Chapter Three

SOLOMON is still pursuing his argument. Everything around us is in a perpetual change. What vanity, therefore, is it to seek solid happiness in so shifting a scene! As well might we find rest on the tossing ocean, as in a fluctuating world. There is no stable centre. It is “the wheel of nature.” (Jam. 3:6.) Sometimes one spoke is uppermost—sometimes the opposite. But all is constant motion. And yet all these fluctuations are under absolute control.

It is not a world of chance, or of fate. All events—even the most apparently casual—all those voluntary actions, that seem to be in our own power, with all their remotest contingencies—are overruled. To everything there is a season—a fixed time—a predetermined purpose, on which—and not on man’s care, thought, or effort—everything depends. Of this purpose we know nothing.

But “known unto God are all his works from the beginning of the world.” (Acts, 15:18.) His eye has been upon everything, great and small, from all eternity. All is his unchangeable will. ‘If God’—as Charnock writes—‘could change his purpose, he would change his nature. The perversity of sin has indeed disturbed the order of God’s providence. But the work progresses. “The wheel in the middle of the wheel” (Ezek. 1:15–21) moves forward, and performs the appointed work.

Caprice, short-sighted ignorance, and fickleness of purpose, distinguish the works of man. But here everything is worthy of God. “He hath abounded towards us in all wisdom and prudence.” (Eph. 1:8.) It is ‘the wise, and regular, and orderly administration of One, who sees the end from the beginning, and to whom there is no unanticipated contingency; and whose omniscient eye, in the midst of what appears to us inextricable confusion, has a thorough and intuitive perception of the endlessly diversified relations and tendencies of all events, and all their circumstances, discerning throughout the whole the perfection of harmony.

There is, then, a season for every work of God, and it comes in its season. Every work has its part to fulfil, and it does fulfil it. There was a season for Israel’s deliverance from Egypt, and for the return from Babylon. Nothing could either force on, or keep back, the time.

“On the selfsame day,” the deliverance was at once developed and consummated. (Exod. 12:41; Ezra, 1:1.) To have looked for it at any other time—whether sooner or later—would only have brought disappointment. There was “the fulness of time,” the appointed season—the fittest time—for the Saviour’s advent. (Gal. 4:4.) An earlier period would have hindered many important purposes, or at least clouded their full development.

The delay demonstrated the utter weakness of all other remedies. What could reason do with all her intellectual energy (1 Cor. 1:21), or the law with all its heavenly sanctions? (Rom. 8:3.) Successive disappointments prepare the welcome to the one—alone—efficient remedy. Rightly to time things is the property of wisdom. And here indeed “the Lord is a God of judgment,” not only willing, but “waiting” the time, “that he may be gracious, and have mercy.

Blessed”—truly “blessed are all they that wait for him.” (Isa. 30:18.) Child of God! remember it is thy Father’s will, which hath appointed the season, and determined the purpose. All the wheels of Providence subserve the purposes of grace. Every dispensation is most fitly chosen, and issued under the commission to do for thee nothing but good. (Rom. 8:28.) It is the will of the Omnipotent God of wisdom and love.

His will is always the best reason, and without it there could be no reason at all. If thy “times are in his hand” (Ps. 31:15), in what better hands could they be?

Our times are in Thy hand; O God, we wish them there; Our life, our friends, our souls, we leave Entirely to Thy care.

Our times are in Thy hand; Why should we doubt or fear? A Father’s hand will never cause His child a needless tear.

Here is thy best happiness in a world of vanity and sorrow. The grace for the present moment is inexhaustible and always ready, and (so writes an excellent Christian) ‘as exactly and exquisitely suited to your case and mine every instant, as if it had been appointed and contrived only for that single case, and that single moment.’

Solomon has laid down his general proposition. His illustrations he draws partly from the government of God, and partly as the result of man’s own thought and purpose. Yet the most contingent are under the same law of control as the most determinate He begins with the life of man—his time of coming into the world, and his time of going out. Neither is in his own purpose or will. If it be the course of nature, it is the appointment of God.

And could we see with the eyes of God, we should find these points to be the fittest times that Infinite Wisdom could ordain, connected with our present responsibilities and our hopes for eternity. A time to be born! What a moment! A wondrous miracle is wrought! An heir of immortality brought into being, “fearfully and wonderfully made!

