TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES.

• Technical note: This book makes heavy use of small caps formatting. You may need to experiment with fonts and browsers until you see the words “small caps” formatted in small caps.
• This is a commentary on the first 39 chapters of the Biblical book of Isaiah. It was written to help ministers with their sermon preparation. Many of the thoughts presented are condensed from published sermons. The book is a collection of man’s opinions on the inspired Word of God. The Transcriber does not necessarily agree with every opinion expressed. Among the disagreements are suggestions that the Church replaces Israel, or is “the true Israel,” or that human effort has any effect on God’s pacing of future events. Some of the opinions expressed are unapologetically anti-Roman Catholic or culturally insensitive. The book is a product of its time and place (late nineteenth century greater London). The U.S. conflict between North and South is still within memory and neither the great European wars to come, nor England’s loss of her colonial possessions in India and Africa, nor the establishment of the State of Israel is even foreshadowed.
• The page numbers in the first part of the book (“front-matter”) and the last part of the book (“back-matter”) were modified from unadorned Arabic numbers to make them unique. In this e-book, front-matter pages are identified by lower-cased Roman numbers and back-matter pages include the letter “A” (for “Appendix”) and either an “L” or an “R” to identify the left or right column. The [Appendix] presents two translations of the whole book of Isaiah and two additional translations of the fifty-second and fifth-third chapters.
• In the original, the outlines are generally in order by scripture reference and information in the page headers helps one find an outline related to any desired passage. Due to the length of the e-book, and the supplemental outlines added toward the end, the Transcriber has inserted a listing of outlines in sequential order by scripture reference after the Index of Subjects, Index of Authors, and table of Times, Seasons, and Occasions, and prior to the Introduction.
• The footnotes in the text are identified by sequential lower-case Greek letters: α, β, etc. The Transcriber has changed them to superscript bracketed numbers to comply with current use. In the main portion of the book, the “footnotes” were set in smaller type at the end of the respective outlines. In the Appendix, footnotes were set at the bottom of each page. The text and each footnote are hyperlinked both directions.
• Certain long outlines ([The Virgin’s Son,] [The Burden of Dumah]) and the Appendix were set almost entirely in footnote type to save page count.
• The detailed list of Transcriber’s changes is at the foot of the document. [Link to detailed changes.]

THE PREACHER’S

COMPLETE HOMILETIC

COMMENTARY

ON THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE

WITH CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY NOTES,
INDEXES, ETC., BY VARIOUS AUTHORS

THE OLD TESTAMENT
Volumes 1–21

THE NEW TESTAMENT
Volumes 22–32

Volume 15

The Preacher’s Complete Homiletic

COMMENTARY

ON THE BOOK OF THE PROPHET

Isaiah

Volume I

By the REV. R. A. BERTRAM
and
The REV. ALFRED TUCKER

[LOGO]

printed in the united states of america

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY

NEW YORK

PREFATORY NOTES.

1. In the preparation of this Commentary, my aim throughout has been evangelical and practical. A study of the Book of Isaiah suggests many historical, critical, and speculative questions, but these I have entirely disregarded. I have asked only, What messages from God has this inspired prophet for the men of this generation? What instruction has he to give us? What warnings? What encouragements? What consolations? To these questions I believe there are answers in the outlines I have myself prepared, and in those I have obtained from other sources.
2. As my work proceeded, my methods somewhat changed. I discovered that I had commenced the Commentary on too large a scale, and that it was in danger of becoming too large and costly. I therefore ceased to append illustrations to the outlines, and contented myself with giving references to illustrations in my “Homiletic Encyclopædia of Illustrations in Theology and Morals” and my “Dictionary of Poetical Illustrations,” using for this purpose the letters H. E. I. and P. D.
3. I also ceased to prepare outlines on all the texts, and limited myself to those most likely to be profitable to ordinary congregations.
4. As I proceeded, I also became more convinced that a book intended to be helpful to many minds should contain the best thoughts of many minds; and therefore, instead of preparing outlines which might be expanded into sermons, I condensed sermons preached by others into outlines. Remembering that I was working for ministers, I stripped the thoughts contained in those sermons of most of their dress, and so the substance of a sermon of twenty pages was frequently placed on a page. The result is that in this volume a hundred and fifty students of Scripture—Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Congregationalists and Baptists—combine to offer to their brethren suggestions as to the best practical uses to which the writings of Isaiah may be put today.
5. On pp. [447]–496 are some valuable outlines obtained too late for insertion in their proper places. Three of them are interesting specimens of Welsh preaching.

CONTENTS.

INDEX OF SUBJECTS.

INDEX OF AUTHORS.

TIMES, SEASONS, AND OCCASIONS.

TEXTS.

APPENDIX.

• [Introduction]
• [Alexander’s translation of Isaiah]
• [Delitzsch’s translation of Isaiah]
• [Calkins’ translation of Isaiah lii. 12–liii.]
• [Urwick’s translation of Isaiah lii. 12–liii.]

ISAIAH.

INTRODUCTION.

Of Isaiah, “the evangelical prophet,” nothing is known beyond what we are told of him in the Scriptures. Various traditions concerning him are current among the Jews, such as that his father Amoz was brother of King Amaziah, and that he himself died a martyr’s death, being sawn asunder by order of Manasseh; but all that is certain is, that he was the son of Amoz; that his prophetic ministry commenced in the reign of Uzziah, and closed in that of Hezekiah (ch. i. 1); that his wife was a prophetess (ch. viii. 3), and bare him two sons (ch. vi. 3; viii. 3); and that he was the author of a portion of the Chronicles of the Kings of Judah (2 Chron. xxvi. 22).

His name signifies The Salvation of the Lord, and this—the salvation which God works for His people from their sins and consequent misery—is the great, though not the exclusive, theme of his prophecy.

The length of his ministry is variously estimated. The lowest estimate would make it comprise forty-nine years, from the last year of Uzziah to the seventeenth of Hezekiah (b.c. 759–710); the highest, sixty-four years, from the fourth year before Uzziah’s death to the last year of Hezekiah (b.c. 762–698).

In the following Commentary it is assumed that the whole of the sixty-six chapters of which the Book of Isaiah is composed, were written by one pen. For clear and conclusive refutations of the theory of a second Isaiah, see the introductions to the Commentaries of Alexander, Delitsch, and Kay, and the article Isaiah in Smith’s, Kitto’s, and Fairbairn’s Dictionaries of the Bible.

Appended are Ewald’s criticisms on Isaiah’s style,[1] and some admirable observations by Dr. Kay on the title of Isaiah’s prophecy, which readers of it will do to bear in mind throughout.[2]

FOOTNOTES.

[1] In Isaiah we see prophetic authorship reaching its culminating point. Everything conspired to raise him to an elevation which no prophet before or after could as writer attain. Among the other prophets, each of the more important ones is distinguished by some one particular excellence, and some one particular talent. In Isaiah all kinds of talent, and all beauties of prophetic discourse, meet together, so as mutually to temper and qualify each other; it is not so much any single feature that distinguished him as the symmetry and perfection of the whole.

We cannot fail to assume, as the first condition of Isaiah’s particular historical greatness, a native power, and a vivacity of spirit which, even among prophets, is seldom to be met with. It is but rarely that we see combined in one and the same spirit the three several characteristics of—first, the most profound prophetic excitement and the purest sentiment; next, the most indefatigable and successful practical activity amidst all perplexities and changes of outward life; and, thirdly, that facility and beauty in representing thought which is the characteristic of the genuine poet; but this threefold combination we find realised in Isaiah as in no other prophet; and form the traces which we can perceive of the unceasing joint-working of these three powers, we must draw our conclusions as to the original greatness of his genius. But as prophet and as author, Isaiah stands upon that calm, sunny height, which in each several branch of ancient literature one eminently favoured spirit at the right time takes possession of; which seems, as it were, to have been waiting for him; and which, when he has come and mounted the ascent, seems to keep and guard him to the last as its own right man. In the sentiments which he expresses, in the topics of his discourses, and in the manner of expression, Isaiah uniformly reveals himself as the kingly prophet.

In reference to the last-named point, it cannot be said that his method of elaborating thought is elaborate and artificial: it rather shows a lofty simplicity and an unconcern about external attractiveness, abandoning itself freely to the leading and requirement of each several thought; but, nevertheless, it always rolls along in a full stream which overpowers all resistance, and never fails at the right place to accomplish at every turn its object without toil or effort.

The progress and development of the discourse is always majestic, achieving much with few words, which, though short, are yet clear and transparent; an overflowing fulness of thought, which might readily lose itself in the vast and indefinite, but which always at the right time with tight rein collects and tempers its exuberance; to the bottom exhausting the thought and completing the utterance, and yet never too diffuse. This severe self-control is the most admirably seen in those shorter utterances which by briefly-sketched images and thoughts give us the vague apprehension of something infinite, whilst, nevertheless, they stand before us complete in themselves and clearly delineated; e.g., viii. 6—ix. 6, xiv. 23–32, xviii. 1–7, xxi. 11, 12; while in the long piece, xxviii.–xxxii., if the composition here and there for a moment languishes, it is only to lift itself again afresh with all the greater might. In this rich and thickly-crowded fulness of thought and word it is but seldom that the simile which is employed appears apart, to set forth and complete itself (xxxi. 4, 5); in general, it crowds into the delineation of the object which it is meant to illustrate, and is swallowed up in it,—ay, and frequently simile after simile; and yet the many threads of the discourse, which for a moment appeared ravelled together, soon disentangle themselves into perfect clearness;—a characteristic which belongs to this prophet alone, a freedom of language which with no one else so easily succeeds.

The versification, in like manner, is always full, and yet strongly marked: while, however, this prophet is so little concerned about anxiously weighing out to each verse its proper number of words, not unfrequently he repeats the same word in two members (xxxi. 8, xxxii. 17, xi. 5, xix. 13), as if, with so much power and beauty in the matter within, he did not so much require a painstaking finish in the outside. The structure of the strophe is always easy and beautifully rounded.

Still the main point lies here,—that we cannot in the case of Isaiah, as in that of other prophets, specify any particular peculiarity, or any favourite colour as attaching to his general style. He is not the especially lyrical prophet, or the especially elegiacal prophet, or the especially oratorical and hortatory prophet, as we should describe a Joel, a Hosea, a Micah, with whom there is a greater prevalence of some particular colour; but, just as the subject requires, he has readily at command every several kind of style and every several change of delineation; and it is precisely this that, in point of language, establishes his greatness, as well as in general, forms out of his most towering points of excellence. His only fundamental peculiarity is the lofty, majestic, calmness of his style, proceeding out of the perfect command which he feels he possesses over his subject matter. This calmness, however, no way demands that the strain shall not, when occasion required, be more vehemently excited, and assail the hearer with mightier blows; but even the extremest excitement, which does here and there intervene, is in the main bridled still by the same spirit of calmness, and, not overstepping the limits which that spirit assigns, it soon with lofty self-control returns to its wonted tone of equability (ii. 10—iii. 1, xxviii. 11–23, xxix. 9–14). Neither does this calmness in discourse require that the subject shall always be treated only in a plain level way, without any variation of form; rather, Isaiah shows himself master in just that variety of manner which suits the relation in which his hearers stand to the matter now in hand. If he wishes to bring home to their minds a distant truth which they like not to hear, and to judge them by a sentence pronounced by their own mouth, he retreats into a popular statement of a case drawn from ordinary life (v. 1–6, xxviii. 23–20). If he will draw the attention of the over wise to some new truth, or to some future prospect, he surprises them by a brief oracle clothed in an enigmatical dress, leaving it to their penetration to discover its solution (vii. 14–16, xxix. 1–8). When the unhappy temper of the people’s minds which nothing can amend leads to loud lamentation, his speech becomes for a while the strain of elegy and lament (i. 21–23, xxii. 4, 5). Do the frivolous leaders of the people mock? he outdoes them at their own weapons, and crushes them under the fearful earnest of divine mockery (xxviii. 10–13). Even a single ironical word in passing will drop from the lofty prophet (xxvii. 3, glory). Thus his discourse varies into every complexion: it is tender and stern, didactic and threatening, mourning and again exulting in divine joy, mocking and earnest; but ever at the right time it returns to its original elevation and repose, and never loses the clear ground-colour of its divine seriousness.—Ewald, quoted in Smith’s Dictionary of the Bible, vol. i. pp. 888, 889, article Isaiah.

[2] The title of the book is “The vision of Isaiah,” which suggests these remarks—

(1.) Being a vision, it will frequently speak of events that are yet future, as if they had already occurred. So in iii. 8: “Jerusalem is ruined; Judah is fallen.” In v. 13: “Therefore my people are gone into captivity.”

(2.) What is seen in vision must be subject to the laws of perspective. One who views the snowy Alps from a distance may see two mountain peaks, which really are many miles apart, as one object. The illustration is imperfect; yet it may serve to explain how, to the eye of a seer, a nearer event may be blended with one that is in the same direction, but vastly more remote; the type, for instance, melting into the antitype, or the interval between the first and second advents of the Messiah being indiscernible.

(3.) It is, as a whole, The Vision;—one vision. It consists, indeed, of various parts; yet from the very outset these represent the same vision. Judah is rebellious; is sentenced to exile; is redeemed; is purified. These elements, on a large scale, compose the book as a whole; and, on a smaller scale, they compose the first chapter. The body is made up of portions similar in quality to itself, and to each other. The visions are greatly diversified in size, form, colouring, and other detail; but in essential characteristics it is one vision.—Dr. Kay, in The Speaker’s Commentary, vol. v. p. 19.

The Prophet of the Lord.

i. 1. The vision of Isaiah the son of Amoz, which he saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem, in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah.

I. The nature of the prophet’s endowment: a “vision” into the very heart of things, a power of distinguishing between the seeming and the real. II. The sadness and the joy of the prophet’s life: sadness arising from his “vision” of human sin (vers. 2–15); joy arising from his “vision” of the wondrousness of the Divine mercy (ver. 18).

Application.—1. In these latter days the prophetic endowment, to a greater or lesser extent, is possessed by all God’s people (1 John ii. 20). 2. The Church should pray that it may be possessed to the fullest extent by all who are called to minister in holy things. Prophets of clear and penetrating “vision” are among the greatest gifts which God can confer upon the Church.[1] 3. This great endowment must be used not merely for the detection and exposure of human sin, lest we become cynical and inhuman, but also for the discovery of the abounding evidence of the Divine compassion (as in v. 9), that we may be brought into more perfect sympathy with Him who hates sin but desires and seeks to save the sinner.

FOOTNOTES.

[ [1] A preacher who is not in some way a seer is not a preacher at all. You can never make people see religious realities by correct definitions. They will not believe in the reality of God on the word of a man who merely demonstrates it to them. You must see such things yourself if you are going to help others to see them. This is the secret of all the preaching that ever was good since preaching began.—Beecher.

Prophecy the Voice of God.

i. 2. The Lord hath spoken.

Thus at the very outset of this book Divine authority is claimed for the utterances contained in it. Three views may be taken of the writings of the Hebrew prophets. 1. They are the writings of men who knew they were uttering that which is false when they claimed to be messengers of the Most High. 2. They are the writings of enthusiasts who mistook the ecstasies of their excited imaginations for Divine inspirations. 3. They are the writings of holy men who were inspired by the Holy Ghost.

Against the first of these views is to be set the fact that the whole influence of the prophets was exerted on behalf of national righteousness and individual virtue; that for these things they suffered; that for these things some of them died. Is it credible that men who so sought to promote such ends would begin and continue their mission with a blasphemous lie?

Against the second is to be set the fact that many of their predictions have been fulfilled—fulfilled after intervals, so long, and with such minute accuracy, that sceptics have sought to account for such fulfilments by asserting that the prophecies were written subsequently to the events to which they refer; an assertion which the most competent scholars repel even with contempt.

There remains then only the third view; and in support of it may be urged—in addition to the conclusive fact just named—such considerations as these: 1. That their conceptions of God and of human duty are such as to satisfy the loftiest demands of the most enlightened reason and the best instructed conscience. Give examples (ch. xl. 12–26; lviii. 3–7, &c.) 2. That their conceptions of God and of human duty have not been surpassed by those of the sublimest poets or the ablest philosophers of any subsequent age. 3. That their sublime conceptions of God and of human duty, which still stand as the Alps or Himalaya of human thought, were given to the world in an age when, with the exception only of the prophets and those who accepted their teaching, the whole human race was given over to the most debasing idolatries and superstitions. 4. That the Hebrew prophets stood out in regard to these conceptions not only distinct from the men of their own age, but from the men of their own nation, from whom they had only words of rebuke, and against whose most cherished convictions and steadfast tendencies they set themselves in resolute opposition. Give examples (ch. i. 11–15; lxvi. 1, 2, &c.) If due weight be given to these considerations, we shall see that there is no escape from the conclusion that the Hebrew prophets owed their conceptions of God and duty to God Himself. They spake and wrote as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.

If this be so, then—1. We should earnestly study the prophetic utterances. How mentally as well as morally debased is the man who is not alert and concerned to hear and understand what “the Lord hath spoken”! 2. Such of their utterances as are predictive should kindle within us confident and joyful hopes. They are the promises of Him who cannot lie, and who has ample power to perform. 3. To those which are preceptive we should give prompt, comprehensive, and careful obedience. To withhold such obedience, is to array against ourselves omnipotent power; to yield it, is to secure for ourselves eternal rewards (ch. iii. 10, 11).

An Appeal and an Argument.

i. 2, 3. Hear, O heavens; and give ear, O earth: for the Lord hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s crib: but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider.

I. The unnaturalness of sin. The heavens and the earth obey the laws to which they have been subjected; the very beasts are faithful to their instincts; it is only man who falls in duty and goes astray. II. The baseness of ingratitude: as displayed—1. By man to man;[1] 2. By children to their parents;[2] 3. By men to their Heavenly Father.[3] III. The reasonableness of God’s claim to their obedience and love. 1. He is our Father.[4] 2. To all parental duties He has been faithful. 3. He has been more than faithful; He has caused our cup to run over with His lovingkindness.[5] IV. Privilege is the measure of responsibility and the aggravation of guilt. The point of the condemnation in these verses does not lie in the contrast between the conduct of animals and men, but in the contrast between the conduct of animals and that of God’s people. “Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider!” This is the wonder and the monstrosity. That privilege is the measure of responsibility and the aggravation of guilt, is a very familiar truth; a truth often forgotten; and yet absolutely certain and tremendously important (Luke xii. 48; Heb. vi. 7, 8). What need we have to lay it to heart!

