which they value, and they are determined to run no risks." Do likewise, brother, for U i! 'l\S: !1 f '»;• 3i6 The Practical Philosopher. your treasure is of greater value, your enemies of greater power. Keej) tlie way, lest you lose your soul. (READING CLX.— JUNE 9.) f rik nttir ittmilitn. " Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall, Better it is to he of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with tlic proud." — Prov. xvi. 18, 19. At different times In pursuing our way through this re- markable book, we have had the subject of pride urged on our attention, and so many different remarks have we noted down concerning it, that we must now dismiss the subject with a few words. The verse presents two opposite subjects : — Pride as the precursor of ruin. — "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." Pride and haughtiness are equivalents. What is here predicted of pride, First : Agrees with its nature. It is according to the instinct of pride to put its subject in an unnatural and therefore in an unsafe position. A proud man is where he ought not to be, and where he does not understand himself to be. His foot is on quicksand instead of on granite rock. He has been borne to his present elevation by the inflation of his faculties, not by the Divine pinions of his nature. Like a paper balloon he must collapse, come down, and descend into the mud. What is here predicted of pride, Secondly : Agrees with its history. All history shows that destruction always follows in its march. It entered Heaven, according to Milton. And what a destruction ard fall followed. "From Heaven the sinning angels fell." It entered Eden, and inspired our first parents with the wish to become as gods, and what a fall and destruction followed. Examples abound in Sacred History : — Pharaoh, Amaziah, Haman, Nebuchadnezzar, Ilerod, David, Uzziah, Hezekiah, Peter, are signal and imperishable examples. The records c rocks of histoi Humility a of an humble s with the proud conquerors to genuinely hum all worldly go more acceptable this world and t: said Sir Benjan because it lead character; endc deficiencies ; ne you do not poi activity, and yo others predicate last." "Think] shadow longer t altitude of thyse True humility Romans knew j language to repr was baseness anc nobility of soul Gospel humility cornfields the he so amongst men t lark," says a mo singing her hym lowest point, and rises the most in a proportionally in i humiliation and s ment of light to w inferior things by 1 " True Who Can In lov The Practical Philosopher. 317 The records of their fall flame like red beacons on the rocks of history. This verse presents to us — Humility as the pledge of good. — " Better it is to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud." What are all the spoils of earth's haughty conquerors to be compared with the blessedness of a genuinely humble soul ? " An humble spirit" is better than all worldly good — better — more happy, more honourable, more acceptable to God and man. In every respect, both for this world and the next, humility is a blessing. " Humility," said Sir Benjamin Brodie, " leads to the highest distinction, because it leads to self-improvement. Study your own character ; endeavour to learn and to supply your own deficiencies ; never assume to yourselves qualities which you do not possess ; combine all this with energy and activity, and you cannot predicate of yourselves, nor can others predicate of you, at what point you may arrive at last." "Think not," says Sir Thomas Browne, "thy own shadow longer than that of others, nor delight to take the altitude of thyself." True humility is essentially a Christian virtue. The old Romans knew nothing of it, they had no word in their language to represent it. What they meant by "htimilitas" was baseness and meanness of spirit ; not that calm, moral nobility of soul which we express by the word humility. Gospel humility is moral greatness. As in the ripened cornfields the heaviest ear bends the lowest to the breeze, so amongst men the greatest souls are the most lowly, " The lark," says a modern author, " which mounts so high in singing her hymn of praise, descends afterward to the lowest point, and settles on the ground. So a mind that rises the most in aspirations towards God and heaven, sinks proportionally in its own esteem, and rests on the plains of humiliation and self-abasement. It is as though the ele- ment of light to which it soars produced an obscuration of inferior things by the very intensity of its brightness." " True dignity abides ■with him alone Who, in the silent hour of imvard thought Can still suspect and still revere himself In lowliness of heart."— 'Wordsworth. \ !' " * S ' I J ik! i \n 3iS The Practical Philosopher. (READING CLXI.-JU:rE lo.) " He that haiidleth a matter wisely shall find good : and whoso trusteth in the LoRU, happy is he. The wise in heart shall be called prudent : and tlic sweetness of the lips increaseth learning." — Prov, xvi. 20, 2i. These words lead us to consider two conditions of a happv life. What are they r Skilful ]\Ianagemext. — " He that handleth a matter wisely shall find good." Skilful management in every de- partment of life is of the utmost importance. First : It is so in intellectual matters. The man who desires to get a well informed and well-disciplined mind, must arrange both the subjects and the seasons of study with skill. The man of greatest intellect who leaves all his studies tf) the chances of the hour, will never become distinguished in intellectuals. Method is of primary moment in the business of study. Great intellects become bankrupts for the want of this. ^Secondly : It is so in mercantile ('ii^asyc- nients. ;Men of large capital and with industry too often find their way to Basinghall Street for the want of skil- ful management. Whereas men whose stock-in-trade amounted only to a few shillings, with the faculty for " handling a matter" wisely, have risen to opulence and power. Thirdly : It is so in sp'ritual culture. A wit.c selection of the best readings, the most instructive pulpits, and the most favourable seasons for devotion cannot be dispensed with if great spiritual good is to be got. Prac- tical philosophy is required we say in every department of action in order to get good out of it. Dr. Tulloch has well said, " Every profession implies system. There can be n.i efficiency and no advance without it. The meanest trade demands it, and would run to waste without somethint^" of it. The perfection of the most complicated business '\s the perfection of the system with which it is conducted. It is this that brings its complications together and gives \' The Practical PhilosopJier. 319 a unity to all its energies. It is like a hidden sense per- vading it, responsivvT at every point and fully meeting every demand. The marvellous achievements of modern com- merce, stretching its relations over distant seas and many lands, and gathering the materials of every civilization within its ample bosom, are, more than anything, the result of an expanding and victorious system, which shrinks at no obstacles and adapts itself to every emergency." The words lead to consider — A WELL-STAYED HEART. — " Whoso trusteth in the Lord happy is he." God is the stay of the heart. In Him, and in Him only, can the heart centre its supreme sympathies, and rest its unsuspicious confidence. He is to all the faculties and affections of the soul what the sun is to the planets, keeps them in order, inspires them with life, floods them with brightness, and bathes them with beauty. "Whoso trusteth in Him happy is he." First: He i;- liappy in himself. " Happy is he." He feels that his love is approved by his conscience, reciprocated in boundless measure, and employs all his faculties and powers. Secondly : He is happy in his policy. " The wise in heart shall be called prudent." The right love is the best security for safe policy. Love is inventive genius, and is the best lamp in life's journey. In no light can the in- t-ellect see things so clearly and so truthfully as in the sun- beam of love. Thirdly : He is happy in his speech. " And the sweetness of the lips increaseth learning. ' Where the heart is staid on God, not only will there be a wise judg- ment, but a speech whose mellifluous eloquence will im- prove society in all true learning. Truly then, " Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is. For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and IJial spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not die when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green ; and shall not bo careful in the year of drought, neither sba'' cease from yielding fruit," 320 The Practical Philosopher, (READING CLXII.— JL'NE ii.) ,1 i i " Understanding is a wellspring of life unto him that hath it : but the in. struction of fools U folly." — Prcrv. xvi. 22. Life is a school: Nature, human history, and the Bible furnish its lessons. These lessons have two great inter- preters — ^wisdom and folly. These interpreters get opposite meanings out of the same fact, and these meanings exert a directly opposite influence upon the experience, character and destiny of human souls. The BENEFICENT interpretation of life. — "Understanding is a wellspring of life." Understanding here undoubtedly means true knowledge, and especially true knowledge concerning the highest truths. What are the highest truths ? Truths relating to God as manifested in Jesus Christ. These truths touch all that is vital in man's history, all that is grand in the universe, and glorious in God. "This is life eternal, to know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent." So speaks the only absolutely perfect Teacher the world has ever had or ever will have. This knowledge is a wellspring of life. " Two things " says an eloquent writer, " are necessary to the opening- and the flow of wellsprings — deep rendings beneath the earth's surface, and risings above it. There must be deep veins and high mountains. The mountains draw the drops from heaven, the rents receive, retain, and give forth the supply. There must be corresponding heights and depths in the life of a man. Either he is charged as a well spring with wisdom from above, upwards to God and downward to himself, the exercise of his soul must alternately penetrate." This comes of spiritual under- standing, which is indeed a " well spring." Ever flowing and refreshing arc the powers of the soul. "Whosoever drinketh of the water that I give him shall never thirst," The Practical Philosopher. 321 said Christ." " It shall be to him as a well of water springing up to everlasting life." The happiness of a worldly man, such as it is, is from without : it streams in through his senses, yielding in its flow pleasurable but transient sensations. That of a spiritually enlightened raan is from within: it is a fountain, not a pool, nor a summer's stream. As the humblest spring of water in the obscure vale has a connection with the boundless ocean that lies behind the hills, perhaps a thousand leagues away, so the joys of a good man flow into him from the Infinite, and as water ever presses upwards to its level, so the hap- piness of a lowly soul eve'- presses upward to a participation in the unbounded blessedness of God. The PERNICIOUS interpretation of life. — "The instruction of fools is folly." In all ages fools have set themselves up as interpreters. In a spiritual sense many of the most illustrious sages of the olden time were fools, and not a few of the savantSy literati, and priests of our age and land are fools also. They misinterpret the great fact of life, they explain away the divine import and give it a false ap- plication. Alas ! folly has its philosophies, its sciences, and its religions. Their instruction is ever " folly." " There is nothing," says sensible and sententious Matthew Henry, " that is good to be gotten by a fool. Even his instruction, his acts, his solemn discourses, are but folly, like himself, and tending to make others like him. When he does his best it is but folly in comparison even with the common talk of a wise man, who speaks better at table than a fool in ^loses's seat." Folly is pernicious : it brings ruin into every department in which it plays a prominent part — business, politics, or religion. " If th3 blind lead the blind both shall fall into the ditch." / H'r I. r^22 2iie Practical Philosopher, it (READING CLXIII.-JUNE 12.) P " The heart of the wise tcacheth his mouth, and addeth learning to his I'p<: Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones." — rrorv. xvi. 23, 24. Eloquence is a subject of importance. Much has been VTitten upon it, various definitions have been given of it. Most public sper^ers aspire after it. It is one of the choicest gifts of ge.ius, and the most potent organ of social influence. Some mistake it for elegance of language, and labour after verbal embellishments, rhetoric periods, and climaxes. Others, for fluency of speech, as if it consisted in a nimble use of the tongu Elsewhere we have in- dicated our faith that it is rather a mysiic feeling than magnificent words, a natural gift than a human attainment, a magnetic force than articulate sound. Eloquence is often mighty on a blundering tongue, and in lips that quiver too much to speak. These two veises lead us to infer several things concerning true eloquence. It is the utterance of the true heart.— "The heart of the wise teacheth his mouth." The moral heart of man is the best teacher. It is the table on which arc engraven the laws of God, the eternal principles of virtue : — man's book of life on which experience has written its lessons. It is the mirror that reflects the infinite. The highest wisdom is to be found, not in the reasoning, but in the feeling regions of our soul. It is when the genuinely patriotic heart "teaches the mouth " of the statesman, that his speeches are really eloquent, and his voice bends the senate to ' 'swill. It is when the genuinely justice- loving heart " tcciches the mouth " of the counsel, that hi.-, address is really eloquent, and he carries the jury \Yith him, and makes the cause of his client triumphant ; and it is when the genuinely Christ-loving heart "teaches the mouth " of the preacher, that his sermons become mighty through Goc eloquence is It is the : learning to awaken men spirit is in su \ery sounds of thought. as well as spi Xot the nicn scriptural his CJirist-lovins^ ungrammaticc ing;" learnin triumphantly furnish the lip true eloquence It is a so words are as a to the bones. not only as a medicinal and allusion here. pleasantness ai ({uality which ] hone}^, sweet tc the bones," i.s cl fall ever as dro] to the taste but Brothers in t! the "learned".? >'tunt, the hearl Herein is the S( us if our hearts and hi.s cross : hoart. Dr. Frai remarkable powi "ne of the sernio I perceived he i Tlic Praclical p]iilosopiicr. 3-'3 through God. Another fact here taught concerning true eloquence is that : — It is the means of useful instruction. — It " addeth learning to his lips." True eloquence does more than awaken mere emotion in the hearer. It instructs. Its spirit is in such vital alliance with eternal reality that its very sounds echo such truths as start the highest trains of thought. Out of the heart are the issues of life, mental as well as spiritual life. Who is the best religious teacher ? Xot the mere theologian, however vast his learning, scriptural his theory, or perfect his language, but the Christ-loving man, however untutored his intellect and ungrammatical his speech. He dispenses the best " learn- ing ;" learning which teaches men rightly to live and triumphantly to die. Aye, the instinr Is of a true heart furnish the lips with the best lessons o .' life. Concerning true eloquence tl e verses further teach that : — It is a source of soul refreshment. — "Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, su eet to the soul, and health to the bones," Honey was prized by those of old times, not only as a luxury to the palate, but on account of its medicinal and saiutary properties. To this there is an allusion here. The words express the twofold idea, pkasaii/iicss and benefit. ^lany things have the one quality which have not the other. JMany a poison is like honey, sweet to the taste, but instead of being " health to the bones," is charged with death. Words of true eloquence, fall ever as drops of honey on the soul, not only delicious to the taste but a tonic to the heart- Brothers in the ministry, would you have the tongue of the "learned"? Then you must have the heart of the saint, the heart glowing with love to Christ and man. Herein is the soul of eloquence. W^ i could stand l' ""fore us if our hearts were rightly and fully affected by Christ and his cross r The force of Whitheld's sermons lay in his heart. Dr. Franklin bears the following testimony to the remarkable power of his eloquence. " I happened .o attend ope of the sermons of Mr. Whitfield, in the course of which 1 perceived he inte\idcd to finish with a collection, and I V \ ■i, 324 The Practical Philosopher. k I silently resolved he should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket a handful of copper *money, three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold. As he pro- ceeded I began to soften, and concluded to give the copper. Another stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that, and determined me to give the silver ; and he finished so admirably, that I emptied my pocket wholly into the col- lector's dish — gold and all. At this sermon there was also one of our club, who being of my sentiments respecting the building of Georgia, and suspecting a collection might be intended, had, by precaution, emptied his pockets before he came from home. Towards the conclusion of the discourse, however, he felt a strong inclination to give, and applied to a neighbour who stood near him, to lend him some money for the purpose. The request was made to, perhaps, the only man in ;he company who had the cold- ness not to be affected by the preacher. His answer was, " At any other time, friend Hodgkinson, I would lenu to thee freely, but not now, for thou seemest to be out of thy right senses." 1 \ r \ (READING CLXIV.— JUNE 13.) " He thnt labouretli labouretli for himself; for his mouth cravcth it of liim." • -Prov. xvi. 26.* Strange that human labour is so generally regarded as an evil to be avoided, as the curse of sin and as a badge of degradation. Though English society allows a man to sign himself a " gentleman " who is free from labour, the arrangements of nature regard him as a felon in the uni- verse. As this subject has frequently come under our attention, in previous chapters of this book, we shall con- fine ourselves just to the two points referring to it in the verse. ♦ The preceding verse is an utterance identical to that we have noticed on P«o^. Th'. 12. • 'S The Practical Philosopher. 325 The PERSONALITY of labour. — "He that laboureth, laboureth for himself." First : There is a sense in which this must be. A man's labour must have ever an influence on himself either for good or evil. Every act has a reflex bearing. All the actions of men go to form their habits, their character, and their character is in reality the world they live in, and must live in for ever. " What a man soweth that he also reaps." Whatever a man does for others he really does for himself; simply because all his efforts are seeds that he drops into his own soul — seeds that must germinate and grow ; and their fruits become to him either a blessing or a curse. Thus men create their own worlds, and people them either with angels or devils. Secondly : There is a sense in which this should not be. Men ought not to labour for themselves, as an end. Men should not seek their own, they should not live to themselves, but to him who "died for them and rose again." The man who makes self the end of his labour degrades his nature and damns his soul. " He that seeketh his life shall lose it." Dr. Cheever gives a striking incident of genuine disinterestedness. " Terantius, Captain to the Emperor Adrian, presented a petition that the Christians might have a temple to themselves in which to worship God apart from the Arians. The emperor tore his petition and threw it away, bidding him ask something for himself and it should be granted. Terantius modestly gathered up the fragments of his petition, and said, with true nobility of mind, * If I cannot be heard in God's cause, I will nevef ask anything for myself.'" Again the verse points to : — The SPRING OF labour. — "For his mouth craveth it of hhn." Hunger is the spring of human activity. "All the labour of man is for his mouth, and yet the appetite is not filled."* First : Hunger is the spring of bodily labour. The toiler in the field, the mariner on the sea, the mechanic in his shop, the merchant in the market, in fact, all men are moved by the same impulse. It is the main- spring in the great machine of human activity, keeping every wheel in motion. Appetite is not an evil to be • Eccles. vi. 7, )i i I HII^I •li : 3-6 The Practical Philosopher, mortified, it is a blessing to be valued. Secondly : Hunger is the spring" of intcllectiial labour. There is a hunger in the soul for knowledge. " Where shall wisdom be found f and where is the place of understanding?" This thirst for knowledge has given us our philosophies, our sciences, and all the arts that bless and adorn the civilized world. Mental hunger is a blessing ; it is the philosophic spirit. Thirdly : Hunger is the spring of spiritual labour. Deep in the soul there is a hunger for a better m.oral state :— Peace of conscience and friendship with God. This hunger stimulates men often, alas, to work with wrong methods. Still it is a good. " Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness." All hunger indicates health, and implies a provision of suitable supplies. He that hungers for the right proves his moral healthfulness, and may, through Christ, obtain an abundant supply. (READING CLXV.—JUNE 14.) f 1 A JD;i.'jrI)icb0itfi ^tn. " An ungodly man diggeth up evil : and in his lips there is as a burning fire. A froward man sowetli strife : and a whisperer separatcth chief friends. A violent man enticeth his neighbour, and leadeth him into the way that u not good. He shutteth his eyes to devise froward things : mo\ing his lips, he bringeth evil to pass." — Prov. xv. 27 — 30. These verses represent a mischievous man, a man who makes it the business of his life to injure society. He is designated here by three terms, " ungodly " — in the original, as in the margin, a man of Belial ; " froward," — perverse and refractory ; " violent," — fierce, cruel, and bloody. Such is a mischievous man. No uncommon character, alas, this. Throughout all the social circles of the world he is found. His delight is to snap the links of friendship, to sow the seeds of strife in the fields of aifection. Quarrels are music to his soul. The verses teach us three things concerning him. He SEARCHES AFTER evil. — " An ungodly man diggeth up evil." The old quarrel, suspicion, grievance, which had The Practical Philosopher. 327 been buried for j^ears, he digs for, as a miner for his ore. He belongs to the class described by the Psalmist, " They search out iniquities, they accomplish a diligent search, both the inward thought of every one of them, and the heart is deep." Time buries the grievances of men. Years entomb old quarrels. Ages as they roll over this earth like billows bury the memory of its fiercest wars. This is a merciful arrangement. The misehicvous man is a7i explorer of those tojjibs. He opens the graves of old disputes, he brings their ghastly skeletons up, and endeavours to put new life into them. He is a fiend that lives and prowls among the tombs of old disputes. Another fact here taught concerning the mischievous man is this : — He IS INSPIRED BY evil. — "In his lips there is as a burning fire." The fires of jealousy, envy, and all other malign emotions that glow in his heart, throw their burn- ing sparks into his words, and kindle flames ot discord. "The tongue," says James, " is a fire, a world of iniquity, it defileth the whole body, and it is set on fire of hell." The tongue of the mischief maker burns what ? Not false- hoods, suspicions, jealousies, and other dissocializing ele- ments, but all that mutual confidence, trustfulness, and esteem that form the basis of true friendship. On these his syllabic sparks fall as on tinder, and they set on fire the whole course of society. Still further, another fact here taught concerning the mischievous man is that : — He PROPAGATES evil. — He soweth strife, he " separateth chief friends," he " enticeth his neighbour," he " bringeth evil to pass." First : Tic produceth social strife by insinua- tions. " A whisperer separateth chief friends." He whis- pereth. The whisper is his mode of speech, and for his ijurpose it is mightier than the loudest thunders of passion. It gives the hearer to understand that there is something so terrible behind, that words cannot, or ought not, to com- municate. Ah me! what bright reputations have been stained, what loveh'- friendships have been destroyed, what pure hearts have been broken, by the whispering inuendo, aud the silent shrug of the shoulder. Secondly : He leads lulray by enticements. " A violent man enticeth his neig'h- ^t ,^ 3^3 The Practical Philosopher W'- -J' h i t' hour, and leadeth him into the way that is not good." Hq uses the winning and seductive in speech to carry out hi;; mischievous designs. Thus he turneth his neighbour into the wrong course. Plausibility is the characteristic and instrument of a mischievous man. Thirdly : I/e pursues his designs by deliberation. " He shutteth his eyes to devise froward things." A man shuts his eyes when he wishes to think closely a"d undistractedly. The ungodly man does it for the purpose of planning and maturing mischie- vous devices. When he shuts his eyes, even in bed, while others sleep, it is to meditate on schemes of evil, and then having digested his schemes inwardly, he employs his " lips " in their artful accomplishment. Thus 7ui/id and month are in concert for evil — the latter the agent and servant of the former. •' He that shall rail against his absent friends, Or hears them scandalized, and not defends, Sports with their fame, and speaks whate'er he can, And only to be thought a witty man. Tells tales, and brings his friends in disesteem. That man's a knave— be sure beware of him." — Horace. (READING CLXVI.-JUNE 15.) " The hoary head is a crown of glory, »/it be found in the way of righteous- ness."— /'/'«'. xvi. 31. Some have dispensed with the little word "?/," and read the text thus, " The hoary head is a crown of glory, it shall be found in the way of righteousness ; but this takes away the trath of the passage, for the " hoary head," apart from righteousness, is not a " crown of glory." It is a degrada- tion. The silver-locked sinner deserves shame and everlasting contempt. Age cannot be honoured for its own sake, the older the sinner the more contemptible the character. " The sinner being an hundred years old shall be accursed." But when age is found in the way of righteousness, then it radiates with the moral diadem, before which things are no implied in tl That righfcom sustained bo: health depend tion. Genuin obedience. S Righteousness alone is true g liness would 1 make three ren It is the glor glorious in mat nal crop, the student ripenei objects of adm glorious ripene and holiness, a5 rience, fostered tried and streni adversity, hangi be gathered in. age, like as a sh Another remc that:— It is the glor proud despot b in Jacob his fa Jacob blessed P How old art the days of the and thirty years ; of my life been, the years of the 1 gnmage. And J before Pharaoh." "And Samuel di Isaiah hi. 20. The Practical rin'losophcr. 329 before which our inmost spirits bow in homage. Two things are noteworthy in passing. Although they are not implied in the verse, they are suggested by it. First : That rigtit'.ousncss is conducive to old age. This is a fact sustained both by philosophy and history. Physical health depends upon obedience to the laws of our organiza- tion. Genuine righteousness insures and Includes this obedience. Secondly : 71iat piety is conducive to Jionour. Righteousness is the only true respectability. Goodness alone is true greatness. A crown on the head of ungod- liness would be as " a jewel in a ^wine's snout." We make three remarks concerning the glory of aged piety. It is the glory of spiritual ripeness. — There is something glorious in maturation. The seed ripened into an autum- nal crop, the youth ripened into mature manhood, the student ripened into the accomplished scholar, are all objects of admiration. In an old saint there is a truly olorious ripeness. There you have all the seeds of truth and holiness, as sown by holy teachers, cultured by expe- rience, fostered by the sunbeam and the showers of God, tried and strengthened in their roots by the storms of adversity, hanging in rich clusters on the boughs ready to be gathered in. " Thou shalt come to thy grave in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in in his season." Another remark concerning the glory of aged piety is that : — It is the glory of spiritual COMMAND. — Even Egypt's proud despot bowed before it. "And Joseph brought in Jacob his father and set him before Pharaoh, and Jacob blessed Pharaoh. And Pharaoh said unto Jacob, How old art thou r And Jacob said unto Pharaoh, the days of the years of my pilgrimage are a hundred and thirty years ; few and evil have the days of the years of my life been, and have not attained unto the days of the years of the life of my fathers in the days of their pil- grimage. And Jacob blessed Pharaoh, and went out from before Pharaoh." Samuel was an old saint wnen he died. "And Samuel died, and all the Israelites were gathered Isaiah hi. 20. Job v. 26. Gen. xlvii. 7—10. Y <|i i i 1 350 The Practical Philosopher. together and lamented him, and buried him in his house at Ramah,"* ** Jehoiada waxed old and was full of days when he died, a hundred and thirty 3rears old was he when he died. And they buried him in the city of David, amoti"- the kings, because he had done good in Israel, both towards God and towards his house." f No object on this earth is more truly royal to me, than that man whoso noblo brow time has whitened with snowy locks, whose intellect unwarped by prejudice, is still in quest of truth, whoso heart beats in sympathy with all that is true, philanthropic, and divine ; whose past is sunnied by the memory of use- ful deeds, whose future is bright with the promises of grace, and who sits in calm majesty, in "the old arm- chair," on the margin of both worlds, waiting his ap- pointed time. Where on this earth is there a king like him r Concerning the glory of aged piety we have yet to remark that : — It is the glory of spiritual PROSPECTS. — Simeon, wlio took the infant Jesus in his arms, and said — " Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation," is a glorious example of this. Though his foot was on earth, heaven was in his eye, and flooding his heart with joy. The outward man is decaying, but the inner man is strong. The body of an aged saint is to him what the chrysalis is to the insect, whose wings are perfect enough to enable it to break forth into life, sip the nectar of the flowers, sweep the fields of beauty, and bask in the sunshine of day. We conclude with the utterance of a modern author : " As ripe fruit is sweeter than green fruit, so is age sweeter than youth, provided the youth were grafted into Christ. As harvest-time is a brighter time than seed-time, so is age brighter than youth ; that is if youth were a seed-time for good. As the completion of a work is more glorious than the beginning, so is age more glorious than youth ; that is, if the foundation of the work of God were laid in youth. As sailing into port is happier than the voyage, so is age happierthan youth; thatis when the voyage from youth is made with Christat the helm," ♦ I Sam. XXV. j. f Chrpn. xxiv. 15, 16. The Practical Philosopher, 331 (READING CLXVII.