“The Spirit of the Lord hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty hath given me life.” (Job 33:4.) Can I forbear the question—‘Why was I born? Shall I have cause to curse, or to bless, the day of my birth?—to say with Voltaire—‘I wish I had never been born’—or with dying Halyburton—‘Blessed be God that ever I was born? Am I “working out” the great end of my birth with holy fear and diligence? (Philip. 2:12.) What am I doing for God—for my soul—for my fellow-creatures?

Let me remember that ‘a capacity to do good, not only gives a title to it, but also makes the doing of it a duty. ‘Let us then love life, and feel the value of it, that we may fill it with Christ. Oh! think of life—rising in the morning as one consecrated to God—making the world’s work the Lord’s work, because doing it to him, and feeling the littleness of everything that is not done for him.

The men that we want are lively, warm, real men—men who have a daily contact with a personal living Saviour—men, whose religion is the element in which they breathe, the principle by which they work—men, who think of life, as the seed-time for eternity. What if we should come to the last stage—without even having learned how to live! with the great end of life yet unaccomplished! This stirring exhortation reminds us of another appointment— A time to die. How came this time?

Immortality was our original being. (Gen. 1:26.) “By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin.” (Rom. 5:12.) Ever since “it is appointed unto men once to die.” (Gen. 3:19; Heb. 9:27.) None can evade the law. Voltaire could not purchase a reprieve with half his fortune.

Our “days are determined; the number of our months is with God; he hath appointed our bounds, that we cannot pass.” (Job 14:5, 6.) The sentence of death may be revoked, but the time predetermined is unchanged. (Isa. 38:1–5.) The time to die can never be premature. God’s time must be right and best. God’s work must be done; and man is immortal, till it be done.

If “our steps are ordered by the Lord” (Ps. 37:23), much more is the last step of all—the step out of one world into another—out of time into eternity. But if that step were taken to-night, would it be a cheerful or a forced leaving of all? Oh! to realize our solemn concern with this great moment! Death the gate of heaven or of hell!—O my soul!—of which to thee?

“Man giveth up the ghost—and”—awful question!—“where is he?” (Job 14:10.) We may leave all the circumstances of death to the Lord—whether we shall die in pain or in peace. But our safety—our readiness is everything. This readiness for death is the energy of life. Then comes the sunbeam upon the valley—‘Is this dying?’—said one—‘How have I dreaded as an enemy this smiling friend! ‘O world! produce a good like this’—we may boldly say; and then it shall have our best affections.

‘Till then—may we be only for the Lord! The time to die! what is it but the “entrance into the Kingdom?” (2 Pet. 1:11.) There may be indeed a special purpose. It is the father caring for his delicate child—sending his messenger to bring him home, ere the threatening tempest rage. Thus is he “taken away from the evil to come. He enters into peace.

His Father “rests in his love, and joys over him with singing.” (Isa. 57:1, 2; Zeph. 3:17.) But not only the two great points, but every atom of life has its relative importance. To everything there is a season and a purpose. Within the boundary of life there is therefore a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.

Planting had been to Solomon a matter of primary interest. (Ecclesiastes 2:4, 5.) But how soon might the season come to undo his own work, and to pluck up that which was planted! Often is a garden or estate laid out with plantations—whether for present pleasure or future advantage. Yet change of mind or of taste—withering winds—over-luxuriant growth—pecuniary necessity or profit—may induce the owner to pluck up.

Thus does the most ordinary course of life exhibit a changing world—therefore no centre of rest.

The time to die is the immediate appointment of God. The time to kill is the act of man under permissive Providence. The same Providence gives the healing blessing. In both cases God claims his own prerogative—‘I kill, and I make alive; I wound, and I heal. Hezekiah’s case displays the exercise of both these branches of prerogative.

For while the Disposer of life declared his purpose to kill, he shewed, after the manner of men, his repenting mercy to heal. (Isa. 38; also 2 Kings 5:7.) Nor was there any fatalism here. For when a word would have been enough, the healing means were appointed. (2 Ki 5:21, with Matt. 8:8.) Thus the uncertainty of life shews that man’s true earthly rest is only to be found in practical dependence upon his God. The same changeableness belongs to our estates as to our persons.

Solomon had been much occupied in building up. (1 Kings 9:15–19.) But many of his buildings—even the walls of Jerusalem—were destined to be broken down. (2 Kings 25:4–10.) Of only one building is our confidence secure—the “house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” (2 Cor. 5:1.) To have an interest here—as our home and our rest—this is brightness unclouded—unchangeable.