FOOTNOTES:

[1] All should unite to punish the ungrateful:
Ingratitude is treason to mankind.—Thomson.

He that’s ungrateful has no guilt but one;
All other crimes may pass for virtues in him.—Young.

[2] Sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is
To have a thankless child.—Shakespeare.

[3] An ungracious soul may be burdened with many sins; but she never makes up her full load till she hath added the sin of unthankfulness. He leaves out no evil in a man who calls him unthankful. Ingratitude dissolves the joints of the whole world. A barren ground is less blamed, because it hath not been dressed. But till it with the plough; trust it with seed; let the clouds bless it with their rain, the sun with his heat, the heavens with their influence, and then if it be unfertile, the condition is worse; before it was contemned, now it is cursed (Heb. vi. 8).—Adams, 1654.

Some are such brutes, that, like swine, their nose is nailed to the trough in which they feed; they have not the use of their understanding so far as to lift their eye to heaven, and say, “There dwells that God that provides this for me, that God by whom I live.”—Gurnall.

You would count it a sad spectacle to behold a man in a lethargy, with his senses and reason so blasted by his disease that he knows not his nearest friends, and takes no notice of those that tend him, or bring his daily food to him. How many such senseless wretches are at this day lying upon God’s hands! He ministers daily to their necessities, but they take no notice of His care and goodness.—Gurnall, 1617–1679.

The frozen snake in the fable stingeth him that refreshed it. Thus is it with all unthankful men: God leadeth them daily with benefits and blessings, and they load Him with sins and trespasses.—Stapleton, 1535–1598.

[4] It is an excellent representation of St. Austin: if a sculptor, after his fashioning a piece of marble in a human figure, could inspire it with life and sense, and give it motion and understanding and speech, can it be imagined not the first act of it would be to prostrate itself at the feet of the maker in subjection and thankfulness, and to offer whatever it is, and can do, as homage to him? The almighty hand of God formed our bodies. He breathed into us the spirit of life, and should not the power of love constrain us to live wholly to His will?—Bates, 1625–1629.

[5] We find the fiercest things that live,
The savage born, the wildly rue,
When soothed by Mercy’s hand will give
Some faint response of gratitude.
But man!—oh! blush, ye lordly race!—
Shrink back, and question thy proud heart!
Dost thou not lack that thankful grace
Which ever forms the soul’s best part?
Wilt thou not take the blessings given,
The priceless boon of ruddy health,
The sleep unbroken, peace unriven,
The cup of joy, the mine of wealth?
Wilt thou not take them all, and yet
Walk from the cradle to the grave
Enjoying, boasting, and forget
To think upon the God that gave?
Thou’lt even kneel to blood-stained kings,
Nor fear to have thy serfdom known;
Thy knee will bend for bauble things,
Yet fail to seek its Maker’s throne.—Eliza Cook

God’s Indictment against Israel.

i. 2–6. Hear, O heavens, &c.

God sometimes speaks to man abruptly; when this is done, the truth expressed demands the most profound attention. In our text the heavens and the earth are suddenly called to attend to what is about to be said; God is charging the human race with fearful wrongs; the matter at issue is between the creature and Creator, child and Parent. Our attention is called to—

I. The Fatherhood of God. “I have nourished,” &c. Divine paternity is a truth which runs through the whole Bible, here and there shining out with resplendent lustre, as in our text. The fatherhood of God was manifested towards Israel—1. In supply. As it affected the Jewish nation this declaration (I have nourished, &c.) pressed with tremendous force. Their supplies were marked by miracle, at least all the time they were in the wilderness; and the utterance has weight to-day. All nature is made to minister to man’s necessities. 2. In guardianship. “Brought up children.” This should have been sufficient to strike the ear as a thunderclap, seeing how far they had strayed from Him. Out of a mean, despised, and enslaved people He had developed a wealthy, mighty nation; and His guardianship reaches to all to-day. 3. In defence. The early history of these people was one unbroken chain of Divine interpositions. From the first day Moses stood before the king, until they were fully established in Palestine, God’s arm was stretched out to defend them. The blood on the door-post, their sea-path, and the sea-grave of the Egyptians, together with the hovering cloud in the wilderness, all speak of strong defence; and still there are evidences of defence in the life of every man.

II. The wickedness of man. Men are universally the same; as the father so is the son, as the Jew so is the Gentile; and hence in this chapter we have a true picture of the whole human family. Let us mark some of the many features of guilt: 1. Degeneracy. God bears with weaknesses and infirmities, but wilful backsliding He abhors. The Jews were evil-doers; they went astray from God and all that was good. It is the wilful sinning of men that now grieves Him. 2. Insensibility. Wrong-doing is sure to produce wrong feeling, or, what is worse, no feeling at all. A sinful life results in a dark heart. Here is a people more insensible of good bestowed than the stupid ox or more stupid ass; and there are still persons to be found less acquainted with the source of their supplies than the dumb, unconscious brute.[1] 3. Defiance. They rebelled against God. Fear ceased to check them, and hatred led them to bold, defiant deeds. The day was to them as the night, and oppression and murder were but small sins to be indulged in. So it is with many to-day; they have no shame, remorse, or compunction for sin, openly defying the living God.

III. The purpose of Divine chastisement. No true parent finds any pleasure in chastising his children, and any pain inflicted without pure motives would be an evil. God corrects—1. To restrain from Sin. This explains much that happened to the Israelites, and also much that transpires in the history of all men. God sees the danger, the leaning to wrong, and with Him prevention is better than cure.[2] 2. To show the consequences of sin. Men profess to be practical, and wish to be practically dealt with; hence they say: “Words are not enough; there must be blows.” The transgressor must feel as well as hear, or he will run mad. God has always taught men that His laws are more than mere word-rules; there is force in them, and he that breaks them must suffer. 3. To bring to Himself.[3] Hence we often hear Him say, “Why will ye be stricken any more?” Remonstrance always precedes the lash to show His love and tenderness.—Charles Jupe.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The stall-fed ox, that is grown fat, will know
His careful feeder, and acknowledge too;
The generous spaniel loves his master’s eye,
And licks his fingers though no meat be by;
But man, ungrateful man, that’s born and bred
By Heaven’s immediate power; maintained and fed
By His providing hand; observed, attended,
By His indulgent grace; preserved, defended,
By His prevailing arm; this man, I say,
Is more ungrateful, more obdure than they.
Man, O most ungrateful man, can ever
Enjoy Thy gift, but never mind the Giver;
And like the swine, though pampered with enough,
His eyes are never higher than the trough.—Frances Quarles.

[2] The consequences of sin are meant to warn from sin. The penalty annexed to it is, in the first instance, corrective, not penal. Fire burns the child, to teach it one of the truths of this universe—the property of fire to burn. The first time it cuts its hand with a sharp knife, it has gained a lesson which it will never forget. Now, in the case of pain, this experience is seldom, if ever, in vain. There is little chance of a child forgetting that fire will burn, and that sharp steel will cut; but the moral lessons contained in the penalties annexed to wrong-doing are just as truly intended to deter men from evil, though they are by no means so unerring in enforcing their application. The fever, in the veins and the headache which succeed intoxication are meant to warn against excess. On the first occasion they are simply corrective; in every succeeding one they assume more and more a penal character, in proportion as the conscience carries with them the sense of ill-desert.—F. W. Robertson, 1816–1853.

[3] If a sheep stray from his fellows, the shepherd sets his dog after it, not to devour it, but to bring it again: even so our Heavenly Shepherd, if any of us, His sheep, disobey Him, sets His dog of affliction after us, not to hurt us, but to bring us home to consideration of our duty towards Him.—Cowdray.

As the child, fearing nothing, is so fond of his play that he strays and wanders from his mother, not so much as thinking of her; but if he be scared or frighted with the sight or apprehension of some apparent or approaching danger, presently runs to her, casts himself into her arms, and cries out to be saved and shielded by her: so we, securely enjoying the childish sports of worldly prosperity, do so fondly dote on them that we scarce think of our Heavenly Father; but when perils and dangers approach, and are ready to seize upon us, then we flee to Him, and cast ourselves into the arms of His protection and providence, crying and calling to Him by earnest prayer for help and deliverance in this our extremity and distress.—Downame, 1644.

Thoughtlessness.

i. 3. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s crib: but Israel doth not know, my people do not consider.

It is clear from this chapter that the Lord views the sin of mankind with intense regret. Israel in this case is not so much a type of believers as a representative of sinners in general. The greatest difficulty in the world is to make men think. Consider—

I. The common but serious fault here condemned. Men are most inconsiderate—1. Towards God;[1] 2. towards their own best interests;[2] 3. towards the claims of justice and gratitude.[3]

II. Some things that make the commonness of this fault surprising. 1. Men live without consideration upon a matter in regard to which nothing but consideration will avail. Nothing can stand in lieu of thoughtfulness in religion. In regard to other matters we can employ others to think for us. But in this matter we must think for ourselves. Religion is a spiritual business, and if a man lives and dies refusing to consider, he has put away from him all hope of being saved; for grace comes not into us by mechanical process, but the Holy Spirit works upon the mind and soul. 2. This inconsideration is practised in regard to a subject the consideration of which would be abundantly remunerative, and would lead to the happiest results.[4]

III. Some of the aggravations which attend it. 1. It is fallen into by those of whom better things might reasonably have been expected. “Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider.” It is not the heathen who act more stupidly than the brutes, but those whom God has called to Himself, on whom He has conferred light and knowledge, &c. 2. They have had their attention earnestly directed to the topics which they still neglect. 3. They have also been chastised, in the gracious endeavour to arouse them from their thoughtlessness. 4. Many of them are very zealous in regard to outward religion, as were those whom the prophet rebuked. 5. They have been most earnestly and affectionately invited to turn to God by gracious promises (such as ver. 18). 6. They have ability enough to consider other things.

IV. Some of the secret causes of this widespread fault. 1. In the case of many thoughtless persons we must lay the blame to the sheer frivolity of their nature. 2. In every case the bottom reason is opposition to God Himself. 3. Upon some minds the tendency to delay operates fearfully. 4. Some make an excuse for themselves for not considering eternity, because they are such eminently practical men. They are living for realities of the nature of hard case, and will not be induced to indulge in fancies and notions.[5] 5. Many are prejudiced, because some Christian professor has not lived up to his profession, or they have heard something which is said to be the doctrine of the gospel of which they cannot approve. 6. In most cases men do not like to trouble themselves, and they have an uncomfortable suspicion that if they were to look too narrowly into their affairs, they would find things far from healthy.[6]—C. H. Spurgeon, Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit, vol. xviii. pp. 373–384.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] One would pardon them if they forgot many minor things, and neglected many inferior persons; but to be inconsiderate to their Creator, to their Preserver, to Him in whose hand their everlasting destiny is placed, this is a strange folly as well as a great sin. Whoever a courtier may neglect, he is sure to consider his king. Men when they start their sons in business will bid them mind the main chance, and attend to the principal point, and especially take care to stand well with such a man who has the power to help or to ruin them. Men, as a general rule, are far too ready to seek the assistance of those who are in power, and this makes it all the more strange that the all-powerful God, who lifteth up and casteth down, should be altogether forgotten, or, when remembered, should still be dishonoured by mankind. If it were only because He is great, and we are so dependent upon Him, one would have thought that a rational man would have acquainted himself with God, and been at peace; but when we reflect that God is supremely good, kind, tender, and gracious, as well as great, the marvel of man’s thoughtlessness is much increased. Every good man desires to be on good terms with the good; unusual goodness wins admiration, and an invitation to associate with the eminently excellent is usually accepted with pleasure; yet in the case of the thrice holy God, whose name is Love, it is not so. All attractions are in the character of God, and yet man shuns his Maker. If God were a demon, man could hardly be more cold towards Him.—Spurgeon.

[2] When we ask men to attend to matters which do not concern them, we are not astonished if they plead that they have no time, and little thought to spare. If I were to address you upon a matter which affected the interests of the dwellers in the Dog-star, or had some relation to the inhabitants of the moon, I should not marvel if you were to say, “Go to those whom it may concern, and talk to them; but as for us, the matter is so remote, that we take no interest in it.” But how shall we account for it that man will not know about himself, and wilt not consider about his own soul? Any trifle will attract him, but he will not consider his own immortality, or meditate upon the joy or the misery that must be his portion. It is in very truth a miracle of human depravity—what if I say insanity—that man should be unmindful of his best self.—Spurgeon.

[3] I have known men who have said, “Let the heavens fall, but let justice be done:” and they have scorned in their dealings with their fellow-men to take any unrighteous advantage, even though it were as little as the turning of a hair. I have known some also who, if they were called ungrateful, would indignantly spurn the charge. They would count themselves utterly loathsome if they did not return good to those who have done them good; and yet it may be these very same persons have been throughout life unjust towards God, and ungrateful towards Him to whom they owe their being, and all that makes it endurable. The service, the thankfulness, the love which are due to Him, they have withheld.—Spurgeon.

[4] We should not marvel at men if they would not think upon topics which made them unhappy; but albeit there are some who have suffered frightful depression of spirits in connection with true religion, yet its general and ultimate fruit has ever been peace and joy through believing in Christ Jesus, and even the exceptions could be easily accounted for. In some melancholy spirits their godliness is too shallow to make them happy; they breathe so little of the heavenly air that they are distressed for want of more. In others the sorrow occasioned by gracious reflection is but a preliminary and passing stage of grace; there must be a ploughing before there can be a harvest; there must be medicine for the disease before health returns, and the newly-awakened are just in the stage and the condition of drinking bitter medicine. This will soon be over, and the results will be most admirable. A great cloud of witnesses, among whom we joyfully take our place, bear witness to the fact that the ways of the Lord are ways of pleasantness. Our deepest joy lies now in knowing God, and considering Him.—Spurgeon.

[5] I only wish that those who profess to be practical were more nearly so, for a practical man will always take more care of his body than of his coat, certainly; then should he not take more care of his soul than of the body, which is but the garment of it? If he were a truly practical man, he would do that. A practical man will always consider matters in due proportion; he will not give all his mind to a cricket-match and neglect his business. And yet how often your practical man still more greatly errs; he devotes all his time to money-making, and not a minute to the salvation of his soul, and its preparation for eternity! Is this practical? Why, sir, Bedlam itself is guilty of no worse madness than that! There is not in all your wards a single maniac who commits a more manifest act of insanity than a man who spends all his force upon this fleeting life, and lets the eternal future go by the board.—Spurgeon.

[6] They are like the bankrupt before the court the other day who did not keep books. Not he. He did not know how his affairs stood, and, moreover, he did not want to know; he did not like his books, and his books did not like him. He was going to the bad, and he therefore tried to forget it. They say of the silly ostrich that when she hides her head in the sand, and does not see her pursuers, she thinks she is safe; that is the policy of many men. They spread their sails, and get up the steam, and go with double speed straight ahead. What, not look at the chart! No, they do not want to know whether there are rocks and breakers ahead. Arrest that captain, put him in irons, and find a sane man to take charge of the vessel. Oh for grace to arrest that folly which is the captain of your bark, and put sound sense in command, or else a spiritual shipwreck is certain.—Spurgeon.

Inconsiderateness.

i. 3. My people doth not consider.

I. Inconsiderateness is one of the commonest of all human characteristics.[1] II. While apparently a comparatively harmless thing, it is the source of nearly all the evils by which man is afflicted, and of the sins by which God is grieved and made angry.—1. “Presumptuous sins” are comparatively rare. 2. Look at some of the evils to which a want of consideration leads in the various spheres of life: educational, domestic, social, commercial, political, religious.[2]

Application.—1. Cultivate the habit of considering the issues of various courses of conduct. We should regard our thoughts, words, and actions as the farmer regards his seeds—as the germs of a future harvest; and we should remember that “whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” This will lead to a wise caution in regard to the seeds we sow. 2. Consider the relations in which you now stand to Almighty God. You must be either a rebel, exposed to His vengeance, or a pardoned child, shielded by His love. Which is it?

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Silly man is like the foolish chickens, though the kite comes and takes away many of their fellows, yet the rest continue pecking the ground, never heeding their owner, never minding their shelter. Death comes and snatches away one man here, a second there; one before them, another behind them, and they are killed by death, undone for ever; yet they who survive take no warning, but persist in their wicked, ungodly ways (Job. iv. 20, 21).—Swinnock, 1673.

A plough is coming from the far end of a long field, and a daisy stands nodding, and full of dew-dimples. That furrow is sure to strike the daisy. It casts its shadow as gaily, and exhales its gentle breath as freely, and stands as simple and radiant and expectant as ever; and yet that crushing furrow, which is turning and turning others in its course, is drawing near, and in a moment it whirls the heedless flower with sudden reversal under the sod! And as is the daisy, with no power of thought, so are ten thousand thinking sentient flowers of life, blossoming in places of peril, and yet thinking that no furrow of disaster is running in toward them—that no iron plough of trouble is about to overturn them. Sometimes it dimly dawns upon us, when we see other men’s mischiefs and wrongs, that we are in the same category with them, and that perhaps the storms which have overtaken them will overtake us also. But it is only for a moment, for we are artful to cover the ear, and not listen to the voice that warns us of danger.—Beecher.

[2] The wounds I might have healed!
The human sorrow and smart!
And yet it never was in my soul
To play so ill a part:
But evil is wrought by want of thought,
As well as want of heart!—Hood.

Things to be Considered.

i. 3. My people doth not consider.