-JUNE 16.) '• He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty ; and he that rulelh his spirit tlian he that takcth a city."— Prov. xvi. 32. These words imply — First : That man has a spirit. By the spirit is to be understood his moral heart, with all its impulses, affections, powers. Secondly : This spirit should be ruled. There should be self-command, self-control. An uncontrolled spirit is a curse to itself, and the universe. Thirdly : That the ruling of this spirit is the greatest of works. It is greater than taking a city. It is the most NECESSARY of conquests. — It is necessary to the /rccdoj/i of man. A man with an uncontrolled tem- per is the worst of slaves. He is the victim of a lawless despot. It is necessary to the /^«^^ of man. An uncon- trolled spirit is in eternal conflict with itself. He com- mitteth self-mutilation. Indeed he is like the man in the Gospel, v«ho " fell ofttimes into the fire and oft into the water." It is necessary to the progress of man. A man cannot really advance in intelligence and worth, unless he is able to command his own intellect and powers. Men can do without taking " a city," but they caii iiot without ruling their own spirits. This is the most RIGHTEOUS of conquests.— Taking cities, physical wars of all descriptions, defensive as well as aggressive, are, to say the least, undertakings of question- able morality. I believe they are wrong, essentially and eternally wrong. But to conquer self is a righteous cam- paign. Man has a right to dethrone evil passions, to crucify old lusts, to pull down corrupt prejudices. His spirit is his own domain. It is the Canaan God has given liim to conquer and possess. He must drive out the Canaanites before he can truly enjoy the land; and on this battle he enters with a " Thus saith the Lord." This is the most DIFFICULT of conquests — Cities mtiy be ■••: i 33- The Pradical Philosopher. taken by fraud or violence. The most cunning man with reckless daring will make the most successful worldly chieftain. A successful soldier must be a great sneak. The dilficulty in this conquest arises from the nature of tlio enemy — subtle and strong. Paul, after wrestling with this enemy, cries out in agony, " O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the bondage of this sin and death r " This difficulty arises from the nature of the wea- pons. No force can do it. Swords, bayonets, cannons, are all useless here. They cannot reach the enemy within. There must be meditation, prayer, self-denial, unflagginj^ perseverance. Tins difficulty arises from the unco-operativo- ness of the campaign. In taking cities and in all material campaigns, men co-operate^ not merely individually but regimentally. The spirit of emulation, the love of ap- plause, and the hope of glory urge them on, but in this conquest of the spirit man must go by himself. He must work in solitude and in shame. He must " tread the wine- press alone." It is the most blessed of conquests. — First : // wins the. highest trophy. What are towns, cities, fleets, armies, continents, won by physical warfare, compared to a soul, which is won by self-conquest ? " What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world and lose his soul r" All that is material will vanish one day as a cloud, but the soul will survive the wreck of all. Secondly : // awakens the highest applause. The applause of worldly conquerors is the bois- terous shout of a brainless crowd, but the approbation which the self-conqueror gains is the approbation of his own conscience, of the whole universe, and of his God. "The command of one's self," says Drexelius, "is the greatest empire a man can aspire unto, and consequently to be subject to our passions, the most grievous slavery. Neither is there any triumph more glorious than that of tho victory obtained of ourselves, where whilst the conflict is so short, the reward shall ever last," The Practical Philosopher, (READING CLXVIIL— JUNE 17. 000 life u ^otltrn imb a llait. i " The lot is c;i.st into the Inp : but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord." _r,w. xvi. 33.* The lot is anything, whetlier drawn or casf, for the purpose of determining any matter in question. The instances of its use mentioned in Scripture are considerably various if in finding out a guilty person when there was no direct and satisfactory evidence ; in dividing and appropriating land ; in the choice of an official functionary ; in assigning de- partments of dut}' ; in deciding controversies. Some translate " lap" " urn," into which the lots were cast. The verse suggests two things — That the human side of life is a lottery. — IMuch con- nected with our circumstances in this world, seems to be as much the result of chance as the " casting of the lot." We are struck with the apparent casualty when we look at men's circumstances in connection with their choice. None of us have any choice as to the condition, the place, the time, in which we are to be born or brought up. We are struck with the apparent casualty also when we look at men's circumstances in connection with their mcrifs. How often we find feeble-minded men in eminent posi- tions, and men of talent and genius in obscurity; some by what is called a " hit," making fortunes and earning fame, whilst honest industry plods on with little or no success ; vice in mansions, and virtue in the pauper's hut. Verily •' the race is not often to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." It is not, however, all casualty. There is some amount of certainty ; and these two opposing elements in life are highly disciplinary. The casual teaches us to exer- cise dependence on God, and the certain stimulates us to work our own faculties. • See Rendinj^s on chap. xix. II., xvi. i. t I S:un. NJv. 38—^3, Jonah i. 7, Numbers xxvi. 52, Acts i. 26, 1 Chron. x.xlv. 45, Prov. xxii. 18. Ju J 1 -?- Wk'i ' ' ' ' ^H J ■1 1,4 l^K 1 ! I4 flLI. 1b 334 The Practical Philosopher, The verse suggests again— That the divine side of life is a PLAX. — "The -whole disposing thereof is of the Lord." All that appears chance on the human side is settled law on the Divine. That God controls and disposes of the most trivial contingencies of life may be argued, — First : From His character. He is all-present, all-seeing, almif^chty, all-wise, all-good. There is nothing great or small to Him. — Secondly ; From the connection of the most trivial events with the vastest issues. Providence is a machine. The most insignificant circum- stance is an essential pin, screw, or wheel in the works of the engine. Thirdly : From the history of the 7vorld. The meeting of the Ishmaelites on their journey to Egypt at the pit the very moment Joseph was cast into it seemed a trifling casualty. But God disposed of it. Indeed, the story of Joseph, as Dr. South remarks, " seems to be made up of nothing else but chances and little contingencies, all tending to mighty ends." Pharaoh's daughter comes to th"' Nile just when the babe Moses was committed to the ark on the banks of the rolling stream. But God disposed that little incident, and brought wonderful results out of it. A whale meets the vessel in which Jonah sails, at the moment he is thrown into the sea. God disposed of that incident. Examples of this are countless. Every man's life supplies him with many such. The most trivial inci- dents have often led in our history to the most important issues. " Whatever will thou makest," says an old divine, " God is sure to be the executor." An architect holds in his hand the plan of a magnificent cathedral. He has signed the contract to complete the edifice, and hundreds of men are set to work — some at home and some abroad ; some to work in timber, some in stone, some on iron and some on brass. Few, if any, know his plan ; yet his plan unconsciously rules them all, and all are co-operating to- wards its ultimate realization. They are all free, yet con- trolled by the master thought of another. It is so with God and His moral creatures. His plan runs through all their activities, and shapes their destiny, though they chap. xxii. t8, The Practical Philosopher, 335 know it not, and feel no restraining or constraining force. "The lot is cast into the lap; but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord." (READING CLXIX.— JUNE i8.) J^umiltr %m\vs, " Better in a dry morsel, and quietness therewith, than an house full of sacri- fices with strife. A wise servant shall have rule over a son that causeth sliame, and shall have part of the inheritance among the brethren" — Prov. xvii. i, 2, A PROVERB like that in the first verse, has already come under our notice. "Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith."* We may take the two verses together because they alike point to domestic life, and they give us three things which are often found in households. A DISCONTENTED TEMPER. — " Better is a dry morsel and quietness therewith, than a house full of sacrifices with strife." The word "sacrifices" refers to the practice of feasting on the flesh of slain victims when they were not holocaust to be entirely consumed on the altar.f The mar- gin gives the true idea. " A house full of good cheer with strife — plenty with discontent." The idea of Solomon is that domestic poverty with content is better than plenty with discontent. These things are often found in asso- ciation. There is many a pauper home where the spirit of contentment reigns supreme, and many a wealthy mansion, where there is nothing but brawls and contention. And who, that knows life, will not say, that the former is the preferable condition? A contented mind is a continual feast. " It produces," says Addison, " in some measure all those effects which the alchemist usually ascribed to what he calls the philosopher's stone, and if it does not bring riches, it does the same thing by banishing the desire of them." If it cannot remove tlie disquietudes arisiiig from • Sec Reading on chaj). xv. 1 6, 1 7. "t I Samuel ix. 12, 13, 20—24, 'lilj Fi ■ ojt The Practical Philosopher, II a man's mind, body, or fortune, it makes him easy under them. " Lord, who would live turmoil'd in court, And may enjoy such quiet walks as these ? Tliis small inheritance my father left me Contented me, and's worth a monarchy. I seek not to wax great by others' waning, Or gather wealth, I care not with what emy ; Sufficeth that I maintain my state. And send the poor well pleased from my gate." SHAKESPEARt:. We have here — A WORTHLESS SOX. — "A son that causeth shame." Who is the son that causeth shame r He, who with the means of knowledge is destitute of information and cuUin-o; he who degrades his position by indolence, intemperance, and profligacy ; he who for his own gratification and in- dulgence, violates the rights and does outrage to the feelings of those whom he is bound to love and obey. The gross voluptuary, the empty sot, the jewelled dandv, " causeth shame," — shame to his parents, to his brothers, his sisters. He is a disgrace to an intelligent and high- minded family. Many such sons, alas, there are ir English homes, and they cause shame. We have here — A VALUABLE SERVANT. — " The wise servant shall rule over a son that causeth shame, and shall have part of the inheritance among the brethren." A well tried servant gets moral influence in a house. He rules over a son. A ser- vant, who for many years has industriously and honestly administered to the comfort of a family, seldom fails to gain power. In the olden times, as in the case of Abra- ham, servants were born in a family, and when they con- ducted themselves well, their influence became great. A well tried servant sometimes shares the fortunes of the house. " Shall have part of the inheritance among the brethren." Instances sometimes occur even in modern times of such servants becoming the legatees of their masters. Jacob by marrying Laban's daughter was por- tioned with an inheritance. From the \ First : Th( lo him than h is a far better The quiet mir pearl of grea pense of ten purchase. Sec to ike poivcr Oj being " the so disgraced. by force of no1 " It is the man " The fining pot the licaits." — Picv. X' A COMPARISOX for silver, and ti hearts." There The valuab] .MAX.— The ore furnace, has thi t raucous and a\ man there is the iOiiipnrofi7r/y 700/ ilie offspring, tl valuable is this ! M)ul lives is bu surround it are c else dross. Sei valuable in prin The Practical Philosopher, 337 From the whole we may infer — First : That the temper of a man's soul is more important, Id hint than his temporal condition. A cot with contentment is a far better home than a castle with an ill-satisfied soul. The quiet mind is better than a crown. Contentment is a pearl of great price, and whoever procures it at the ex- pense of ten thousand desires makes a wise and happy purchase. Secondly : That the potver of character is superior to (lie poivcr of station. A man may have the station of being "the son " and heir of a wealthy house, and yet be disgraced. Another may occupy a menial position, yet by force of noble character, get a sovereignty in his circle. "It is the man who adorns the station, not the station the man." i. (READING CLXX.— JUNK 19.) Jlibiuc 9i.sci|jlinc. " The fining; pot is fur silver, and the furaacc for gold : but the Lord trieth ihc hcails."— y/of. xvii. 3. A COMPARISON is here intended. " As the fining pot is for silver, and the furnace for gold, so the Lord trieth the hearts." There arc two things to be noticed here : The valuable and avortiiless in connection with .MAX. — The ore which the refiner puts into the crucible, or furnace, has the precious metal in connection with ex- traneous and worthless matter, mere dross. First ; In man there is the valuable in essence in connection with the ioiiil^arativelyivorthless. The soul is man's essence, his self, ilie offspring, the imago, the servant of God, and how valuable is this ! The material organization in which that M)ul lives is but " dust," and the secular conditions that surround it are of little worth. The soul is the " gold," all else dross. Secondly : In man's character there is the valuable in principle in connection with the most worthless 33^ The Practical Philosopher. There are some good things in all men, even the most corrupt, some true idea, some generous impulses, some virtuous feelings. But these are found combined with and overlaid by selfishness, pride, carnality, and practical infi- delity. "With impure loves, false hopes, erroneous ideas and wicked purposes, man appears here as the ore in the refiner's hand just before it has dropped into the furnace. He is as gold combined with dross, the valuable with the worthless. As in some lumps of ore there is more gold in connection with less worthless matter than with others so with men. There are some with far less gold in con- nection with less worthless matter than others, both con- stitutionally and morally. The other thing to be noticed here is — The purifying process employed by god. — "The Lord trieth the hearts." He tries not, as the refiner the ore, to ascertain how much good metal there really is, for He knows all that, but in order to separate it from the dross. First : The purifying process is fiaiiiful. It is by " fire." The fire to purify must be raised to the utmost intensity. " The fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is."* Physical suffering, secular disappointments, social bereave- ments, moral convictions, constitute that furnace in Avhich God tries man. "He knoweth," says Job, "the way I take : when He hath tried me I shall come forth as gold.'t Secondly: The purifying process is constant. The dis- pensation under which we live is disciplinary. " And He shall sit as a refiner and as a purifier of silver, and He shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteous- ness." A correspondent of the Wcslcyan Mctliodist Magazine relates that, " A lady, apprehending there was something remarkable in the expressions of this text, determined to call on a silversmith and make enquiries of him, without naming her object. In answer to her enquiries the process of silver refining was fully explained to her. * But, sir,' said she, * do you sit while the work of refining is going onr' *0 yes, madam,' replied the silversmith, *I must sit • I Cor. iii. 13. t Job xxiii. 10. The Practical Philosopher. 339 with my eyes steadily fixed on the furnace, for, if the time necessary for refining be exceeded in the slightest degree, the silver is sure to be injured.' At once, we are told, she saw the beauty and comfort too of the expression. As she was going, the silversmith called her back to mention the further fact that he only knew when the process of purifying was complete by seeing his own image reflected in the silver. Beautiful figure ! " When Christ sees His own image in His people. His work of purifying is accomplished. Heaven grant that the trial of " our faith being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ ! " A ! (READING CLXXI.-JUXE 20.) lire Ca^^^n'.satloital $iki«0ji 0f %s^ ^Trn. " A wicked doer giveth heed to false lips : and a liar giveth ear to a naugl.ty tongue."— /Vi;!'. xvii. 4. Men's characters may be known by the conversations they most relish. The talk of the holy and the devout is always most distasteful to those whose hearts are in sympathy only with the vanities of the world — the pursuits of wealth, the gratification of the senses. This verse enables us to seo the kind of conversation that bad men like. They like FLATTERY. — " A wicked doer giveth heed to false lips." The flatterer is a man of false lips. The more cor- rupt men are, the more blindly credulous to everything that makes themappear better than they are. The truth concern- mg them would disturb perhaps their sleeping consciences, and fill them with distressing feelings, and this they shun. He who compliments them palliates their offences, gives them credit for virtues they possess not, is their favourite companion, and they ever " give heed " to his lips. The more I ! r f w 340 The Practical Philosopher. corrupt a circle, the more popular a llattering member. The more corrupt a congregation, the more acceptable a flattering preacher. " A wonderful and horrible thint>- is committed in the land : the prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests bear rule b)' that means ; and my people -would have it so." The worse men are, the more anxious they are to be thought good. Hence the ready heed they give to flat- tering lips. One of the best things recorded of George III. is, that one of his first acts after his ascension to the throne was to issue an order prohibiting any of the clergy v^ho should be called to preach before him from paying him anv compliment in their discourses. His ^Majesty was led to this form from the fulsome adulation which Dr. Thomas Wilson, Prebendary of Westminster, thought proper to deliver in the Chapel Royal, and for which, instead of thanks, he received from his royal auditor a pointed repri- mand, His ^lajesty observing, " that he came to chapel to hear the praises of God, and not his own." ♦* A man I knew, who lived upon a smile, And well it fed him ; he look'd plump and fair, While rankest venom foamed through every vci;i. Living, he fawned on every fool alive ; And dying, cursed the friend on whom he lived." — Yoing. What is the kind of conversation that bad men lil:c: The verse shows that — . They like CALUMNY. — " A liar giveth ear to a naughtv tongue." The "liar" is also the "wicked doer." The " naughty tongue," while it speaks flatteries and falsehoods of all kinds, speaks caluiiinics also, and the worse the man is the more welcome to his depraved heart are the reports of bad things concerning others. Calumny gratifies the I pride of evil men. It helps them to cherish the thought that they are not worse than others, ncX perhaps better. Calumny gratifies the malignity of evil men. The worse a] man is the more malevolence he has in him, and the more gratified ho \s at hearing bad things concv^rning other mon.l "If," said Bishop Hall, " I cannot stop other men's mouths to reprove it, I will stop mine ears from hearing it, and let! him sec in my face that he hath no more room in niyj The Practical Philosopher. Ill heart/' Bad men constitute the audience to which both tlattery and calumny address themselves. Convert this audience into vital sympathy with truth and goodness, and these lying spirits will quit the world. (READING CLXXIL— JUNE 21.) \ f ^I)C (ilufoviunutc |1oor. "Wlioso mockcth the poor reproacheth his Maker: nml he Ihnt is i;l.nl at cilamilics shall not be unpunished." — Prov. xvii. 5. A SIMILAR sentence to this we have had before :* "He that oppresseth the poor reproacheth his Maker ; but he that honoureth him hath mercy on the r>oor." On this verse wo have already offered some rema ics There is a poverty that is a crime. It arises from ind(/i. nee, intemperance, extravagance, stupidity, and other culpable causes. And there is a poverty that is a calarMty — a poverty that has come on men irrespective of their choice and against their honest and resolute efforts. T se poor may be considered as planted by God in the earth, and they serve most useful purposes in the discipline of the world. These are the poor referred to here, and two facts are stated — That contempt for such is IMPIOUS. — "Whoso mocketh the poor reproacheth his Maker." ^Mocking is more than disrespect, more than neglect, it is disdai.i. This feeling is impious. He who has it " reproacheth his Maker." This nocking implies a disregard to God's ordinance, Tho existence of the poor in the world is not a casualty, it is a divine purpose. " The poor shall never cease out of the land.' Were there no poor, there would be no opportunity iorthe development of social compassion and beneficence. This mocking implies a disregard to tJic relationships that \llc has established. The poor are our brethren, offsprings of the same parent, partakers of the same nature, subject to the same conditions of being. To feel disdain towards |them is to disregard relationships that our Maker has • Sec Reading on Prov. xiv. 31. \ 'f 'f t ' 1 ; r 342 The Practical Philosopher. "He had nowhere to lay His head." His dis- also were men devoid of wealth and power, established. This mocking implies a disregard to the earthly condition of His Son and Ilis disciples. Christ was poor, ciples " Not many wise men after the flesh, not many miafhtv not many noble are called." This mocking implies a disregard to the Divine grounds of social respect. God's will is that man's respect to man should not be ruled by phy. sical condition, but by moral character. The good man, though a pauper, should be honoured ; the wicked man, though a prince, should be despised. To pour contempt on the current coin with the king's image upon it, is treason against the sovereign. Man, however poor, has the stamp of God's image on him, and to despise that image is a contempt for the Divine majesty. Another fact referred to here concerning the poor is — That contempt for such is punishable. — He that is glad at the calamities of others indicates a fiendish malignity. " Woe unto them that decree unrighteous decrees to turn aside the needy from judgment, and to take from the poor of my children. The Lord will plead their cause, and spoil the souls of those that spoil them." In the day of judgment He will take our conduct towards the poor into account. " Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these little ones ye did it unto me." Cruelty to the poor is certain of punishment. " Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl, for your miseries that shall come upon you. Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver is cankered ; and the rust of them shall be a witness against you, and shall eat your flesh as it were fire. Ye have heaped treasure together for the last days, Behold the hire of the labourers which have reaped down your fields, which is of you keep back by fraud, crieth, and the cries of them which have reaped are entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. Ye have lived in pleasure on the earth, and been wanton ; ye have nourished your hearts as in a day of slaughter !" "Children's chi in their fathers." — / The Practical Philusophcr. 343 (READING CLXXIII.— JUNE 22.) Ibfitfvitn aub its ^uftfitcr.s. •' Childien's children are the crown of old men : and the glory of children ifi Ihcir fathers."— Pro?/, .\^^i. 6. We have two things in this passage — A POSTERITY that is the glory of its ANCESTRY. — "Chil- dren's children are the crown of old men." Posterity is not always a " crown " to its ancestors. There are children not a few who disgrace the fair fame of their forefathers. Though they wear their brilliant titles and hold their vast estates, they are, to say the least, but miserable shadows of illustrious progenitors. When " children's children " are a "crown" an honour to their fathers, two things have taken place. First : Their fathers have rightly fiil- ilkd their mission. The presumption is that they have, by their example, instructions, and prayers, trained up their children in the " nurture and admonition of the Lord." Where this is not the case, and the children have grown up in godly virtues, no credit of course is due to the parents. On the contrary ; the virtues of such children are their condemnation. However great the in- tluence which parents have in the formation of the character of their children, that influence is not absolute. There is a power in the child to counteract it, and by the grace of Heaven many a child brought up in ignorance and depravity has found its way into spiritual light and holiness. The other thing that has taken place when children become a "crown" to their ancestors is. Secondly: The children hvc rightly used the privileges they have enjoyed. They have copied parental example, and have applied parental admo- nitions, and as they have grown in years, they have ad- vanced in goodness. Let no parents hope that their pos- terity will be an honour to them, if they have not maintained a godly character themselves, and trained their children in the way in which they should go. And let no children fi i! li 344 The Practical Philosopher. imagine that they can honour chcir pious ancestors unloss they walk in the way of their commandments. AVen^ not Rehoboam and his son a disgrace to their fathers ? What; a " crown of gh)ry " encircles the brow of that old man whose children's children gather round him, exemplifyju.r the virtues that he embodied in his life and inculcated in his teaching! "Children by their conduct may cidur weave a garland of honour for the brow of their parents or encircle their brows with a crown of thorns, and brinr. down their grey hairs with sorrow to the grave." What an honour was young Timothy, who " from a child knew the holy scriptures," to his grandmother Lois and liis mother Eunice ! And what a stain upon his reputation— a sword in his bones — a weight of oppressive sadness on the spirit of old age, were the profligate sons of Eli, who himself was to blame, for it is said, his sons " made them- selves vile, and he restrained them not." We have here — An ANCESTRY that is the glory of its POSTERITY.— "And the glory of children arc their fathers." It is a great thint^ to be born of parents healthy in body, strong in intellcrt, and holy in character. How many come into life inherit- ing a diseased constitution, an enfeebled brain, and pro- clivities to the selfish, the mean, and the carnal. Worthv children may well be proud of noble sires. Some fathers disgrace their children's children, and attach infamy to their posterity. Others by their virtues brighten the Hfe of their children's children with a halo of imperisliablc glory. David, notwithstanding his imperfections, was the glory of his children's children. He preserved to tiicm the throne of Judah for seventeen generations. " ily boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned and mlers of the earth : But hitjher fur my proud pretentions rise : The son of parents pass'd into the skies."— CoVvTF.r. In conclusion, the subject suggests two thoughts. l'ir>t; The physical succession of the race. Here we read of" fathers, "children," "children's children." "One generation cometh and passcth away." One generation is buried in the dubt (R " Excellent speech P'OT. xvii. ;. Ix the flrst clause speeci.. —fipeech sentiments, spirit, as the margin has fool." How often speech. They do to impose upon speech from the Jieard. As a rule his words loaded a The Practical Philosopher. 345 of another, and future generations will be entombed in our ashes ; but though men depart, man remains. Generations like waves, rise and break on the eternal shore ; but humanity, like the ocean, rolls on in undiminished pleni- tude and power. The world can do without us. Secondly : The moral connection of the race. Men are either an honour or a disgrace to members of their own species, especially to their own lineage. " No man liveth unto himself." Adam's sin has rolled its influence through the souls of all ages, in all climes, and pulsates in the spirit of this generation. " 'Tis poor, and not bccominj; pcifcct gentry, To build their glories at their fathers' cost ; But at their own expense of blood or virtue To raise them living monuments. Our birth Is not our own act : honour upon trust Our ill deeds forfeit : and the wealthy sums Purchased by others' fame or sweat, will be Our stain ; for we inherit nothing truly Bat what our actions make us worthy of." — CliAPMAN. (READING CLXXIV.— JUNE 23.) ^i^m% Jiuonijniauji uuir J'ul.'ic. " Excellent speech becomcth not a fool : much less do lying lips a prince."— Pion', xvii. 7. Ix the flrst clause of this proverb we have Incongruous speech. —fipeech which is inconsistent with the speaker's sentiments,, spirit, and character. — " Excellent speech " or, as the margin has it " lips of excellency,' " becometh not a fool." How often do we hear corrupt men using excellent speech. They do it to disguise their own character, ard to impose upon their fellow men. There is benevolent speech from the lips of the selfish. This is frequently heard. As a rule the more selfish a man is tlie more are his words loaded with the generous and the dis' erestcd. I 1" ;46 The Practical Philosopher. There is tender speech from the lips of the hardened Obdurate natures can speak soft words of symyathy, and weep feigned tears. There is spiritual speech from the lips of the carnal. Men deeply sunk in the mercenary and the sensual often use devout language ; they always do so when they join in the beautiful Liturgy of the Church. All this is sadly incongruous. Such speech in the lips of a fool is, to use the words of another proverb, like " jewels in a swine's snout." Such speech is, of course, hypocritic: it misrepresents both the spirit and character of the speaker. It has no influence for good. However generous tender, and devout, it is hollow. "When," to use the language of another, " a fool utters a curse, or a wicked man good advice, he to whom it is given, thinks himself by the very circumstance of its coming from such a person at liberty to disregard it. The advice having no worth of character to support and recommend it, goes for nothing and falls lifeless and pithless to the ground. It well becomes the public teachers of religion to lay these thoughts to heart. More " excellent speech " cannot be uttered than the doctrines and precepts, the counsels and warnings of the Word of God. But if the character of him who utters them is notoriously at variance with his in- structions, the in( -ngruity shocks, disgusts, and revolts the hearer. It draws tears from the pious, and mockery from the profane. The latter feel the admonitions from others. Good they may be, but they are blunted by tho character of tho speaker. They scoff" and exchange tho sly wink with each other, or they are provoked at the thought of their being schooled by such a man, and with the one fooling or tho other thoy leave the sanctuary whispering or exclaiming with a careless shrug, * physician, heal thyself.' " Here we have, in the second clause of this proverb — False speech. — "Much less do lying lips a prince." Incongruous speech is of course always false, but false is not always incongruous, it may be in keeping with the ( h.iriu'tcr of the sj)caker who is known to be a false man. The ialschoud here is most flagrant, for the prince ought Ttte Practical Philosopher. 