The universe is regulated by fixed laws, by which God preserves and governs all things. Man is endowed with rational powers, intellectual faculties, capable of apprehending these laws, whether they become known to him by revelation or by his own discoveries, and of using them as his guides. His well-being depends upon his harmony with them, and his dignity and bliss on the right application of his mental powers. One of Satan’s main stratagems is to endeavour to hinder him from using them aright; to induce him to act without forethought or reflection, and to incite him to act merely on impulse, feeling, or passion.[1] As a result of these artifices, the great mass of mankind live without thought, and are borne in stupid insensibility to the eternal world. Thus God complains of the infatuation of Israel, “My people doth not consider.” To consider is to think deliberately, to reflect maturely. There are many subjects to which our consideration should be attentively and diligently given. We should consider—I. The character and will of God. His words should lead us to this. If you see a beautiful picture, or piece of sculpture or mechanism, you naturally direct your thoughts to the artist or mechanist who has produced it. The grandeur of the divine works surrounds you, and ought you not to consider the wondrous Architect of the whole? His relationship to you should induce it. Your existence is derived from Him, and He fashioned you, and bestowed on you all your endowments. He is your Father, your bountiful Preserver. Besides, you are ever in His hand, ever before His eyes, He surrounds you. And He is great, wise, powerful, holy, and just. His love and favour are heaven; His anger and frowns are hell. II. Ourselves. What are we? What our powers? our capabilities? our end and destination? the claims of God? our duties to others? the improvement we should make of the present? the preparation we should make for the future? Are we answering the end of our being? &c. III. Our spiritual state before God. Is it one of ignorance, or of knowledge? folly, or wisdom? guilt, or pardon? condemnation or acceptance? alienation, or sonship and adoption? safety, or imminent peril? Are we heirs of wrath or perdition, or of God and salvation? IV. The importance of life. Life is the seedtime for eternity, the period of probation, the only opportunity of securing eternal blessedness. How short it is, how fragile, how uncertain! How criminal to waste it, to pervert it! &c. V. The solemnities of death (Deut. xxxii. 29). Consider its certainty, its probable nearness, its truly awful character. Try to realise it. Consider if you were now dying, &c.[2] VI. The great concerns of eternity. The judgment-day. Heaven, with its eternal glories; hell, with its everlasting horrors. Eternity itself, how solemn, how overwhelming! How blissful to the saint! how terrific to the sinner! Eternity! VII. That salvation which will fit us for living, dying, and for eternity. Provided by the mercy of God, obtained by the Lord Jesus Christ, revealed in the gospel, offered to every sinner, received by simple faith, and which delivers from guilt, pollution, fear, and everlasting wrath. VIII. Our present duty and interest. Men are supposed to care naturally for these. But their care usually relates merely to the body, and the things of time. Consider whether it is not your duty to obey and serve God; whether it is not your interest (1 Tim. iv. 8). IX. That there is no substitute for religion (Jer. ii. 13).

Application.—Urge consideration upon all present. 1. Some have never considered. Now begin. Retire and reflect; weigh and consider these things. 2. Some have considered occasionally—in church, or when sick, in the house of bereavement, &c. Cultivate the habit of consideration,[3] and carry into effect the conclusions to which you will inevitably come. 3. There is hope for all who will consider. 4. They are hopeless who will not consider.[4]—Jabez Burns, D.D., Pulpit Cyclopædia, vol. ii. pp. 34–37.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Satan doth his utmost, that sinners may not have any serious thoughts of the miserable state they are in while they are under his rule, or hear of anything from others which might the least unsettle their minds from his service. Consideration, he knows, is the first step to repentance. He that doth not consider his ways what they are, and whither they lead him, is not likely to change them in haste. Israel stirred not until Moses came, and had some discourse with them about their woful slavery and the gracious thoughts of God towards them, and then they begin to desire to be gone. Pharaoh soon bethought him what consequence might follow upon him, and cunningly labours to prevent it by doubling their task. “Ye are idle, ye are idle, therefore ye say, Let us go, and do sacrifice unto the Lord. Go therefore and work.” Thus Satan is very jealous of the sinner, afraid every Christian that speaks to him, or ordinance that he hears, will inveigle him. By his good-will he should come at neither; no, nor have a thought of heaven or hell from one end of the week to the other, and that he may have as few as may be, he keeps him full-handed with work. The sinner grinds, and he is filling the hopper that the mill may not stand still. Ah, poor wretch! was ever slave so looked to? As long as the devil can keep thee thus, thou art his own sure enough. The prodigal “came to himself” before he came to his father. He considered with himself what a starving condition he was in; his husks were poor meat, and yet he had not enough of them; and how easily he might mend his commons if he had but grace to go home and humble himself to his father! Now, and not till now, he goes.—Gurnall, 1616–1679.

[2] The sand of life
Ebbs fastly to its finish. Yet a little,
And the last fleeting particle will fall
Silent, unseen, unnoticed, unlamented.
Come, then, sad thought, and let us meditate,
While meditate we may. We have now
But a small portion of what men call time
To hold communion.—H. K. White.

[3] He sat within a silent cave, apart
From men, upon a chair of diamond stone;
Words he had not, companions he had none,
But steadfastly pursued his thoughtful art;
And as he mused he pulled a slender string
Which evermore within his hand he held;
And the dim curtain rose which had concealed
His thoughts, the city of the immortal king:
There, pictured in its solemn pomp, it lay
A glorious country stretching round about,
And through its golden gates passed in and out
Men of all nations, on their heavenly way.
On this he mused, and mused the whole day long,
Feeding his feeble faith till it grew strong.—George Craly.

[4] No man is in so much danger as he who thinks there is no danger. Why, when the bell rings, when the watchman rends the air with cries of “Fire! Fire! Fire!” when in every direction there is the pattering of feet on the sidewalk, and when the engines come rattling up to the burning house, one after another the inmates are awakened, and they rush out; and they are safest that are most terrified, and that suffer most from a sense of danger. One only remains behind. He hears the tumult, but it weaves itself into the shape of dreams, and he seems to be listening to some parade, and soon the sounds begin to be indistinct in his ear, and at length they cease to make any impression upon him. During all this time he is inhaling the deadly gas with which his apartment has become filled, gradually his senses are benumbed, and finally he is rendered unconscious by suffocation. And, in the midst of peril, and the thunder of excitement, that man who is the least awake, and the least frightened, is the very man that is most likely to be burned up.—Beecher.

Religious Consideration.

i. 3. My people doth not consider.

In a former discourse we noticed that one of Satan’s chief devices was to keep men from consideration, and we referred to a variety of subjects upon which it is important that we should reflect. We now call your attention to the true character of religious consideration.

I. It should be serious and earnest. The subjects are too solemn and weighty to be hastily dismissed. It must not be a mere cursory survey, a rapid glance at these great concerns, but a careful, deliberate contemplation of them; just as a prisoner about to be tried for a capital offence would consider his defence, or a wrecked mariner how he shall escape a watery grave, or a traveller how to accomplish some momentous journey or voyage. If it be done lightly and hastily, it will not profit us or please God. II. It should be prayerful. The exercise will be irksome to the natural heart. We shall be disposed to give it up, or do it slightingly. The grace of God alone can give the spirit necessary for the right discharge of it. Therefore begin, continue, and follow it out with prayer. III. It should be pursued in connection with a diligent use of the public means of grace. Hearken to the Divine Word as it is read in the sanctuary, and to the preaching of the gospel, Christian conversation, &c. Consideration will not profit us if God’s means and ordinances are neglected. All are needful to the soul, as wind, sun, rain, and dew are all needful to the ripening of fruit. IV. It should be continued and persevering. Not too much to devote a portion of every day to it. The first and last moments would be thus profitably exercised,[1] and it must be followed out.[2]

In conclusion, notice some reasons why you should consider. 1. Because you have powers to do so. God made you for this end, that you should consider. In neglecting this, you despise your own souls, you sink to below the level of the brute creation. They do answer the end of their existence, and obey their several instincts. “The ox knoweth his owner.” Nearly every creature disposes of its time and means wisely; but an inconsiderate man defaces the faculties within him. 2. Because it is your duty. God enjoins it—He urges, expostulates. To neglect it is, therefore, to despise God and rebel against Him. 3. It is essential to the possession of true religion. Various are the ways in which God brings man to Himself; by a variety of instruments and means, but none without consideration. Manasseh in prison—Jonah in the belly of the whale—the prodigal in his misery, &c. It is the first great step towards saving religion. 4. By prudent men, it is never neglected in worldly things. In entering upon any contract, in buying and selling, in all business engagements, in all secular pursuits. We consider, in reference to the body, our houses, food, and raiment, our families, &c. Are the soul’s eternal concerns the only things not deserving of it? 5. God may compel you to consider. By bereaving you of the dearest objects of your hearts, by afflicting your bodies, by embittering all earthly good. Is it not better to avoid these corrections, sorrows, and griefs? 6. You may consider when it is too late. Perhaps on the verge of eternity, if not in eternity itself. The foolish virgins considered when the cry was heard: the rich man considered too late; the wicked will consider in the great day of Christ’s wrath, when they cry to the rocks and hills, &c. The consideration of the lost in eternity will be in vain—will be bitter beyond description—will be everlasting, and as horrible as it is durable. Therefore, consider now, while consideration may yet profit you.—Jabez Burns, D.D., Pulpit Cyclopædia, vol. ii. pp. 37–39.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Make up your spiritual accounts daily; see how matters stand between God and your souls (Ps. lxxvii. 6). Often reckonings keep God and conscience friends. Do with your heart as you do with your watch—wind it up every morning by prayer, and at night examine whether it has gone true all that day, whether the wheels of your affections have moved swiftly toward heaven. Oh call yourself often to account; keep your reckonings even, and that is the way to keep your peace.—Waters, 1696.

[2] The end of all arts and sciences is the practice of them. And as this is to be confessed in all other arts, so it cannot be denied in divinity and religion, the practice whereof doth in excellency surmount the knowledge and theory, as being the main end whereunto it tends. For to what purpose do men spend their spirits and tire their wits in discerning the light of truth, if they do not use the benefit of it to direct them in all their ways? (Ps. cxix. 59.)—Downame, 1642.

Iniquity a Burden.

i. 4. A people laden with iniquity.

A very surprising description: “A people laden with iniquity.” On account of their punctilious and costly observance of the Mosaic ritual (see vers. 11–15), the Jews imagined that they deserved the commendation of Heaven; but God pronounced them to be “a people laden with iniquity.” Men often form very different estimates of the same thing; e.g., buyer and seller (Prov. xx. 14). There is often as marked a difference between the divine and human estimates of character (Luke xviii. 11; Rev. iii. 17). This is so because God and men judge by different standards; men take into account only their occasional good actions; God judges by that feature of their character which is predominant.[1] So judging, He condemned these most “religious” Jews. What is His estimate of us?

A very instructive description: “A people laden with iniquity.” The conception is that of a nation that has gone on adding sin to sin, as a man gathering sticks in the forest adds fagot to fagot, until he staggers beneath the load; that which was eagerly sought after becomes an oppressive burden. How true this is! There are many national burdens; despotism, an incapable government, excessive taxation, &c., but the worst and most oppressive of all is a nation’s iniquities.

The iniquities of a nation constitute a burden that impede it—1. In its pursuit of material prosperity. With what desperate intensity this English nation toils! and for what end? Chiefly that it may accumulate wealth. How greatly it is impeded in this pursuit by its costly government! But how much more by its costly vices! On strong drink alone this nation expends a larger sum than the whole amount both of imperial and local taxation—more than one hundred millions annually! Other vices that are nameless, how much they cost, and what a hindrance they are to the nation in its pursuit of wealth! 2. In its pursuit of social happiness. What a crushing burden of sorrow the nation’s iniquities impose upon it! 3. In its pursuit of moral and intellectual improvement. According to a monkish legend, the church of St. Brannock’s, in Braunton, Devon, could not be erected on its original site, because as fast as the builders reared up the walls by day, by night the stones were carried away by invisible hands. A like contest goes on in our own land. The nation’s virtues are toiling to elevate the national character morally and intellectually, using as their instruments the school, the church, the press; but as fast as the virtues build, the vices pull down. In all these respects the nation’s iniquities constitute its heaviest burden.

Consequently, 1. To give a legal sanction to vices, or to connive at what promotes them, for the sake of certain additions to the national revenues, is suicidal folly of the grossest kind. 2. Those are the truest national benefactors who do most to abate the national iniquities. The palm for truest patriotism must be awarded, not to “active politicians,” but to faithful preachers, Sunday-school teachers, temperance reformers, &c. 3. Vices of all kinds should be branded, not only as sins against God, but as treasons against society; and all good men should, in self-defence, as well as in a spirit of enlightened patriotism, band themselves together for their overthrow. That is a mistaken spirituality which leads some good men to leave imperial and local affairs in the hands of the worldly and the vicious. We are bound to labour as well as to pray that God’s will may be done “on earth as it is in heaven,” and that “His kingdom” may come in our own land.[2]

That which is true of nations is true also of individuals; the heaviest burdens which men can take upon themselves are vices. Vices lay upon men a burden—1. Of expense. Even so-called “indulgences” are costly; many professing Christians spend more annually on tobacco than they give to the cause of missions. Vices keep millions poor all their lives.[3] 2. Of discredit. 3. Of sorrow, clouding all the present. 4. Of fear, darkening all the future.

There is this terrific feature about the burden of iniquity—there is none so hard to be got rid of. It is hard to inspire a nation or a man with the desire to get rid of it. How nations and men hug their vices, notwithstanding the miseries they entail! It is still harder to accomplish the desire! Society is full of men who stagger and groan under this burden, from which they strive in vain to free themselves. In them the fable of Sinbad, unable to rid himself of the old man who he has taken upon his shoulders, has a melancholy realisation. These men feel themselves to be helpless, and their case would indeed be hopeless were it not that God has laid help for us on One who is mighty to save. Cry to Him, ye burdened ones, and obtain release!

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Men are to be estimated, as Johnson says, by the mass of character. A block of tin may have a grain of silver, but still it is tin; and a block of silver may have an alloy of tin, but still it is silver. The mass of Elijah’s character was excellence; yet he was not without the alloy. The mass of Jehu’s character was base; yet he had a portion of zeal which was directed by God to great ends.—Cecil.

[2] As Christians are to think of living for awhile in the world, it is not unreasonable for them to be affected with its occurrences and changes. Some plead for a kind of abstracted and sublimated devotion, which the circumstances they are placed in by their Creator render equally impractical and absurd. They are never to notice the affairs of government, or the measures of administration; war, or peace; liberty, or slavery; plenty, or scarcity,—all is to be equally indifferent to them; they are to leave these carnal and worldly things to others. But have they not bodies? Have they not families? Is religion founded on the ruins of humanity? When a man becomes a Christian, does he cease to be a member of civil society? Allowing that he be not the owner of the ship, but only a passenger in it, has he nothing to awaken his concern in the voyage? If he be only a traveller towards a better country, is he to be told that because he is at an inn which he is soon to leave, it should not excite any emotion in him whether it be invaded by robbers or consumed by flames before the morning? In the peace thereof ye shall have peace; and are not Christians to provide things honest in the sight of all men? Are they to detach themselves while here from the interests of their fellow-creatures; or to rejoice with them that rejoice, and weep with them that weep? Is our religion various affected by public transactions? Can a Christian, for instance, be indifferent to the cause of freedom, even on a pious principle? Does not civil liberty necessarily include religion? and is it not necessary to the exertions of ministers, and the spreading of the gospel?—Jay.

[3] “What are you going to take that for?” said an old labourer to a young one who was about to drink a glass of ale. “To make me work,” was the reply. “Yes,” answered the old man, “you are right; that is just what it will do for a certainty: I began to drink ale when I was about your age, and it has made me work until now!”

Transmitted Depravity.

i. 4. A seed of evil-doers, children that are corrupters.

Transmitted depravity is—I. A doctrine of Scripture. II. A fact in human life.[1] Application—1. God will not fail to make allowance for it in dealing with us. 2. We should make allowance for it in judging our fellow-men. Our censures should be mingled with compassion. 3. By self-restraint and a life of virtue we should endeavour as far as it is possible to cut off from our children this and entail. A bias towards good may be transmitted as a bias towards evil.[2] 4. In the education of our children, we should be especially solicitous to check and prevent the development of the faults we have transmitted to them, that so, though they are “a seed of evil-doers,” they may not themselves be “corrupters.”

FOOTNOTES:

[1] As colour and favour, and proportion of hair and face and lineament, and as disease and infirmities of the body, so, commonly, the liabilities and dispositions and tempers of the mind and affections become hereditary, and run in the blood. An evil bird hatches an evil egg, and one viper will breed a generation of vipers. Most sins pass along from the father to the son, and so downward, by a kind of lineal descent, from predecessors to posterity, and that for the most part with advantage and increase, whole families being tainted with the special vices of their stock. John the Baptist speaks of “a generation of vipers;” and if we should but observe the condition of some families in a long line of succession, might we not espy here and there even whole generations of drunkards, and generations of swearers, and generations of idolaters, and generations of worldlings, and generations of seditious, and of envious, and of riotous, and of haughty, and of unclean persons, and of sinners in other kinds.—Sanderson, 1587–1662.

Original or birth sin is not merely a doctrine in religion, it is a fact in man’s world acknowledged by all, whether religious or not. Let a man be providing for an unborn child: in case of distribution of worldly property, he will take care to bind him by conditions and covenants which shall guard against his fraudulently helping himself to that which he is to hold for or to apportion to another. He never saw that child; he does not know but that child may be the most pure and perfect of men; but he knows it will not be safe to put temptation in his way, because he knows he will be born in sin, and liable to sin, and sure to commit sin.—Alford, 1810–1871.

[2] While children are the children of Christian parents, as they were children of Christian parents, the presumptions are that they will turn out right; not without parental training, but, that being implied, the presumptions are that they will, by the force of natural law, tend in that direction. All the presumptions are that the children of moral and sensible parents will become moral and sensible. Only the grossest neglect and the most culpable exposure to temptation will overrule the presumption and likelihood that the children of good parents will be good. There may be opposing influences; there may be temptations and perversions that shall interrupt the natural course of things; but this does not invalidate the truth that there is a great law by which like produces like. And I say that under this law the Christian parent has a right to this comforting presumption—“My children have all the chances in their favour by reason of the moral constitution which they have inherited.”

I know multitudes of families in which the moral element is hereditary; and it is not surprising that the children of these families are moral. Moral qualities are as transmissible as mental traits or physical traits. The same principle applies to every part of the human constitution. And where families have been from generation to generation God-fearing, passion-restraining, truth-telling, and conscience-obeying, the chances are ninety-nine in every hundred in favour of the children.—Beecher.

Forsaking the Lord.

i. 4. They have forsaken the Lord.

How many souls are guilty of forsaking the Lord? They forsake Him by yielding to what are called “little sins.”[1] Then they are further removed from Him by habitual wickedness.

I. This conduct is surprising. Is it not most surprising that men should forsake the great God, their Creator and Benefactor? He is all-powerful. He is all-wise. He is all-loving. The soul cannot have a better helper in difficulty, or a truer and wiser friend in sorrow. From the Godward aspect of the case nothing is more surprising than that men should forsake God; but from the manward aspect of things this is not surprising, for man is carnal, and the carnal mind is enmity against God. Satan draws the soul from God. It chases a phantom into the great darkness, and finds in the end that it has wandered from the Infinite Being.

II. This conduct is criminal. We should esteem it criminal to forsake a parent, to forsake a benefactor, to forsake a master. But this offence is small compared to that of the soul when it wanders from the Lord. It exhibits insubordination. It rejects the Supreme Moral Ruler of the universe. It exhibits ingratitude. It forsakes its Redeemer. It exhibits folly, for away from Christ the soul cannot obtain true rest.

III. This conduct is inexcusable. The soul can give no true reason, or valid excuse, for such unholy conduct. The Lord has dealt bountifully with it, and therefore it has no ground of complaint. He is attractive in character. He is winning in disposition. He is kindly in the discipline of life. He gives holy influences to draw the soul to Himself. Hence man has no excuse for forsaking God.

IV. This conduct is common. The world of humanity has forsaken God. One by one souls are returning, and are being welcomed to Christ and to heaven. Many agencies are at work for the return of souls to the heavenly kingdom. Let us seek to make them efficient. Let us pray that they may be successful. Have you forsaken God?—J. S. Exell.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] There is many a man who evinces, for a time, a steadfast attention to religion, walking with all care in the path of God’s commandments, &c., but who, after awhile, declines from spirituality, and is dead, though he may yet have a name to life. But how does it commonly happen that such a man falls away from the struggle for salvation? Is it ordinarily through some one powerful and undisguised assault that he is turned from the faith, or over one huge obstacle that he falls not to rise again? Not so. It is almost invariably through little things. He fails to take notice of little things, and they accumulate into great. He allows himself in little things, and thus forms a strong habit. He relaxes in little things, and thus in time loosens every bond. Because it is a little thing, he counts it of little moment, utterly forgetting that millions are made up of units, that immensity is constituted of atoms. Because it is only a stone, a pebble, against which his foot strikes, he makes light of the hindrance; not caring that he is contracting a habit of stumbling, or of observing that whenever he trips there must be some diminution in the speed with which he runs the way of God’s commandments, and that, however slowly, these diminutions are certainly bringing him to a stand.

The astronomer tells us, that, because they move in a resisting medium, which perhaps in a million of years destroys the millionth part of their velocity, the heavenly bodies will at length cease from their mighty march. May not, then, the theologian assure us that little roughnesses in the way, each retarding us, though in an imperceptible degree, will eventually destroy the onward movement, however vigorous and direct it may at one time have seemed? Would to God that we could persuade you of the peril of little offences! We are not half as much afraid of your hurting the head against a rock, as of your hurting the foot against a stone. There is a sort of continued attrition, resulting from our necessary intercourse with the world, which of itself deadens the movements of the soul; there is, moreover, a continued temptation to yield in little points, under the notion of conciliating; to indulge in little things, to forego little strictnesses, to omit little duties; and all with the idea that what looks so light cannot be of real moment. And by these littles, thousands, tens of thousands, perish. If they do not come actually and openly to a stand, they stumble and stumble on, getting more and more careless, nearer and nearer to indifference, lowering the Christian standards, suffering religion to be peeled away by inches, persuading themselves that they can spare without injury such inconsiderable bits, and not perceiving that in stripping the bark they stop the sap.—Melvill.

Moral Obduracy.

i. 5. Why should ye be stricken any more? ye will revolt more and more.

I. The danger of despising the Divine chastisements. Heedlessness destroys the very power of taking heed. II. The terribleness of the peace which is often the portion of the wicked. Like the cessation of pain in a sick man, which indicates that mortification has set in, it may be only a sign that God has given them up as irreclaimable (Hos. iv. 17).[1] III. The folly of expecting sanctification as the inevitable result of suffering. Contrary to the expectation of the Universalists, the sufferings of the lost may only confirm them in their impenitence (Rev. ii. 9, 11, 21).[2]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] While God visits us at all, it is a sign He thinks of us. The present life is not the time for punishment devoid of mercy. While the debtor is on his way to prison, he may agree with his adversary, and escape the messenger’s hands. While the sick man feels pain, there is vitality and activity in his constitution, and he may recover. And therefore I think it must be a terrible thing to have one’s perdition sealed; to have the process already closed; both depositions and sentence, and laid up in God’s chancery, as an irreversible doom, and so him who is its object troubled no further, but allowed the full choice of his pleasures,—as one permits a man, between sentence and execution, his choice of viands, in full certainty that when his hour hath tolled the terrible law will take its course. How smoothly glides along the boat upon the wide, unruffled, though most rapid stream that hurries it onward to the precipice, over which its waters break in thunder! How calm, and undisturbed by the smallest ripple, slumbers its unreflecting steersman! Or for one rock in the midst of its too smooth channel, against which it may be dashed and whirled about, to shake him from this infatuated sleep! It is the only hope that remains for him. Woe to him if to the end his course be pleasant! That end will pay it all!—Wiseman.

[2] Afflictions leave the wicked worse, more impenitent, hardened in sin, and outrageous in their wicked practices. Every plague on Egypt added to the plague of hardness on Pharaoh’s heart; he that for some while could beg prayers of Moses for himself, at last comes to that pass that he threatens to kill him if he come to him any more. Or, what a prodigious height do we see some come to in sin after some great sickness or other judgment! Oh, how grossly and ravenous are they after their prey, when once they got off their clog and chain from their heels! When physic works not kindly, it doth not only leave the disease uncured, but the poison of the physic stays in the body also. Many appear thus poisoned by their afflictions.—Gurnall, 1617–1679.

Trust not in any unsanctified afflictions, as if these could permanently and really change the condition of your heart. I have seen the characters of the writing which the flames had turned into a film of buoyant coal; I have seen the thread which has been passed through the fire retain, in its cold grey ashes, the twist it had got in spinning; I have found every shivered splinter of the flint as hard as the unbroken stone: and let trials come, in Providence, sharp as the fire and ponderous as the crushing hammer, unless a gracious God send along with these something else than these, bruised, broken, bleeding as thy heart may be, its nature remains the same.—Guthrie.

Needless Stripes.

i. 9. Why should ye be stricken any more? ye will revolt more and more.

That sin should not go unpunished is a law of our own hearts, and it is a law of God. Punishment is intended to be remedial;[1] but remedies that are intended to cure sometimes irritate, and God’s remedies may act in two ways—they may make a man better, or they may make him worse.[2] There are those who “kick against the pricks,” and as the result of afflictions which their own sins have brought upon them, become desperate. Chastisement is then of no further use, and like a father weary of correcting the child who has proved irreformable, God may say, “Why should,” &c. (Hos. iv. 17). Terrible meaning, then, may lurk in these words: they may speak of that state in the sinner’s career when his moral malady has become incurable, when the Good Physician feels that His severest and most searching remedies are of no avail, when God withholds His hand, and says, “He that is filthy, let him be filthy still.”[3] So some here understood these words.

But a more gracious meaning may be contained in them; they may be the first note of that tender Divine invitation which is fully expressed in ver. 18. For mark, God begins here to reason with men,—bids them look at themselves, their situation, the fatal folly of sinning when sin brings its own sure punishment. What need of these disasters? Note: the first aim of the Gospel is to make the sinner understand that sin and its torments are alike of his own seeking; repentance cannot come until he feels this.

These words may then be regarded as implying—I. That there is no inherent necessity that sinners should continue to be stricken. 1. There is no reason in the nature of God (Ezek. xviii. 23). God is love. Love may ordain laws for the general security and safety, the breaking of which may be attended with terrible consequences; but yet God has no delight when these consequences overwhelm the transgressor. He pities even while He punishes, and is on the outlook for the very first beginnings of penitence, that He may stay His hand.[4] 2. There is no reason in the nature of man. As man is not impelled by any inherent necessity to sin, but in every sin acts by deliberate choice, so neither is he compelled to repeat his transgressions. Even when he has done wrong, his consciousness testifies that he might have done right, and it is precisely on this account that his conscience condemns him! II. That a way of avoiding the merited punishment is open. We know what that way is. The prophet saw it afar off, and rejoiced (ver. 18; ch. liii. 5, 6). “Why should ye be stricken any more,” when Christ has been stricken for you? The way of reconciliation is open: avail yourselves of it with patience, with thankful joy!—But if men despise the offered grace, let them know that when the doom from which they would not be delivered comes crashing down upon them, they will neither have nor merit any pity. Even the Angel of Mercy will answer them, “Ye have destroyed yourselves!”—W. Baxendale.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] When Almighty God, for the merits of His Son, not of any ireful mind, but of a loving heart towards us, doth correct and punish us, He may be likened unto a father; as the natural father first teacheth his dear beloved child, and afterwards giveth him warning, and then correcteth him at last, even so the Eternal God assayeth all manner of ways with us. First He teacheth us His will through the preaching of His Word, and giveth us warning. Now if so be that we will not follow Him, then He beateth us a little with a rod, with poverty, sickness, or with other afflictions, which should be esteemed as nothing else but children’s rods, or the wands of correction. If such a rod will not do any good, and his son waxeth stubborn, then taketh the father a whip or a stick, and beateth him till his bones crack; even so, when we wax obstinate, and care neither for words nor stripes, then sendeth God unto us more heavy and universal plagues. All this He doth to drive us unto repentance and amendment of our lives. Now truth it is, that it is against the father’s will to strike his child; he would much rather do him all the good that ever he could. Even so certainly, when God sendeth affliction upon our necks, there lieth hidden under that rod a fatherly affection. For the peculiar and natural property of God is to be loving and friendly, to heal, to help, and to do good to His children, mankind.—Wermullerus, 1551.

The surgeon must cut away the rotten and the dead flesh, that the whole body be not poisoned, and so perish; even so doth God sometimes plague our bodies grievously, that our souls may be preserved and healed. How deep soever God thrusteth His iron into our flesh, He doeth it only to heal us; and if it be so that He kill us, then will He bring us to the right life. The physician employeth one poison to drive out another; even so God in correcting us useth the devil and wicked people, but yet all to do us good.—Wermullerus, 1551.

[2] Sorrow is in itself a thing neither good nor bad; its value depends on the spirit of the person on whom it falls. Fire will inflame straw, soften iron, or harden clay; its effects are determined by the object with which it comes in contact. Warmth develops the energies of life, or helps the progress of decay. It is a great power in the hothouse, a great power also in the coffin; it expands the leaf, matures the fruit, adds precocious vigour to vegetable life; and warmth, too, develops with tenfold rapidity the weltering process of dissolution. So, too, with sorrow. There are spirits in which it develops the seminal principle of life; there are others in which it prematurely hastens the consummation of irreparable decay.—F. W. Robertson.

[3] As long as the physician hath any hope of the recovery of his patient, he assayeth all manner of means and medicine with him, as well sour and sharp as sweet and pleasant; but as soon as ever he beginneth to doubt of his recovery, he suffereth him to have whatever himself desireth. Even so the heavenly Physician, as long as He hath any hope to recover us, will not always suffer us to have what we most desire; but as soon as He hath no more hope of us, then He suffereth us for a time to enjoy all our own pleasure.—Wermullerus, 1551.

[4] It is harder to get sin felt by the creature, than the burden, when felt, removed by the hand of a forgiving God. Never was tender-hearted surgeon more willing to take up the vein, and bind up the wound of his fainting patient, when he hath bled enough, than God is by His pardoning mercy to cast the troubled spirit of a mourning penitent.—Gurnall, 1617–1679.

Total Depravity.

i. 5–8. The whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it; but wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores: they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment. Your country is desolate, your cities are burned with fire: your land, strangers devour in your presence, and it is desolate, as overthrown by strangers. And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers, as a besieged city.

By these powerful figures the prophet sets forth the moral corruption and its impending calamities of the people to whom he ministered. [Note that in vers. 7, 8, the prophet speaks as if the future were already present; so clear and vivid is his view of it.] I. A whole nation may become morally corrupt. Vice may defile and degrade all classes of society. II. The natural tendency of national corruption is not to abate, but to spread and increase. Vices are “putrefying sores.” As in the body physical a disease or wound in one member may poison the whole body, so in the body politic the vice of any one class tends to spread through all society.—These two considerations should lead us—1. To pray constantly and earnestly for our country. “Christian England” left to itself, and unrestrained by Divine grace and mercy, would soon become as Sodom and Gomorrah. 2. Not to be selfishly indifferent to the sins of the classes of society to which we do not happen to belong. This were as foolish as it would be for a man to give no heed to the fact that his neighbour’s house was on fire, in forgetfulness or the other fact that fire spreads; or as if in the body the head were indifferent to the fact that the foot had received a poisoned wound. 3. To put forth earnest efforts for the repression of public vices. Mere passive reprobation of them will be of no avail. Nor can we reasonably hope that time will abate and lessen them. No; these “sores” are “putrefying;” and if the body politic is ever to be restored to moral health, they must be “closed, bound up, and mollified with ointment.” In some cases this “ointment” must be moral suasion, in other cases legal coercion. This principle is already recognised in regard to cockfighting, the sale of indecent books and pictures, &c. III. In a modified sense, the declarations of our text are true of every human being. The doctrine of “total depravity” has been preached in such a manner as to discredit it, and statements have been made in exposition of it which would imply that every child comes into the world as wicked as Nero left it (not only depraved in every faculty, but in every faculty totally depraved!) This representation of the doctrine is contrary both to Scripture (2 Tim. iii. 13; 1 Pet. iv. 4, &c.) and to fact. But our rejection of this exaggerated form of it must not lead us to reject the doctrine itself. Our whole personality has been “depraved”—debased and deteriorated—by sin; the whole man—his affections, passions, understanding, reason, imagination, and will—has been impaired by the “fall;” just as by certain diseases all the functions of the body are disordered.[1] The natural tendency of this inborn corruption is not to lessen with increasing years, but to intensify; as a matter of fact, aged sinners are always the vilest and most malignant. These facts—1. Disclose man’s need of a redemptive power external to himself. Our moral corruption is not like one of those minor diseases which are best left to “nature;” it is like a cancer or a malignant fever—if it is left to run its course, it will kill us. There is in us no vis medicatrix capable of overcoming and expelling it. If we are to be restored to moral soundness, it must be by a Power external to us. 2. Should lead us to accept with gratitude the proffered help of the Great Healer. We all need His help. Without it we shall grow worse day by day. His help will avail for us, however desperate may be our case; as it was in the days of His flesh physically, so it is now morally and spiritually (Matt. iv. 23, 24; xiv. 36). IV. Moral depravity brings on physical misery. The desolation set forth in vers. 7, 8, was the natural consequence of the depravity denounced in vers. 5, 6. By an everlasting and most righteous decree a bad character and a bad condition are linked together, and can be only for a very little while disassociated. This is true both of nations and individuals. Sin inevitably leads to sorrow. Of this fact we have ten thousand evidences in this present world. Hence also the realm of unrelieved wickedness in the realm of unmitigated woe. Were man always reasonable beings, the fearfulness and the certainty of the consequences of sin would be sufficient and prevailing arguments for repentance and amendment of life. Let them prevail with us (Ezek. xviii. 30, 21).

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is not only the inferior powers of the soul which this plague of sin has seized, but the contagion has ascended into the higher regions of the soul. The most supreme, most spiritual faculty in man’s mind, the understanding power of man, is corrupted, and needs renewing. To a carnal understanding not enlightened by the Word, this always has been and is the greatest paradox. Indeed, when blind reason, which thinks it sees, is judge, it is not strange that this corruption of the understanding should be a wonder to it. The reason, being the supreme faculty of all the rest, which judges all else, and is judged by none but itself, because of its nearness to itself, it least discerns itself. As a man’s eye, though it may see the deformity of another member, yet not the bloodshot that is in itself, but it must have a glass by which to discern it. And so, though even corrupt nature discerns the rebellions of the affections and sensual part of man by its own light, as the heathens did, and complained thereof, yet it cannot discern the infection and defilement that is in the spirit itself, but the glass of the Word is the first that discovers it; and when that glass is also brought, there had need by an inward light of grace, which is opposite to this corruption, to discover it.—T. Goodwin, 1600–1679.

God’s Reluctance to Punish.

i. 9. Except the Lord of hosts had left us a very small remnant, we should have been as Sodom, and we should have been like unto Gomorrah.

God had humbled His people because of their transgressions, but He had not utterly destroyed them, as He might have done in strict justice. This reminds us—1. That the punishments that befall wicked men in this world frequently fall short of their deserts. 2. That this disproportion between guilt and chastisement occurs because God is not so much concerned to punish sin as to reclaim sinners. God chastises, in the first instance, that He may correct, and it is with reluctance that He increases the severity of His strokes.[1]

These facts should lead us—1. To adore the divine benignity. How worthy of our love and worship is this God who is no mere vindictive avenger of broken law, but a loving Father who chastens us, not for His pleasure, but for our profit! 2. To gratefully acknowledge the mercy that has mingled with the judgments which our sins have drawn down upon us (Lam. iii. 10).[2] 3. To shrink with abhorrence from any abuse of the divine long-suffering. The fact that God is so reluctant to punish, instead of encouraging us in rebellion, should incite us to prompt and loving obedience. Nothing can be more base than to “turn the grace of God into lasciviousness;” and nothing could be more dangerous[3] (Prov. xxix. 1).