347 to be the guardian of truth and honesty in the community, and as their guardian he should be their example. Louis IX. of France said, " If truth be banished froii i all the rest of the world, it ought to be found in the breast of princes." It is a sad reflection upon Plato that he sanctioned false- hoods in princes on the ground that they governed for the public good. Lying men are bad, but lying princes are worse, they shake public confidence, and by their example they dispose the nation to ftilsehood. " This, above all, to thine own self be true ; And it must follow, as the night the clay, Thou canst not then be false to any man." — Siiakf.spf.ARE. " A lie," says Carlylc, " should be trampled on and ex- tinjfuished wherever found. I am for fumigating the atmosphere when I suspect that falsehood, like pestilence, breathes around me." «' Let falsehood be a stranger to thy lips. Shame on the policy that first began To tamper with the heart, to hide its thoughts! And doubly shame on that unrighteous tongue That sold its honesty, and told a lie!"— Havaud. (READING CLXXV.-JUNE 24.) " A gift is as a precious stone in the eyes of him that hath it : whithersoever iilmiitlh, it prospereth."— iVft'. xvii. 8. I'ATROXACiE is one of the mightiest forces in social life ; it b indeed a "precious stone in the eyes " of men. Patronage is power in the hands of the Givicii. — The man " that hath it " to bestow, hath what is a " pn^cious stone" in the eyes of society. It would so operate on his I half in his neighbourhood or country that " whithersoever I lii> turnoth he prospercth." Money is might, it " answercth 1 things," gifts govern. First : There is a lau^ful use of is power. The man who uses it to increase his own )48 The Practical Philosopher, influence for the good of society, to encourage the arts and the sciences, to raise intellectual and moral merit to its right social position, uses this " precious stone" in a praise- worthy way. Patronage is a great talent, which, rij^htly used, may render high service both to church and state. In truth, a man by patronage may win a bloodless con- quest over the malignant passions of personal antagonists. Thus Jacob triumphed over Ksau. " I will appease him with a present that goeth before me, and afterwards 1 will see his ftice." This "precious stone" rightly used, can achieve sublimer triumphs than all the armies of Kuropo ; it can .subdue the enmity of the soul. Secondly : There is an unlawful use of this power. It is wrongly used when, for selfish ends and personal aggrandisement, it bribes men to act either without or against their consciences. Thus, alas ! it is often used both in ecclesiastical and politir;il matters. This "precious .stone" held up on the hu.stin,i(s, and sparkling in the eyes of the electors, has cleared the path of many a worthless man for parliamentary honours. Heathens felt the power of this. Philip of Macedon .said that there "was no fortress so strong but it might be taken if an ass laden with gold was brought to the gate." "A golden key," said an old author, " can open any prison gate, and cast the watchman into a deep sleep. Gold will break open gates, as well as silence the orator's voice and blind the judge's eyes. It will bind the strong man's hands, and blunt the edge of the sword. It makes war, and it makes peace." Patronage is power in the lifk of the KECKivr.R.— " Whithersoever it turneth it prospereth." Some suppd c the reference is rather to the receiver of the gift than to the bestower. First: It is a power rf///!:// binds hm\ in ffratitudc to his patron. He who receives a gift from | generous impulses of another, if he has within him the trii" heart of a man, comes under the reign of gratitude; lu feels bound to serve the donor whenever ho can con sistcntly with his own conscience and duties. Sometinvsj indeed the force of gratitude will tempt a man even todoj the wrong in order to serve his patron. Secondly : It \^A power -d^hich has receivec minded patn as a reward ( social mind it prospereth on account oi this " preciou and the recij spirit ; lot us stone." "J "He that cover nutter scpaiatctli va- ''wirr.: at least o)me in a som Here we have 'JhK RKiHT 'overeth a tran> course, speakin- "ur transgressio ^li'JUld frankly c 'li^M'iis shall" lu, be covered from '>^'t'n coniniittod. another." \X^. ^ tho wrong we ha- 'hf^ ^-oneoalmont J'r.^t: Hiding , The Practical Philosopher, 349 power which serves to increase his 07UJi social credit. He who has received the "precious stone" from an honourable minded patron as a recognition of personal excellence, and as a reward of merit, will find the fact so operating on the social mind around him, that " whithersoever he turneth it prospereth." His compeers will think the more of him on account of the favours he has received. Thus patronage, this " precious stone," is as a power both to the bestower and the recipient. Let us give and receive in a right spirit ; let us neither bribe nor be bribed by this " precious stone." " Judges .ind senates have been bouglit fov gold : Esteem and love were never to be sold." — Pope. (READING CLXXVL— JUNE 25.) J'lic tliaM Concealment anb tk ollrong l^cbculment of (Dffence.'j. "He that covcrctli a traiisj^rcssion scckclh love: but he that rcpeatcth a ninttcr separatL-lh 7't/T friends." — Prm'. xvii. 9. 'WICK at least before the sentiments of this verse have tiime in a some'vhat different aspect under our notice.* Here wo have — TiiK KiCiiiT CONCEALMENT of offoncos. — "He that covcroth a transgression seeketh love." The writer is, of course, spoakinj^ of a rii^Jil coverinj^'- of a transgression. i)ur transgn^ssions should not be hidd(>n from (iod. We should iVankly confess our sins to liim, for he that covereth his sins shall not prosper. Xt)r should our transgressions be covered from our fellowmen against whom iLcy have beon committed. We should "confess our faults one to another." We should tell the man we have wronged of the wrong we have done him. The right concealment, or thR concealment of him \\\\o " seeketh love," includes — 1 irst : Hiding as much as possible the injuries we * Sfic RcadingK uu rliap. x. I3j xvi, j8. i I 350 The PracUcal Philosopher. A\<. ■1 I Jiavc received from !>thti:<. Them is a !*fcposition pre-^ valont in most men to recall, exaggerate, -..d reveal the injuries they ha\o ■ '^eiveu. The mother -i ihis is revcn^re, and it tendeth to so'Jial discord, not to friendship. When an injury has been iAfii<"ted oii us, and the offender has regrettingly confessed the i.ame, it should be entombed— should never rise from its grave or speak again. He that docth that " seeketh love," his conduct tends to the growth of social love. Secondly : Hiding as much as possible the offences we discover in others. A generous nature \\\\\ throw a mant'e of ^harity ov. r the imperfections, irregu- larities, and offences of men. "Charity is not easily provoked . . . beareth all things, believeth all thin^j-s, hopeth all things. It covereth a multitude qX sins." Christ never paraded the injuries he received from others, nor did he ever, except when duty forced him, expose the crimes of men about him. The man who treats the offences of his fellow men with a generous, forbearing, and loving spirit, " seeketh love." Dr. South has well said, " It is a noble and great thing to cover the blemishes and to excuse the failings of a friend; to I'raw a curtain before his stains, and to display his pcrffxtions ; to bury his weaknesses in silence, but to proclaim his virtues upon the house top." 1 fere we have also — The WRuX(r REVEAI.MJ-.NT of oflfenccs. — "He that re- peateth a matter separateth very friends." There are those in society whose greatest pleasure it is to detail the story r.f ." ^^vc own grievances and also of the mistakes and im- ijiu'alities of their fellow-men. They, to use the languajjfe we have elsewhere employed, " open the graves of old dis- putes and crimes, bring up their ghastly skeletons, and endeavour to put new life in them." Such men "separate ♦'ery friends." Discord is their music. From this subject \\Q infer, First : 'Jliat social harmony is a good that all sliottU scelc. it is the will of Heaven that men in neighbourhoods and nations should live in the loving bonds of brotherhood and peace. This will be the millennium state of the world. The Gospel tends to this. " Peace is the proper result o( the Christian temper. It is the great kindness which our The Practical Philosopher. 351 rolijjion doth us, that it brink's us to a settledness of mind, and a consistejicy within ourselves." .Scconi'ly Tiiat wcial oifcnccs are opposed :o social harmopy. Every otfciice tlvat man comniits against his brother or against his God is .v blow against sof ' d order, it irritates and disturbs. Thus he very treatment of social offences has much to do wi-. .he weal or woe of social order. The generous conceak ot social offences is a blessing, the ill-natured revoaler is a social curse. The one breathes a spirit of Divine serenity through the world, the other wakes up tempests and forges thunderbolts. " I desire To reconcile me to his friendly peace. 'Tis death to me to be at enmity: I hate it, and desire all good men's love." — Shakespeark. (TvEADING CLXXVII.—JUNE 26.) floral autr Covjjovcul Clja.stiscmcnt. " A reproof cntcrcth more into a wise man than an hundred stripes into a fool."— /Vor. xvii. 10. , There are two kinds of chastisement referred to in this passage; moral — "reproof," that which has ■> do u: ii man's rea.son, conscience, heart ; and corporeal — '' trpr ,," that which deals with man's physical .sensibi;: ics. ihe nno afflicts the soul, the other the body. 1 U ; pro\-crb suggests two remarks concerning these two kinus of 'iias- tisoment — The one in its sphere is AS i.EGiTLMATE as the other. —Solomon assumes that both arc right in principle. Notice, First : The sphere of the moroL It is for the "wise." The " reproof" is for men open to reason and im- pression — men whose natur >s are susceptible to moral argumonts and appeals. The sphere of the moral is the phere where intelligence and argument are appreciated. Secondly : The sphere of the corporeal. It is for the " fool," —men who arc either incapable of reasoning, brainless \ 1' m 35'J The Practical Philosopher. \ {i \ louts, or who are stolidly indisposed to attend to any moral appeal "Stripes" for them. Now, these two kinds of chastisement are exactly suited to their subjects. " Stripes," corporeal inflictions, to the wise, would be a flagrant injus- tice, an egregious folly, and a serious injury. On the other hand, " reproofs," moral appeals, would be utterly ineffec- tive to all who either could not or would not reason or feel. Of what service is an argument to an ox, or a whip to a soul? Parents and tutors often make fearful mistakes here, they use " stripes" where there are souls, and some- times " reproofs" where there are only bodies. You may as well endeavour to break stones with argument, or thaw ice with love, as to correct some men by moral means. Flagellation and nothing but flagellation for fools. The proverb suggests that — The one in its sphere is MORE thorough than the other. — " A reproof entereth more into a wise man than a hundred stripes into a fool." First : The one is more painful than the other. The one is spiritual, the other mere physical pain. What is pain arising from a few lashes on the body, compared with the pain arising in the soul from a conviction of moral wrong ? " A wounded spirit who can bear f" "^'Hiat pain did reproof give David !* What agony did the reproving" look of Christ strike into Peter ! Moral chas- tisement pains the man himself, gives agony to the central nerveri of his being : whereas " stripes" give pains only to the body, and the body is the man's not the man. Secondly : The one is more corrective than the other. Cor- poreal chastisement will never do the fool any moral c^ood. You cannot whip the moral devil out of men. " Though thou shouldest bray him in a mortar amongst wheat with a pestle, yet will not his foolishness depart from him.'t But moral chastisement correct the wrongs of the soul. The fires of moral conviction separate the gold from the dross. rsalm II, t Chap, xxvi:, 22. I r ticn. xxiv. 5, Sim lii IJic Practical Plu'losophcr, OOJ ^READING CLXXVIII.— JUXE 27.) (iljc (•)cniu.'i nutr '|.)uni.'ibmcnt of (t-bil. " An evil man seckcth only rebellion : lliLicforc .1 ei uel messenger shall I)C sent against him. Let a bear robbed of her whelps meet a man, rather than a fool in his folly. Whoso rewardcth evil for good, evil shall not depart from his house."— /'roz/. xvii. II — 13. Notice here — The genius of evil.— What is the spirit of evil ? It is here represented. First : As lawless. " An evil man seeketh only rebellion." In all the different renderings of this clause, the same general sentiment is brought out. It expresses the wayward, refractory, and unruly spirit of evil. Its instinct is always against law, order, and God; it stands in antagonism to the Divine throughout the uni- verse. It is here represented. Secondly : As furious. " l.et a bear robbed of her whelps meet a man rather than a fool in his folly." A strong, terrible figure this of the savage wrath that is in evil when excited. The rage of the " bear robbed of her whelps " is but a faint emblem. .See it in Jacob's sons putting a whole city to fire and the sword for the folly of one man. JSee it in Saul's massacre of innocent priests. See it in the furnace, "seven-fold heated," of Nebuchadnezzar. Sec it in Ilerod murdering the children in Rama. See it in Saul breath- ing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of ti. J Lord. See it even in David binding himself by oath to massacre a whole family. See it in the political tyran- nies and the religious persecutions that have afflicted hu- manity. .See it in the barbaric cruelties inflicted on wife and cliiklron recorded almost daily in the journals of England. Aye, aye, the instinct of evil is ever furious. It is savage as a "roaring lion." It is here represented. Thirdly: As un- jjfrateful. " Whoso rewardeth evil for good, evil shall not depart from his house." .Sin is bad when it returns evil Cicn. xxiv, 5, Sam. xxii. 18, Dan. iii. ly, Matt. ii. 18, Adi vii., i Sam. xxv. n. i 1 1 :»l 354 The Practical Philosopher. I for evil ; it is worse when it returns evil for good. It is a heartless ingratitude combined with a malignant resent- ment. The genius of evil is ingratitude. "lie," says Swift, " that calls a man ungrateful, sums up all the evil that a man can be guilty of." *' I hate ingratitude more in a man Than lying, vainness, babbling, (himkcnncss, Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood." — Siiakkspeare. Notice here also — The PUNISHMENT of evil.— The punishment is stated here in two forms. P'irst : As the advent of a ruthless officer. " Therefore a cruel messenger shall be sent against him." Nemesis is ever wending his steps toward the wicked, always as close to the sinner as his sha- dow, as venemous as a serpent, and as cruel as a ravenous beast of prey. The punishment is stated here — Secondly : As a permanent resident in the house. " Evil shall not depart from his house." Wherever sin is, there will be the avenger. " Be sure your sins will find you out." What a wretched thing is evil ! It is bad in essence, influence, and issues. " Sin and hell," says an old author, "are so turned and twisted up together, that if the power of sin be once dissolved, the bonds of death and hell will also fall asunder. Sin and hell are of the same kind, of the same lineage and descent ; as (on the other side) true holiness or religion, and true happiness are but two several notions '^f one thing, rather than distinct in themselves. Religion delivers us from hell by instating us in a possession of true life and bliss. Hell is rather a state than a place; and heaven cannot be so truly defined by anything without us, as by something that is within." What is hell ? Thy gangrened heart, stripped of its self-worn mask, and spread at last bare, in its horrible anatomy, before thine own excruciated gaze ! Hi The Practical Philosopher. 355 (READING CLXXIX.-JUXE zZ.) *' The bcginninK of strife I's as when one Icttcth out water : therefore leave o(T contention before it be meddled with." — Proi'. xvii. 14. Crabb makes a dilTorence between discord and strife. lie says, " Discord evinces itself in various ways — by looks, words, or actions ; strife displays itself in words, or acts of violence. Discord is fatal to the happiness of families ; itrife is the greatest enemy to peace between neighbours ; discord arose between the goddesses on the apple being thrown into one assembly. Homer commences his pc^em with the strife that took place between Agamemnon and Achilles." The passage suggests three ideas concerning strife. It is an evil ov terrific progress. — At first it is like the dropping of water oozing through a mound that encloses a sea. Every drop widens the channel until the drops be- come a stream, and the stream a torrent. Thus strife spreads. One angry word leads to another, one look of revenge, one act of resentment, will kindle a fire that may set a whole neighbourhood or a nation into conflagration. A drop of strife soon becomes a river, and the river a torrent. " Contention, Hkc a horse lull of hij,'h feeilin;;, madly hath broke loose, And bears all before him."— SllAKF.sPKARK. Another idea suggested by the passage concerning strife is — It is an evil THAT SHOULD be checiced. — "Therefore leave off contention before it be meddled with." Every lover of his race should suppress it. It is a desolating fury —it makes sad havoc in families, creates divisions in those whom nature has bound together ; it produces unhappy con- tentions in churches, and makes nations mad with the spirit of bloody war. " Blessed is the peace-maker." A h 1 th ' jjl T/iC Practical P/u'losop/icr. true poaco-makor should be inspired with the spirit of peace, maintain the character of peace, use the arj^^uiiicnt of peace. Thus he will check the spirit of strife. The dis- position of a peace-maker is a blessed one : it implies self- control, a generous sympathy with the conllictinj^'- parties, ti calm, moral, mediating power, equal to the subjugation of antagonistic souls. The peace-maker has far higher attributes than the warrior. A man has only to have the low cunning of the fox, and the savage daring of the lion, to become famous on the battle-field ; but he must have the philosophy of a sage, and the love of a saint, to act effectively the " day's-nian," put his hand on contendini,' parties, and of the " twain make one." Such shall he called the " children of God." Th<' peacemaker is like the "God of peace," and filiation to that God consists in moral assimilation to His character. Another idea suggested by the passage concerninj; strife is — It is an evil which can de eash.y checked at tiii: BKCilXNl.N'G. — " The beginning of strife is as when one let- teth out water." You may mend the embankment with tolerable ease at the stage when it emits only a few oozing drops; the mightiest and most furious beasts of prey you can easily destroy at their birth ; the most majestic and resistless river you can stop at its spring head. So it is with strife. In its incipient state you may easily crush it. The first angry thought, the first malevolent desire, hy serious reflection, resolute will, devout prayer, these may be overcome. Crush the upas in the germ, tread out the conflagration in the spark. Let the only strife we know ho a strife against evil and in favour of good. May we strive with others, to use a ligure of Lord Bacon, "as the vine with the olive, which of us shall bear the best fruit; hut not as the briar with the thistle, which is the most unpro- fitable." " A pracc is of tlic mlutc of a con(|ucst ; J-'or tluTO l)otIi parlies no'oly are subdued, Ar.d ucillitr parly loser."— SllAKKsi'KAU.:, . »' 'I : The Practical Philosopher. 357 (READING CLXXX.— JUNE 39.) Utrbtise iirrtiitmmt of the Cljuructcr.'i 0f ?|Jm. " lie that juslificth the wicked, and he that condcinneth the just, even they l)uth arc abomination to tlic Lord." — Prirv, xvii. 15. The evil referred to in the proverb, namely, that of justify- ing" the wicked and condemning the just, is by no nieanr; uncommon. On the contrary, it is — Prevalent in S(x:iety. — The prevalency arises from various causes. There is mental servility. The doing's of a wicked man, especially if he be wealthy and influential, will always find, amongst the servile in society, numbers to justify and defend. On the contrary, they will represent the virtues of the just, if poor, as worthless and even reprehen- sible. Sycophancy is ever justifying the wicked and con- demning the just. Another cause is, self-interest. When the wicked arc customers or patrons, their crimes will bo readily extenuated ; whilst the just who sustain no such relationship become subjects of calumny and blame. Add to this spiritual infirmity. The eye of the conscience is either too dim to discern moral distinctions, or the heart is too cowardly to avow them. Thus this perverse treatment of character is prevalent. The world abounds with unjust judges, and justice is everywhere perverted, even in temples consecrated to her name. The proverb states that this evil is — Offensive to God. — "They both are abomination to the Lord." It is repugnant to His character. " lie is light and in Him there is no darkness at all." vSin is the abominable thing which He hates. !Men, therefore, who not only are regardless of justice but perpetrate un- righteousness, are to the last degree repugnant to His holy nature. It is dangerous to His universe. To defend the wrong and condemn the right is the way to spread anarchy throughout the moral realm of God. Observe from this — M J IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I ■ 50 l"^" 1 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 i 1.25 1.4 III 1.6 ' -- ' ■ ; ^ 6" ► V Va f> ^> ▼ ^ sr ^'^ fliotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MSSO (716) •72-4S03 C^ ■1>^ \\ s The Practical Philosopher. 363 there is no blood relationship, but where the blood relation- ship of brothers exists in connection with it, its value is increased, it takes a higher type. True brotherliness gives a wondrous tenderness, depth, and energy to friendship. Kindred blood coursing through the veins, hearts centering their affections upon the same parents, and spreading their sympathies over the same relations and interests, a thousand thoughts, impressions, hopes, and memories, which the loving intercourse of early years have given them in com- mon, cannot fail to impart a priceless worth to genuine friendship. A true brother is indeed a man " born for adversity." It is when the sky of adversity is darkest over brethren and sisters, and its storms beat most furiously upon them, that he is most strong and constant in his love, he is there like a bright angel, and will not depart until the breaking of the darkness and the hushing of the tempest. Thank God for all true brotherliness in the world. Another degree of friendship suggested here is. Thirdly : A ^/z/tr-brotherly love. " There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother." Here we have genuine friendship in its highest degree. Constancy is its first stage, brotherliness is the next, super-brotherliness is the highest. But who is this " friend that sticketh closer than a brother r" Jonathan stuck to David, but not closer than a brother. We know One, and only One, Who answers to this description. It is the Son of God. " He that loved us and gave Himself for us." " He is not ashamed to call us brethren." " He is touched with the feeling of our infirmities." "He is afflicted in all our afflictions." What a friend is He ! How disinterested, self-sacrificing, tender, constant, infinite, His love ! He " sticketh closer than a brother." A brother must leave us sooner or later. He dies, or we die, and we part. We cannot go with him into the " valley of the shadow of death," nor he descend with us. We part. But Christ is ever with us. "Lo I am ahvays with you, even unto the end." Here we have also : — The duty of true friendship. — "A man that hath [friends must show himself friendly." What is our duty to I f f 364 71ic Pmcfical Philosopher. genuine friends r First : We must justify their friendship. We must show by the purity of our love, the excellence of our principles, the nobleness of our spirit, the loftiness of our aims, that we are -worthy of the affection and con- fidence that are bestowed upon us. To be genuinely loved we must be morally lovable, and to be morally lovable we must be good. One mean unworthy act of mine is enoutrh to burn the golden thread that links my friend to me. To shew yourselves friendly, you must show that in your life which will justify the friendship you enjoy. Secondly: We must honour their friendship. Men must see in our character that which will give them a virtuous pride in calling us friends, however obscure our lives, humble our homes, or unfortunate our circumstances. Let us be great in character, however obscure in position. Thirdly : We must reciprocate their friendship. Their offices of lo\e, their acts of kindness, their expressions of tenderness we must -equite, if not with material gifts through poverty, with strong gratitude and high devotion. He who does not reciprocate love will soon lose it, he who receives all and gives nothing in return will soon block up the river of favours. "He that hath friends must show himself friendly." Whether hii friends be unrelated to him by the ties of consanguinity, or related by the bonds of brotherhood, or related by ties more close and tender than those of a brother, "he must show himself friendly," in order to retain the friendship. Heaven give us this generous friendship ! A star that breaks the darkest clouds of earth and that will shine on for ever. True friendship is immortal. " The friendship," says Robert Hall, " of high and sanctified spirits loses nothing by death but its alloy ; failings disappear, and the virtues of those whose faces we shall behold no more appear greater and more sacred when beheld through the shades of the sepulchre." " Smitten friends Are angels sent on errands full of love ; For us they languish, and for us they die,"— Dr. Young, "He that h liath no joy." — P, "A foolish bc —Pro?', xvii. 25. "The joys c and so are t: one; they wi labours, but increase the ca of death." A of a parent, a wicked childre those vv'ho are uho is a " fool moral depravity He is not what son should do. love, self-sacrifi been lavished stick or a stone What kindness no gratitude, he no authority. T tal will is disobc All this is the sorrow to the other way in wh positively. A 'Sometimes the PTents in secul the reckless spe * Tlie subject of tlii liowaidnessofheart.au tion. See Readings on C( w The Pi'ddicai Philosopher, 305 (READING CLXXXIII.— JULY 2.) «< He that begetteth a fool doeth it to his sorrow : and the father of a fool hath no joy." — Prov. xvii. 21.* "A foolish son is a grief to his father, and bitterness to her that bare him." ^Vrro. xvii. 25. "The joys of parents," says Lord Bacon, "are secret, and so are their griefs and fears : they cannot utter the one; they will not utter the other. Children sweeten labours, but they make misfortunes more bitter ; they increase the cares of life, but they mitigate the remembrance of death." A man must be a parent to know the heart of a parent, and he must be cursed with worthless and wicked children in order to know the crushing t;rief of those who are. There are two ways in which the child who is a " fool " — a fool not by natural incapacity, but by moral depravity — gives sorrow to his parents. — Negatively. He is not what a son should be. He neglects all that a son should do. He does not reciprocate the love. What love, self-sacrificing, tender, anxious, ever-toiling love, has been lavished on him, but he returns it no more than a stick or a stone. He does not acknowledge the kindness. AVhat kindness has been expended on him ! Yet he knows no gratitude, he manifests no thanksgiving. He recognizes no authority. The parental word is disregarded, the paren- tal will is disobeyed, the parentiil order is set at defiance. All this is the conduct of a " fool," and in all this there is sorrow to the heart of the father and the mother. The other way in which the child gives sorrow to his parents is ^(mtively. A wicked son is active in his wickedness. Sometimes the conduct of such children involves their pTents in secular ruin. The extravagance, the gambling, the reckless speculations of children, have wrecked the • The subject of the 18, 19, and 20 verses, viz., suretiship, strife, ambition, liowaidness of heart, and pcrvcrseness of speech, have ah-f-ady engaged our atten- tion. Sec Readings on chap. vi. 1—5, xvii. 14, xvi. 18, vi. 12—15. 366 The Practical Philosopher. fortunes of many a family, and brought desolation to many a home. Sometimes the conduct of such children briirrs disgrace upon their parents. By their violation of the laws of chastity, social honour, commercial justice, thov have often degraded the character of their families. The son who is a " fool " has often invested with infamy a family name that has shone brightly for many an age. Household life is so momentous to men individually and socially, that it can never be too frequently examined and too earnestly pondered. Hence it constantly appears in the thoughts of Solomon ; and is not unfrequently referred to by other inspired men. It may be well therefore for us to look a little closer into the subject. In these verses we have three things in relation to it. A REPREHENSIBLE DOMESTIC CHARACTER. — " A foolish son." By a " foolish son" Solomon means not a son des- titute of mental capacity — an idiot, but a graceless son one destitute of that virtue which is in reality the true reason of the soul. Immorality is moral madness. First : A son is a fool who disregards his parents. There are those, alas, in families who lose the filial element, and who become indifferent alike to parental feelings and parental claims. They wound parental love and despise parental rule. Is this not foolish r What friends have they so sin- cere in their love, so strong in their attachment ? Secondly : A son is a " fool" who neglects his study. The best inte- rests of a young man consist in the filling of his mind with useful knowledge, the culturing of his heart into pure sympathies, the training of his powers to act virtuously, forcefully, and happily. But he who neglects this, and gives himself up to indolence, self-indulgence, and sensuality, is a "fool." Thirdly: A son is a "fool" who neglects his God. The life and destiny of all are in His hands. To neglect Him, thex-efore, is the height of folly. But if this disregard, this negative conduct, shows his folly, how much more does this folly appear in the positive evils that grow out of this negative behaviour r Indolence, intemperance, sensuality, roguery, profanity, murder, and such like enor- mities, flow out of disregard to parents, study, and God. The Practical Philosopher. 