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See note [1] from outline [“Needless Stripes,”] page 18.

[2] If in an affliction we would pour forth to God such acceptable prayers as may obtain comfort in our crosses and deliverance from all our calamities, we must confess our sins, and humbly acknowledge that we deserve to be overwhelmed with much more heavy plagues and punishments. And so the Lord will excuse us when we accuse ourselves, remit our sins when we remember them, and absolve us from punishment when in all humility we acknowledge that we have justly deserved the fearfullest of His plagues. For if we, who have but a little of the milk of mercy, are moved with compassion when either our sons or our servants acknowledge their faults, and offer themselves of their own accord to suffer that punishment which they have deserved, how can we doubt that God, whose love and mercy towards us are infinite and incomprehensible, will be pitiful and ready to forgive us when He sees us thus humbled?—Downame, 1644.

[3] Take heed of abusing this mercy of God. Suck not poison out of the sweet flower of God’s mercy: do not think that because God is merciful you may go on in sin; this is to make mercy your enemy. None might touch the Ark but the priests, who by their office were more holy: none may touch the ark of God’s mercy but such as are received to be holy. He that sins because of mercy shall have judgment without mercy. Mercy abused turns to fury (Deut. xxix. 19, 20). “The mercy of the Lord is upon them that fear Him.” Mercy is not for them that sin and fear not, but for them that fear and sin not. God’s mercy is a holy mercy; where it pardons, it heals.—Watson, 1696.

The Summons to Jerusalem.

i. 10. Hear the word of the Lord, ye rulers of Sodom; give ear unto the law of our God, ye people of Gomorrah.

The prophet being about to make a still more terrible announcement, puts forth a renewed call for attention. It is well worthy of our study. We find in it—

I. A Startling Description. ”Rulers of Sodom, . . . people of Gomorrah.” What an astonishing declaration is this, that Sodom, Gomorrah, and Jerusalem are synonymous terms! It reminds us—1. That man may be morally alike to those from whom they think themselves the furthest removed. Many a Protestant who hates the very name of Rome is himself a little Pope: he never doubts his own infallibility, and is ready to anathematise all who dare to dissent from him. Many a man who has never stood in the felon’s dock is a thief at heart.[1] The people of Jerusalem were ready to thank God that they were not as Sodom and Gomorrah, whereas they really resembled the people they despised. For, like the inhabitants of those guilty cities, they had been living—(1) In habitual self-indulgence. Self-indulgence may vary in its forms, but in its essential nature it is ever the same. The inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah had pandered to the lusts of the body, the inhabitants of Jerusalem to the lusts of the mind (see vers. 17, 23; iii. 16, &c.) (2) In habitual defiance of God. The sins of which they were guilty were as plainly condemned in God’s Word as were those by which the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah polluted themselves. All sin is rebellion against God,[2] and the manner in which we sin is comparatively unimportant (James ii. 10). If we rebel against God, it does not matter much with what weapons we fight against Him. 2. That men may be utterly unconscious of their own real character. Self-delusion as to character is almost universal. Man can live in the practice of gross sin without any compunction of conscience. Laodicea and the foul criminal David are at peace until the rebukes of God begin to crash like thunders over their heads (Rev. iii. 17; 2 Sam. xii. 7). As such delusion is most common, so also it is most disastrous. It renders reform impossible. It sends men blindfolded into eternity to the most appalling surprises.[3] The remedy for it is earnest, searching, prayerful self-examination, conducted in the light of God’s Word.[4] 3. That God describes men according to their essential character. He does not take men according to their own estimates of their character and conduct, and ticked them accordingly. His description of man is often precisely the opposite of that which they would give of themselves, and even of what men would give of them. His neighbours as well as himself would doubtless have described the prosperous farmer (Luke xii. 16) as a shrewd and wise man, but God pronounced him to be a fool. So here, these men who prided themselves that they were rulers of Jerusalem, the holy city, were declared to be “rulers of Sodom,” the vilest of cities. Are we quite sure that God describes us as we have been accustomed to describe ourselves?

II. A Solemn Summons. “Hear the word of the Lord; . . . give ear unto the law of our God.” What is the law to which attention is thus emphatically called? It is the great truth announced in the following verses (11–15), that worship offered by ungodly men is not only without value, but is positively hateful in the sight of God. The most flaming zeal concerning the externals of religion is often found in men of unholy life.[5] Judas was evidently so zealous in such matters as completely to delude his fellow-disciples: even when Christ announced that there was a traitor in their midst, no suspicion turned towards him; the eleven were more ready to suspect themselves than him (Matt. xxvi. 21). Attention to the externals of religion is in itself a good thing; but unless it be conjoined with integrity and benevolence, it will secure for us at the last not the commendation but the condemnation of the Judge (Matt. xxiii. 23).

FOOTNOTES:

[1] To us there seems a wide difference between the judge, with the robes of office on his back, mind in his eye, and dignity in his mien, and that poor, pale, haggard wretch at the bar, who throws stealthy glances around, and hangs his head with shame. Yet the difference that looks so great to man may be very small in the eyes of God; and would look small in ours if we knew the different upbringing and history of both. The judge never knew what it was to want a meal; the felon often went cold and hungry to bed. The one, sprung of wise, kind, reputable, and perhaps pious parents, was early trained to good, and launched, with all the advantages of school and college, on an honourable and high career; while the other, bred up a stranger to the amenities of cultivated and Christian society, had no such advantages. Born to misery, his struggles with misfortune and evil began at the cradle. None ever took him by the hand to lead him to church or school. A child of poverty, and the offspring of abandoned parents, he was taught no lessons but how to swear, and lie, and drink, and cheat, and steal. The fact is, it is just as difficult for some to be honest as it is easy for others. What merit has that judge in his honesty? None. He has no temptation to be else than honest. And so, I suspect, much of the morality of that unblemished character and decent life in which many trust, saying to some poor guilty thing, “Stand aside, I am holier than thou,” and pluming themselves on this, that they have not sinned as others have done—is due, less to their superior virtue, than to their more favourable circumstances. Have they not sinned as others have done? I reply, They have not been tempted as others have been. And so the difference between many honest men and decent women on the one hand, and those on the other hand on whom a brand of infamy has been burned, and the key of a prison turned, may be just the difference between the green branch on the tree and the white ashes on the hearth. This is bathed in the dews of night and fanned by the breath of heaven, while that, once as green, has been thrust into the burning fire—the one has been tried in a way that the other has not.—Guthrie.

[2] As every sin is a violation of the law, so every violation of the law reflects upon the lawmaker. It is the same offence to coin a penny and a piece; the same to counterfeit the seal of a subpœna, as of a pardon. The second table was writ by the hand of God as well as the first, and the majesty of God, as He is the lawgiver, is wounded in an adultery and a theft as well as in an idolatry or a blasphemy.—Donne, 1573–1631.

[3] Is there anything more terrible than a false confidence? It is an awful thing to wake up and find that what we have been trusting in is rotten. To embark gaily in a ship that on mid-ocean proves to be worm-eaten, and leaky; for a man who believed himself to be wealthy to receive tidings that the failure of a bank has made him a beggar; for a sick man rejoicing in the cessation of his pain to be told by his physician that that is due only to the setting in of mortification that precedes death;—what horrible disappointments are these! But what poor and faint image they furnish of the horror of that man who lives in a state of delusion as to his spiritual condition, who dies in peace, imagining falsely that he is Christ’s, and who, when he has traversed the valley of the shadow of death—when he has reached that point from which there is no return, finds that the doors of heaven are shut against him, discovers that he is shrouded by thick darkness, and begins to feel the fires of hell kindling upon him! Can you picture to yourself his astonishment, his terror, his despair? Do not tell me that such a case is not conceivable—Christ declares that such cases are frequent (Matt. vii. 21–25).

[4] “Examine yourselves:” A metaphor from metal, that is pierced through to see if it be gold within. Self-examination is a spiritual inquisition set up in one’s soul: a man must search his heart for sin as one would search a house for a traitor: or as Israel sought for leaven to burn it.—Watson, 1696.

This duty of examining and proving supposes that there is some sure standard, which if we go by, we are sure not to be deceived. Not that rule is the Word of God. But as in matters of doctrine men have left the Scripture, the sure rule, and taken up antiquity, universality, tradition, and the like for their pride, and by this means have fallen into the ditch; so in matters of godliness, when we should try ourselves according to the characters and signs that the Scripture deciphers, we take up principles in the world, the applause of others, the conversation of most in the world. And thus it is with us as men in an hospital, because every one is either wounded or lame, or some way diseases, therefore none are offensive to each other.—Burgess.

Men compare themselves with men, and readily with the worst, and flatter themselves with that comparative betterness. This is not the way to see spots, to look into the muddy streams of profane men’s lives; but look into the clear fountain of the Word, and there we may both discern and wash them; and consider the infinite holiness of God, and this will humble us to the dust.—Leighton, 1611–1684.

[5] Fruit-trees that bring forth the fairest and most beautiful blossoms, leaves, and shoots, usually bring forth the fewest and least fruits; because where nature is intent and vigorously pressing to do one work, spending its strength there, it is not at the same time weak about other works; but distinct and several works of nature, in moderate and remote degree, are all promoted at the same time. Generally those persons who are excessive and most curious about the forms of duties, have least of the power of godliness. The Pharisees were extremely careful about the outside of God’s worship. So it was among us of late years; bowing at the name of Jesus, the communion-table, surplice, common prayer, &c.,—those and suchlike were pressed with all eagerness and strictness. The body of religion was large and monstrous, but without a soul: or, if any, it was lean and feeble. These persons are like the Indian fig-tree that Pliny speaks of, which had leaves as broad as targets, but fruits no bigger than a bean. This is a foul fault among us at this day: men stand more about the forms of worship than about the power of it: they look so much after the way, manner, and circumstances that they almost lose the substance; things which are but as husks or shells to the kernels, or as leaves in respect of fruits.—Austen, 1656.

Many are set upon excess of ceremonies, because they are defective in the vital parts, and should have no religion if they had not this. All sober Christians are friends to outward decency and order; but it is the empty self-deceiver that is most for the unwarrantable inventions of man, and useth the worship of God but as a masque or puppet-show, where there are great doings with little life, and to little purpose. The chastest woman will wash her face; but it is the harlot, or wanton, or deformed, that will paint it. The soberest and the comeliest will avoid a nasty or ridiculous habit, which may make them seem uncomely where they are not; but a curious dress and excessive care doth signify a crooked or deformed body, or a filthy skin, or, which is worst, an empty soul, that hath need of such a covering. Consciousness of such greater want doth cause them to seek these poor supplies. The gaudiness of men’s religion is not the best sign that it is sincere. Simplicity is the ordinary attendant of sincerity. It hath long been a proverb, “The more ceremony, the less substance; and the more compliment, the more craft.”—Baxter, 1615–1691.

Rejected Sacrifices.

i. 11. To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the Lord.

Try to conceive what emotions would spring up in the breasts of the men to whom these words were first addressed—men who with most scrupulous care had fulfilled the requirements of a costly ceremonial worship, the respectable, the orthodox of their day. With what indignation they would rebuke the prophet, and how triumphantly they would remind him that all the sacrifices which they offered, and all the ceremonies they observed, were of Divine appointment! And, doubtless, to their rebuke they would add a protestation that they had had a sincere delight in the services, which, they would not doubt, had come up as a sweet-smelling savour before the Lord. Both these allegations they might have made with truth, but the prophet would have dismissed them as irrelevant. What he denounced was not sacrifices, but certain sacrifices offered by particular individuals whose wickedness disqualified them for taking part in Divine worship. “To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices,” &c.

But why should the wickedness of the worshippers cause the rejection of the worship, seeing that it is of Divine appointment? Because—1. Sacrifices are in themselves worthless to God. He does not need, nor is He enriched by our offerings (Ps. l. 7–13). 2. Sacrifices were instituted merely to be expressions of and helps to human piety, and are worthless when there is no piety to be expressed or fostered by them. Outward worship is to religion just what a bank-note is to commerce; it is valuable only in so far as it is really representative of something beyond itself. The worship which does not really represent penitence, faith, and love in the worshipper is a falsehood, and is necessarily repulsive to the God of truth, and to the offerer of it it is a deadly hurt. As the sunlight which develops life only hastens the putrefaction of the dead, so the very services which help to sanctify and ennoble the saintly may more completely disqualify the insincere for heaven. 3. Piety towards God is proved, not by costly sacrifices and stately ceremonies, even though pungent emotions are experienced by those who offer and take part in them, but by its pervasive influence on the character and the life. In family life love is proved by obedience; and to our Heavenly Father the protestations of reverence and love which are offered by men who live in disregard and defiance of His requirements are naturally and necessarily repulsive (1 Sam. xv. 22, 23). No elaborateness or costliness of ceremonial worship can atone for the absence of godliness in the lives of the worshippers; sacrifices are no equivalents for sanctification; and by the love of sin in the soul of the pretended worshipper even a divinely-appointed ritual is rendered abhorrent to God.

Judaism and its ritual are now things of the past, but men still need to be reminded of the facts now pointed out. The men of our day, after committing during the week all the sins denounced in the prophecies of Isaiah, assemble in the sanctuary on Sunday, and, because they enjoy its services, they imagine that they are well-pleasing to God, and will bring down His blessing on themselves. To-day, as of old, men need to be told plainly that public worship may be an abomination to God, and that, instead of making those who join in it more sure of heaven, it may, by confirming them in their self-delusion, make their eternal damnation more certain.

There is another side to all this. While “the sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord,” “the prayer of the upright is His delight” (Psa. cxlvii. 11; l. 23). Concerning the “true worshippers,” who “worship the Father in spirit and in truth,” it is declared that “the Father seeketh such to worship Him.” How wonderful, how astonishing is that! That God, whom angels, archangels, and all the shining hosts of heaven adore, should not merely condescend to accept the worship of men upon earth, but that He should seek such worship! Think much of that surprising and comforting assurance. It used to seem to me almost too wonderful to be true, but I believe and understand it now. I am helped to understand it almost every day; for almost every day my little girl steals away from her nursemaid. I hear her climbing laboriously up the stairs; it is an immense journey for her little legs; and then presently she knocks at my door, and calls me by my name. I am often busy when she comes; she interrupts me when it is not pleasant to be interrupted; but, notwithstanding, I rejoice that there is so much love for me in her heart that she thinks it worth while to climb up so far, just to see me for a moment and then be sent down again. So the marvellous “seeketh” is explained by the word that comes before it! The “Father seeketh such to worship Him”! When His children come, and knock at His door, and call “Abba, Father!” He listens with a joy that only a father can understand.

“His saints are precious in His sight;
He views His children with delight;
He sees their hope, He knows their fear,
And looks, and loves His image there.”

True and False Religion.

i. 11, 16, 17. To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the 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. . . . Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine eyes; cease to do evil; learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow.

What was the business of the ancient prophet? Not merely to predict events. His chief work was to make men realise vividly the presence of God. Religions, in order to their permanence, require system. But religious systems, with their creeds, forms, and ceremonies, have an inevitable tendency to coldness and deadness. The prophet was sent to counteract this tendency. It was his mission to restore to great words their great meanings, to cause moral principles to reassert themselves as the lords of conscience and of will—in a word, to prophesy on the dry bones of a decaying religion until there came upon them flesh and sinew, and there passed into them the breath of spiritual life. Such a mission was that of Isaiah. In his time religion was in a state of petrifaction, nay, rather of putrefaction. From this fact his prophetic message takes its keynote. It begins with an invective that reminds us of John the Baptist.

What was the condition of things that provoked his indignation? Not a lack of religious observances; there was a redundancy of them. That which caused a righteous anger to burn with him vehemently was their perversion of the sacrificial system to which they gloried, their dissociation of it from the moral law, to which God intended it to be only a supplement. It was given to teach men the hatefulness of sin, and the duty of consecration to God; but they separated it from the moral law, and allowed all its spiritual meaning to drop out of it. Instead of using it as a help to morality, they were making it the substitute for morality. Coming up red-handed from their murders, and reeking with their foul vices, they stood up before God, claiming His favour; for were they not sacrificing to Him, yea, in accordance with the regulations Himself had given? No wonder that a man with veracity in him and a love of righteousness should pour out upon such men and such offerings the whole wrath of his nature.

From this exposition take the following practical lessons—1. All forms of religion have a tendency to lose their original purity and freshness. As a stream, clear at its fountain-head, but turbid before it reaches the sea; as our planet, which physicists say was flung off at first from the sun a glowing mass of light and heat, has been cooling down ever since; so is it with religions and churches. As a rule, their history has been one of gathering accretions and of diminishing purity and power in proportion to their distance from their fountain-head. So was it with Judaism. So has it been with Christianity. Contrast Christianity as we have it in St. Paul’s epistles, all aglow with fervour and love, and that of the time of Leo X., with its professed head and most of his court professed infidels, and the officials of the Church selling indulgences to sin for money! Luther lit the fire again; but Protestantism has had its illustrations of the same law. Witness the state of things in this country in the last century. In view of this fact let the Church pray for prophetic spirits who shall in each generation rekindle the dying fires; and, apart from the influence of specially-gifted men, let each Church betake itself continually to the Fountain-head of spiritual life. 2. False religiousness is worse than none at all. Isaiah says, not simply that such observances are of no avail with God, but that they are abominations to Him. We can see the reason. Such a religion as that which Isaiah denounced works harm to the individual and to the cause of godliness generally; to the individual, but inspiring him with a vain confidence; to the cause of godliness, by furnishing points for the shafts of ridicule, by which faith is killed in many hearts. It would be difficult to say who are the greatest promoters of infidelity—professed atheists or hypocritical religionists. 3. It is a perilous thing to overlook the connection between impression and practice in religion. In vers. 16 and 17, the prophet shows us what the true nexus between them is. “Your ceremonies and observances will do you no good unless you practise the morality, the judgment, mercy, and love to which they point.” Our power of receiving impressions is under a directly opposite law from our power of practice. The former steadily decreases by exercise, the latter as steadily increases. This is so in religion, as well as in other things. The impression produced upon the Jews by the sacrifices would decrease as they were repeated, unless by them they were led to practical righteousness, and their whole system would in time become utterly powerless as a moral incentive; just as, if a man is for a few mornings wilfully deaf to an alarum in his bedroom, it presently loses its power even to waken him. The same law will operate with us. The preaching of the gospel is intended to produce impression, and that again to lead to practice. If the latter does not follow at once, the chances are all against its ever following, because the impressions will become feebler with each repetition. A fact this for all hearers to ponder. 4. Religious observances and machinery of all kinds have their end in the development of character. This was so in Isaiah’s time. It is so now. If their religious observances were not leading them to “cease to be evil,” and to “learn to do well,” but were hindering them from doing so, it were better for them to give them up. So our creeds, organisations, ministers, &c., are of use only as related to character. They are the scaffolding, character is the building; they are the tools, that the work. If no building is going on, this parade of scaffolding is an imposture, and had better be swept away.—J. Brierley, B.A.