367 Alas, how many families there are in England who have such fools as members ! The verses present to us — A QUESTIONABLE DOMESTIC TRAINING. — When SUch luols as these appear in families there is a presump- tion that the training has been defective. For is it not said, "Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it r" I know what may be pleaded against the certain efficacy of this disci- pline. Organisation is pleaded. It is said that the con- formation of some children is bad, that there is a sad lack of the moral in their nature, and that the animal predo- minates over the mental. Will is pleaded. It is said that every child has freedom and independency of mind, and that this prevents the possibility of invariable results. Mind is hot like dead matter on which we may produce any impression we please ; it is endowed with a resisting and self-modifying force. Against these objections three things are to be observed. First : The power of goodness upon unsophisticated childhood. The Great Maker of our being has established such a relation between the principles of truth, justice, and moral excellence, that the mind in an unsophisticated state not only can see them, but is bound to admire and render them homage. Secondly : The force of parental influence upon the child. The mind of the child in its first stages is to he parent as clay in the hands of the potter, it can be moul " almost into any shape and turned to any service. T v : The promise of God. The Great. Father has promisea to render efiicient a right parental training. On the whole, then, there seems to me no necessity for parents to have moral fools as children. The verses present — A SAD DOMESTIC EXPERIENCE. — " A foolish SOH is a grief to his father, and a bitterness to her that bare him." How true this is. To have a son a drunkard, a rogue, a swindler, a murderer, must involve an amount of parental agony, which is not easy to imagine. What agony did Absalom give David ! The fact that children bring such misery to their parents suggests two great facts. First : That our greatest trials often spring ,-: 1 I i i. 't.; [I ;'r u 1 i; • * 368 The Practical Philosopher. from our greatest blessings. Every right-hearted parent regards his or her child as one of the greatest bles- sings that kind Heaven has bestowed. Yet this bles- sing often becomes a curse. It is so in other thing-.s. Secondly : Our greatest devils often spring from our- selves. Who is a greater enemy to the peace and prosperity of the father and the mother, than an undu- tiful, an unprincipled, a heartless, and a reckless, son r They have no greater fiend than he ; he is their torment. In many other ways men create their own devils. Men form engagements, create enterprises, and enter into arrangements in young life which produce devils to tor- ment them to the end of their days. This subject affords a homily to young parents that can- not be too deeply pondered. There is a discipline which, under God, may deliver them from the curse of a foolish son. It is not passion, violence, rude authority ; it is the calm discipline of holy love. " It is a great mistake," says Dr. Bushnell, " to suppose that what will make a child stare, or tremble, impresses more authority. The violen*^ emphasis, the hard, stormy voice, the menacing air only weakens authority ; it commands a good thing as if it were only a bad, and fit to be no way impressed save by some stress of assumption. Let the command be always quietly given, as if it had some right in itself and could utter itself to the conscience by some emphasis of its own. Is it not well understood that a bawling and violent team- ster has no real government of his team ? Is it not prac- tically seen that a skilful commander of one of those huge floating cities, moved by steam on our American waters, manages and works every motion by the waving of a hand, or by signs that pass in silence — issuing no order at all, save in the gentlest undertone of voice ? So when there is, or is to be, a real order and law in the house, it will come of no hard and boisterous, or fretful and terma- gant way of commandment. Gentleness will speak the word of firmness, and firmness will be clothed in the airs of true gentleness." The Practical Philosopher, 3(J9 (READING CLXXXIV.-JULY 3.) ^abiln icaltlj |)cjrcnbcut m gjcutul IP^aobfi. <' A meiTy heart doetli good like a medicine ; hut a hroken spirit drieth tiic bones."— /"/viz-. xvii. 22. So closely connected is the soul with the body, that physical health is ever, to a great extent, dependent on mental states. A dark thought has power to work disease and death into the corporeal frame. This is a fact — First : Recognised by medical science. A wise physician avails himself of this fact and is ever anxious not only to dispel all sad thoughts from the mind of the patient, but to awaken the most pleasurable ideas and emotions. This is a fact. Secondly : Attested by general experience. Who has not experienced the influence of his mental thoughts and feelings on the state of his health ? How often has every man in the course of his life felt a distressing thought sickening and shattering his body. David felt it, when he said, " When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long. For day and night thy hand was heavy upon thee : my moisture is turned into the drought of summer. Selah."* This is a fact. Thirdly : Suggestive of practical lessons. Is it true that a " broken spirit " — i.c.^ a spirit saddened and depressed, "drieth the bones," reduces all healthy secretions, enfeebles the energy and destroys the health ? Is it true, on the other hand, that a cheerful spirit will act as a medicine to restore an enfeebled body to health r If these things are true, then we may infer three principles. The responsibility of man for his physical liEALTH.f — There is certainly no virtue in having a weak and sickly frame. Though it is often a calamity entailed on us by our ancestors, or by circumstances over which we have no control ; it always implies sin somewhere, either in ourselves or others. There is no virtue in it, and yet * Psahn xxxii. 3, 4. f See Readings on chap. xiv. 13— 15, ,' *■ I f f 0/' The Practical Philosopher, Hi 'I If U: I .^■l' numbers in society speak and act as if there were something meritorious in having a delicate frame. Robust health some, at least, seem to consider not respectable and gen- teel, and hence they have perennial complaints ; they are always "poorly" and delicate. In many cases the physical ailments of these people spring from unhealthy and unvirtuous states of mind. !Man is responsible for his mental disposition, whether cheerful or gloomy, and his disposition greatly determines his health. I infer again from this fact : — The ^uty of the guardians of childhood and YOUTH. — If the parents and guardians of childhood and youth would have their charge grow up with robust health, and well developed frames, they should deal rightly with their minds ; they should labour to dispel all saddening influences from the young heart, and fill it with the sun- shine of cheerfulness and joy. There is much in some families and schools to break the spirit of the young, and thus dry their very bones. Modern medical science talks largely of germs of disease that float in the atmosphere, but what these germs are it cannot tell us, nor can it say how they affect us. But in the atmosphere of an immoral .soul there are certain germs of physical disease that are verj' discoverable — lust, anger, revenge, envy, jealousy, all these impregnate the moral atmosphere of impious minds and they are poison to the corporeal frame. They corrupt the blood, they sap the constitution, they work out dissolu- tion. I infer lastly from this fact :— The sanitary influence of Christianity. ~ The design of Christianity is to fill the human heart with joy. " These things have I spoken unto you that your joy may be full." It is in every way adapted to accomplish this ; it never fails in effecting this wherever it is fully received. No other system on earth has ever filled the human heart with joy, no other system can do so. Hence Christianity, by doing so, is the best physician to the body. He who promotes Christianity is the wise philanthropist. To pro- mote it is to promote the v.'ell-being of man, body as well as soul. Some people are always trying to keep The Practical Philosopher. 371 the body well, and entirely neglect the condition of the soul. This is philosophically absurd. It is like trying to cure a diseased tree by binding up the branches. "People," says Sterne, "who are always taking care of their health, are like misers, who are holding a treasure which they have never spirit to enjoy." _ (READING CLXXXV.— JULY 4.) r. "A wicked man taketli a gift out of the bosom to pervert the ways of judg- ment,"— Prow, xvii. 23. Having already noticed a sentiment somewhat similar to these words, our remarks will be very brief.* The verse suggests two remarks about bribery, an evil which Solomon often deprecated, and which Jehovah Himself denounces. Its aim is pernicious. — A bribe is given to " pervert the ways of judgment." "A bribe," says Webster, "is a price, reward, gift, or favour bestowed or promised, with a view to pervert the judgment or corrupt the conduct of a judge, witness, or other person." Perversion is always its aim ; it is to induce men to do that which is either without their convictions, or against their convictions. Absalom bribed the people of Judcca in order to get to the throne. The high-priests bribed Judas in order to effect the cruci- fixion of Christ. Whilst bribery is the canker and disgrace of constitutional governments, it is a crime in whatever department of life, by whomsoever practised. He who presents a bribe perpetrates a moral wrong. He sacrifices truth and justice to his own personal interest, and he en- deavours, by exciting the selfishness of others, to deaden in them the sense of right, and muffle the voice of truth. The receiver of the bribe is as bad. He accepts the greatest insult that can be offered to him as a man, and consents to barter away eternal principles for earthly pelf. Too often have the legislators of England won their position by * See Reading on chap. xvii. 8. Isaiah i. 23, 24, r IM •f 372 The Practical Philosopher. ■1: /■ '\ bribery. Another remark which the verse suggests con- cerning bribery is that : — Its action is clandestine.— " A wicked man taketh a gift out of the bosom." So bad is it, that even the author of it is ashamed. He does it in secrecy. Sin is a shameful thing, all consciences blush at it, its work is ever- more in darkness. Secretly and insidiously it effects its purposes. The subject teaches two things. First : The power of money. "Money answereth all things," says Solomon. Money can buy men, and it is doing so on an extensive scale throughout the world. Men are every- where being bought, not merely their limbs, but thtir in- tellects and their souls. Gold ! It is the mightiest amongst the world's autocrats, and the most popular amongst its divinities. No motive in all the world's activities is more universal and resistless, no argument in all its reasonings more cogent and conclu- sive. "A man," says Addison, "who is furnished with arguments from the mint will convince his antagonist much sooner than one who draws them from reason and philosophy. Gold is a wonderful clearer of the understand- ing — it dissipates every doubt and scruple in an instant ; accommodates itself to the meanest capacities ; silences the loud and clamorous, and brings over the most obstinate and inflexible. Philip of Macedon was a man of most invincible reason thii. way. He refuted by it all the wisdom of Athens — confounded their statesmen, struck their orators dumb, and at length argued them out of their liberties." The subject teaches. Secondly : The urgency of a moral regeneration. What is wanted for commercial soundness, social order, and good government is, that moral regene- ration which endows the soul with an inflexible adherence to honour, rectitude, and truth. This, also, is the work of Christianity. Parliamentary, administrative, ecclesiastical reformation, are merely things of parchment, but the refor- mation of Christianity is the reformation of the soul. Let nothing bribe us ever to the wrong. Heaven honours the man who stands against bribes. " He that walketh right- eously and speaketh uprightly ; he that despiseth the gain of oppress! bribes, that shutteth his his place of shall be giv( " Wisdom is in the ends of the Here are tv of a wise mai them both. They differ an unmeanin " In the coun the fool's eye; formed man dial-plate of modify the fee the whole st" whether the s fined, amiable man's face lo( fool's face loot passing clouds countenance m siognomist; e\ " The c They differ i understanding, earth." The or The Practical Philosopher, 373 of oppressions, that shaketh his hands from holding of bribes, that stoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, and shutteth his eyes from seeing evil, he shall dwell on high ; his place of defence shall be the munitions of rocks ; bread shall be given him, his waters shall be sure."* J (READING CLXXXVr.— JULY 5.) % g0Mbk IP ton. " Wisdom is before him that hath understanding : but the eyes of a fool are in the ends of the earth."— Prof. xvii. 24. Here are two pictures widely dissimilar, one the picture of a wise man, and the other of a fool. Let us glance at them both. They differ in FACE. — The one has a meaning, the other an unmeaning face. One translator renders the words — *• In the countenance of a wise man wisdom appeareth, but the fool's eyes roll to and fro." It is ever so. God has so formed man that his face is the index to his soul — the dial-plate of the mental clock. If the mind does not modify the features, it alters the expression, and changes the whole style of countenance. By the face is seen whether the soul is cultured or uncultured, coarse or re- fined, amiable or irascible, virtuous or vicious. A wise man's face looks wisdom — calm, devout, reflective. The fool's face looks folly. As the translucent lake reflects the passing clouds nnd rolling lights of sky, so does the human countenance mirror the soul. Man is instinctively a phy- siognomist ; even children read our hearts by our faces. " The cheek is aptcr than the tongue to tell an errand." Shakkspeare. They differ in mind. — " Wisdom is before him that hath understanding, but the eyes of a fool are in the ends of the earth." The one has an occupied, the other a vacant mind. * Isaiah xxxiii. 15, 16. I' J*' r 41 -I The Practical Piiilosflphcr, The meaning of Solomon perhaps may be wisdom is be- fore, that is, present, with the man that " hath understand- ing'." The principles of wisdom are in his mind, are ever before his eye. Wisdom is " before " his mind in ever}-' circumstance and condition. Its rulcy the Word of God is before him. Its principle y the love of God, is before him. Thus he has an occupied mind. But the mind of the fool is vacant. His " eyes are in the ends of the earth." He has nothing before him, nothing true, or wise, or good. He looks at emptiness. Alas ! how vacant the mind of a morally unwise man ! It is a vessel without ballast, at the mercy of the winds and waves. His thoughts are unsub- stantial, his hopes are illusory, the sphere of his conscious; life a mirage. The difference in the soul between a morally wise and a morally foolish man, is as great as that between a well-rooted tree that defies the fiercest tempest, and the chaff that is the sport of every wind. Heaven deliver us from a morally empty mind — a mind without true prin- ciples, manly aims, and genuine loves. They differ in heart. — The one has a settled the other an unsettled heart. This is suggestively implied. The morally wise man is fixed, wisdom is " before him," and his heart is on it. He is rooted and grounded in the faith. He is not used by circumstances, but he makes circum- stances serve him. He has a purpose in life, and from that purpose nothing will turn him. " This one thing I do." But the fool is unsettled, his " eyes are in the ends of the earth." His mind, like the evil spirit, walks to and fro through the earth, seeking rest and finding none. An old writer describes the character thus : " To-day he goes to the quay to be shipped for Rome. But before the tide come, his tide is turned. One party thinks him theirs; the adverse theirs ; he is with both, with neither, not an hour with himself. Indifference is his ballast, and opinion his sail J he resolves not to resolve. He knows not what he doth hold. He opens his mind to receive notions, as one opens his palm to take an handful of water. He hath very much, if he could hold it. He is sure to die, but not a religion to die in. He demurs, like a posed lawyer, as if The Practical Philosopher. 375 delay could remove some impediments. In a controverted point, he holds with the last reasoner he either heard or read. The next diverts him, and his opinion dwells with him perhaps so long as the teacher of it is in sight. He will rather take dross for gold than try it in the furnace. He receives many judgments, retains none. He loathes manna after two days' feeding. His best dwelling would be his confined chamber, where he would trouble nothing but his pillow. He is full of business at church ; a stranger at home ; a sceptic abroad ; an observer in the street; everywhere a fool." (READING CLXXXVII.— JULY C.) " Also to punish the just is not good, nor to strike princes for equity." — Prcw. xvii. 26. There are two kinds of "princes" — official and moral. The former are often contemptible. They are mean- natured, weak-facultied, low-spirited men, born into high positions. They have nothing princely in the blood and bearing of their souls. The latter are real princes. They are princely in their thoughts, sympathies, and aims. They are high-souled men, God's nobles. Which of these does Solomon refer to in the text ? Perhaps to neither sepa- rately, but to be .h in combination : the prince not only in office, but in character too. The proverb directs us — To A PUNISHMENT THAT IS PERSECUTION. — " Also tO punish the just is not good." He means more than this ; he means what he has expressed before, that it is not only not good, but that it is " abomination to the Lord."* To inflict punishment upon the iitijust is often right and im- perative. It is God's will that evil doers shall be punished in a certain way and to a certain extent, but to inflict suf- fering on the just is not legitimate punishment ; it is per- secution. There is a great deal in society that passes for * See Reading on verse 15. *. t i m f 37<3 T/ic Pract>'cul Philosopher, punishment, which is nothing but unjust persecution. First: It is seen in domestic discipline. Children are often punished not on account of moral wrong, but on account of idiosyncracies and peculiarities which are not immoral. Every pain inflicted on a child where there is not moral wrong, is a persecution, not a just rhastisement. Secondly; It is seen in political governments. The government that inflicts inconveniences and disabilities upon those who are civilly just, persecutes. The enforcement of laws, the ex- actions of imposts that chime not with the eternal prin- ciples of right, are persecution. Thirdly : Tt is seen in ecclesiastical arrangements. The ecclesia.^tics that inflict sufferings on account of diversity of creed and conviction, persecute. Ecclesiastics have been the great persecutors. Of all men in history they have done most in punishing the just. The proverb directs us — To A REBELLION THAT IS TREASON. — " Nor tO strike princes for equity." The strike here does not mean merely physical violence. There are other strokes be- sides those of the hand — the strokes of the pen, the tongue, the life. These are often more painful and terrible than hand strokes . Now to strike — to oppose princes— "for equity" is //'^'^yt'/^. There is a rebellion that is not treason. To rise up and oppose princes and potentates who have no equity, is a virtue, not a crime. Rebellion, to be treason, must be striking against the equitable. First : Opposition to good government is treason. He who opposes a government conducted on the eternal prin- ciples of justice and equity, is a traitor not only in the sight of man, but in the sight of God. Secondly : Opposi- tion to a true enterprise is treason. Schemes founded on benevolence and justice, started and worked in order to advance the right, should be loyally respected. There is as much treason in striking against them, as in striking against a righteous government. Thirdly : Opposition to true men is treason. True men are men of God. They are the shrines, the organs, the representatives, the ser- vants of the Divine. To strike at them is treason ; they are God's true princes. ^ \k The Practical Philosopher, 377 (READING CLXXXVIII.— JULY 7.) •■' He that hath knowledge spareth his words : and a man of understanding is of an excellent spirit. Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise : and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding."— /"/-w. xvii. 37-28. How often the same ideas come up in the mind of the most original and fertile thinkers ! Few men had souls more fecundant in thought than Solomon. Yet there are certain ideas that are constantly appearing, and that, too, often in the same verbal garb. The idea in this passage we have often met with before, and we shall meet with it again as we go on through the book. The verses sug- gest two thoughts on frugality in the use of words. It is frequently symptomatic of something good. — " He that hath knowledge, spareth his words, and a man of understanding is of an excellent spirit." First : It sometimes indicates an enlightened judgment. " He that hath knowledge spareth his words." There is, of course, sometimes a paucity of speech for the want of intelligence. The tongue is silent because the mind is blank. There is nothing to communicate. There is, of course, no virtue in this verbal frugality. But there is a spareness of words which is the result of intelligence. The man has such an impression of the power of words for good or for evil, and the responsibility connected with the faculty of language, that he is conscientiously cautious. He is slow to speak, Secondly : It sometimes indicates a good spirit. " A man of understanding is of an excellent spirit." The margin reads instead of " excellent," cool spirit. And this seems to me the idea intended. There are some whose natures are so fiery, impetuous, and uncontrollable, that they cannot restrain their words ; they flow as a torrent. The ebullition of the apostles who said, " Lord wilt thou that we command fire to come down from heaven and con- 2 B '• n,! f 378 The Practical Philosopher. sume them even as Elias did ?"* is an illustration of this. But a man of a cool spirit exercises that self-control which commands his tongue. A man powerfidly provoked to the use of bad words, standing silent, or speaking a few apt sentences in the calm dignity of self-control, is one of the finest sights in the whole field of human society. Christ amidst the taunts of His judges was silent. " He answered them never a word." There is, however, a taciturnity which does not indicate a good spirit. It is the sullen and the sulky. There are men who are possessed of this " dumb devil." Another thing suggested of frugality of speech is — It is frequently favourable to one's reputation. — " Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted vv'ise : and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding." The fool is a fool whether he speaks or not, but he may not only conceal his folly by his silence, but may even get a reputation amongst a class for wisdom by it. This fact, for fact it is, shows, First : Our liability to be deceived in the character of men. We sometimes judge a fool to be a wise man. We cannot read with accuracy the human character. We often give credit to men for what they have not, and deny to men the ex- cellencies which they posse.«s. We lack the insight into motives necessary to qualify us to sit in judgment on others. This shows. Secondly : That wise men are generally sparing in their use of words. It is the little fussy, shallow brook that rattles. The deep river rolls in silence. Silence being a characteristic of wise men, the fool may pass for a wise man so long as he can maintain it. A modern author has said that " speech is silver, silence is gold." This idea is older than Solomon. There is an old Arabic proverb poetically expressed, that embodies it— •' Keep silence, then ; nor speak but when besought : Who listens long grows tired of what is told, With tones of silver though thy tongue be fraught, Know this,— that silence of itself is gold." * Luke ix. 54, 55. " Tluougn dc with all wisdom, may discover itself Of the first o: and comment Solomon refer is right and cc ingofwhatis view of thr gen one critic (.Sc described — " ^ satisfy his fai things." Anot separated hims( and breaks his I'urst], thus—" inclination; he wise." And a f " He seeks occa, his friends." Ii separateth hims ^visdom." Anot form, without exj "A retired man j and hath pleasi accept the last in sion. In this vi( pressing the idea separates himself fuliy prosecute hi may be used to ill, ^t is an ISOLA ^"^^^m^ separated \i\ * War The Practical Philosopher » 379 'READING CLXXXIX.— JULY 8.) «• Tliiough desire a man, having separated himself, seeketh nnd intermeddleth with all wisdom. A fool hath no delight in understanding, but that his heart may discover itself." — Prov, xviii. I, 2. Of the first of these verses two views are given by critics and commentators. Tliey are opposites. The one makes Solomon refer to a pursuit of knowledge and wisdom that is right and commendable, the other regards him as speak- ing of what is wrong and censurable. And of this second view of th^ genaral meaning there are several varieties. By one critic (Schultens), the intended character is thus described — **A self-conceited, hair-brained fool seeks to satisfy his fancy, and intermingleth himself with all things." Another (Schulz), draws it thus : — " He who has separated himself agitates questions as his desire prompts, and breaks his teeth on every hard point." A third (Park- hurst), thus — "The recluse seeks his own pleasure or inclination : he laughs at or derides everything solid or wise." And a fourth (Hodgson), differently from all these, " He seeks occasions who desires to separate himself from his friends." In the margin we have it thus: "He that separateth himself, seeketh and intermeddleth with all wisdom." Another gives it, like our translators, a general form, without expressing either good or evil in the case : — "A retired man pursueth the researches he delighteth in, and hath pleasure in every branch of science."* We accept the last interpretation, which agrees with our ver- sion. In this view the verses may be regarded as ex- pressing the idea, that through desire for knowledge, a man separates himself from society, that he may more success- fully prosecute his researches. In this sense the verses may be used to illustrate the true student spirit. It is an ISOLATING spirit. — "Through desire a man having separated himself." A man who has a strong desire • WarcUaw's posthumous work on Proverbs. a .-.8o The Practical Philosopher. for knowledge will feel it necessary to withdraw habitually into solitude and silence. Society is so tumultuous in its career — so absorbing in its concerns, that a successful inquiry after knowledge in its midst would be all but im- possible. Hence a strong desire for mental culture, and the attainment of truth, necessitates isolation. The true student V— "er been, and must ever be, more or less a recluse. ^s in loneliness and quiet that he makes his discoveries, and wins his intellectual trophies. In quest of spiritual truth this is especially necessary. John the Baptist lived in the desert until his " showing unto Israel." Paul dwelt in the solitudes of Arabia, and even Christ felt it necessary to send the multitude away, and go into a solitary place. "All weighty things," says Richter, "are done in solitude, that is, without society. The means of improvement consist not in projects, or in any violent designs, for these cool, and cool very soon, but in patiently practising for whole long days, by which I make the thing clear to my highest reason." " Bear me, some god ! oh, quickly bear me hence To wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense ; Where Contemplation plumes her ruffled wings, And the free soul looks down to pity kings." — Pope. The true student spirit is — An INVESTIGATING spirit. — "He seeketh and inter- meddleth with all wisdom." A true student is inspired with the importance of all truth, is a free enquirer in the highest sense. He knows the truth is ever varied, and he intermeddles with all, searches into all. He searches after wisdom to guide men in their material con- cerns : — wisdom to guide in the affairs of governments, markets, homes. He searches after wisdom to guide men in their spiritual concerns. He searches into the way by which the guilty is to be pardoned, the slave enfranchised, the polluted cleansed, the sorrowful comforted, the lost saved. He has not the true student spirit who gives himself to one branch of truth, exaggerates the importance of that, and ignores all else. The true student deals with the whole Book, examines every verse and chapter, and The Practical Philosopher, 381 endeavours to ascertain the relations, the unity, and the u.-'.es of the whole. He *' intermeddleth with all wisdom." The true student spirit is — A WISE spirit. — It is set here in contrast with that of a fool. " A fool hath no delight in understanding ; but that his heart may discover itself." A fool hates knowledge, all his desire is to pour out his own frivolity that " his heart may discover itself." What a discovery is the discovery of a fool's heart ! It is a discovery of ignorance, carnality, selfishness, and vanity. He is wise who seeks knowledge. Knowledge gives us a new world. How different is the world of a fool from that of a wise man. Knowledge gives us new sources of pleasure. Pleasures of contemplation, religion, social usefulness. Knowledge gives us new faculties of action. It gives us eyes to see what otherwise lay in darkness, ears to hear what before was silent. He therefore who seeks knowledge in a right spirit and for a right end, is a wise man. " Men," says Bacon, "have en- tered into a desire of learning and knowledge sometimes upon a natural curiosity and inquisitive appetite ; some- times to entertain their mind with variety and delight ; sometimes for ornament and reputation, and sometimes to enable them to obtain the victory of wit and contradiction, and sometimes for lucre and possession ; but seldom sin- cerely to give a true account of their gift of reason for the benefit and use of man, as if there were sought in know- ledge a couch whereupon to rest a searching and restless spirit, or a terrace for a wandering and variable mind, to walk up and down with a fair prospect, or a tower of state for a proud mind to raise itself upon, or a fort on command- ing ground for strife or contention, or a shop for profit or sale, and not a rich store-house for the glory of the Creator, and the relief of man's estate." iSi The Practical Philosopher, (READING CXC— JULY 9.) •' When the wicked cometh, then comcth also contempt, and with ignominv reproach." — Prwv. xviii. 3. The words suggest — That wickedness is a CONTEMPTIBLE thing. — " When the wicked cometh, then cometh also contempt." Wickedness is contemptible in itself. Analyze it, and you will find all its elements amongst the despicable in the moral domain. It involves selfishness, and does not universal conscience look down on this with ineffable disdain r It involves false- hood, and who can respect lies r What a toad is amongst animals, a liar is amongst men — a thing to be kicked out of your path. It involves vanity, and a soul inflicted Avith self-conceit is it not the scorn of every observer r It involves sensuality, and does not universal conscienct; recoil with loathing from the doings of the voluptuary and the debauchee? All these are some of the many elements of wickedness, and are they not amongst the most contemptible of all things ? Aye, verily, though its countenance be painted into the beautiful in feature and expression, its forms robed in comely costume, its tongue speak in tones of music, and artistic genius make it seem beautiful, it is essentially a loathsome and contemptible thing. It is revolting to all consciences and to God. It is not only contemptible in itself, but is so in its injlticnce. " When the wicked cometh, then also cometh contempt." It brings the men and things it touches into contempt. When it cometh into political life, it bringeth contempt on the nation. When it cometh into eccle- siastical ofiice, it bringeth contempt upon the Church. When it cometh into friendly circles, it bringeth contempt upon the members. Wickedness is a leprosy, it defiles all it touches. " The words of a Misdom as a floAviiiir b 21ie Practical Philosophcy. 