The Possibilities of Public Worship.

i. 13. It is iniquity, even this solemn meeting.

I. Public worship is a thing of Divine appointment. A considerable part of the earlier books of Scripture is occupied with injunctions to observe it, and with directions for its conduct. All the best men of ancient times made public worship part of the business of their lives. David, Josiah, Hezekiah, Ezra, and Nehemiah made great sacrifices that it might be duly honoured. Our Lord Himself, who set aside the traditions of men, was careful to observe this Divine ordinance; besides attending the great feasts, He attended the synagogue every Sabbath-day (Luke iv. 16). The apostles and early Christians were in this respect His true followers (Acts ii. 46; iii. 1). And we are expressly warned against neglect of it (Heb. x. 24, 25). II. Public worship may be a means of communion with God. It was this possibility that induced men to build the Temple, that there might be a recognised place of meeting, not only with each other, but with God. There God did often meet with them (Ps. lxiii. 2, xxvii. 4, &c.) The temple now is wherever devout men are assembled for worship, and God, in the person of His Son, has expressly promised to be in their midst (Matt. xviii. 20). III. Consequently public worship may be a thing of the highest profit to man. Upon those to whom communion with God is indeed vouchsafed, public worship exerts a transforming and ennobling influence.[1] They are uplifted for a season above the cares, the sorrows, and the joys of life; they receive new strength for the performance of life’s duties and the bearing of life’s burdens; from the mount of supplication they come down bearing a more real and abiding likeness to God than that which in the old time gave to the countenance of Moses an overwhelming splendour. IV. It may also be a thing supremely acceptable to God. When His children assemble to unite in expressing their common thankfulness, trust, and love for Him, He listens with fatherly delight.[2] Compared with angelic worship, human worship is a very poor and imperfect thing; it is but an earthen vessel compared with a chalice of silver or of gold; but the emotions of gratitude, trust, and love with which it is filled, make it precious in His sight. There is a reversal of our Lord’s saying (Matt. xxiii. 19): the rude altar is hallowed by the spiritual sacrifice.

These are some of the possibilities of public worship; but they are not the only ones. The reverse of all this may be true. The worship may be observed and offered without any real regard to the Divine will and pleasure; it may separate God and men still more widely; it may be a curse to those who partake in it, and it may be a grievous offence to the Holy One of Israel.

Let us recall some of the things in connection with public worship which are apt to satisfy men. They are such as these: a crowded assembly; sweet singing; a noble liturgy; an eloquent sermon; a large collection. When these things are combined in any service, we are apt to felicitate ourselves exceedingly. But upon that very service God may look with unqualified condemnation. The crowd may have assembled for reasons very far removed from a desire to worship God; the singing may have been merely an artistic performance; the liturgy may have been made up of prayers such as that which a newspaper described as “the most eloquent ever addressed to a Boston audience;” the sermon may have had for its supreme object the glorification of the preacher; the contributors to the collection may have been moved merely by a desire to place the name of their congregation at the head of the subscription-list published in the newspapers on the following day. The whole thing may have been of the earth, earthy, and this may have been God’s verdict concerning it, “It is iniquity, even the solemn meeting.”

What, then, are the elements in worship essential to its acceptance with God? 1. That it be offered by His people. Not from rebels against His authority will He accept expressions of homage;[3] in their lips such expressions are mockeries vile and horrible as those wherewith in Pilate’s judgment-hall the Roman soldiers jeered at the Son of God (Matt. xxvii. 27–29). 2. That it be offered with reverence, with that sweet and solemn awe which is born of a recognition of God’s nearness and of His exceeding glory (Ps. lxxxix. 7).[4] 3. That it be the expression of love—love singing in the hymns, breathing in the prayers, awakening “godly sorrow” for the sins of the past, leading to sincere and resolute dedication of the whole being to God for the future. Where these principles animate the worshippers, they will be governed by them also in daily life; their whole life will be a service and sacrifice well-pleasing in the sight of God, and what are called their “acts of worship” will not be artificial flowers stuck on to dead and rotting branches for their adornment, but sweet, natural blossoms, upon which God will smile, and which He will pronounce ”very good.”

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The mind is essentially the same in the peasant and the prince; the forces of it naturally equal in the untaught man and in the philosopher; only the one of these is busied in meaner affairs and within narrower bounds, the other exercises himself in things of weight and moment; and this is that put the wide distance between them. Noble objects are to the mind what the sunbeams are to a bud or flower: they open and unfold, as it were, the leaves of it, put it upon exerting and spreading itself every way, and call forth all those powers that lie hid and locked up in it. The praise and admiration of God, therefore, brings this advantage along with it, that it sets our faculties upon their full stretch, and improves them to all the degrees of perfection of which they are capable.—Atterbury, 1663–1732.

[2] No doubt the prayers which the faithful put up to heaven from under their private roofs, were very acceptable unto Him; but if a saint’s single voice in prayer be so sweet to God’s ear, much more the Church choir, His saints’ prayers in consort together. A father is glad to see any one of his children, and makes him welcome when he visits him, but much more when they come together, the greatest feast is when they all meet as his house. The public praises of the Church are the emblem of heaven itself, when all the angels and saints make but one consort. There is a wonderful prevalency in the joint prayers of His people. When Peter was in prison, the Church meets and prays him out of his enemies’ hands. A prince will grant a petition subscribed by the hands of a whole city, which maybe he would not at the request of a private subject, and yet love him well too. There is an especial promise to public prayer: “Where two or three are gathered together in My Name, there am I in the midst of them.”—Gurnall, 1617–1679.

[3] If a person was to attend the levee of an earthly prince every court-day, and pay his obeisance punctually and respectfully, but at other times speak and act in opposition to his sovereign, the king would justly deem such a one an hypocrite and an enemy. Nor will a solemn and stated attendance on the means of grace in the house of God prove us to be God’s children and friends,—if we confine our religion to the church walls, and do not devote our lips and lives to the glory of that Saviour we profess to love.—Salter.

[4] A remembrance of God’s omnipresence will quell distractions in worship. The actual thoughts of this would establish our thoughts, pull them back when they begin to rove, and blow off all the froth that lies on the top of our spirits. An eye taken up with the presence of one object is not at leisure to be filled with another; he that looks intently upon the sun shall have nothing for a while but the sun in his eye. Oppose to every intruding thought the idea of the Divine omnipresence, and put it to silence by the awe of His majesty. When the master is present, scholars mind their books, keep their place, and run not over the forms to play with one another; and the master’s eye keeps an idle servant to his work, that otherwise would be gazing at every straw, and prating to every passenger. How soon would the remembrance of this dash all extravagant fancies out of countenance, just as the news of the approach of a prince would huddle up their vain sports, and prepare themselves for a reverent behaviour in his sight. We should not dare to give God a piece of our heart, when we apprehend Him present with the whole; we should not dare to mock one that we knew were more inwards with us than we are with ourselves, and that beheld every motion of our mind as well as action of our body.—Charnock, 1628–1680.

I have sometimes had the misfortune to sit in concerts where persons would chatter and giggle and laugh during the performances of the profoundest passages of the symphonies of the great artists; and I never fail to think, at such times, “I ask to know neither you, nor your father and mother, nor your name: I know what you are, by the way you conduct yourself here—by the want of sympathy and appreciation which you evince respecting what is passing around you.” We could hardly help striking a man who should stand looking upon Niagara Falls without exhibiting emotions of awe and admiration. If we were to see a man walk through galleries of genius, totally unimpressed by what he saw, we should say to ourselves, “Let us be rid of such an unsusceptible creature as that.”

Now I ask you to pass upon yourselves the same judgment. What do you suppose angels that have trembled and quivered with ecstatic joy in the presence of God, think when they see how indifferent you are to the Divine love and goodness in which you are perpetually bathed, and by which you are blessed and sustained every moment of your lives? How can they do otherwise than accuse you of monstrous ingratitude and moral insensibility, which betoken guilt as well as danger?—Beecher.

God Oppressed.

i. 14. Your new moons and your appointed feasts my soul hateth: they are a trouble unto me; I am weary to bear them.

It is the Almighty who here speaks, and His speech is a protest to men who imagined that by their worship they would conciliate and please Him. Their worship He rejects: it was polluted by the pollution of those who offered it. Instead of cleansing them, as they vainly dreamed, they had defiled it. It is the Almighty who speaks, and in what terms of intensity of pain! He speaks as one who has long been burdened by a load that has at length become intolerable. Strictly speaking, it is of worship offered to Him by ungodly men that He here expressed His abhorrence; but it is not conceivable—it is contrary to repeated declarations of His Word to suppose—that this is the only form of human transgression that is grievous to Him; and therefore we may fairly widen our contemplation, and consider—

I. God’s sensibility to human sin. God is unchangeable; with Him there is no fickleness or caprice (James i. 17); this is one of the glories of His nature. But how strangely have philosophers and theologians interpreted this sublime declaration! They have presented us with a deity impassive as the stars, which shine with equal splendour upon the display of great virtues and the perpetration of hideous crimes, calm, serene, undisturbed by anything that takes place on earth. Not such is the God of the Bible. He thrills with intensest emotions of delight or of disapprobation, of joy or of sorrow (Jer. ix. 24; Nahum i. 6; Zeph. iii. 17; Gen. iii. 6). Let philosophers call these “anthropomorphic representations” if they will, but words have no meaning if such declarations do not teach that God is stirred by emotions which are determined by the character and conduct of men. He is no cast-iron deity: He is “the living God.” Sin is hateful to Him, because 1. It is an infraction of that order which He has established for the moral well-being of the universe. As the Sovereign of the universe, He is bound to resent and to punish any injury done to the meanest of His subjects.[1] 2. It is a defiance of His authority. Every sinner is a rebel against the authority of the King of kings; and that king would be unworthy of his crown who could see his authority defied without feeling any emotion of displeasure, or without taking steps to vindicate his authority. It was precisely this selfish and pusillanimous weakness that made our Stephen despised and hated by his subjects. With God there is longsuffering and tender mercy, but there is no weakness. Sin is more than a defiance of God’s authority; it is—3. An offence against His feelings. It is contrary to what we may call His instincts.[2] That which is contrary to our best instincts fills us with disgust and anger. What profound emotion is stirred in a man of generosity and benevolence by a story of oppression and wrong! e.g., the effect upon David of Nathan’s parable (2 Sam. xii. 5). Whole communities have been roused to uncontrollable indignation by a crime of unusual atrocity, even though no member of the community has been directly affected thereby. “Lynch Law.” So all sin, as sin, arouses the Divine disgust and indignation. “My soul hateth.” 4. It is a degradation of those whom God loves. We all condemn and loathe drunkenness; but who of us loathes it as does that mother who is being hurried by it to an untimely and dishonoured grave? God loves us more than any mother ever loved her son, and His hatred of sin is proportioned by His love for us whom it degrades and destroys.[3] 5. It is often a wrong inflicted on those whom He loves. Few men sin without wronging others as well as themselves. Now with what anger do we burn when we detect our children defrauding and oppressing each other! But between the sputtering of a lucifer-match and the glowing fires of a volcano, there is not so much disparity as between the anger which the spectacle of sins against brotherhood kindles in us and that which it rouses in God (Jer. ix. 9). To form any adequate conception of the offensiveness of sin to God, we must remember that these considerations do not operate singly, but operate in combination to make it hateful to Him. How marvellous, then, is His endurance of it! Consider, then—

II. God’s patience with human sin. He speaks here of being “troubled” by the worship of ungodly men; it is a burden of which He is “weary.” Why, then, does He bear it for a moment? Why, then, does He not give quick vent to the indignation that burns within Him, and consume His troubles with swift destruction? He bears with us—1. That by His patience He may appeal to our better feelings. He does us good, and not evil (Matt. v. 45), that we may be made ashamed to sin against such generosity. When men are not altogether hardened in iniquity, there is nothing so likely to overcome them as a requital of wrongs by blessing,[4] especially where he who so requites it has full power to avenge himself. By His long-suffering, God has led countless thousands to repentance. 2. That He may set us an example of self-restraint. It is because He is Himself so slow to anger, that He is able to warn us against vindictiveness. God does not only lay upon us precepts of excellence: He Himself embodies them. 3. That He may place the righteousness of his judgments beyond dispute. A space of grace and forbearance seems necessary to enable onlookers to perceive that the awful doom which at length will come upon sinners is fully deserved, and is perfectly consistent with His own mercifulness. If “Wisdom” had not “called,” reproved, counselled, “stretched out her hands” in entreaty, the stern words in which she announces the awful and irrevocable doom of her despisers would shock us (Prov. i. 20, 32). 4. That a moral probation may be rendered possible. If punishment always instantly and obviously followed transgression, the world would be ruled by terror so overwhelming that free agency would be destroyed, and virtue consequently rendered impossible. For such reasons as these, God bears with sinners, and “sentence against an evil work” is not executed speedily.

III. God’s protest against human sin. God suffers under human sin, but He does not suffer in silence: He vehemently protests against it. Two reasons should lead us to heed this protest:—1. Gratitude. He might have sent vengeance without warning. His protests and threatenings are proofs of His love. All that is noblest and best in us should lead us to give instant and thankful heed when God appeals to us, and says, “Oh, do not this abominable thing that I hate!” (Jer. xliv. 4). But if sin has so debased your nature that higher considerations such as this cannot move you, then I appeal—2. to your instinct of self-preservation. God’s protest against sin is no unmeaning form: His threatenings against sin are no empty words (Prov. xxix. 1). Rightly considered, the sinner’s untroubled condition is the most awful of all warnings.[5]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The tempter persuadeth the sinner that it cannot be that God should make so great a matter of sin, because the thoughts of a man’s heart, or his words, or deeds, are matter of no great moment, when man himself is so poor a worm, and whatever he doth is no hurt to God. But if God so much regard us as to make us, and preserve us continually, and to become our Governor, and make a law for us and judge us, and reward His servants with no less than heaven; then you may easily see that He so much regardeth us, as to observe whether we obey or break His laws. He that so far careth for a clock or watch, as to make it and wind it up, doth care whether it go true or false. What do these men make of God, who think He cares now what men do! Then He cares not if man beat you, or rob you, or kill you, for none of this hurteth God. And the king may say, “If any murder your friends and children, why should I punish him? he hurt not me.” But justice is to keep order in the world, and not only to preserve the governor from hurt: God may not be wronged, though He be not hurt. And He will make you pay for it, if you hurt others; and smart for it, if you hurt yourself.—Baxter, 1618–1691.

[2] Our sin is not so much a violation of a law that lies outside of the bosom of God, as it is a disregard of the feelings and nature of God Himself. You will by a moment’s reflection see that there is a marked distinction between personal feeling infringed upon and law transgressed. The magistrate sits upon the bench, and a culprit is brought before him. There are two ways in which that culprit may be considered as transgressing. He may have broken the law of the land, which the magistrate represents officially, but not personally. The magistrate regards him as a culprit, to be sure. But suppose that, in the exercise of truth and justice by a pure administration or decision, the magistrate arouses the anger of the culprit, and he insults him to his face, and in his own court; is there any difference between his former crime, which was the violation of the law of the land, and in his latter crime, which is a transgression of the feeling of the magistrate, sitting as a magistrate?

It is the same everywhere. When you employ men in your affairs, you know that there is a distinction between a disregard of the rules of business, and a personal disagreement with yourself. You know that when a man offends against you, his wrong is more heinous and provoking than when he offends against your rules or laws. We know that a child may violate the laws of morality as they are established by the Word of God and by the consent of the community; that he may violate the civil law of the land in which he dwells; that he may violate the rules and regulations of a well-ordered family; and yet, though all these courses of conduct are grievous wrongs which shock the parent, not be as culpable as when he treads on the feelings of the parent. There are exigencies in which the child flies, as it were, in the heart of the father and other, and does not so much violate their command as their living feeling; intolerable and more flagrant than simply setting aside and forgetting or transgressing a law. In other words, it is possible to break a statute; that is one kind of transgression. It is possible, also, to sin by directly infringing upon the heart and the feeling; that is another kind of transgression, and one that is considered more stinging, more intolerable, and more unforgivable than any other.

Now God and His law are one, in the sense in which we approach Him as moral beings—one in such a sense that when we offend against His moral law, we offend against His own personal feeling. He is not a magistrate for whom a system has been framed, and to the administration of which He comes under a sense of justice. He is a universal Father, administering according to His own instincts, His own tastes, His own affections, His own feelings, among His children. God’s law is God’s self, pervading the universe, and our transgression is a personal affront of God Himself. Just as when your taste, or your love, or your conscience, is violated by the direct act of another person against yourself, the offence is greater than if any exterior canon were broken; so it is when we violate the Divine commands.

This conception of God should quicken every moral sensibility, and make a life of sin painful and distasteful to us. It is one thing to sin against a government, and another thing to sin against a being. There are a great many children that will sin against the family arrangements, who would not sin against their mother. There is many a child to whom the mother says, “My dear child, you know your father has made a law in this family, that such and such things shall not be done, and you know you have broken that law three of four times; now, for my sake, avoid breaking it again.” The child feels, when the mother interposes herself, that there is something that touches him which did not when it was only a law of the family that he was setting aside.

Now, God puts Himself in just that position, and the motive of obedience and righteousness is this: that God is the tenderest, the most patient, the gentlest, and the dearest friend that we have; that He knows everything within and without; and that though we are sinful and wicked, He, in His infinite compassion and mercy, forgives us, and says, “Do not sin against me, nor against mine.”—Beecher.

When a man defrauds you in weight, he sins against you, not against the scales, which are only the instruments of determining true and false weight. When men sin, it is against God, and not against His law, which is but the indicator of right and wrong. You care little for sins against God’s law. It has no blood in its veins, no sensibility. Now, every sin that you commit is personal to God, and not merely an infraction of His laws. It is casting javelins and arrows of base desire into His loving bosom. I think no truth can be discovered which would be so powerful upon the moral sense of men, as that which should disclose to them that sinning is always a personal offense against a personal God. Law without is only an echo of God’s heart-beat within.—Beecher.

[3] Is there any human being who so hates the sin of a child, or the companion of that friend? To whose eye so much as to the eye of the lover is a defect a thing to be abhorred? Is there anywhere in the world such compassion as is found in a father or in a mother over the sin or fault of the child? Yea, with evil associates, with growing bluntness of feeling, with accumulating evasions and deceits, with a development of serpent passions, with a life by day and by night that emasculates manliness, the mother sees her boy going steadily down, step by step; and in her nightly vigils, with strong crying and tears, she pours herself out before God, abhorring with unutterable detestation all these terrible evils that threaten the life and immortality of her son; and for years she carries in her soul the suffering that ought to be in his, and bears his sin, his sorrow, and his shame, and lies humiliated, and bowed down in the dust, the just for the unjust.—Beecher.

God hates sin, because it destroys what He loves. He could live high and lifted up above all noise of man’s groaning, all smoke of his torment; but His nature is to come down after man—to grope for him amid all the dark pollutions of sin, and, if possible, to rescue and cleanse him.

God hates sin very much, as mothers hate wild beasts. One day a woman stood washing beside a stream. She was in a wild frontier country, and the woods were all around. Her little, only child was playing about near her. By and by she missed the infant’s prattle, and, looking about, she called its name. There was no answer. Alarmed, the mother ran to the house, but her babe was not there. In wild distress the poor woman now fled to search the woods, and there she found her child. But it was only its little body that she clasped to her heart. A wolf had seized her treasure, and when, at last, she rescued it from those bloody fangs, its spirit had gone. Oh, how that mother hated wolves! And do you know that this is the very figure Christ uses to show what feeling He has towards the sin that is seeking to devour His children?—Beecher.

It makes a difference to God how we act. His happiness is affected by the conduct of His children; for His heart is the heart of a father. If, when my child sins, a pang goes through my own soul, and I fly to rescue him from further iniquity, it is because God struck into my breast a little spark of what in Him is infinite.—Beecher.

[4] A group of rough men were assembled at a tavern one night. One man boasted that it did not make any difference what time he went home, his wife cheerfully opened the door, and provided an entertainment if he was hungry when he got home. So they laid a wager. They said: “Now, we’ll go along with you. So much shall be wagered. We’ll bet so much that when you go home, and make such a demand, she will resist it.” So they went along at two or three o’clock in the morning and knocked at the door. The door opened, and the man said to the wife: “Get us a supper.” She said: “What shall I get?” He selected the articles of food. Very cheerfully were they provided, and about three or four o’clock in the morning they sat down at the table—the most cheerful one in all that company the Christian wife—when the man, the ruffian, the villain, who had demanded all this, broke down and said: “I can’t stand this. O what a wretch I am!” He disbanded that group. He knelt down with his Christian wife and asked her to pray for the salvation of his immortal soul, and before the morning dawned they were united in the faith and hope of the Gospel. A patient, loving, Christian demeanour in the presence of transgression, in the presence of hardness, in the presence of obduracy and crime, is an argument from the throne of the Lord Almighty.—Talmage.

[5] Since we know God to be grievously displeased with sin, here is something awful in His keeping silence while it is committed under His eye. If a child comes home conscious of having offended a parent, and the parent says nothing all that night, but merely looks very grave, the child is more frightened than he would be by a sharp rebuke or severe punishment, for if such rebuke or punishment were inflicted, he would at least know the worst; but when the parent is silent, he knows not what may be hanging over him. So when we remember how many things plainly offensive to God are going on all around us, it is a terrible thought that He is still silent. We fear that He is but getting ready to take vengeance on those who defy Him. And so that passage which we have quoted from the Psalms carries on the train of thought in what follows. “God is a righteous judge, strong and patient, and God is provoked every day. If a man will not turn, He will whet His sword, He hath bent His bow, and made it ready.”

In countries where earthquakes happen, a dead silence always goes before the earthquake. Nature seems hushed into an awful stillness, as if she were holding her breath at the thought of the coming disaster. The air hangs heavily; not a breath fans the leaves; the birds make no music; there is no hum of insects; there is no ripple of streams; and this while whole houses, and even cities sometimes, are hanging on the brink of ruin. So it is with God’s silence,—it will be followed, when it seems deepest, by the earthquake of His judgments. And so the holy Apostle writes to the Thessalonians: “When they shall say, Peace and safety” (from the fact of God’s being so still and so dumb), “Then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a woman with child, and they shall not escape.”—Goulburn.

Worthless Husks.

i. 15. And when ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you; yea, when ye make many prayers, I will not hear.

The Jews had been likened unto the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah (ver. 10). As such, they are summoned to listen to a series of declarations of which this is the sum, that worship without holiness is a solemn mockery. Confining ourselves to our text only, we may see that it teaches us—I. The worthlessness of ritualism without spirituality. “When ye spread forth your hands,” &c. 1. Ritualism is an essential element of public worship. There must be some form by which thought can be expressed, and the devotions of others guided. There may be too little, or too much, but some is indispensable.[1] 2. Ritualism may be the expression of earnest spiritual life, and a help thereto. It may be the outcome of a sincere feeling and deep piety—such was the ritual which David and his devout companions devised and elaborated for the service of the Temple. It was costly and magnificent beyond even that which is observed in St. Peter’s at Rome; but as practised by them it was as spiritual as the baldest service that has ever been conducted in the barest conventicle. A splendid ritual may be acceptable to the Most High, and the followers of George Fox must not imagine that they are the only persons who worship God “in spirit and in truth.” 3. But ritualism may be, and often is, only a form. It may mean only an exhibition of millinery, a scrupulous observance of a prescribed series of postures and genuflexions. It may be, according to a too suggestive phrase, merely a service “performed.” In this case God passes it by with contempt. To all engaged in such histrionic performances He says, “When ye spread forth your hands,” &c. Supplication without desire will never draw down the Divine benediction. II. The worthlessness of prayer without purity of heart. “When ye make many prayers, I will not hear.” 1. Prayer is a necessity of the Christian life. A consciousness of weakness and want, and a profound conviction of God’s power and willingness to succour him, prompts the Christian to make “many prayers.” And each supplication so inspired finds its way to the throne and heart of God. To hear and answer the prayers of His children is one of our Heavenly Father’s joys (ch. lxv. 24). 2. But prayer, like ritualism, instead of being the expression of a realised need, may be only an empty form. The supplications that are offered may be uttered merely by rote, with as little feeling as a child recites the multiplication-table; or they may be devices by which deluded men seek to propitiate that God whom they are offending by their conduct every day,—mere lip-homage, which they imagine He will accept in condonation of their habitual disregard of His will. In either case, their “many prayers” are worthless husks which He rejects with disdain.

If we would have our worship accepted of God, there must be—1. Spiritual conceptions of His character. These will prevent us from mocking Him by merely formal prayers or praises. 2. A solemn realisation of His presence. How often this is lacking in those who take part in the service of the sanctuary, and even in those who conduct them! But God is not throned in some distant heaven, to which our prayers struggle up we know not how: He is here! We shall never be nearer to Him than we are to-day! 3. An earnest endeavour after holiness in daily life (Ps. lxvi. 18). See why God would not regard the uplifted hands of the Jewish supplicants—“Your hands are full of blood.” See also ch. lix. 1–3. To no rebel is access to the presence-chamber of the King of kings granted: this is the high privilege of those only who can lift up “holy hands” (1 Tim. ii. 8).[2]—A. F. Barfield.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The external part of religion is, doubtless, of little value in comparison with the internal; and so is the cask in comparison with the wine contained in it: but if the cask be staved, the wine must perish. If there were no Sundays or holydays, no ministers, no churches or religious assemblies, no prayers or sacraments, no Scriptures read, or sermons preached, how long would there be any religion left in the world: and who would desire to live in a world where there was none?—Horne, 1730–1792.

Forms are necessary to religion as the means of its manifestation. As the invisible God manifests His nature—His power, wisdom, and goodness, in visible material forms, in the bright orbs of heaven, in the everlasting hills, in the broad earth with its fruits and flowers, and in all the living things which He has made,—so the invisible soul of man reveals its convictions and feelings in the outward acts which it performs. As there could be no knowledge of God without the visible forms in which He reveals Himself, so there could be no knowledge of the religion which exists in the soul of man without the outward forms in which it expresses itself. A form is the flag, the banner, the symbol of an inward life, it is to a religious belief what the body is to the soul; as the soul would be utterly unknown without the body, so religion would be unknown without its forms, a light hidden under a bushel, and not set up in a candlestick that it may give light to all that are in the house.

Forms are necessary not only to the manifestation of religion, but to its nourishment and continued existence. A religion which expressed itself in no outward word or act would soon die out of the soul altogether. The attempt to embody truth and feeling, to express it in words and actions, is necessary to give it the character of living principle in the soul: in this respect forms are like the healthy exercise which at once expresses and increases the vigorous life of the body, or they may be compared to the leaves of a tree, which not only proceed from its inward life, but catch the vitalising influences of the light, the rain and the atmosphere, and convey them down to the root.

What, then, is that formalism which is everywhere in the Scripture, and especially in the discourses of our Lord, described as an offence and an abomination in the sight of God? I answer, formalism is the substitution of the outward rite in the place of the inner spirit and life of the soul; it is the green leaf which still hangs upon the dead branch which has been lopped off.—David Loxton.

[2] God doth not institute worship-ordinances for bodily motion only; when He speaketh to men He speaketh as to a man, and requireth human actions from him, even the work of the soul, and not the words of a parrot or the motion of a puppet.—Baxter, 1615–1691.

You think you serve God by coming to church; but if you refuse to let the Word convert you, how should God be pleased with such a service as this? It is as if you should tell your servant what you have for him to do, and because he hath given you the hearing, he thinks he should have his wages, though he do nothing of that which you set him to do. Were not this an unreasonable servant? Or would you give him according to his expectation? It is a strange thing that man should think that God will save them for dissembling with Him; and save them for abusing His name and ordinances. Every time you hear, or pray, or praise God, or receive the sacrament, while you deny God your heart and remain unconverted, you do but despise Him and show more of your rebellion than your obedience. Would you take him for a good tenant that at every rent-day would duly wait on you, and put off his hat to you, but bring you never a penny of rent? Or would you take him for a good debtor that brings you nothing but an empty purse, and expects you should take that for payment? God biddeth you come to church and hear the Word; and so you do, and so far you do well; but withal, He chargeth you to suffer the Word to work upon your hearts, and to take it home and consider of it, and obey it, and cast away from former courses, and give your hearts and lives to Him; and this you will not do. And you think that He will accept of your service?—Baxter, 1615–1691.

Reasons for the Rejection of Prayer.

i. 15. When ye make many prayers, I will not hear.

God has characterised Himself as “the Hearer of prayer;” and it is the great consolation of His people that they cannot seek His face in vain. But here He declares that He will not hear the prayers of Israel, however many. This solemn and momentous declaration may well lead us to inquire why prayer is, in many instances, rejected. Prayer, to be heard, must be both right and real. If it possess neither of these characteristics, or only one of them—if it is neither right nor real, or is right without being real, or real without being right—it cannot fail to be rejected.

I. A man may pray rightly, either because he has been taught the principles of orthodoxy, or knows what language is conformable to those principles, or because he uses prayers composed by spiritual men, or, finally, because he used the very word prescribed or sanctioned by God Himself. But in all these cases, while his prayer may be right, it may be altogether unreal. He may neither know the meaning of the requests it contains, nor desire their fulfilment.[1] Thus do many men pray for a free pardon for Christ’s sake, for entire sanctification, and repeat the Lord’s Prayer. There is nothing in the heart corresponding to what is expressed by the lips; nay, the heart and the mouth are often completely at variance with each other.

II. Prayer may be real without being right. A man may really acknowledge mercies received, and petition for more; and yet neither the acknowledgement nor the petition may be regarded by God. The acknowledgement and the petition have reference to mere earthly desires already gratified or yet to be gratified. He thanks God that the “lusts have had the food which they craved;” he prays that they may never want it. Pride, vanity, the love of ease, pleasures, and worldly respectability are “lusts” on which he has hitherto “consumed,” and on which he intends still to “consume,” the good things which God has given, or may yet give him. The secret soul of all his supplications is not any zeal for the glory of God, but selfishness. His prayers are of the earth, earthy. The spiritual blessings which God holds out in His right hand he passes by in contemptuous neglect, and clamours for the natural blessings which are in God’s left hand.

III. Both the faults of prayer above referred to are often found in one and the same individual, and the guilt of both accumulated on one and the same head.

Let it not be inferred from what has been said that we lay an interdict on natural blessings, and forbid the seeking of them in prayer. Our Saviour has given us authority to ask for daily bread, and this fully warrants the conclusion that natural blessings, as well as spiritual, may and ought to form a subject of prayer. We ought to “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” and then ask Him to fulfil His promise of “adding unto us all other things.”—R. Nesbit, Discourses, pp. 308–319.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Will men’s prayers be answered? Not if they pray as boys whittle sticks—silently, hardly knowing or caring what they are about. I have known men begin to pray about Adam, and go on from him to the present time, whittling their stick clear to a point, with about as much feeling, and doing about as much good as the boy does.—Beecher.

I often say my prayers,
But do I ever pray,
And do the wishes of my heart
Go with the words I say:
I may as well kneel down
And worship gods of stone.
As offer to the living God
a prayer of words alone,
For words without the heart
The Lord will never hear;
Nor will He to those lips attend
Whose prayers are not sincere.—John Burton.

A Startling Charge.

i. 15. Your hands are full of blood.

Such is the reason which God assigns for turning a deaf ear to the prayers of His ancient people: the hands they lifted up to Him in supplication were blood-stained. It was as if Cain, red with the murder of Abel, had lifted up his hands in prayer to God for blessing. By this startling charge we are reminded—I. That between the estimates formed by God and man as to what takes place in the sanctuary there is often an infinite disparity. Behold the court of the temple filled, apparently, with devout worshippers, who lift up their hands to heaven in earnest supplication,—what a pleasing sight! But God looks down, and says, “Those hands are full of blood.” The same contrast is repeated in another form (ch. xxix. 13). Other contrasts: Eli sees what he thinks to be a drunken woman; God sees a humble supplicant (1 Sam. i. 12, 13). Men see an eminently religious man praying in the sanctuary; God sees a man prostituting prayer into a means of self-glorification (Luke xviii. 11, 12). Men see a foul wretch whose presence in the sanctuary is a pollution; God sees a broken-hearted penitent, and hastens to bless him (Luke xviii. 13, 14). So it is in our sanctuaries to-day. II. That God holds us responsible for the ultimate consequences of our actions. The men who thronged the temple in Isaiah’s time, and whose prayers God rejected, were not bandits and murderers in the ordinary and coarse fashion by which men are brought to the scaffold. Yet the charge brought against them was true. For there are other ways of murdering men than by acts of violence of which human law takes note. By grievous oppression millions of men have been brought to an untimely grave. If a man destroys another by slow poison, is he not as truly a murderer as another who kills his victim by means of prussic acid? In God’s sight oppression is murder; and of oppression in its worst forms the Jews had been guilty (vers. 23; iii. 14, 15, &c.) It is in accordance with this declaration that opprobrium is heaped upon Jeroboam as the man “who made Israel to sin” (2 Kings x. 29); and that we are so sternly warned against leading others into transgression (Matt. xviii. 6, &c.) This fact—1. Casts some light on the doctrine of future punishment. The results of the evil actions of men go on eternally propagating themselves, and it is therefore not unjust that the punishment of those actions should be eternal also. 2. Should cause us to halt when we are tempted to acts of unkindness and oppression. Unwillingly we may thereby become murderers. 3. Should lead us to be most watchful as to the example we set before others. If we hold our false lights by which they are caused to make shipwreck “concerning faith” and character, God will hold us responsible for the disaster (Rom. xiv. 15, &c.) III. That sin is naturally indelible. These Jews came into the sanctuary with hands carefully cleansed, but yet in God’s sight they were “full of blood.” 1. The stains of sin cannot be washed out by time. Time obliterates much, but it does not obliterate guilt. Men are apt to be troubled in conscience about recent sins, but to be at ease concerning those committed many years previously. But this is a mistake. Lapse of time makes no difference to God; the inscriptions in His books of record never fade. Hence the wisdom of David’s prayer (Ps. xxv. 7). 2. The stain of sin cannot be washed out by worship. That it might be so was the vain dream of the Jews, as it is of millions to-day. But worship itself is an offence when it is offered by ungodly men; so far from diminishing their guilt, it increases it (Prov. xxviii. 9, &c.) 3. The stain of sin cannot be washed out by sorrow. Sorrow for the past alters nothing in the past; the crime remains, no matter how many tears the criminal may shed.[1] 4. The stain of sin cannot be washed out even by reformation of conduct and character. Men speak of “turning over a new leaf,” and when they have done what this phrase implies, they are apt to be at peace. But this also is a mistake. They forget that the old, evil leaf remains, and that for what is inscribed thereon God will call them to account. As there is a “godly sorrow” and a “worldly sorrow,” so there is a religious and an irreligious reformation of conduct. The former is the result of evangelical repentance, and is of exceeding worth (Ezek. xviii. 27, 28); the latter is a mere act of prudence, and is of no moral account. In one way, and in one way only, can the stain of guilt be effaced from the human soul (1 John i. 7–9).