383 The words suggest — That wickedness is a contemptuous thing. — "And with ignominy reproach." It is haughty, supercilious, and essentially contemptuous in spirit. Take its treatment of Incarnate Goodness, as an example. How it insulted Him at His trials by putting on Him the mock robes of royalty, and calling him king ! How it insulted Him on the Cross! "And they that passed by reviled him, wagging their heads, and saying, Thou that destroyest the temple, and buildest it in three days, save thyself." The righteous victim of this contempt often feels it deeply, and exclaims —"Reproach hath broken my heart." How contemp- tuously the wicked have treated the righteous ! Their language has always been that of reviling and reproach. Stand aloof from the wicked. They can have no sym- pathy with you. Their touch will only degrade you. lleed not their contempt, manfully dare their scorns and sneers ! " Contempt," says Dr. South, " naturally im- plies a man's esteeming of himself greater than the person whom he contemns : he therefore that slights, that con- temns an affront, is properly superior to it ; and he con- quers an injury who conquers his resentment of it. Socrates, being kicked by an ass, did not think it revenge proper for Socrates to kick the ass again." (READING CXCI.— JULY 10.) "The words of a man's mouth are as deep waters, and the wellspring af wisdom as a flowing brook."— Froz; xviii. 4. There are some who regard the two clauses of this verse as antithetic. The former indicating hidden depths of evil in the wicked man. " The words of his mouth are as deep waters." That is, he is so full of guile and deceit that you cannot reach his meaning. Tho latter indicating the trans- i . jp I f II If 1 1 i ' 14 iff ;84 The Practical Philosopher. parent communications of the wise and the good. « The wellspring of wisdom as a flowing brook." The communi- cations of the one are guileful, — the words conceal rather than reveal. The words of the other are honest and lucid. There are others who regard the two clauses as a parallelism. The character of the former clause is to be taken from the latter. The " words of a man's mouth," that is, according to the second clause, of a wise man's mouth, " are as deep waters," and the " wellspring of wis- dom as a flowing brook." We shall use the proverb thus as a parallelism, to illustrate the words of inspired misdom which are " wise " in the highest sense. They are full. — They are as "deep waters." The world abounds with shallow words, mere empty sounds. The words in the general conversation of society, and in the popular literature of the day, are empty, shells without a kernel, mere husks without grain. But the words of in- spired men are brimful — full of light and full of poivcr. The greatest thinkers have failed to exhaust their incanin?. What volumes of criticism, what libraries of sermons have been published by the ablest scholars and thinkers of past times ! And yet who will say that any of the inspired writers have had their meaning fully reached and compre- hended ? Each has a depth still unfathomed, points un- approached. Every modern thinker discovers ncii) significance. The man of vigorous, independent, active intellect, after having read all expositions on the Holy Volume, feels that there is a field yet unexplored. In respect of fulness there are no words like the words of inspired men. Every paragraph has a continent of thought. «• There lie vast treasures unexplored, And wonders yet untold." Sir William Jones has said : " I have carefully and regularly perused the Holy Scriptures, and am of opinion that the volume, independently of its Divine origin, con- tains more sublimity, purer morality, more important his- tory, and finer strains of eloquence, than can be collected from all other books, in whatever language they may have been written." f-l The Practical Philosopher. 385 They are flowing. — " A flowing brook." The words of eternal truth are always in motion. They pulsate in thou- sands of souls every hour, and onward is their tendency. They flow from the etern al wellspring of truth, and flow down through human channels. Divine wisdom speaks Uirough man, as well as through other organs. " Holy men spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost." We have "the treasure in earthen vessels." "God who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son." The highest teacher was a man, Christ, the Logos. The words of His mouth were indeed as " deep waters." Since Heaven has thus made man the organ of wisdom, it behoves him devoutly to realise the honour God has conferred upon his nature, and earnestly to aspire to the high honour of being a messen- ger of the Eternal. It is for us to become at once its students and revealers, its recipients and its reflectors. They are fertilising. — They are here compared to "waters," and to "a flowing brook." What water is to all physical life, the words of heavenly wisdom are to souls. They quicken and satisfy. It is a perennial brook. It has streamed down the centuries, imparting life and beauty in its somewhat meandering course. Wherever in the history of humanity, past or present, spots of moral verdure and loveliness appear, this brook has touched with its quicken- streams. It is an aeeuimdating " brook." As brooks in nature swell into rivers by the confluence of contributary streams, so the brook of Divine truth widens and deepens by every contribution of holy thought. And never was it so deep and broad as now. May it speed on, and soon cover the earth as the waters cover over the channels of the deep — "Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole" V '^ :? 3fi6 The Practical Philosopher, (READING CXCII.— JULY ii.) ' • " It is not good to accept the person of the wicked, to overthrow the righteous in judgment." — /Voz'. xviii. 5. The Scripture frequently deprecates " respect of persons." Thus James says, " My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord Jesus with respect to persons." All respect, however for persons is not wrong. To appreciate those who possess force of intellect, great intelligence, high morality, more than the mentally feeble, ignorant, and immoral, is not only right, but obligatory. The proverb indicates three great evils. Voluntary connection with wicked :men.--" It is not good to accept the person of the wicked." There is a connection in this world which we have with wicked men that is necessary and unavoidable. We cannot help it. We have to live with them, and often by them, and as godly men for them. But to choose a connection with them is bad. To "accept" them inatrimonially is bad. Woe to the virgin that enters into conjugal relationship with the wicked man. To " accept" them mercantilely is bad. To accept them as partners in commercial enterprise is wrong and often ruinous. To "accept" them ■politically is bad. To accept them as our representatives in Parlia- ment is a crime and a curse. To "accept" them ecclesias- tically is bad. An ungodly priest, minister, or bishop is a curse. On no ground are we justified in forming a volun- tary connection with wicked men. However transcendent their genius, great their intellectual attainments, vast their wealth, or eminent their social position, because they are wicked, they are to be shunned and reprobated. Wicked- ness is untrustworthy, dissociating, and divinely cursed. " It is not good," therefore, " to accept the person of the wicked " " Come out from among them ; be ye separate; touch not the unholy thing."' Anoth<>r evil indicated is— \ l''k"- The Practical Philosopher, ;87 The "overthrow" of good men. — "To overthrow the righteous in judgment." The righteous are often in this life overthrown. Sometimes in social life. In the judgment of society they are frequently overthrown by falsehood, calumny, and slander. Their bright reputations are sometimes tarnished, and not seldom stained by slan- derous tongues. They are overthrown sometimes in the courts of justice. By false witnesses and deceptive special pleadings they often lose their righteous cause. The best of men are not unfrequently pronounced criminals and deprived of their rights. The world's noblest men, righteous patriots, holy reformers, godly martyrs, have been "overthrown" in the "judgment." Another evil in- dicated here is — The "overthrow" of good men BY the employ- ment of the wicked. — "It is not good to accept the ])erson of the wicked to overthrow the righteous in judg- ment." The wicked in all ages have been thus em- ployed. The Sanhedrim in Judea, in the days of Christ and the apostles, often used them thus. " Now the chief priests and elders and all the council sought false witness against Jesus to put Him to death, but found none ; yea though many false witnesses came yet found they none." The Inquisition of Christendom employed such to " over- throw the righteous in judgment." The moral of these re- marks is : Shun the 7uickcd and adhere to tJie righteous. The cause of the good, though misrepresented, denounced, temporarily overthrown, is holy, and smiled upon by Heaven. Their apparent "overthrow" is only like the sinking of the sun beneath the cloudy horizon, to rise with refulgent brightness at a destined hour. " The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day," il 388 The Practical Philosopher, (READING CXCIII.— JULY 12.) I '-XSM " A fool's lips enter into contention, and his mouth calleth for strokes. A fool's mouth ii his destruction, and his lips are the snare of his soul. The words of a talebearer are as wounds, and they go down into the innermost parts of the belly."— P;:\ H ,/t* i. ■*!, (READING ecu. -JULY 21.) ** The poor useth intreaties ; but the rich answereth roughly." — Prov.x\\\\, 23, •' Wealth maketh many friends ; but the poor is separated from his nci"h. bour."— iVflZ'. xix. 4. " Many will intreat the favour of the prince : and every man u r. friend to him that giveth gifts. All the brethren of the poor do hate him : how much more do his friends go far from him ? he pursueth them with words, ;yet they are wanting to htm." — Frov. xix. 6, 7. We bring those passages together because they are related by common sentiments. They present us with three sub- jects of thought, the trials of poverty, the temptations of wealth, and the selfishness of society. The trials of poverty. — The passages point to three great trials to which the poor are at all times more or less subjected. First : Degradation. *' The poor useth en- treaties." To beg of a fellow-man is a degradation ; it is that from which our manhood revolts. Yet the poor, from the necessity of their condition, are forced to this. They have to mortify the natural independence of their spirit. They are subjected to — Secondly : Insolence. " The rich answereth roughly." Their suiferings from the pincn of indigence and the humiliation of entreating assistance are aggravated by the haughty heartlessness of those whose aid they implore. They are subjected to — ^Thirdly : Deser- tion. " The poor is separated from his neighbour." " All the brethren of the poor do hate him." Who in this selfish world will make friends with the poor, however superior in intellect or excellent in character ? The poor man is de- serted, he must live in his own little hut alone, he is no attraction to any one. A wealthy man will be followed and fawned on by a host of professed friends, but let his riches take wing and fly away, and all will desert him. As the winter brooks filled from the opening springs and showers dry up and vanish in the summer heat, so man's friends desert him in the day of poverty and trial. When The Practical Philosopher. 409 the wealthy man with his large circle of friends becomes poor, the poles of his magnet are reversed, and his old friends feel the repulsion. Such is life, such it was in Judea in the days of Solomon, and such it is now here in our England. The verses present to us — The temptations of wealth. — Here are presented all the temptations of wealth — its influence. First: Upon the mind of its possessor. It tends to promote haughtiness and insolence. " The rich answereth roughly." The rich, it should be observed, who are most liable to this abomi- nable spirit, are those who have suddenly become wealthy. The manufacturer, the merchant, the joint-stock speculator, who have risen rapidly from comparative indigence to opulence, are as a rule the most supercilious, haughty, and insolent. They lack generally the intelligence, the culture, and refinement necessary to control the pride which the gratification of their greed en^,"enders. The influence of wealth is revealed — Secondly: Upon the mind of the wealthy man's circle. "Wealth maketh many friends." "Many will entreat the favour of the prince." Riches tempt those who live around the possessor to cringe, fawn, and flatter. They tend to the promotion of a base servility. "Wealth maketh many friends."— " Friends ! " — fawning flatterers — ^base parasites — snivelling sycophants. The verses present to us — The selfishness of society. — " Every man is a friend to him that giveth gifts." " All the brethren of the poor do hate him ; how much more do his friends go far from him ? He pursueth them with words, yet they are wanting to him." Here is a revelation of social selfishness ! Poor men, however good, deserted because they cannot help us, rich men, however wicked, followed because they have the power to do a service. Does not this spirit of selfishness run through all society ? Men are not honoured because of what tiiey are, but because of what they have, not for their character but for their cash, not for their mind but for their money. This selfishness is the curse, the disgrace of our race : it is the essence of sin, the bond of slavery, the fontal source of all our social misery. 2 D 4 ' 410 The Practical Philosopher, (READING CCIII.— JULY 22.) ^1^ ^tM l;a«. " Better is the poor that walketh in his integrity, than he that is per/erse in liis lips, and is a fool."— /Vw. xix. I.* There is another antithesis implied here that is not ex- pressed. The introduction of the word "rich" will con- vey, I think, the writer's idea. The verse might be ren- dered thus, " Better is the poor that walketh in his integrity, than the rich that is perverse in his lips and is a fool.'' The sentiment is that a poor godly man is better than a wealthy wicked man — a man that is *' perverse in his lips" and is a " fool." This may be illustrated by two remarks. He is a " better" man in himself. — First : He is a better character. A man's real worth is determined, not by his circumstances, but by his character ; not by his out- ward condition but by his inner principles ; not by his sur- roundings, but by his soul. " As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." So is he in respect to all real worth and dignity in human nature. Contrast the principles of the two. Contrast sensuality with spirituality, falsehood with truth, integrity with dishonesty, practical godliness with practical atheism. Contrast the worth of the two. What is secular to spiritual wealth r The one is contingent, the other is absolute ; the one is vital, the other is alienable ; the one is an essential blessing, the other may be a bane. The ungodly man leaves his wealth behind, the godly poor carries it with him wherever he goes. Secondly: He has better enjoyments. He has purer loves, higher hopes, and loftier fellowships. His happiness is from within, it springs up as a well of water into everlasting life. The happiness of the ungodly rich, such as it is, is all derived from the contingent, the fleeting and the perishing. He is a " better" man to others. — He is a " better" relation. He is a better husband, son, brother, master, ser- * The preceding verse we have noticed in a former Reading. vant. He is a spectful, tende He has a nobl philanthropy, pend upon the \ promotes. A word to the thy condition, hast not wealth There are many than riches. ^^ sooner be a healt upon a throne ? thou not sooner b ofall thy senses, t out the power of h than wealth. Wou of grasping the un tiful and good ever on acres of thine ov thee but on- grain rich neighbour, is the acres of the glo j thou not rather have of universal historj principles of Divine uith a weak and ei To possess the love noble soul, is bette y^odliness is better t rich. Rise to that a I to mourn over the p, degradation of kings "*M-A»»»H. The Pracitcal Philosopher, vant. Heisa 'hptfpr".. • 77 ^^^ ;P-fu, .ende. ^^^^^'"^ f f, .^ '"^-ate. .- He has a nobler loyalty i l,j ^ "better" citizen philanthropy. The Tt^bHity a^d " "''"°^'^"^' ^ ^-P- pend upon the virtues which he 1^^^'' °^ "^'^°"« de- promotes. • '''''" ^^ cultivates, devclopes, and A word to thee m.^ «^ ;^y condition. iZlZlZt^^- ..°° -' -P'- a. Hast not wealth thou art cleaTt h„ ,1, "'^' '"=c*"^« thou There are „,any things etfanrfr""" '" *is world. *- riches. Health C'l:^:^. '"w ^'j^'^' ^" l^^"- sooner be a healthy man in a co tl;. .., ' "'°'' "« upon a throne >. Each of /!,. ^ "'^" '' diseased beine- *ou not sooner be tHuirZL' " ''^"^^•" ^-"s^ of all thy senses, than dweU in ^^r ' '"^°^'"«^ ""^ f"" "^e out the power of hearin/or ofU^„ ^7^'^' °P"'«"ce, with- .han wealth. Wouldst tLu not mher h ''"''' '' " ''«««^- "grasping the universal, and ,™t,h-^^" ^ '"'"" "P^b'e nful and good ever^vhere thanT'^ '"^ *'* ^e beau- on acres of thine oivn with enfl k ? '" ^'''''ces and wander , *- but on. grain of g od btat i""!.' '"'°' "^^'-n nch neighbour, is not that of morT', '" "" ''^^ *» ^y the acres of the globe .. XniZl^-^'iT '" '"'' ">^" -" 1 ou not rather have thy int Jw Sh ' ?'""■■•" Wouldst of universal history, the scenel of ^' °''''™*'hefacts principles of Divine governmenttr""'" '°™'"^^' '"e «h a weak and empty ~'' '^"." ?"" ^ ^°"""^"t, fo possess the love 7a Ze heart l"* " "''^"^^•' f k soul, is better than to befdl , '^'"P""'y "^ « &««OT is better than all n '"'""^ millionaire "o"- K'^etothat altitude off„iritl?'''°'''^"^y 'he ■omourn over the poverty of S '"'"' T" ^"^We thee degradation of kings. ^ ''^'' ^"^ ^eep over the 412 The Practical Philosopher, (READING CCIV.— JULY 23.) \ •'Also, that the soul he without knowledge, it is not good; and he that hasteth with his feet sinneth. The foolishness of man pen-ertcth his way ; and his heart fretteth against the Lord." — Prov.-sjx, 2, 3. The connection of the two clauses of the first verse above has led ciiiics to attach different senses to the word "knowledge/' and has given rise to various translations to convey what each has conceived to be the sense. " It is not good for the soul to be without cattliou, for he that hasteth with his feet sinneth." " Quickness of action, without prudence of spirit, is not good, for he that hasteth with his feet sinnjth." " Fervent zeal without prudence is not good, for he that hasteth with his feet sinneth." " Ignorance of one's self is not good, and he that is hasty of foot sinneth." "These various renderings," says a modern ex- positor, " express respectively correct sentiments and truths of practical value." But there does not appear the least necessity for any alteration of the received version. These two verses present two facts to our notice in relation to ignorance. That ignorance is not good for the soul. — " That the soul be without knowledge it is not good." This will appear if we consider — First: That an ignorant soul is exceedingly confined. The sphere of the mind's operations is the facts and circumstances with which it is acquainted. It cannot range beyond what it knows. The more limited its information, the narrower is the scene of its activities. The man of enlarged scientific information has a range over vast continents, whereas the ignorant man is confined within the cell of his senses. Our souls get scope by exploring the unknown. " Knowledge," says Shakespeare, " is the wing on which we fly to heaven." Secondly : That an ignorant soul is exceedingly benighted. The contracted sphere- in which he lives is The Practical Philosopher. An only lighted with the rushlight of a few crude thoughts and traditional notions. So dark is the atmosphere of the soul, that it knows not how or whither to move. Know- ledge is light. The accession of everv true idea is a plant- ing of a new star in the mental heavens. The more know- ledge the brighter will sparkle the sky of our being. Thirdly : That an ignorant soul is exceedingly feeble. Exercise and food are as essential to the power of the mind as they are to the power of the body. Knowledge is at at once the incentive to exercise and the aliment to strengthen. Mind without knowledge is like a full-grown body, which has never had any exercise or wholesome food; there are all the limbs and organs complete, but there is no walking and no work. " Ignorance," says Johnson, "is mere privation, by which nothing can be produced ; it is a vacuity in which the soul sits motionless an 1 torpid for want of attraction. And, without knowing why, we al- ways rejoice when we learn, and grieve when we forget." Truly the soul without knowledge is not good. Of what good are limbs without the power of exercise ; what good are eyes without light : The other fact that the verses present to us is : — That ignorance is perilous to the soul. — Ignorance is more than a negativ^e evil ; it is a positive curse. The verses teach that ignorance — First : Exposes to sinful haste. " He that hasteth with his feet sinneth." ]\Ien without knowledge are ever in danger of acting incautiously, acting with a reckless haste. As a rule the more ignorant a man is, the more hasty he is in the conclusions of his judgment and the flash of his passions. The less informed the mind is, the more rapid and reckless in its generalisa- lion. The cause of science has suffered not a little from this haste. Impulse, not intelligence, is the helmsman of the ignorant soul. The verses teach that ignorance — Secondly : Exposes to a perversity of conduct. " The foolishness of man perverteth his way." What is foolish- ness but ignorance ? Ignorant men are terribly liable to perversity of conduct in every relation of life, and especi- ally in relation to the great God. The murderers of Christ I I .;i i w 414 The Practical Philosopher. were ignorant. "They know not what they do," said Christ. And Paul says, " had they known it they would not have crucified the Lord of glory." The verses teach that ignorance — Thirdly: Exposes to impiety of feeling. " His heart fretteth against the Lord." Thus the ignorant Israelites did in the wilderness. And ignorant men are ever disposed to find fault with their Maker. " The way of the Lord is not equal." This has ever been their charge. Ignorance is always petulant and fretful. It is an awful sin to fret against the Lord. " Woe unto him that striveth with his maker ! Let the potsherds strive with the pot- sherds of the earth. Shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, What makest thou ? or thy work. He hath no hands ! " Get knowledge, my brother. A nation of ignorant souls is not only a nation of worthless men, but a nation liable to the commission of flagrant mistakes and crimes. Men should get knowledge for the sake of becoming useful. " I would advise all in general," says Lord Bacon, " that they would take into serious consideration the true and genuine ends of knowledge ; that they seek it not either for plea- sure, or contention, or contempt of others, or for profit, or for fame, or for honour and promotion, or such like adulte- rate or inferior ends, but for merit and emolument of life, that they may regulate and perfect the same in charity." (READING CCV.-JULY 24.) J'alfj^|00ir. "A false witness shall not be unpunished, and he that spcaketh lies sliall not escape." — Prov. xix. 5.* " A false witness shall not be unpunished, and he that speakclh lies shall perish."— /'/-OX', xix. 9. The world abounds in falsehood. Lies swarm in ovcry department of life. They are in the market, on the hus- tings, in courts of justice, in the senate house, in the * Verse 4 has been discussed in a previous Reading. The Practical Philosopher. 415 sanctuaries of religion ; and they crowd the very pages of modern literature: They infest the social atmosphere. Men on all hands live in fiction and by fiction. Ever3nvhere they walk in a vain show. The general truth contained in the passage before us is, that falsehood leads to ruin. " He that speaketh lies shall perish. Falsehood is ruinous to REPUTATION. — ^A good reputation is to every man a price- less gem. But the "false witness," the liar, endangers this. When his prevarications and falsities are discovered, his reputation perishes. Give a man the brand of a per- jurer, or a liar, and what a worthless wretch he appears moving through society ! It is niinous to influence. —What influence 'has a known liar in society ? What esteem can he awaken ? What confidence can he inspire ? What credit can he gain ? He is suspected, he is despised ! When Aristotle was asked what a man could gain by telling a falsehood, he replied, "Never to be credited when he speaks the truth." It is ruinous to the SOUL. — The virtue and happiness of a moral being depend upon the conformity of his language and life to reality. The false man destroys the strength, the freedom, the happiness of his soul ; he lives in a house built upon the sand ; ruin is inevitable. " Falsehood," says Coleridge, " is fire in stubble. It likewise turns all the light stuff around it into its own substance for a moment — one crackling, blazing moment, and then dies. And all its contents are scattered in the wind without place or evidence of their existence, as viewless as the wind which scatters them," II!, 4i6 The Practical Phitosophef, (READING CCVI. -JULY 25.) I "The discretion of a men defeiTetli his anger; and tV is his glorj' to pass over a transgression. The king's wrath is as the roaring of a lion ; but his favour is as dew upon the grass." — Pr(rv. xix. 11, 12.* " A man of great wrath shall suffer punishment : for if thou deliver him, yet thou must do it again." — Piorv. xix. 19. Anger is an afFe'^tion inherent in our nature. It is therefore not wror^ in itself, it is wrong only when it is directed to wrong objects, or to right objects in a wrong degree of amount and duration. Anger in itself is as holy a passion as love. Indeed, in its legitimate form it is but a development of Ir -e : — love indignant with that which is opposed to the cause of right and happiness. Albeit like every affection of our nature, it is often sadly perverted, it not unfrequently becomes malignant and Vurious. The passage presents anger to us in two aspects, controlled and uncontrolled. Controlled. — " The discretion of a man deferreth his anger ; and it is his glory to pass over a transgression." The wiso man is liable to this passion, and circumstances in his life frequently occur to evoke it. It rushes up within him, and its instinct is for revenge, but he forbears. Instead of acting under its impulse, he waits until its fires cool down. It is said of Julius CaBsar, that when pro- voked, he used to repeat the whole Roman alphabet before he suffered himself to speak ; and Plato once said to his servant, " I would beat thoe but 1 am angry." It is noble to see a man holding a calm mastery over the billow^ of his own pasp'ons, bidding them to go so far and no farther. The man that cannot control his anger is like a ship in a tumultuous sea with the devil for its pilot. " It is his glory to pass over a transgression." This is i something more than postponing its avengement, it is, • Verses 6, 7, 8, 9, lo have been discussed in other Readings. 11 The Practical Philosopher. 417 checking it. It is blowing out its first sparks, it is crushing it in its very germ. This is " glory." It is a splendid conquest. He who governs himself is a true king. We have anger here — Uncontrolled. — The verses suggest two remarks in relation to uncontrolled anger. First : It is sometimes terrible. " The king's wrath is as the roaring of a lion." This is the most savage of beasts, and his roar the most terrific of sounds. Shame on the king who gives vent to ungovernable wrath. The office he holds binds him more than others to control his own passions. He who cannot govern himself h j no right to attempt the governing of others. He sits as an usurper upon the throne of a nation. It is a lamentable fact that kings have she vn less com- mand over their evil tempers than have the ordinary run of mankind. It is implied that their temper affects the nation. Their anger terrifies the people like the "roar of a lion," their favour is as refreshing and blessed as the " dew upon the grass." Secondly : It is always self- injurious. " A man of '^^reat wrath shall suffer punish- ment ; for if thou deliver him, yet thou must do it again." Violent passions ever inflict their own punishment upon their unhappy subjects. AVhen a man allows himself to be flooded with angry feelings he injures his own body. They set the blood flowing too quickly for its narrow channels ; they tend to disorganize the whole physical frame as the burning cheek, the throbbing temple, and the quivering lip declare. But they injure lue soul too in a variety of ways. Well does Pope say, " To be angry is to revenge others' faults upon ourselves." Anger is misery. " Anger is like A full hot. horse, who, bcinR allowed his way, Sclf-mcttlc tires him."— Shakespkari:. There is an old proverb that anger is " like ashes, which fly back in the face of him who throws them." Dr. Arnc Id, when at Lalcham, once lost all patience with a dull scholar, Vv'hen the pupil looked up in his face, and said, " Why do \ •fl i 4IS T/ie Pradtcat Philosopher. you speak angrily, sir? Indeed I am doing the best I can." Years after he used to tell the story to his children and say, " I never felt so ashamed of myself in my life. That look and that speech I have never forgotten." When the frenzy runs high, the " man of great wrath " gores right and left, like a wild bull, all who are within his reach; but, when it has subsided, he is tomiented by a remorse from which the brute is free. Brothers, we are commanded to be angry and sin not and not to let the sun go down on our wrath. William the Conqueror commanded the English, when the curfew bell rang, to put out their fires and to extinguish their candles. Let us not allow the Sun ever to pass from our horizon with any sparks of anger in the breast. (READING CCVII.— JULY 26.) "A foolish son is the calamity of his father : and the contentions of a wife are a continual dropping. House and riches are the inheritance of fathers : and a prudent wife is from the Lord." — Trov. xix. 13, 14. "Home," says the late illustrious Robertson, of Brighton, " is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off mat mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defence, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkward- ness, and without any dread of ridicule." This is an idc^il home. Would that in all families it were realized ! The verses before us present to us — A Home cursed. — There are many things that curse a home in this sinful world. Two things are mentioned here. First : " A foolish son." We have had occasion i lOre than The Practical Phitosophcr. 