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Repentance qualifies a man for pardon but does not, cannot entitle him to it. It is one of the most elementary and obvious truths of morality, that the performance of one duty cannot be any compensation for neglect to perform another duty. But when a sinner is penitent for his sins, he is merely doing what, as a sinner, he ought to do; and his feelings of contrition do no more to absolve him from his guilt than the gratitude a man feels to a doctor who has cured him from a dangerous illness does to discharge the doctor’s bill. As in this case there ought to be both gratitude and payment, so in the case of the sinner there must be both penitence and atonement. The sinner’s sorrow for his sin, while in itself a proper thing, is no more an atonement for his sin than is the remorse that fills the breasts of most murderers any atonement for the murders they have committed. Judas was sorry, profoundly and intensely sorry, for having betrayed our Lord Jesus Christ, but did that do away with the guilt of that betrayal? Was Peter not to be blamed for his denial of his Master, because afterwards “he went out and wept bitterly”? Did the tears he shed give him any right to say in after years—“Yes, I denied my Lord, but I was sorry for it, and so made it straight”? Do you think that just as with soap and water you can wash the dirt off your hands, you can with a few tears, or with many tears, wash the guilt of sin from off your soul? No delusion could be more groundless. Oh no! You have the real fact and the true philosophy of the matter in the well-known verse—

“Not the labours of my hands
Can fulfil Thy law’s demands.
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone:
Thou must save, and Thou alone.”

Moral Ablution.

i. 16. Wash you, make you clean.

This is one of a very numerous class of passages which summon sinners to the duty of moral purification, of thorough and complete reformation of character (Jer. iv. 14; James iv. 8; Jer. xviii. 11; Ezek. xviii. 30-32, &c.) These passages are very clear and emphatic, but they seem to be in opposition to others which assert man’s natural inability to do anything that is good (Matt vii. 18; Rom. vii. 18–23; John xv. 5), with others which teach that repentance is a Divine gift (Acts v. 31; 2 Tim. ii. 25), and with those which teach that sanctification is the work of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. vi. 11, &c.) The opposition is only apparent.[1] Every Divine command really involves a promise of the grace necessary for its accomplishment, and God is ever ready to work with and in us “to will and to do of His good pleasure.”[2] Fallen as we are, we yet retain the power of responding to or of rejecting His admonitions; if we respond to them, there instantly begins to flow into our souls that which will enable us to accomplish everything that God has required (Phil. iv. 13). Three great questions—I. Why must we cleanse ourselves from evil? 1. Because sin renders us offensive to God. It is in itself repulsive to Him, just as immodesty in all its forms and in every degree is repulsive to a virtuous woman (Hab. i. 13; Prov. xxxi. 10–31). 2. Because it is destructive to ourselves. In physical matters dirt and disease are inseparable, and so they are in spiritual. Moral pollution leads to moral decay. Sin is a leprosy that eats away all the finer faculties of the soul. 3. Because it renders us dangerous to our fellow-men. In the measure that we are corrupt, we shall corrupt others. There is a terrible contagiousness in iniquity (Prov. xxii. 24, 25; Rev. xviii. 4). A sinner is a walking pestilence. And 4. The special lesson of our text in its connection—Because otherwise access to the throne of grace will be closed against us. If it be not so with us now, yet there will come a season when it will be supremely important to us that God should hear our prayers (a time of great trouble, or the hour of death), and how awful will be our condition if God should then turn a deaf ear to us! But this is the doom of obdurate sinners (ver. 15; Jer. xi. 14, &c.) II. How may we cleanse ourselves from evil? 1. By resolutely putting off our old evil habits. This is what Isaiah exhorted the Jews to do (vers. 16, 17). Similar exhortations occur in the New Testament (Eph. iv. 25–29; Heb. xii. 1). Begin with the faults of which you are most conscious.[3] Begin and continue the great task of moral reformation in humble dependence upon God. 2. By prayer. In earnest communion with God our views of duty and purity receive a marvellous elevation, and we catch the inspiration of the Divine character, so that iniquity, instead of being attractive, becomes hateful to us also.[4] 3. By humble but resolute endeavours to copy the example of our Lord Jesus Christ. 4. By intercourse with the people of God.[5] 5. By making the Word of God the only and absolute rule of our life (Ps. cxix. 1). These are the means by which we may attain to moral purity in the future. Cleansing from the guilt of sin in the past is bestowed freely on all who believe in Jesus (1 John i. 7–9). Yea, the guilt of a man whose hands are literally “full of blood” may thus be washed away; e.g., Saul, the persecutor and murderer of the saints (Acts. xxii. 4, 16; 1 Tim. i. 16). III. When may we cleanse ourselves from evil? NOW! this very hour the task ought to be begun. 1. Difficult as the task is, delay will only increase its difficulty.[6] 2. Now, because God’s commands brook no delay. (Ps. xcv. 7, 8). 3. Now! because now though God may be willing to-day to grant you “repentance unto life,” by your delay you may so provoke Him to anger that to-morrow repentance may be denied you.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] There is no contradiction between these statements and the command to repent. Whoever considers what repentance is,—that it is a change of mind toward sin, so that what once was loved is viewed with disgust, and what was pursued with eagerness is shunned with abhorrence,—will perceive at once that it can only be wrought in us by a Divine power. Man’s natural tendencies are toward evil; and a river could as easily arrest itself on its way to the ocean, and climb to the sources whence it sprang, as can man without the help of the Holy Spirit learn to hate sin because of what it is. “Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? then may ye also do good that are accustomed to do evil.” The polluted fountain of our heart will never cleanse itself. Repentance, like every other gift, must come from the Father of lights.

But “God works in us to will and to do of His good pleasure.” By His Holy Spirit He strives in every human soul, awakening desires after a better and purer life. By His longsuffering, by messages from His Word, by the monitions of His providence, He strives to lead us to repentance. But we must repent. As while the earth cannot bear fruit unless the sun shine upon it, it is still the part of the earth to be fertile; so while we cannot repent unless God aid us, it is our part to turn from evil. Repentance cannot be exercised for us; it must be exercised by us.

God commands you to repent, just as to the apostles, when five thousand hungry men, besides women and children, surrounded them, and their whole store was five loaves and two fishes, Christ said, “Give ye them to eat.” The task is as much beyond your unaided power as that was above theirs; but address yourself to it as they did, in obedience to the Divine behest, and you will receive power from on high to accomplish not only it, but other tasks higher yet.

[2] The Gospel supposeth a power going along with it, and that the Holy Spirit works upon the minds of men, to quicken, excite, and assist them in their duty. If it were not so, the exhortations of preachers would be nothing else but a cruel and bitter mocking of sinners, and an ironical insulting over the misery and weakness of poor creatures, and for ministers to preach, or people to hear sermons, upon any other terms, would be the vainest expense of time and the idlest thing we do all the week; and all our dissuasives from sin, and exhortations to holiness and a good life, and vehement persuasions of men to strive to get to heaven, and to escape hell, would be just as if one should urge a blind man, by many reasons and arguments, taken from the advantages and comfort of that sense, and the beauty of external objects, by all means to open his eyes, and to behold the delights of nature, to see his way, and to look to his steps, and should upbraid him, and be very angry with him, for not doing so.—Tillotson, 1630–1694.

[3] Rooting up the large weeds of a garden loosens the earth, and renders the extraction of the lesser ones comparatively easy.—Elisa Cook.

[4] There is an antipathy between sinning and praying. The child that hath misspent the whole day in playing abroad, steals to bed at night for fear of a chiding from his father. Sin and prayer are such contraries, that it is impossible at a stride to step from one to another. Prayer will either make you leave off sinning, or sinning will make you leave off prayer.—Gurnall, 1617–1679.

The first true sign of spiritual life, prayer is also the means of maintaining it. Man can as well live physically without breathing, as spiritually without praying. There is a class of animals—the cetaceous, neither fish nor sea-fowl, that inhabit the deep. It is their home; they never leave it for the shore; yet, though swimming beneath its waves and sounding its darkest depths, they have ever and anon to rise to the surface that they may breathe the air. Without that these monarchs of the deep could not exist in the dense element in which they live, and move, and have their being. And something like what is imposed on them by a physical necessity, the Christian has to do by a spiritual one. It is by ever and anon ascending up to God, by rising through prayer into a loftier purer region for supplies of Divine grace, that he maintains his spiritual life. Prevent these animals from rising to the surface, and they die for want of breath; prevent him from rising to God, and he dies for want of prayer. “Give me children,” cried Rachel, “or else I die.” Let me breathe, says a man gasping, or else I die. Let me pray, says the Christian, or else I die.—Guthrie.

[5] Get some Christian friend (whom thou mayest trust above others) to be thy faithful monitor. Or, that man hath a great help for the maintaining the power of godliness that has an open-hearted friend that dare speak his heart to him. A stander-by sees more sometimes by a man than the actor can do by himself, and is more fit to judge of his actions than he of his own; sometimes self-love blinds us in our own cause, that we are over-suspicious of the worst by ourselves, which makes us appear to ourselves worse than we are. Now, that thou mayest not deprive thyself of so great help from thy friend, be more to keep thy heart ready with meekness to receive, yes, with thankfulness embrace a reproof from his mouth. Those that cannot bear plain-dealing hurt themselves most; for by this they seldom hear the truth.—Gurnalt, 1617–1679.

[6] The more we defer, the more difficult and painful our work must needs prove; every day will both enlarge our task and diminish our ability to perform it. Sin is never at a stay; if we do not retreat from it, we shall advance in it, and the further on we go, the more we have to come back; every step we take forward (even before we can return hither, into the state wherein we are at present) must be repeated; all the web we spin must be unravelled.

Vice, as it groweth in age, so it improveth in stature and strength; from a puny child it soon waxeth a lusty striping, then riseth to be a sturdy man, and after awhile becometh a massy giant, whom we shall scarce dare to encounter, whom we shall be very hardly able to vanquish; especially seeing that as it groweth taller and stouter, so we shall dwindle and prove more impotent, for it feedeth upon our vitals, and thriveth by our decay; it waxeth mighty by stripping us of our best forces, by enfeebling our reason, by perverting our will, by corrupting our temper, by debasing our courage, by seducing all our appetites and passions to a treacherous compliance with itself: every day our mind groweth more blind, our will more resty, our spirit more faint, our passions more headstrong and untamable; the power and empire of sin do strangely by degrees encroach, and continually get ground upon us, till it hath quite subdued and enthralled us. First we learn to bear it; then we come to like it; by and by we contract a friendship with it; then we dote upon it; at last we become enslaved to it in a bondage, which we shall hardly be able, or willing, to shake off; when not only our necks are fitted to the yoke, our hands are manacled, and our feet shackled thereby, but our heads and hearts do conspire in a base submission thereto, when vice hath made such impression on us, when this pernicious weed hath take so deep root in our mind, will, and affection, it will demand an extremely toilsome labour to extirpate it.—Barrow, 1630–1677.

Repentance is entirely in God’s disposal. This grace is in the soul from God, as light is in the air from the sun, by continual emanation; so that God may shut or open His hands, contract or diffuse, set forth or suspend the influences of it as He pleases. And if God gives not repenting grace, there will be a hard heart and a dry eye, maugre all the poor frustraneous endeavours of nature. A piece of brass may as easily melt, or a flint bewater itself, as the heart of man, by any innate power of its own, resolve itself into a penitential humiliation. If God does not, by an immediate blow of His omnipotence, strike the rock, these waters will never gush out. The Spirit blows where it listeth, and if that blows not, these showers can never fall.

And now, if the matter stands so, how does the impenitent sinner know but that God, being provoked by his present impenitence, may irrevocably propose within Himself to seal up these fountains, and shut him up under hardness of heart and reprobation of sense? And then farewell all thoughts of repentance for ever.—South, 1633–1716.

A Plain Command.

i. 16. Cease to do evil.

One of the pretexts by which wicked men endeavour to excuse their neglect of religion is, that many of the doctrines of the Bible are mysterious. They are so necessarily, and that they are so is one proof that the Bible is from God. But however mysterious the doctrines of Scripture may be, its precepts are plain enough. How plain is the command of our text! No man can even pretend that he does not understand it. If he does not obey it, he will not be able to plead that it is beyond his comprehension. We have—I. A universal requirement. Certain of the precepts of Scripture concern only certain classes of individuals (sovereigns, subjects, husbands, wives, &c.), but this command concerns us all. Your name is written above it, and it is a message for you. II. A most reasonable requirement. It is wrong that needs justification, not right. The worst man in the community will admit that he ought to “cease to do evil.” And he can, if he will, not in his own strength, but in that which God is ever ready to impart to every man who desires to turn from sin. And not only ought and can men “cease to do evil,” it will be to their advantage to do so. Sin has its “pleasures,” but they are but “for a season,” and they are succeeded by pains and penalties so intense that the pleasures will be altogether forgotten. To exhort men to “cease to do evil,” is to exhort them to cease laying the foundation for future misery.[1] On every ground, therefore, this is a most reasonable requirement. III. A comprehensive requirement. It is not from certain forms of evil, merely, but from evil in all its forms, that we are required to abstain. “Cease to do evil!”[2] Sin must be utterly forsaken! not great and flagrant sins only, but also what are called “little sins.”[3] These destroy more than great sins.[4] One sin is enough to keep us enslaved to Satan.[5] IV. An imperative requirement. This is not a counsel, which we are at liberty to accept or reject; it is a command, which we disobey at our peril; a command of One who has full power to make His authority respected. V. A very elementary requirement. Men who have laid aside certain evil habits, such as drunkenness, swearing, &c., are apt to plume themselves on what they have done, and to regard themselves as paragons of virtue. But this is a mistake. Ceasing to do evil is but the beginning of a better life; it is but the pulling up of the weeds in a garden, and much more than this is needed before “a garden” can be worthy of the name. Those who have ceased to do evil must “learn to do well.”[6]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] As where punishment is there was sin; so where sin is there will be, there must be, punishment. “If thou dost ill,” saith God to Cain, “sin lies at thy door” (Gen. iv. 7). Sin, that is punishment for sin; they are so inseparable, that one word implies both; for the doing ill is the sin, that is within doors; but the suffering ill is the punishment, and that lies like a fierce mastiff at the door, and is ready to fly in our throat when we look forth, and, if it do not then seize upon us, yet it dogs us at the heels; and will be sure to fasten upon us at our greatest disadvantage: Tum gravior cùm tarda venit, &c. Joseph’s brethren had done heinously ill: what becomes of their sin? It makes no noise, but follows them slily and silently in the wilderness: It follows them home to their father’s house; it follows them into Egypt. All this while there is no news of it; but when it found them cooped up three days in Pharaoh’s ward, now it bays at them, and flies in their faces. “We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul,” &c. (Gen. xlii. 21).

What should I instance in that, whereof not Scripture, not books, but the whole world, is full—the inevitable sequences of sin and punishment? Neither can it be otherwise “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?” saith Abraham. Right, is to give every one his due: wages is due to work; now “the wages of sin is death:” So then, it stands upon no less ground than very necessary and essential justice to God, that where wickedness hath led the way, there punishment must follow.—Hall, 1574–1656.

[2] There may be a forsaking of a particular sin that has been delightful and predominant without sincerity towards God, for another lust may have got possession of the heart, and take the throne. There is an alternate succession of appetites in the corrupt nature, according to the change of men’s temper or interests in the world. As seeds sown in that order in a garden, that ’tis always full of a succession of fruits and herbs in season; so original sin that is sown in our nature is productive of divers lusts, some in the spring, others in the summer of our age, some in the autumn, others in the winter. Sensual lusts flourish in youth, but when mature age has cooled these desires, worldly lusts succeed; in old age there is no relish for sensuality, but covetousness reigns imperiously. Now he that expels one sin and entertains another continues in a state of sin; ’tis but exchanging one familiar for another; or, to borrow the prophet’s expression, “ ’Tis as one should fly from a lion, and meet with a bear that will as certainly devour him.”—Salter.

[3] Thou dost not hate sin if thou only hatest some one sin. All iniquity will be distasteful in thy sight if God the Holy Spirit has really made them to loathe iniquity. If it say to a person, “I will not receive you into my house when you come dressed in such a coat;” but if I open the door to him when he has on another suit which is more respectable, it is evident that my objection was not to the person, but to his clothes. If a man will not cheat when the transaction is open to the world, but will do so in a more secret way, or in a kind of adulteration which is winked at in the trade, the man does not hate cheating, he only hates that kind of it which is sure to be found out; he likes the thing itself very well. Some sinners, they say they hate sin. Not at all; sin in its essence is pleasing enough, it is only a glaring shape of it which they dislike.—Spurgeon.

If we would realise the full force of the term “hatred of evil,” as it ought to exist in all, as it would exist in a perfectly righteous man, we shall do well to consider how sensitive we are to natural evil in its every form to pain and suffering and misfortune. How delicately is the physical frame of man constructed, and how keenly is that slightest derangement in any part of it felt! A little mote in the eye, hardly discernible by the eye of another, the swelling of a small gland, the deposit of a small grain of sand, what agonies may these slight causes inflict! That fine filament of nerves of feeling spread like a wonderful network of gossamer over the whole surface of the body, how exquisitely susceptible is it! A trifling burn, or scald, or incision, how does it cause the member affected to be drawn back suddenly, and the patient to cry out! Now there can be no question that if man were in a perfectly moral state, moral evil would affect his mind as sensibly and in as lively a manner—would, in short, be as much of an affliction to him, as pain is to his physical frame. He would shrink and snatch himself away, as sin came near to his consciousness, the first entrance of it into his imagination would wound and arouse his moral sensibilities, and make him positively unhappy.—Goulburn.