410 once to refer to the foolish son. Who is he ? A son who does not reciprocate his parents' love, does not acknowledge his parents' kindness, does not recognize his parents' rule. Such a son is " the calamity of his father." " JMany," says an old expositor, " are the miseries of a man's life, but none like that which cometh from him who should be the stay of his life." Secondly : A contentious wife. An ill- tempered, irritable, and irritating wife is indeed a curse to a home. It is as a " continual dropping." You are in a house where the rain is constantly dropping from the roof into every room, there is no corner where it does not come, wherever you stand or sit irritating drops descend upon your head, damaging your clothes and furniture too. Your temper is irritated, and your goods are running to ruin. Such is the figure in which Solomon sets forth the baneful influence of a contentious wife. "A continual dropping " is said to be one of the engines which the wit of man contrived when it was put upon the stretch for the means of torturing his fellows. The victim was so placed that a drop of water continued to fall at regular intervals on his naked head. With length of time, and no hope of relief, the agony becomes excruciating, and either the patient's reason or his life gives way. The contentious wife breaks the heart of her husband as well as destroys the comfort of her home. These two things are undoubtedly a curse to a home. "What shall be said," says a modern writer, "when the two evils of this verse unite ? There cannot be a case more pitiable. Under the former alone a man may be sustained and comforted by the cheering society and converse of a fond wife, the sharer and the soother of his sorrows, as he is of hers ; and under the latter alone his misery may be not a little mitigated by the prudence, the sympathy, and the aid of a pious and affectionate son. But when the two come together — how deplorable! — the husband and the father alike wretched — neither relation alleviating, but each aggravating the affliction of the other !" We have here — A Home BLESSED. — First : lilest with wealth as an inheritance. " Houses and riches are the inheritance of % V- ^»- K I I 420 T/ie Practical Philosopher, fathers." The value of wealth in making a home comfort- able, cheerful, and attractive will not be doubted. Wealth is a blessing. When rightly used it adds greatly to our power, our usefulness, and enjoyments. Secondly: Blest with a prudent wife as a " gift from the Lord." " A prudent wife " is elsewhere called a virtuous woman. She is one who loves her husband and her children, is discreet, chaste, a keeper at home, good, obedient to her own husband. Such a woman is "from the Lord." Her goodness is from the Lord, all her useful attributes are His endowments, and His providence brought her into the possession of her husband. It is His gift. Solomon indicates a contrast between these two blessings. He intimates that one is more directly " from the Lord " than the other. "Houses and riches are the inheritance of fathers." They are often transmitted from sire to son. But a " prudent wife " is from the Lord. The blessing is more directly and manifestly His bestowment. "The history of Ruth beautifully illustrates the train of matri- monial Providence. The Moabitess married, contrary to all human probability, a man of Israel, that she might be brought into Naomi's family, return with her to her own land, and in course of filial duty be brought under the eye, and drawn to the heart of Boaz, her appointed husband." (READING CCVIII.-JULY 27.) 600i^ttt.s.'j anir ^aj^^^ittt.^fi. " He that gctteth wisdom loveth his own soul: he that kccpeth understanding shall find good."— P/w. xix. 8. " He that kcepeth the commandment kecpcth his owti soul : but l;c that dcspiscth his ways shall die." — Prov, xix. 16.* Solomon, like other of the inspired writers, frequently emplo3'^3 different words to represent the same thing. Ir. • The subject of this verse has been discussed in a former Reading. The Practical Philosopher, 12 T the verses before uh there are no less than three words to represent one thing — religion. " Wisdom," " understand- ing," "commandment." Religion is a subject of such transcendent importance, and so many sided, that no one term could possibly set it forth. The verses suggest two remarks. That spiritual goodness is the grand object of LIFE. — In what does spiritual goodness consist ? An answer can be got from the verses. First : In getting the true thing. " He that getteth wisdom." It is not a thing which comes into the soul irrespective of our choice and effort. It must be sought after with earnestness and per- severance. " Getteth wisdom." — " With all thy getting get understanding." Secondly: In retaining the true thing. " He that keepeth understanding." There is a possibility of losing it, after having gained it by immense eifort. Men have fallen, therefore it must be retained by watchfulness and prayer. " Buy the truth and sell i not." When you have got it hold it with all the tenacity of your being. Thirdly: In acting out the true thing. "He that keepeth the commandment." Religion is not a mere truth, gained by study and retained by holy watchfulness in the soul. It is truth translated into actions, embodied into life. It is keeping the commandment. "If a man love me he will keep my commandments." Such is the sketch of goodness and religion as given in these verses. Else- where it is represented in other forms, such as " honouring Christ," "glorifying God," "repenting," and "believing." Our point is that to become religious is the grand end of our existence. Nothing higher than this can be aimed at. It is higher than Heaven. What can be greater than to become like God ? Nothing lower should be aimed at. The man who aims at something lower than this, something less than to become religious and godlike, wastes his ener- gies and misses the end of his being. Goodness is the heaven of souls. There is no other Heaven. The verses suggest — That happiness is the outco^ie of spiritual good- ness. — We are told here that he who gets, retains, and li 1 I U 422 TJic Practical Philosopher. practises this divine thing " loveth his own soul," " kcepeth his own soul," and that he who does it not " shall die." " He who findeth me," says religion, " findeth life." And again it says, " He who sinneth against me, sinneth against his own life ; whoso loveth me hateth death." How is a man to get true happiness ? Not by seeking it as an end, but by becoming good — out of goodness will bloom this Paradise. " This is life eternal, to know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent." True blessedness is to be found in the true idea, the true affec- tion, the true deed. Who is the man that really " loveth his own soul " ? Not the man that is struggling everlast- ingly after his own happiness, whether in the world or in religion. But the man who is striving after goodness, who is following on to know the Lord, who is " forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things that are before, pressing toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." (READING CCIX.-JULY 28.) " He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord : and that wliich he hath given will he pay him again." — Prav. xix, 17. We are told that the poor shall never cease out of the land. Paley defines a poor man, as he, of whatever rank, whoso expenses exceed his resources. It is very clear from this that there may be poverty which has no claim to our com- miseration and charity. For bad management, extrava- gance, and indolence, which are crimes, originate a great deal of a certain kind of indigence. There is, however, in all neighbourhoods, and ever has been, a large amount of deserving poverty — poverty that has come on by oppres- sions, misfortunes, and afflictions. The verses lead us to consider three things in relation to the deserving poor. ii The Practical Philosopher, 423 Man's duty towards the deserving poor. — " He that hath pity on the poor." Two things are implied concerning this pity. First : It must be practical. The text speaks of it as " lending to the Lord." It is pity, therefore, that gives, in order to relieve distress. The pity that goes off in sen- timental sighs, or proceeds no farther than words, saying, " Depart in peace, be warmed, be filled," is not true pity — the pity that God demands. It is a practical pity. " Is not this the fast that I have chosen, to deal thy bread to the hungry, that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house, when thou seestthe naked that thou cover him." Secondly : It must be genuine. The words imply that the pity is accepted of the Lord. He takes it as a loauy there- fore it must be genuine. The service rendered is from right principles. There is a large amount of charity shown to the poor which is inspired by motives abhorrent to Omniscient Purity. Some give because it is respectable ; some because it tends to a little fame ; some in the hope of a return in some form or other ; some from the feeling of self-righteousness, hoping thereby to secure the favour of God. All this is spurious charity — charity that God will not, cannot accept as a loan. The charity which is a loan to the Lord must be a genuine, disinterested, and loving gift to the poor. Again, this verse leads us to consider — God's interest in the deserving poor. — So deep is His inten^st in the poor that lie regards a genuine gift to them as a loan to Him. God's interest in the poor is shown in three ways. First : In the obligation that is imposed on the rich to help them. He denounces all neglect and cruelty of the poor. "Woe unto him that buildeth his house by unrighteousness and his chamber by wrong, that useth his neighbour's service without wages." Again, "Whoso mocketh the poor reproacheth his Maker." Again, "What mean ye that ye beat my people to pieces and grind the faces of the poor ?" Again, " Whoso stoppeth his ears to the cry of the poor, he also shall cry himself but shall not be heard." He inculcates practical sympathy for the poor. Secondly : In the earthly condition t \ 1 \ V I i i •i ill ^ 424 The Practical Philosopher, \ % h ■f f. ♦ into which He sent His Son. Christ came of the poor. He descended into "the lower parts of the earth." His parents were poor. His associates were poor. He Himself was poor. " He had nowhere to lay His head." Thirdly : In the class from which He selected His servants. His greatest prophets in olden times wereploughmen and shepherds. His apostles were the fishermen and the tentmaker. Ho chose the poor of this world to be His disciples and apostles. Once more, this verse leads us to consider — God's ackowledgment of service rendered to the DESERVING POOR. — " And that which he hath given will He pay him again." Every gift of genuine piety to the poor is a loan to the Lord, and a loan that shall be paid. It is often amply repaid in this world, and it will be acknowledged in the day of judgment. " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." Let us remember the poor. It is a sacred and religious duty. " It is pure and undefiled religion." " God," says Jeremy Taylor, " is pleased with no music below so much as in the thanksgiving songs of relieved widows, of sup- ported orphans, of rejoicing and comforted and thankful persons. This part of our communication does the work of God and our neighbours, and bears us to heaven in streams made by the overflowing of our brother's comfort." (READING CCX.-JULY 29.) "Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying. — Prov. xix. 18. «< Hear counsel, and receive instruction, that thou mayest be wise in thy latter end." — Prov. xix. 20.* The subject of these words is parental discipline and filial improvement. * The 19th verse has been discussed in a former Reading. hi The Practical Pliihso/^hcr. 425 Parental discii'Line. — The words teach, P'irst: That parental discipline should always be timely. "Chasten thy son while there is hope." There is a period for disci- pline in the experience of every child. Of all periods it is the most important : it does not extend over many years ; it is the character-forming period — the period when there are in the mind no set principles, no favourite notions, no settled habits. The soil is fresh and without weeds ; the sapling is tender and can be turned to any shape ; the wax is soft and can receive any impression. That is the time for discipline. Woe to the parent who neglects this period ; and great the calamity to his child. Secondly : Parental discipline is sometimes painful. " Let not thy soul spare for his crying." It is sometimes painful to the child. The greatest pain, is not that inflicted by corporeal punishment : the material rod is not the most painful, nor is it the most effective. It is the rod of truth, the rod of displeased love, the rod that does not touch the flesh but the heart. It is sometimes painful to the parent. No true parent can in his discipline inflict so much pain upon his child as he himself experiences. He who inflicts pain upon his child from passion and revenge may experience some gratification in his unmanly and infernal work ; but he who does it purely for the child's good is distressed to the very soul : he stabs his own heart — his love bleeds. Thirdly: Parental discipline should ever be firm. "Let not thy soul spare for his crying." The child's tears may distress you, his shrieks may go to your soul and unman you — still be firm. The evil that you seek to crush must be crushed, or your child will be damned. Calmly keep your object in view. Desist only when the child cries, not on account of the rod, but on account of the fault. There is a parental indulgence that is the greatest curse to chil- dren. Eli an example. •' The voice of parents is the voice of God, For to their children they are heaven's heutenants ; Made fathers, not for common uses merely, But to steer The wanton freight of youth through storms and dangers, Which, with full sails they bear upon, and straighten 2 E IJ 426 The Practical Philosopher, The mortal line of life they bend so often. For these are we made fathers, and for these l\\vj challenge duty on our children's part. Obedience is the sacrifice of angels, Whose form you carry." — Siiakkspfare. Filial improvement. — Observe, First : The conditions of improvement. " Hear counsel and receive instruction." Truth spealvS everywhere — in nature, in human history, in the Scriptures of God. But men do not hear, they are deaf. The first thing is to listen to her voice. " Receive instruction." Take it into the undersfimditigy the affections, the life. Take it in as the very food of the soul ; digest it well, so that it become the very blood of life. Secondly: The purpose of improvement. " That thou mayest be wise in thy latter end." A wise man is one who thinks, feels, and acts wisely in all things — a man that realizes the grand idea of his being — a good man. Now, whilst goodness is always important, its importance will be specially felt in the "latter end" — the end that awaits us all; the rnd that ends all our connections with this life ; that ushers us consciously into the spiritual, retributive and eternal. It is a sad thing to live a fool ; it is a sadder thing to die one. ;Men who were counted wise by the world were fools in their latter end. Voltaire said, "I will give you half of what I am worth if you will give me six months' life." Gibbon said, "All was dark and doubtful," ITobbs said, " I am taking a leap in the dark." (READING CCXT.-JULY 30.) t\]i Blub of iluu auD \\t SUub of 6ob. " There me many devices in a man's heart : nevertheless the counsel of the Lord, tlmt >.liall stand."— /"/w. xi.N. 21. 'iiir.SK words bring under our notice the mind of man and the mind of God. Man has a mind, or rather man is mind. The Practical Philosopher, 427 He is spiritual, rational, free, moral, immortal. God is mind. He is a spirit. Man's mind is the offspring of the Divine, and there is a resemblance between them. The verse implies — That the mind of man has "many devices," the min^l of God has but one counsel. — " There are many devices in a man's heart." Every man's soul teems with devices, devices concerning pleasure, commerce, politics, religion. These "devices" are often selfish, ambitious, malignant, impious. As they are generated by different dispositions of heart, they have no nnify amongst themselves ; they are often in fierce battle, and fill the soul with confusion. But the mind of God has one purpose, "the counsel of the Lord." All God's thoughts are but phases of one eternal purpose, that takes in the universe, and runs through the ages. The verse implies — That the mind of man is subordinate, the mind of God SUPREME. — This is implied here, and fully expressed in many other places of the Bible. " A man's heart deviseth the way, but the Lord directeth his steps." " O Lord, I know that the way of man is not in himself; it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps." First : This is a fact well attested by history. The "devices" of Joseph's brethren He subordinated to His own purpose. The "devices" of Pharaoh to destroy all the babes of Israel were, through the preservation of Moses, sub- ordinated to the working out of God's purpose in the emancipation of the Jews from Egyptian thraldom. The " devices " of the Scribes and Pharisees, leading to the crucifixion of the Son of God, were overruled for the development of His " determinate counsel." The passing of the fugitive law, which required every American citizen to deliver up the fleeing African into the hands of his pur- suers, and which was passed in order to strengthen the dominion of slavery, led, under God, to the production of such literature on the question, as snapped the chains of four million liuman beings, and made them free citizens of the world. Secondly : This is a fact tliut reveals tho i 1 1 11 1 a 428 The Practical Philosopher. greatness of God. I see the greatness of God in control- ling the material universe, but I see more of His great- ness in controlling the hostile elements of moral mind, than in directing the elements of nature. " He maketh the wrath of man to praise him." It has been said that tho 104th Psalm is a hymn to God in material nature, and the 105th Psalm a hymn to Him in human history. The verse implies — That the mind of man is CHANGEABLE, the mind of God is UNALTERABLE. — " The counsel of the Lord, that shall stand." However numerous "devices" are, let them be as the sands on the sea-shore, or the drops that make up the ocean, however antagonistic to the Divine mind, how- ever skilfully organized, and backed by all the battalions of hell and earth, they will not shake God's " counsel." They will no more affect His purpose than a whiff of smoke can shake the stars. " There is no wisdom, nor understanding, nor counsel against the Lord." Learn the inevitable fall of all that is opposed to the will of God. Whatever in systems and institutions, whatever in commerce, politics, or religion ; whatever in Church or state is opposed to the " counsel of the Lord," must in- evitably totter and fall. And learn the inevitable fulfilment of all His promises. Whatever He has purposed shall be accomplished. His eternal counsel moves on, nothing can hinder it. All the volcanoes, thunders, lightnings, tornadoes, united together on this earth, and shaking it to its centre, cannot hinder for one instant the sun in his majestic march, nor can all the opposition of earth and hell united prevent the Eternal accomplishing all the promises of His word. " There is a power Unseen, that rules the illimitable world ; That fjiiidcs its motions, from the bri(,'htest star, To the least dust of this sin-stained mould ; "While man, who ni.idly deems himself the lord Of .ill, is noi'tjht but weakness and dependence. This sacred trust, by sure experience tauyht. Thou must have learnt when wandering all alone : Each l)ird, each insect, flitting through the sky, Was more sullicicnt for itself than thou."— Thompson, The Practical Philosopher* 4^9 (READING CCXII.— JULY 31.) " The desire of a man is his kindness : and a poor man is better than a liar." — Prorv. xix. 22. It is impiied in these words — That kindness is a GOOD THING. — Solomon means to say that kindness even as a " desire " is a good thing. If tlicre were no words to express it, no means to gratify it, still as a desire it is good. It is good in itself. Love is the essence of virtue. It is what God approves, it is like Himself. It is good in its influence upon the possessor. The mind under the influence of love is free, cheerful, sunny. It is good in its bearing upon society. The society of a kind and loving soul is congenial and useful. It is implied — That this good thing may exist ONLY IN DESIRE. — " The desire of aman is his kindness." The meaningis that kind- iicss must be measured by the amount of a man's desires to do good, rather than by the amount of his ability. There are cases when it can only exist as a ^^ desire." There are thousands who have kindness towards the suffering and distressed, but who are entirely destitute of the means to render help. Our Great Master appreciates kindness in this form. " If there be a willing mind it is accepted according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not." David's desire to build the Temple was as acceptable to God as if he had actually reared the magnificent edifice. It is implied — That kindness as a desire WITHOUT MEANS, is "better" than as WORDS with abit.itv. — " A poor man is bettor than a liar." The poor man here must be regarded as the man who has kindness in his heart, but is destitute of ability, and " the liar" as the man who has plenty of ability, and whose kindness is merely in generous talk. There are J \ li I ii 'I ■S 430 The Practical Philosopher. many such. There are many who talk as if their hearts were full of love. Their language would lead you to infer that their love was strong enough to remove all misery from the world if they had the means, but it is all talk. Their kindness is 'a blossom that never turns into fruit. These men are the hollowest shams, they are living lies. Far better is the poor man who has kindness in his heart than such a " liar." He is better in himself, better in the eye of the good, better in the estimation of Heaven. " It is a little thin{,', To give .1 cup of water ; and yet its draught Of cool refreshment, drained by feverish lips, May send a shock of pleasure to the soul More cxtiuisite by far than when nectarious juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hour." — Talfourd. I The Practical Philosopher, 43 < AUGUST. (READING CCXm.- AUGUST i.) " The fear of the Lord tendeth to life : and he that hath it shall abide satis- fied ; he shall not be visited with e\il." — Prov. xix. 23, THE expression, "he that hath it" is not in tho original ; it has been supplied by our translators. The words have been rendered thus, " The fear of the Lord is life, and who hath it shall rest ; he shall not be visited with evil." W' do not see that this rendering has any idea more than what is in our version. The subject is the fruits of personal religion. " The fear of the Lord," here, as elsewhere, stands for religion. It is a loviig, loyal, reverence for God. And this has threefold fruit. Vitality. — It "tendeth to life." It is conducive to bodily life. Intelligent religion leads its possessor to attend to the laws of physical health and happiness. It is conducive to intellectual life. Love to God stimulates tho intellect to study Him and His works. It is conducive to spiritual life — the life of pure aifections, high aims, and virtuous deeds. Another fruit is — Satisfaction. — " Shall abide satisfied." It pacifies tho conscience. The sense of guilt, which gnaws and dis- tresses the soul, it removes, and infuses in its j^lace "joy and peace in believing." It reconciles to providence. It makes a man acquiesce in his lot, to say, " Not my will, but Thine be done." It causes him to rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Another fruit is — Safety. — " He shall not be visited with evil." He may have sufferings, but sufferings in this case will not be evils, they will be blessings in disguise. " His light afflictions Avill work out a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." They will not separate him from the love of God. la ! i ! < '1 I 43^ The Practical Philosopher. all tribulations he will rejoice. He will not be visited with any event that will damage his interests or cndan.crer his soul. " God is his refuge and strength." A high, secure, impregnable fortress this ! (READING CCXIV.— AUGUST 2.^ ) ( '< A slothful man hideth his hand in his bosom, and \nll not so much as bring it to his mouth again."— Prw/. xix. 24. Most critics substitute the word dish for bosom here. " A slothful man hideth his hand in his dish." This certainly makes the description of the lazy man more graphic. His repast is provided for him. It is spread before him, but he is too lazy to take it ; he drops his hand in the dish. Ho is not only too lazy to earn his food by honest labour, and to prepare it for his own use, but when it is there he is almost too indolent to raise it to his mouth. He who is " slow at meat i :.luw at work." Indolence becomes more and more strong as it is yielded to. Sloth in some natures is nursed to a sovereignty. The less a man exerts himself, the more indisposed he becomes to exertion, until at last the iL.lightest effort becomes a felt inconvenience. This lazi- ness may be seen in different departments of life. Ix AVORDLY CONCERNS. — There are men before whom Provi- dence has brought the " dish," containing all the conditions of affluence and social prosperity, but the man is too lazy to put his. hand to it. IJ^ sits and yawns and says, — it is time enough to begin. /Laziness has brought many a man, who might have beeoi in affluence, to wretched pauperism. It may be seen— IN intellectual matters. — The "dish" of knowledge is** laid before a lazy man ; he has books, leisure, money, everything in fact to enable him to enrich his mind with knowledge, and train his faculties for dis- tinguished work mthc realm of science, but he is too lazy. < The Practical Philosopher. 433 His mind becomes enfeebled and dL.eased for the want of cKcrcise. It may be seen— In spiritual interests. — (xospel provisions are laid before the lazy man. There are the " unsearchable riches of Christ ;" there is the " crown of glory;" but he is too indolent to make any exertion to participate in the heavenly blessings. " Go thy way for this time," he says, " and when I have a convenient season I will send for thee." Pollock has well described the in- dolent soul : — " Sloth lay till mid-day, turning on his couch, Like ponderous door upon its weary hinge ; And having rolled him out, with much ado, And many a dismal sigh, and vain attempt, He sauntered out accoutred carelessly, With half- op 'd, misty, unobservant eye. Somniferous, that weighed the object down On which its burden fed— an hour or two ; Then, with a groan, retired to rest again." (k '>ING CCXV.-AlfGUST 3.) %m €l)afiti.')iuc| the ^tn)u0. "Smite a scorner, and the simple will beware: and reprove one that hath understanding, and he will understand knowledge."— P/-ot'. xix. 25. These words imply certain truths that are worthy of note. Wrong may exist in very different characters.— There are three characters mentioned in the passage-^ ^i) "The scorner." The scorner is a character made up of pride, irreverence, and cruelty, lie mocks at sin ; he scoffs at religion. He looks with a haughty contempt upon those opinions which agree not with his own. (2) "The simple." The simple man is he who is more or less un- sophisticated in mind, and untainted by crime. One who is inexperienced, unsuspicious, confiding, and im- pressible. (3) " One that understandeth knowledge." This 1 434 The Practical Philosopher. P r % is a character whom Solomon represents in other places as the jusi man, the wise man, the prudent man, expressions Avhich with him mean personal religion. These three clia- racters, therefore, may comprise ; — the man against reli- gion, the man withont religion, and the man 7vith religion. And it is implied here that there may be Avrong in connec- tion with all. The " scorner " is thoroughly wrong. The simple is potentially wrong. He that " hath understand- ing" is occasionally wrong, or he would not require " re proof." It is implied — That wrong in all characters SHOULD BE CHASTISED.— " Smite a scorner and the simple will beware, and reprove one that hath understanding and he will understand know- ledge." It is not only the duty of rulers to punish crime, *jut it is the duty of every honest man to inflict chasliscmcnt upon wrong wherever it is seen. He can do so in many ways, without violence, without breaking the public peace, without the infringement of an)'- human rights. The with- drawal of patronage, separation from the offenders' society, social ostracism, the administration of reproof, and the ex- pression of displeasure, are amongst the means by which an honest man, even in his private capacity, can chastise the wrong. Every honest man not only can but should punish wrong whenever he soes it. " Do not I hate them, O God, that hate thee. Gather not my soul with sin- ners." It is implied — That the kind of chast boment should be ACCORDlX(r TO CHARACTER. — "The scomer" is to be smitten, "Smite a scorner." The man of " understanding" is to be re- pro\ed. Reproof to an inveterate scorner would be useless. " Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest tl ey trample them under their feet and turn again and rend you." " He that reproveth a scorner," says Solomon, n another place, "getteth unto himself shame." The scorner re- quires the smiting of silent contempt, withering sar- casm, slashing invective. It was by silent contempt The P radical Philosopher, 435 that the holy Jesus smote the scorning Pilate. But whilst the scorner requires smiting and not reproof, the man of understanding requires reproof and not smiting. He has fallen into error, and what he requires is to have the error pointed out — its moral enormity exposed. His wrong is not the rule but the exception of his life. He has fallen into it, he has beeii overcome of evil, and Ixi must be dealt with by justice tempered with kindnes.. "Brethren, if a man be overtaken in fault, ye that are spiritual restore him." It is implied — That the effects of the chastisement will vary accord- ing to the character. — First : The chastisement inflicted upon the scorner will be rather a benefit to others than to himself. " Smite a scorner, and the simple will beware." He is to be punished jt Tierely for his own sake, but as a warning to others — to y t the simple and unsophisticated on their guard. Si- verity towards the in- corrigible may act as a warning to others. Secondly : The chastisement inflicted on the ma.i of understanding is of service to himself. " Repro ^ one that hath under- standing, and he shall understana knowledge." He takes it in good part. He renounces the evil, he resolves to improve. He says, "Let the righteous smite me, and it shall be a kindness : and let him reprove, it shall be an excellent oil which shall not break my head." Brothers, wrong exists every'where around us. Evil fronts us in almost every rhan we meet. It is for us to set ourselves in strong antagonism to it wherever it appears. Let us feel that it is for us in our measure to do what Christ came into the world to accomplish — to "condemn sin in the flesh," to condemn it everywhere and at all tim-js. •' Reprove not in tlieir wralh incensed men, Good counsel conies clean out of season then ; But when his liirj- i.s apiieascil and i)ast, He will conceive liib fault, and mend at la^t." RAXDOIPHi 436 i ii The Practical Philosophet (READING CCXVI.— AUGUST 4,) ^filial it^^vabitg u«^ '|urtutal (itttiinting. " He that was.eth hu father, and chaseth away his mother is a son tli causeth shame, and bringeth reproach. Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causelh to err from the words of knowledge."— /ViW. xix. 26, 27. Again and again does vSolomon refer to family life, and touch on the vices and virtues of home. He knew that no relationship was so vital to the race as that subsistinLr between parents and children. These verses give us tv.o things : — Filial depravity. — Here is a depraved son described. First : As wasting his father. There are many ways in which a reckless and wicked son " wasteth his father." Sometimes he wasteth his property. iMany a son, by his expensive habits, gambling propensitie.s, and reckless ex- travagance, has reduced his father from opulence to beggar}', from a mansion to a pauper's hovel. Sometimes he wasteth his health. The conduct of a depraved son has shattered the health of many a father, and brought down his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. A depraved son is described. Secondly : As repelling his mother. '• He chaseth away his mother." She appears before him, per- haps with her bosom swollen with the tenderest sympathies of love, her eyes suffused with tears, and in the agony of affection expostulates with him, seeking to turn him from his evil habits, but he repels her, he chaseth her away. The depraved son is described. Thirdly: As disgracing hi-. family. "He causeth sharr.e, and bringeth reproach." Such is the constitution of society, that a whole family is often disgraced by the atrocities of one of its members Such is the sketch here of filial depravity. Does sucli i son exist ? Is not this a visionary picture r Alas ! such son.> have always been, and they abound even in Christian Y-w^- land. The character was a reality in Solomon's time, it is a reality now. We talk of monsters in nature, but a The Practical P/iihsfl/^/ici'. 437 greater moral monster know I not than a son like that which is indicated here. He is without " natural affection," and the sorrows of his parents go before him as a terrible cloud to break in thunder upon his conscience in eternity. The verses gives us — Parental WARNING. — "Cease, my son, to hear the in- struction that caiiscfh to err from the words of knowledge." First : Children are the subjects of instruction. All chil- dren are learning animals. They have learning instincts and capacities. Whether they go to school or not, they learn. They learn in the streets and alleys. There is a irreat public school which nature has established, and in which, alas, the devil works to corrupt the morals of the people. Secondly : Their instruction has a connection with their conduct. This is implied. Our first ideas root themselves in our being, and become the germs of future conduct. A bad creed must lead to vicious conduct. Hence the importance of sound doctrine. Thirdly : There is an instruction that leads to wrong. " Instruction that causeth to err from the words of knowledge." The instruc- tion of the materialist, who teaches that there is no soul, no future life, " causeth to err from the words of know- ledge." The instruction of the fatalist, which teaches that all things are so settled by an eternal necessity, as that free agency and responsibility cannot possibly exist, " causeth to err from the words of knowledge." The in- struction of the sacramentaiist, which teaches that you are to be saved by attending to rites and ceremonies, " causeth to err from the words of knowledge." Such instructions as these are rife in our country in these days. It is right, therefore, for the father to say to the son, " Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err," believe not every spirit, but " try the spirits whether they are of God, because many false prophets are gone out into the world." I ■'I ■ ' I 438 The Practical Philosopher* (READING CCXVII.-AUGUST 5.) %r^t *• An ungodly witness scorncth juiljjmcnt : and the mouth of tlie wickcti devoureth iniquity. Judgments are piejjared for scorners, and strijies for ihg backs of fools."— /'/w. xix. 28, 29. The " ungodly witness " is in the margin called " wit- nesses of Belial." " Sons of Belial " is a common appella- tion for impious and wicked men. Observe — The CHARACTER of wicked men.— They are described here, First: As the witnesses of the devil. In their words, conversation, manners, spirit, they represent that which is ungodly. " They are witnesses of Belial." Their whole life is one great licy and they are of their father, who was "a liar from the beginning." They are described— Secondly : As scorners of judgment. They are fools that make a mock of sin. They ridicule the most serious things, they scoff at the solemnities of death and eternity. The spirit of seriousness has forsaken them. They are irreverent and profane. They are described — Thirdly: As ravenous after iniquity. "The wicked devoureth iniquity." Sin is the one tempting thing to them. It is that one apple in the garden of life which makes their mouths water. Their appetite for it is whetted to the highest edge, and with voracity the " mouth of the wicked devoureth iniquity." What a picture is this ! Alas, that it should be the life-like image of many. How many there are whose life is a " witness " to the false, who scoif at the serious; and whose strongest appetite is for that upon which sacred heaven has put its interdict. Observe again— The DOO.M of the wicked. — " Judgments are prepared for scorners, and stripes for the backs of fools." The punishment is prepared. All the anguish is arranged. The full cup is waiting. Judgment will not befal them as an accident. It is arranged and ready. Who shall describe the judgment.' Who shall number the soul-lacerating The Practical Philosopher, 439 stripes that wait the wicked in the penal settlements ot eternity r " Our sin," said Bishop Hall, " is our own, and the wages of sin is death." ITe that doeth the work earns the wages. So then the righteous God is cleared both of our sin and our death. Only His justice pays us what our evil deeds deserve. What a wretched thing is a wilful sinner, and that will needs be guilty of his own death ! (READING CCXVIII- AUGUST 6.) Jilt lutcmpnitc (iilfjc of c^tv0«g gnnli. "Wine ii a mocker, strong dnnk is raging: and whosoever is deceived icicby is not wise." — Prm. xx. i. At the outset we may observe that the proverb of itself is sufficient to expose the absurrlity of those who, with an ignorant zeal endeavour to show that the wine of the Bible is not intoxicating. Though of course it was not like the brandied wine of this age, it was obviously alcoholic. The intemperate use of strong drink is deceitful. — "Wine is a mocker." It deceives men in many ways. Not only does it deceive the drunkard by be^,u" ing and befooling him, but it deceives others as to its advantage. That it strengthens the system is a deception ; chemistry has shown that it contains no nourishment for the body. That it enriches the national revenueis a deception. Itis true that the taxes on alcoholic drinks bring millions annually into the national exchequer, but how much of the wealth of the nation does it exhaust by the pauperism and crime which it creates ? Alcoholic drink is the great false prophet in Eng- land. A prophet working busily in every district, under the inspiration of hell. It may be said of many a civilized com- munity, "they erred through wine, and through strong drink are out of the way; the priest and the prophet have erred through strong drink, they are swallowed up of ' ine, 1 ii .}-}0 The Practical Plii'/oso/^Iicr. k' thoy are out of tho way through strong drink ; they err in vision, thoy stumble in judgment." The verse teaches — The intemperate use of strong drink is ENRAtiixo. — " Strong drink is raging." It excites the worst passions of human natu e. Hence the quarrels, brawls, and mur- ders that spring from it. It often kindles in men the very fires of hell. It fills our prisons with culprits, and supplies our judges with the chief part of their work. The vcrsi.s teach — The intemperate use of strong drink is foolish.— ** Whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise." Nolhintf is more foolish than to indulge in alcoholic drinks It injures the health, it enfeebles the intellect, it deadens the moral sensibilities, it destroys reputation, it impoverishes th) exchequer, it disturbs friendship, it breeds quarrels, it brings misery into the family, it is fraught with innumeral)le curses. "Whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise." " A dninkcn ni;in is like a drownctl man, a fool or inadniaii : one diaujjht above heat makes him a fool ; the sc-.ad mads him, and the third drowns him." SlIAKKSl'KARK. "There is no sin," says a divine of 1662, " whi'ih doth more deface God's image, than drunkenness, it disguiseth a person, and doth even unman him. Drunkenness gives him the throat of a fish, and the belly of a swine, and the heart of an ass. Druni 'nncss is Ihe shame of nature, thn extinguisher of reason, the shipwreck of chastity, and th • murderer of conscience." r ^ I r \ (READING CCXIX.-AUGUST 7.) _ ^Iic ZtxnU in |)um;ut 6obcn\mcutj5. '•The fear of a kinj; is as the roaring of a lion : lohoso provoketh Inin li nngr'- sinnclh ai^aitut his own soul."— /Vc)?', xx. 2, I TAKE the kingvhere as representing governmont, whether democratic, aristocratic, monarchical, or the tlini; combined, as in the government of our country. Jim 1 The Practical Philosopher. 441 supreme judicial, and executive authority is the kiiifr. The verse implies three things concerning luiman govern- ments. Human governments contain in them the TERRTFir. — " The fear of a king" — a government. Govornmont inip]i(vs laws, and laws imply punitive sanctions. Behind all governments there is the power to take away the property, the comfort, the liberty, the rights, the existence of the disobedient. Terrible power this, and it is held by all con- stitutioutil governments. A true king is "a terror to evil doers." The terrific in human govornment can be provoked INTO ACTION. — " Whoso provoketh him to anger." Disobe- diiMice and disloyalty bring out the terriblo in human jrovernments. The dark dungeons, the clanking chains, the penal inllictions, the scaffold and the gallows, are all brought forth by disobedience. 'JVansgrcssion wakes the thunder. Jhe ruler *' beareth not the sword in vain." He that provok(>s it into action brings uuix ON HiMSi.i.i-. — Ik' rouses tho lion whoso "roar" is overwholming. It roars for destruction. Xo one man can stand before it. It will requin^ an army to capture and overcome the roar- ing lion of an offended government. The British Lion, when excited, can strike terror through the world and tear a nation into pieces. The man ruins himself, who by his dis()b(ulience brings out this lion of retribution. He " sinneth against his own soul," (READING CCXX.— AUGUST ».) " It is an honour for a man to cease from strife ; but every fool will Vc nicil dlinj^."— /'/w. XX. 3. * TiiKRK is a lawful strife. Strife against the false, tho scllisli, the iinjHire, the unrighteous, the ungodly, is lawful, is incumbent. T'he conquest of wrong is essential to the 2 I I! 442 The Practical Philosopher. / * dignity and blessedness of Heaven. " He that overcometh and keepeth my words unto the end, to him will I give power over the nations." The verse leads us to notice — The IIONOITR OF CEASING FROM UNLAWFUT STRIFE " It is an honour for a man to cease from strife," To bo honourable, the ceasing must, First : Be voluntary. If a man ceases from strife because he is so baffled, dis- abled, crushed, that he could not but desist, there is no honour in it. Ho must withdraw voluntarily. Secondly; It must be self-denying. Ii there are no insults to avenge, no wrongs to resent, no rights to demand, what honour would there be in desisting ? The honour is in giving up when on the right side. Thirdly : It must be forgiving. If in ceasing there remains ought of rancour or revenge in the breast there is no honour in it. Wherever strife is voluntarily, self-denyingly, and forgivingly withdrawn from, there is honour. The honour of self-conquest. The man who has done so has conquered his own passions. The honour of divine magnanimity. Such ceasing from strife is (iod-like. The verse also teaches — The lOLLY OF CRKATING SOCIAL STRIFE. — " Every fool will be meddling." "Meddling" is the parent of strife, An officious interference with the business of others, a prying into their concerns create discords. All strifes, domestic, social, ecclesiastic, and political, may be traced to meddlesomeness. The meddling man is a "fool," be- cause he gralificis his own idle curiosity at the expense of his own well-being and the happiness of society. "Put on, therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindnes.s, humbleness of mind, m(!ekness, loni;- suffcring, forbearing one another and forgiving one another. If any man have a quarrel against any, even as Christ for- gave you, so also do yo. And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of ])erfectness. And let the peace of (iod rule in your hearts, to the which also yc are called in one body ; and be ye thankful." The Practical Philosopher. 443 (READING CCXXI.-AUGUST 9.) " The sluggard will not plow by reason of the cold : therefore shall he beg in hanest, and have notliing." — Pror. xx. 4. No evil does Solomon more frequently describe and de- nounce than indolence. We have already net with his views several times on the subject, and we shall frequently meet with them again as we proceed with this book.* The words suggest two remarks concerning indolence : — It PLEADS WRETCHED ]':xcusES. — "The sluggard will not plow by reason of the cold." What a futile reason is this ! Cold weather was the time for ploughing. In summer heat it is too late to upturn the soil and prepare it forlhe seed — nature's germinating power has then gone for the year. Besides, no better means could be found to over- come the cold than by ploughing. There is no better way to counteract the chilly influence of the atmosphere, to send a healthful glow through the whole body, than physical exercise. No fire on the hearth could ever warm the hu- man frame so effectually as the fire that bodily activity kindles within. This is only a specimen of the miserablo excuses that indolence pleads. It has always some lion in the way, some thorn in the hedge. Indolence, sterile in i^oodness, is fertile in excuses. The indolent man will not work, either because the work is too mean or too importnnl, the season too early or too late, the temperature too hot or too cold. It ENTAILS GREAT MISERY. — Beggary. "Therefore shall he beJ,^" ^\'hat greater degradation for a man than to become a mendicant ? Indolence leads to pauperism. Thomson wrote a poem on the •' Castle of Indolence." 1 To locates the castle in a dreamy land, where every sense is steeped in the most luxurious though enervating delights. ♦ Sco llcailiiigs on chap, x, 24; xii. ll, 24, 27; xiii, 4, 23 ; xv, V); xvi. 2O} \\\\\ <;; xi.\. 15, 24, ii i !. ! ' 444 The Practical Philosopher, The lord of the castle wp"^ a powerful enchanter vho, by his arts, enticed thousihtless travellers within iKl ^ait;^, that he might destroy thv ir titic^igth md ruin t/»<'lt hopes by a ceaseless round of voluptuous pieasures. Beggary in har\ost. 13e'Xa*y . t tb'j season when others have plenty, and when he too oughc to have plenty. Bc^r. gary without success. " He shall beg in harvest, and have nothing." Because none can pity laziness, his petitions are rejected. There is a great hcrvest before us all. Those who have been spiritually indolent, neglecting the cultivation of their souls, will then be found begging, and begging in vain. "They that were foolish took their lamps, and took no oil with them : but the wise took oU in their vessels with their lamps. While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered and slept. And at midnight there was a cry made. Behold the bridegroom cometh, go ye out to meet him. Then all those virgins arose, and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said unto the wise, Cri^e us of your oil, for our lamps are gone out. But the wise answered, saying, not so : ^est there be not enough for us and you ; but go ye rattier to them that sell, and buy for yourselves," (READING CCXXII.— AUGUST lo.) ti|jc oVtiintj of ouli.'iDom from the oolifie. "Counsel in the heart of Man is ake deep water; but a man of under- stamlint,' will (haw it (»ut." — /'rov. xx. 5. We take the word " counsel " here to mean wisdom. The distinction which C'owper draws between knowledge and \vi:sdom is philosophic and important : — " Knowleil}.^' ;ii»s ; such men an' in a position to get more knowledge than the millions who aro lc.s.s favoured. Hence it comes to pass that in all circles there are tho:,e with valual)le intelligence, like" diip riv/Ar" within them ; and these waters are ever deepening, for it isalaw that the more knowledge a man has the more flows into him. "The more we know," says Coleriilge, "tho ' \ 'W€v i/!N "• ^ 'f' s h 446 The Practical Philosopher. f^reater our thirst for knowledge. The water lily in tho midst of waters opens its leaves and expands its petals at the first pattering of showers, and rejoices in the rain drops with a quicker sympathy than the parched shrub in the sandy desert." Those who have the most wisdom are generally THE MOST RESERVED. — ^This is manifestly implied from the expression "will draw it out." It will not run out spontaneously ; it has to be drawn out. Where knowleclg-c dwells in large quantities, it is not like water on the .sur- face, that you can get at easily ; it is rather like water that lies fathoms under the earth, clear, beautiful, and re- freshing, got at only by the pump, or the windlass and bucket. It has to be drazvn out. It is, has always been, and perhaps ever will be, that the most intelligent men arc the most modest and reserved. The superficial are talkative; the profound are taciturn. Theiluent in speech is over the shallow in thought. Great knowledge is always reticent. In consequence of this reservedness of the most wise, it REOUFRES SAGACITY IN OTHERS TO DRAW IT TiMVfH. — "A man of understanding will driiw it out." Wculd you draw knowledge out of the wise man in your cir.Ie r '''here is a way to do it. Not by ilippant question- injj^s, butby modest enquiries, propounded in a truth-loving' spirit. Would you draw knowledge out of your teacher f Y (U must so study the lessons that he gives you, as to brnig- his mind into a constant How to supply your cravings .'ifter knowledge. Would you draio knowledge o{ the highest kind from your minister r Then let him feel that you have come to " enquire in the temple of the Lord." SoHK^ pulpits an; iilled with thoughtless men, because CDnjifregations will not think. Even Christ Himself felt lliat He could not unfold what was in llim on account of the ignorance and prejudice of His auditory. The Practical Plulosopher, 447 (READING CCXXIII.— AUGUST 1 1.) •' Most men will proclaim every one his own goodness : but a faithful man who can find ? The just vian walketh in his integrity : his children are blessed nftcr him." — Prorv, x.\. 6, 7. Here is — A PREVALENT VICE. — " Most men will proclaim every- one his own goodness." Here is that abominable thinj;' which we designate vanity^ an ostentatious parading of one's own imaginary merits. This evil meets you almost cveryAvhere, and it often exhibits itself indirectly, and under the forms of feigned humility. It is seen in the religious world, in the way in which certain men get their subscrip- tions trumpeted in reports, and their charitable doings em- blazoned in journals. It is seen in the political world. In Mie House of Commons some of the men who are reputed as great orators through the eternal parading of their own doings, are making their names synonymes for vanity and conceit. They proclaim their "own goodness." They are the just men, the philanthropists, the true reformers, and they would have the world believe that what England is, she owes to them. First : This vice is an obstruction to self-improvement. The man who prides himself on his own cleverness, will never get knowledge — who exults in his own virtue, will never advance in genuine goodness. Vanity is in one sense the fruit of ignorance. It has been said that it thrives most in subterranean places, never reached by the air of heaven, and the light of the sun. It is the cause as well. Vanity in the plenitude of sclf-sufli- ciency sits down in its own chamber, draws its curtains, shuts out the sun, and sees things only by the glimmerings of its own little rushlight. Secondly : This vice is socially offensive. Nothing is more distasteful in society than vanity. " Wouldest thou not be thought a fool," says old 448 The Practical PhiiosopJicr, Ouarles, "in another's conceit, be not wise in thine fAvn; he that trusts to his own wisdom, proclaims his own folly ; he is truly wise, and ^hall appear so, that hath folly enoui(h to be thoujji'ht not worldly wise, or wisdom enough to see his own folly." Vanity is an unsuccessful agent ; it never gets what it seeks ; it works for praise, but never fails to create disgust. Thirdly : 'Ihis vice is essentially opposed to Christianity. AVhat says Paul ? " For I say throutrh the grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to everv man the measure of faith." "What says Christ : "Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth." What was the doom of the self-parading" Pharisee in the temple: ]Iow humble was Christ. " }Ie made Himself of no n>putation, but took on llim the form of a servant." Here is — A HARK VIRTI'K. — " But a faithful man who can find f" AVhat is faithfulness? The man who in the verso is called faithful, is in the next represented as just, " walking- in his integrity." Each of the three terms represents t^-^ same thing. To be faithful is to be practicallv true to our own convictions. Never acting without or against them, Practicall}' true to our o\vn professions. Xever breaking promises or swerving from engagements. Now this is a rare \-irtue. The great mass of men an; time .serving, mere devotees of expediency. A "faithful man " is a man showing good fidelity in all things. Mark what is said of this " faithful " and just man, who " walketh in his integrity" "His children are blessed after him." The destiny of children greatly depends upon their parents. The sap in the roots shapes the branch, and gives its character to the fruit. Whilst it is a terrible calamity for children to be born of the ill-bred, the ill- formed, the ill-fed, the prostitute, and the debauchee; il is a blessed thing to be born of parents healthful in body anu noble in character. The children are blessed with their health, with their s])int, with their habits. "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will ;1 1 ♦ Tlic Praili'ciil PJiihsophcr. 440 not (lopart from it." Tt is said that Plato seeing' a child (loip.;^- mischief in the street, went furth and corrected his father for it. I- : (READING CCXXIV.-AUGUST 12.) ^(jc pittuvf of u )loblc iiing. " A kitiR that sittoth in the throne of judgment scattercth away all evil with his eyes."— yVor. xx. «. Wk have before met with the subject of these words, under other forms of expression,* and the remarks which we have now to offer should be reijarded in connection with observations upon those cognate passages. This verse gives us the picture of a n(jble king. His oi-iiciAL POSiTinx. — lie "sitteth on the throne of judgment." The word "judgment" may stand for justice or rectitude. A true king is on his throne, lie is there by right. \Vhat gives a man right to become the king of others r We mean the moral right. Not conquest, birth, or suffrage, h\\\. Jilucss. That man in any community who has the most brain, heart, intelligcMice, conscience, divinity, is the one most entitled to kingship, lie is a God-made king. He is there yiv right. He is there to ^ee justice done. He does not rule for the interest of a class, but for the good of all. His laws arc equitable. Par- tialities and predilections which govern plebeian souls have no sway over him. "lie is just, ruling in the fear of (iod." "He is a terror to evil doers, and a praise to them that do well." "He's a kin;j, A true, right king, that daro do aught save wrong j I'lMis nothing mortal l)Ut to be uiijusl : \Vho is not l)lo\vn \\\> witli tiic ilatlcring |)ufls Of ^pon^;y sycophant H : Nvho stands unmoved. Despite the jostliny of ()|)inion."—MAR.SToN. * See Kvadingn on clia;). xvi. 14, 15; sis. 13 \ xi. Ji i i« , F; 450 The Practical Philosopher. The verse gi\es us — Ills MORAL INFLUENCE.— He " scattereth away all evil with his eyes." A man with a true, royal character has a nobler power than official king-ship. Legislation, though backed by the invincibility of arms, is in respect to true power in an empire, not to be compared with a life em- bodying divine principles, and animated with the divine spirit. Before such a life evils melt away quietly, as mists before the morning sun. He " scattereth away all evils with his eyes." Before the glance of such a king the corrupt would flee from his cabinet and the unchaste from his court. What a king might do and ought to do is to purify the morals and exalt the character of his people. In this so-called Christian land there are people who justify worldliness, pleasures, frivolities, and empty amusements in royal life. Of all men in the kingdom the man who is on the throne should be the most moral, the most Christian, the most earnest and indefatig:ible in his endeavours to expel the false and the filthy, the immoral and the ungodly from the land. Hail the time when the throne of our England shall be occupied by such kings, " when the saints shall take it and possess it for ever." " A king," says Lord Bacon, " must have a special care of five things if he would not have his crown to be but to him 'unhappy felicity.' That pretended holiness be not in the Church, for that is twofold iniquity ; that useless equity sit not in the chancer}', for that is 'foolish pity;' that useless iniquity keep not the exchequer, for that is cruel robbery ; that faithful rashness be not his general, for that will bring, but too late, repentance ; that faithless prudence be not his secretary', for that is a snake between the green grass." i will venture to add two more to the philosopher's list : That self-indulgence and arrogance have no place in his heart, and that his idea of nobility should be the moral grandeur embodied in the life of Jesus. MUi4^«MfcA4MM| The Practical Philosopher, (READING CCXXV.-AUGUST 13.) 451 Ularal ynritir. "Who can say, I have made my heart clean, I am pure from my sin?"— ClOl', XX. Q. Our subject is moral purity, and the verse represents it in two aspects. As TRAXSCEN'DENTLY LNIPORTANT. — First : It is essential, to peace of conscience. Through the depravity of our lives from the earliest date of moral consciousness our souls arc stained with corruption. The eye of conscience looking at thisbroad, deep stain gives that anguishof spiritunder which we exclaim, " O wretched man, that I am." An unclean lioart must ever have an unquiet conscience. Secondly : It is essential to the growth of soul, floral uncloanness is an atmosphere of mind that prevents germination and growth. It obstructs the quickening sunbeam, the refresh- ing dew, and the fertilising ihower. !Moral uncloanness makes the inner heavens as brass. Thirdly : It is essential to social love. Our happiness consists in loving and being loved, but no one can really love the morally unclean. The deepest things in human nature recoil with disgust from the spiritually impure. Fourthly : It is essential to fellowship with God. " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." "Without holiness no man shall see ("rod." Fifthly: It is essential to usefulness. "Holiness," says Dr. T. \V. Jenkin, " is the only means by which holi- nrss can be diffused. It is like salt, its usefulness to oth(>rs must begin with itself. The man who fails to persuade himself to be holy is sure to be unsuccessful with others. It is the wise man that can impart wisdom to others, it is the good man that can diffuse goodness, and it is c.ily the holy man that can diifuse holiness. J{very man can bring forth to others only out of the treasures deposited first in his own heart. He who undertakes to restore mankind to clear-sightedness, must be of clear and accurate vision I 1 I 1 •5 I ^>. . x-^^ V^ ^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) fe {/ ..v^A i- A A % 4a 1.0 I.I 1^ 1^ 2.0 L25 lil.4 6" 1.6 Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STRUT WEBSTIR, N.Y. U5S0 (716) 873-4503 ^ ,\ iV :\ \ ^v <«^>. A -o" ^ ^f^is 4^ "4^ 'o :1. * * /' 4ii T/ie Practical Pliilosophcy. himself, for he who has a beam in his own eye is not likely to remove either beam or mote from the eye of the world. The physician who is to restore health to others must not himself be fretting" with the leprosy." Sixthly : It is essential to the realization of Christ's mission. He came to open a fountain for the washing away of sin. He came to put away sins by the sacrifice of Himself. He came to purify uiiito Himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works. His biographic influence taketh away all sin. The verse represents moral purity — As LAMENTABLY RARE. — " Who can say, I have made my heart clean, I am pure from my sin ?" This is God's challenge. "Gird up thy loins like a man, for I will de- mand of thee, and answer thou me. " Who r" Not the ungodly, the worldling, the intemperate, the selfish, the self-righteous, the hypocritical, none of these can say it. Who ? Not even the genuine Christian on earth. So im- perfect are the best here, that the more pure they become, the more they feel their pollution. One good man says, " I abhor myself in dust and ashes.'* Another, " Woe is me, I am a man with unclean lips." Another, " I am the least of all saints, and the chief of sinners." Who : Only holy angels and the perfected saints in Heaven can say it, " We are without spots, or wrinkles, or any such thing." Dr. Livingstone once asked a Bechuana what he under- stood by the word " holiness " r He answered, " When copious showers have descended during the night and all the earth, and leaves, and cattle are washed clean, and the sun rising shows a drop of dew on every blade of grass, and the air breathes fresh — that is holiness." '' Not all the pomp and pagcantty of worlds Reflect sucli {^loiy on the Eye .Supreme, As Ihc meek virtues of one holy man."— MONTGOMFTvY. The Fraciical Flulosoplicr, 453 (READING CCXXVr.-AUGUST 14.) " Divers weights aiid divers measures, both of them are alike abomination to the Lord. . . . Divers weights are an abomination unto the Lord ; and a false balance is not good." — Prov. xx. 10, 23. Man is by his instincts and necessities a trader. He has a bartering power. Visit the darkest regions of barbaric life, and you will find the wild and savage natives driving some species of trade. They may only exchange feathers, shells, or some petty toys ; still it is commerce. Our mis- sionaries often introduce themselves to heathen scenes and ingratiate themselves with heathen hearts by first appeal- ing to this mercantile instinct.* Hence commerce is as old and universal as man. In the original, as intimated in the margin of our English Bible, the terms of the passage before us are a " stone and a stone," or a weight and a weight — an ephah and an ephah. The idea probably is that there is one set of weights and measures to sell with, another to buy with, one for the inspector, and another for the buyer, one for the inexperienced and con- fiding, and another for the shrewd and suspecting. The verse lead us to consider the market in two aspects. As THE SCENE OF DISHONEST TRICKS. — " Divers weights and divers measures." In the days of Solomon, as now, men in the market had different sets of weights and mea- sures for different occasions, to gratify their greed. Chi- canery was perhaps never more rife in the markets of the world than now, and never played a more subtle, power- ful, and disastrous part than in British emporiums. Men ure cheated in a thousand ways. False standards, adul- terations, fallacious representations, are some of the methods which dishonest men employ to impose upon their customers and clients. There are swindling companies in our midst legalized, working ruin amongst the least en- * Sec rhilosojjhy of Happiness, published by Dickenson, Earrintjdou Street. t ( ;< I - 1 <£". ill! I I 454 The Practical Philosopher, lightened and least suspicious of our countrymen. Our commercial immorality has gained proportions hideous and portentous. Our national credit is decaying, and men are being swindled in so many ways that muU titudes are constantly seeking homes on other shores, lieaven only knows what will be the end ! The verses lead us to consider the market — As THE SCENE OF DIVINE INSPECTION. — " Divers weights are an abomination unto the Lord and a false weight is not good." The Omnipresent One is as truly in the market as in any other part of His universe. His eye is everywhere, and what He sees He feels. "Atoms," says Seeker, " which are invisible in the candle-light of reason are all made to dance naked in the sunshine of Omniscience." The wrong is an "abomination" to Him wherever it exists. First : He prohibits dishonesty in trade. " Just balances, just weights, a just ephah, and a just hin shall ye have : I am the Lord your God, which brought you out of the land of Egypt." Secondly : He enjoins social justice. "Therefore ail things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them ; for this is the law and the prophets." Thirdly : He abhors dis- honesty. " Thou shalt not have in thy bag divers weights, a great and a small. Thou shalt not have in thine house divers measures, a great and a small. But thou shalt have a perfect and just weight, a perfect and just measure shalt thou have ; that thy days shall be lengthened in the land which the Lord thy God giveth tnee. For all that du such things, and all that do unrighteously, are an abomi- nation unto the Lord thy God." Dishonesty in trade brought ruin upon Israel. Merchants and tradesmen, look well to this. Not only never use, but don't have on your premises false weights and measures ; that which is the rule of justice must be just. Honesty is the best policy. " I tell thee," says Thomas Carlyle, "there is nothing else but justice: one strong thing I find here below — the just thing, the true thing. My friend, if thou hadst all the artillery of Woolwich marching at thy back in support of an unjust Lev. xi>;. 36 ; Matt, vii, 18.; Dcut. xxv. 13 — 16 ; Amos viii. 5. 1 The Practical Pliilosopher. 455 thing-, an J infinite bonfires visibly waiting ahead of thee to blaze centuries to come for thy victory on behalf of it, I would advise thee to call ' Halt !' to fling down thy baton and say, * In God's name, No!' What will thy success amount to ? If the thing be unjust thou hast not succeeded though bonfires blaze from north to south, and bells rang, and editors wrote leading articles, and the just thing lay trampled out of sight to all mortal eyes, an abolished and an annihilated thing." (READING CCXXVII.— AUGUST 15.) Vat ifunn0 inr m^ % %m\\^ (Bp. " The hearing ear, and the seeing eye, the Lord hath made even both of them."— Prov. xx. 12.* Why does Solomon say this r Has not the Lord made everything ? Is He not the Creator of " heaven and earth and all things that are therein ? " Who but the sensuous and unphilosophic doubt this r Verily, the royal sage here utters a common-place truism. From the obvious fact, however, we draw two practical conclusions. That God should be studied in these organs. "This famous town of Man-soul," says Bunyan, " had five gates in at which to come, out at which to go ; and these were made likewise answerable to the walls — to wit, impreg- nable, and such as never could be opened nor forced but by the will of those within. The names of the gates were these— Ear-gate, Eye-gate, Mouth-gate, Nose-gato, and Feel-gate." Of these five, the "hearing ear" and the "seeing eye" would be popularly and perhaps accurately considered the chief gateways to the soul. First : In them Divine wisdom is manifest. Take the mechanism of these organs. The human frame is "fearfully and * The eleventh verse has been noticed in a previous Reading. \ V \ I k \ 1 1 ^"^ 456 lyic Practical PJtilosopher. i' ?. I 1: s > W f II >' I wonderfully niade ;" but no parts in the frame are more wonderful in tlieir execution than these. " The eye," savs one, " by its admirable combination of coats and humours, and lenses, produces on the retina, or expansion of nerve at the back of the socket or bony cavity, in which it is so securely lodged, a distinct picture of the minutest or largest object ; so that, on a space that is less than an inch in diameter, a landscape of miles in extent, with all its variety of scenery, is depicted with perfect exactness of relative proportion in all its parts." " The eye takes in at once the landscape of the world, At a small inlet which a grain mi^^lit close, And half create? the wondrous Morld we see." — YoUNG. Nor is the car less wonderful. It is a complicated mechanism, lying wholh'- within the bod}-, showing only the wider outer porch through which the sound enters. It conveys the sound through various chambers to the inner- riost extremities of those nerves which hear the messages, to the brain. So delicate is this organ, that it catches the softest whispers, and conveys them to the soul, and so strong that it hears the roll of the loudest thunders in the chamber of its mistress. Volumes have been written on the mechanism of these organs. Take the adaptation of these organs. How ex- quisitely suited they are to the offices they have to fulfil. " Conveying the impressions of the outer universe to the spiritual dweller within, we can," says an eminent author, ** by attending to the laws of vision and sound, produce something that> in structure and in mechanism or physical effect, bears some analogy to them. But this is not sio//f this is not Jicaring. These imply perceptions. And to perception there are requisite an auditory and an optic nerve, that convey the sensation of sound and vision to the brain; v^wd^i ■poxetving mind — an immaterial, spiritual, thinking substance, essence, element — or what else shall we call it r that thus perceives its perceptions of things heard and things seen ! Oh, this is the highest and deepest wonder of all! The mechanical structure we can Tlie Practical PhilosopJicr, 45: trace out and demonstrate. We can show how by the laws of transmission and refraction, the picture is made on the retina of the eye; and how, by the laws of sound, the yielding, tremulous, undulating air affects the tympanitni or drum of the ear. But we can get no farther. How it is that the mind receives its perceptions, how it is that it is affected, what is the nature of nervous influence, or c1 the process by which, through the medium of the nerveu and brain, thought is produced on the mind — of all this we are profoundly ignorant," The celebrated Galen is said to have been converted from atheism by an attentive observation of the perfect structure of the eye. Secondly : In them divine goodness is manifest. They give us the outward world. Without these what w^ould the glorious heavens, the lovely landscape, and the melodies of the world be to us ? Nothing. They convey to us happiness from the outward world. The Almighty might have pro- vided the hideous and revolting for the eye, the disharmo- nious and the discordant for the ear. But not so, there is beauty, sublimity, and music. Thirdly : In them the Divine intelligence is symbolised. " He that planteth the ear, shall he not hear : he that formed the eye, shall he not see r" On these words we offer another remark, namely : — That God should be served in these organs. — We should use them for the purpose for which He gave them. These organs are given to man for a higher purpose than that for which they are given to brutes. Brutes have them, and in some cases have them in higher perfection than we have. But in brutes they fulfil their mission when they convey scnsatioiiy and nothing more. The service for which God intends us to use them is to convey into our nndcr- shnidings His ideas, into our hearts His spirit. With these eyes we should read the volumes which He has written, both in nature and in Holy writ — read them accurately, devoutly, practically. With these ears we should hear the discourses which He delivers in the voices of the world, and in the ministry of His servants. Alas ! men don't use these organs in God's service. The great mul- 2 Ci it ■ '15" The Practical Philosopher, titiulc "seeing, see not, and hearing, hear not, neither do they understand." Two things at least, we should do with them. First : Translate the sensations they convey to us into Divine ideas. All outward forms and sounds are re- dolent with the thoughts of God. For His great thoughts our souls arc made, and crave. Secondly : Apply the Divine ideas to the formation of rur characters. God's ideas should become at once the spriiii:; and rule of all our activities. Remember, that these organs are the gifts and emblems of the Eternal IMind. (READING CCXXVIir.— AUGUST l6.) dEarltr %\m% " Love not sleep, lest thou come to poverty ; open thine eyes, and thou shalt be satisfied with bread." — Ptov, xx. 13. We have so frequently met with the subject of indolence, and made reflections upon it, that we need do nothing more than record a few striking examples of the advantages of early rising. Sleep in itself is a blessing ; it is strength to the exhnusted; it is medicine to the diseased; it is solace to he sorrowing. But the love of sleep implies a drowsiness of nature, which makes the very blessing a curse. The man who over indulges in it, as a rule, does "come to poverty." The natural tendency of indolence is destitution ; destitution temporal, intellectual, and spiritual follows laziness. " Open thine eyes," then. Open them at the dawn of morning, and watch profitable opportunities for profitable labour. Our subject is the reward of early rising. " Thou shalt be satisfied with bread." Most men who have distinguished themselves in any department of labour, have been early risers. "You rise late," says Todd, "and, of course, commence your business at a late hour, and ever^'thing goes wrong all day.' Franklin says, " that he who rises late may trot all day, and not have overtaken his business at night." Dean Swift avers that The Practical PJiilosophcr, 45^ he " never knew any man come to qreatncss and ominenco who lay in bed of a morning-." " I would," says l.oid Chatham, " have inscribed on the curtains of your bed, and the walls of your chamber, * If you do not rise early, you can make progress in nothing. If you do not set apart your hours of reading, if you suffer yourself or any one else to break in upon them, your days will slip through your hands unprofitable and frivolous, and unenjoyed l)y yourself.' The man who rises early, not only drinks in the most invigorating influence.'- of the day, but adds to the length of his life." " The difference," says Doddridge, "between rising at five and seven o'clock in the morning, for the space of forty years, supposing a man to go to bed at the same hour at night, is nearly equivalent to the addi- tion often yecirs to a man's life." We subjoin here a few examples of those who acknow- ledge the adx'antage of early rising : — John Milton says of himself, that he was at his studies " in winter often ere the sound of any bell ciwoke men to labour or devotion : in summer as oft with the bird that first rouses, or not much tardier, to read good authors till attention be weary or memory have its full fraught : then with useful and generous labours preserving the body's health and hardiness." Wesley repeatedly ascribes his own health and prolonged life to the practice of rising at four. When seventy-eight years old, he writes : " By the blessing of God I am just the same as when I ended my twenty-eighth year. This hath God wrought chiefly by my constant exercise, rising early in the morning." " In my youth," says Buffon, one of the most famous writers and naturalists of the eighteenth century, " I was very fond of sleep ; it robbed me of a great deal of my time ; but my poor servant, Joseph, was of great service in enabling me to overcome it. I promised to give Joseph a crown every time that he would make me get up at six. Next morning he did not fail to wake and torment me ; but he onl}^ received abuse. The next day he did the same with no better success, and I was obliged to confess at noon that I had lost my time, I told him that he did not know how \ ' ii 460 The Practical Philosopher. to manage his business ; he ought to think of my purpose, and not mind my threats. The day following he employed force ; I begged him for indulgence, I bid him be gone, I stormed, but Joseph persisted. I was, therefore, obliged to comply, and he was rewarded every day for the abuse vvhich he suffered at the moment when I awoke by thanks, accompanied by a crown, which he received about an hour after. Yes, I am indebted to my poor servant for ten or a dozen of the volumes of my works." " Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed : The breath of night's destructive to the hue Of ev'ry flower that blows. Go to the field, And ask the humble daisy why it sleeps Soon as the sun departs ? Why close the eyes Of blossoms infinite, long ere the moon Her oriental veil puts off ? Think why, Nor let the sweetest blossom Nature boasts Be thus exposed to night's unkindly damp. Well may it droop, and all its freshness lose, Compelled to taste the rank and poisonous steam Of midnight theatre and morning ball. Give to repose the solemn hour she claims, " And from the forehead of the morning steal The sweet occasion. Oh, there is a charm Which morning has, that gives the brow of age A smack of earth, and makes the lip of youth Shed perfume exquisite. Expect it not, Ye who till noon upon a down-bed lie, Indulging feverous sleep." — HiJiiDis. Il (READING CCXXIX.— AUGUST 17.) C^iraiwrg. •♦/if « naught, iVw naught, saith the buyer: but when he is gone his way then he boasteth." — Prov. xx. 14. j\Ir. Bridges says, " that Augustine mentions a some- what ludicrous but significant story. A mountebank pub- lishes in the full theatre that in the next entertainment he would show to every man present what was in his heart. i The Practical PJiilosopJicr. 461 An immense concourse attended, and the man redeemed his pledge to the vast assembly by a sing-lc sentence, ' Vili viUtis cmerCy et caro venderc,' ' You all wish to buy cheap, and to sell dear,' a sentence generally applauded ; every one, even the most trifling (as Augustine observes) finding the confirming witness in his own conscience." There is no harm in buying in the cheapest market and selling in the dearest. In fact, this is both wise and right in do vendor. Some regard the word ** buyer" here in the seno of possessor, and thus the idea of the passage is changed, and it is this — that a man attaches greater value to a thing after he has lost it than before. When he has it in his possession he does not think much of it, but when it is gone, it appears to him of great value. This is a law of human nature. Our vSaviour recognises it, and uses it to illustrate the value that the Great Father of Spirits sets upon a lost soul, which He represents under the figures of the lost piece of silver, the lost sheep, the lost son. But it is more like Solomon to regard the text as meaning what the " buyer " says. We offer two remarks upon the passage. That it reveals A COMMON commercial practice. — " It is naught, it is naught, saith the buyer." What is here stated c ncerning the " buyer " in Judaea, hundreds of years ago, has Iways and everywhere been true in human mer- c1 ize. The "buyer " depreciates the commodity in the p )i of purchase. He says, " It is naught, it is naught." He finds fault with the material, the texture, or the work- manship of the article. He does tliis in order to get it cit a price below its worth. And when he succeeds, and it comes legally in his possession, the value of the article is not only properly estimated, but greatly exaggerated. "He boasteth." Why? Because his vanity has been gratified. He feels that he has done a clever thing. By the skill of his depreciating argument he has conquered the vendor and brought him down to his own mark. " He boasteth." Why r Because his greed has been gratified. He has procured property for a consideration beneath its value, and he is thereby enriched. i i]G2 The Practical Philosopher. The other remark wo offer on this passag-e is — That it reveals AN IMMORAL commercial practice. — I'irst : There is falsehood. If the article is ^^ naughty" why does the buyer want it at all, and why, when he g-ets it, does he esteem it of high value ? It is a lie, and " lying lips are an abomination to the Lord." The commercial atmosphere of England is so infested with lies, that with- out a speedy moral fumigation, our mercantile credit, \ trow, will be ruined. Secondly : There is dishonesty. He who gets from another property for a consideration beneath its worth, is a thief. " The cheat," says old Thomas Fuller, " spins like a spider out of his own entrails to entrap the simple and unwary that light in his way, whom he devours and feeds upon." It is a violation of the Divine rule, •* Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye unto them." O, ye Traders, who thus transact your business, there is no room for boasting ; your secular profits represent terrible moral losses ! Though ye are prosperous traders, ye are gazetted in the universe as moral bankrupts. (READING CCXXX.— AUGUST i8.) ^latci'iiil Mt'M] awtr gntclltcftwt ^jjmlr. " There is gold, and a multitude of rubies : but the lips of knowledge are a precious jewel." — Prov.w, \^. There is evidently a comparison here between material wealth and enlightened speech. "Gold," and "rubies" here represent worldly riches, and the " lips of knowledge," represent the speech " that ministereth grace unto the hearers." We offer three remarks on the comparison in the verse — One is RARER than the other. — This seems to be implied, for it is said, "There is gold and a nudtitiidc of rubies." In the days of Solomon there seemed to be plenty of material v.-calth, for we road that "the king made silver to be in ""•^^ TJie P radical P//iI'>sop/ier. 46,i Jcru.'jalcm as stones, and cedars made he to be as tlie >\ra- morc trees that are in the vale ior abundance." .Vnd wealth is pretty abundant here in England. Ikit intelli- gent speech is rare. Where wc: h counts its thousands, wisdom can only count its tens. "Where shall wisdom be found, and where is the way of understanding r" One is ^lORE INTRINSICALLY VALUABLE than the Other.— There is no more intrinsic worth in "gold" and "rubies" than in brass and stones. They are valuable only on account of their scarcity. But in wise words of truth and soberness there is an intrinsic worth. They are the embodiments and the vehicles of those treasures w'hich enrich immortal spirits, are appreciated by God, and are counted valu- able by all holy minds in all times and worlds. They are indeed " a precious jewel." Their lustre no time can dim, their worth no change can deteriorate. One is MORE SERVICEABLE than the other. — " Gold" and " rubies" can only serve men temporally and for a short time. Wise words will serve men for ever. What thousands have felt the value of such words. " Such was the delight of hang- ing upon the lips of the golden-mouthed Chrysostom, that the common proverb was — * Rather let the sun not shine than Chrysostom not preach.' " Such words convert, purify, ennoble, and save men. "The "lips of knowledge" are the organs through which God pours the highest blessings of his grace. Value spiritual wisdom as the great thing. " It cannot be gotten for gold, neither shall silver be weighed for the price thereof. It cannot be valued with the gold of Ophir, with the precious onyx, or the sapphire. The gold and the crystal cannot equal it, and the exchange of it shall not bo for jewels of line gold. No mention shall be made of coral, or of pearls, for the price of wisdom is above rubies. The topaz of Ethiopia shall not equal it, neither shall it be valued with pure gold." H 1 ^ 464 The Practical Philosopher, (READING CCXXXI.— AUGUST 19.) "Take his garment that is surety /o/- a stranger: and take a pledge of him for a strange wonian. Bread of deceit is sweet to a man ; but afterwards hi^ mouth shall be filled with gravel. Every pur])ose is established by counsel : and with good advice make war. . . . An inheritance may be gotten hastily at the beginning : but the end thereof shall not be blessed." — Prov, xx. 16, 18, 21. The book of Solomon deservos, and will repay, the study of all young men who intend to embark, or have embarked, in mercantile pursuits. It abounds with those maxims which will stimulate diligence, insure integrity, and pro- mote success. The author of the book was not only an ethical philosopher, but a shrewd man of business. Ke understood not only the moral laws that should rule men in all their intercourse with each other, but also the neces- sary conditions of real success in all business undertakings. In the verses before us there are no less than four maxims for business expressed with more or less clearness and foicc. There is — Caution in credit. — •' Take his garmeiit that is surety for a stranger." The question of suretiship has engaged our attention several times already.* The man here sketched is recklessly imprudent and morally profligate, lie becomes " surety for a stranger," and is addicted to vicious indulgences, for he is represented as in association with a " strange woman." Such a man is not to be trusted in business without the strongest security. "Take his garment." Under the Jewish law the garment was the \ery last thing which was to be taken in pledge, and could not be retained beyond the passing day. f The advice of Solomon amounts to this : Have nothing to do with such men in business ; don't give credit to the reckless and the profligate ; see that men are trustworthy in character and * Sec Reading on Prov, vi. 1,2; xi. 15 ; xvii. 18. + Exodus xxii. 26, 27. in means ness probal men. Thel Honest d man; bit aj The fact im] fraud. How in the work the most act Secondly; tJ very pleasant] gives its own] nothing, for i science, too, si minister pleas stands at his si sweet." Third perty must end be fdled with gr chagrin and bitt man putting in that should relie 'ind gravelly stoi country recorded once sweet turni "gravel"! Conv Achan and his we of silver, with j such the " bread " is — I^ELIBERATION established by cou "^'ith good advice seldom be made, if '" harmony with I against wars .•— . " War is a fjf ^'"gs sJiou ^1 ^'" ^'"'"'"l Philosopher ■n means before you trus. ,, "'^5 2Z 'T""'^. -- from t^in/^'^'"^ ^-'-es in b^^i fraud. Hovv m ^"■" •• ^''W P'-opert. n, " K "'' «^"^'^'-" ">« most active a°;r-'^' '"'"'' *-" S ''"^ '^^^ Secondly: Thit n '"""' '" *he buildin " J ^'^''^P^' ff'^^ its owner cred f '' '° ^ '"«"•'■ Public "• ''^ nothing, for , ti^e of"'"?"'"-^ ^"d ^^ In^T'"" '"-nee. too, sleeps .^ the H ?"^"'^"' measure" r°"' minister nlea^,,,.; ! "^P o*^ luxurv ar,^ ^ *^°"- P-ty must end fn' „^;'' "'« P'^^ure attndfn '' " "'■^ ''^ filled with i;::;,?""8;- - Afterwards hlri™,?" ^™- diagrin and b,>[rr ^''^' m<"-e emnhl "' *"'"" man putt" Jt t; ■-PPo-tment tH.^uLZlTT'^" °' 'hat should reheve 1 "" '""^ '•'» eager ',! ^L^ '^""^-y ^v\eet turnino- fp, ^,,„ , -^ -^ ^ Journals, of fn,.f "gravel"' Pn^ • , ^'^^^' ^read onrp . ' °^ *o^tunes Achan and hisTer -"u"^" ^^^' ' "- 1".^°™'"^ of silver vvJfT, T ^ °^^°^^.- withGpTin • ^^'^"^ «« with is '■-'' once ..sweet" becam'o '^^^^'"^^ ^'l ' established bv ? '^MBARKi.vo. _ « F„„ • , ■'^■'h.ottirer'',.^"'' '^'"^ ^-^ air rr '-^ i seldom be made ifTu '''"' '" '■'''on wo thtl '''"•" ' '" harmony wUh n ' " ''°™' ••"'"oe - muttT"" ''°"'^ [against warl.:'* ^-^ '-, and those C a^lS 4 i^ ' i ^* ^ ;>J> i " i '; J. 466 The Practical Philosopher. Tlie g"eneral idea of the passage is this : — Well consider every undertaking before you embark in it. Two ques- tions should be settled before you start on an enterprise. First : Whether the enterprise in itself is lawful. Is it a right thing r There are sinful enterprises. The manufac- ture and sale of intoxicating drinks, the publication and sale of immoral and worthless literature, and military life in all its departments. Men who take true "counsel" will never embark in such enterprises as these. Secondl}' : Whether the means to be employed are good : that is, whether they are in harmony with rectitude and adapted to the end. Christ Himself urges this deliberation before em- barking in our undertakings. " What king going to make war against another king sitteth not down to count the cost." There is — Temi'ERATEness in accumulating. — "An inheritance miiy be gotten hastily at the beginning, but the end thereof shall not be blessed." Solomon does not mean by this that all the property that comes suddenly to a man is necessarily unblessed. A poor man may by legacy or lineage come into possession of a lordly " inheritance" in a single day : in this he would be fortunate and not criminal, and if he used it rightly it would be a blessing to him in the end and for ever. Nor does he mean that a man who through a signally wise and assiduously diligent ap- plication of means to ends, and in all with strict honesty and devout spirit, accumulates wealth speedily, is not blessed in his possessions. He points, undoubtedly, to the man who with a voracious greed for wealth, seizes every opportunity to attain it, regardless of truth, honour, and justice, and thus becomes rich in a short time. Our country abounds Avith instances of men \\\\o in this way bound from poverty to opulence in a few days. J3ut the end is not " blessed." Anything but blessed. Discovery comes and clothes them with infiimy; conscience is roused and torments them. The curses of the defrauded and the frowns of the Almighty are over them. Young men, ponder well these maxims, which ail your TJic Practical Philosopher. 467 businesb undertakings require; Caution in credit, honesty in dealing", deliberation in embarking and temperateness in accumuL.iting„ (READING CCXXXII.— AUGUST 20.) %\t Jble i^HlcIjearei' itwtr tire Sttlirkir ^oit. " He that goetli about as a talebearer revealcth secrets : therefore meddle not with him that flattereth with his lips. Whoso curscth his father or his mother, his lamp shall be put out in obscure darkness," — Prov. xx. 19, 20. Each of these verses presents a bad character — the mis- chievous tattler and the unnatural child. Solomon has re- ferred to them more than once before, and never does he point to them without an indignant scorn. Here is — The idle talebearer. — " He that goeth about as a talebearer revealeth secrets ; therefore meddle not with him that flattereth Avith his lips." A talebearer is one who " officiously tells tales : one who impertinently com- municates intelligence or anecdotes, and makes mischief in society by his officiousness." We gather from Solomon's description here. First : That he is insidious. He gets hold of the "secrets" of men. i3y his soft words and bland manners he ingratiates himself into the confidence of the unsuspecting, and gets hold of things connected with their experience which they would not on any account make public. All men have some secrets — things which they would not willingly allow to fall from their own lips, still less from the lips of others ; yet at times they are tempted to entrust them to those in whom they have con- Hdence ; the talebearer gets hold of them. Secondly : He is treacherous. He "revealeth secrets." Sometimes ho may do it wantonly, for the mere love of gossip ; some- times from vanity, to show what confidence men repose in him ; sometimes maliciously, in order to disturb old fricnd- ijhips, to create social broils. In any case, he is a traitor. '^ I i .V 17 i i^ ./' 408 21ie Practical Philosopher. ^' He has betrayed those who trusted to him that which they regarded as amongst the sacred things of their experience. Thirdly : He is fawning. He " flattereth with his lips." Those to whom he betrays the secrets, he flatters ; he gives them to understand that he will tell no one else, that were it not for their intelligence and integrity, he could not make to them such communications. He is a base fawning parasite. Fourthly : He is dangerous. " Meddle not with him." The man that will flatter you, vilify the absent, betray the " secrets " of others, is to be shunned. Have nothing to do with him. He goeth about from family to family, from circle to circle, retailing his secrets, making his comments, insidiously striking at reputations, creating wounds, and leaving them to rankle in the hearts of men. His mouth is a lethal weapon, with which he murders the good names of men. "Meddle not with him." Dean Swift has well described such tale-bearers : \ •' Nor do they trust their tongues alone, But speak a language of their own : Can read a nod, a shrug, a look, Far better than a printed book ; Convey a libel in a frown, And wink a reputation down ; Or by the tossing of a fan Describe the lady and the man," Here is — The wicked son. — "Whoso curseth his father or his mother, his lamp shall be put out in obscure darkness." First : Here is a horrible ci ime. To curse is to imprecate evil on any one. How appalling the crime of cursing father or mother, the instrumental authors of our being, the tender preservers of our infancy and childhood, and the loving guardians of our youth ! Yet such monsters are to be found. The law of Moses required that such children «hould be put to death.* Secondly: Here is a terrible doom. " His lamp shall be put out in obscure darkness." The lamp is often used as a figure of prosperity. Such a wicked child shall not prosper. The laws of the moral • Exod. xx. 17 ; Lev. xx. 9; Jno. xiii. 9; Job xviii. lO, The Practical Philosopher, 469 universe prevent his success. "His lamp shall be put out." He shall be wrapped in the darkness of poverty, disappointment, and remorse. (READING CCXXXIII.— AUGUST 21.) " Say not thou, I will recompense evil ; hut wait on the Lord, and he shall save thee." — Prov, xx. 22.* The verse suggests two remarks at the outset. First : That men in passing through this life are subject to inju- ries from their fellow men. Through sin men, instead of being the loving brothers of each other, are become to an awful extent the deceivers, the plunderers, the oppressors, and the devils. Hence men are everywhere found groan- ing under the injuries they have received from their fellow- men. Secondly : That men under a sense of injury crave for the punishment of their enemies. There is a sense of justice placed in every human soul : injuries kindle this sense of justice into a fiery passion, and this passion is revenge, and this revenge cries for the destruction of the enemy. " Revenge," says Bacon, " is wild justice." Yes, it is justice maddened into fury. Few passions get such power over men as revenge : it is often implacable. ** I'll have my bond : I will not hear thee spcaK- : I'll have my bond ; and therefore spc. no more. I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield To Christian ini rccssors." — Shakespeare. Now the Bible legislates for man under a sense of inju- ries. The verse requires him to do two things. Cease from the work of avenging himself. — " Say not thou I will recompense evil." There is a great t Verse 2l has been noticed on page 464, \ 'I ■t ; i h <\ \ 'M !r ^ -6 li 470 The Practical Philosopher. temptation under the injury to " say " so, a great tempta- tion to grisp the iron rod of retribution and pursue the offender even unto death, but this must not be done. There are several good reasons for this. First : The injured man is disqualified for the infliction of just punishment. He is himself a 'criminal, living under the ban cf eternal justice, and his own sense of rectitude is perverted. He has therefore neither the right nor the capacity to deal out retribution to any one. Has a criminal a right to the seat of the judge? " Ugc every ir