These two instances are evidently a repetition with increasing emphasis. The mourning is the most poignant weeping. The dancing expresses not only the laughter of the lips, but the exuberant excitement of the whole man. These are God’s times. Beware of changing them. It is a fearful provocation to respond “joy and gladness” when “the Lord God of Hosts calls to weeping and mourning.” (Isa. 22:12–14.) Who has not found the time to weep and mourn?

“Man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward.” (Job. 5:7; 14:1.) And yet lesson after lesson is needed to make us know the world to be a vale of tears. We look around to the right or the left to avoid this or that trouble. Is not this looking out for some bye-path from the road, where we shall meet neither with promises, comfort, nor guidance? Be content with thine appointed lot.

The tears of the child of God have more of the element of happiness than the laughter of the ungodly. The darkest side of the Canaan road is brighter than the light of a thousand worlds. Yet we may look for a change of seasons in God’s best and fittest time. “Thou hast turned my mourning into dancing”—was the experience of the man of God. Into Job’s bosom was poured a portion “double for all his sorrows.

The mouths “of the returning captives” were filled with laughter, and their tongue with singing. (Ps. 126:1, 2.) Let God’s afflicted ones mark the wisdom and grace of these appointments. He giveth both these times in their season. Yea—he maketh the one to spring out of the other. “Joy” is the harvest of the seed-time of tears.

“I will make them rejoice”—so runs the promise—“from their sorrow.” (Ps 126:5, 6; Jer. 31:13.) The sorrow may not “for the present” seem (Heb. 12:11) acceptable to us. But let it be accepted by us. As time rolls on, the special ends of Divine love in the sorrow will be displayed in beauteous arrangement. And that which in the beginning was accepted in dutiful acquiescence, will afterwards become acceptable as matter for adoring praise.

The child of God will acknowledge—‘It may be a dark dispensation. But I know it is a wise one. It brings God to me, and I am happy. But far from us be that anomaly in religion—the gloomy religionist. Truly is he a stumbling-block to the world, and a discouragement to the saint. He who lives, as if he was afraid of being happy—as if he doubted his right to be so—as if God grudged him his happiness.

With perverse ingenuity he believes the Gospel to be true for others, not for himself. He lives in an atmosphere of his own creation—dark indeed—but from himself. ‘Look up, and be cheerful; honour God and His Gospel’—was the wise counsel given to one of this class. Take the balances of the sanctuary.

Compare the moment of the night-weeping with the eternity of the morning joy. (Ps. 30:5; 2 Cor. 4:17.) The vicissitudes of weeping and joy will soon be overwhelmed in one unmingled eternity of joy. This is the only world where sickness, sorrow, and death can enter. And the world of health and joy and life—without sin—without change—without tears (Rev. 21:4)—is near at hand.

Oh! let it be in constant view—and Him with it, who, ‘when he had overcome the sharpness of death, opened this kingdom to all believers.’

The natural reference would be to casting away of stones, when they were useless, or perhaps an hindrance to the soil—gathering them, when they were used for some profitable purpose. Such use was often made of them in olden times.

They were the memorials of the covenant between Jacob and Laban. (Gen. 31:44–51.) They were the remembrance of God’s miracle in the passage of Jordan. (Josh. 4:1–9.) Shortly after they were the broad beacon of rebuke in Achan’s sin. (Josh 7:26.) In later days—they were the trophy of the victory over Absalom. (2 Sam. 18:17.) In every such case there was a Divine purpose, and a suitable season.

Passing into the social sphere, the exercise of the affections affords instances of change—sometimes indulgence; sometimes restraint. (1 Cor. 7:3–5.) The embrace of parental love would naturally be warm. (Prov. 23:24.) Yet it might be wisely refrained towards a refractory child. (Pr 17:25.) The Lord’s voice may sometimes command restraint in the most hallowed earthly affections. (Joel, 2:16.) So that from various causes, in the indulgence of caprice (2 Sam. 13:14)—or even in the atmosphere of love, there may be much uncertainty, and therefore no ground for rest.

To instance other rapid changes—Look around us. We see men with their whole heart in their business. Industry is successful. Money flows in. Here is the time to get (Prov. 10:4, 5), and—for a while at least—a time to keep. But the Providence of God has fixed a time to lose. We look again—The tide has turned.

Speculation, or untoward circumstances, have given “wings to riches, and they have flown away.” (Pr 23:5.) Many a fortune, gotten by the toil of years, and kept with care, has been lost in a day. Many an estate, gotten by inheritance, has been cast away by reckless extravagance. Such is the uncertainty of a worldly portion! How shadowy—how delusive—utterly without rest! There are times also, when we may be called to cast away what we may have kept.

A shipwreck (Jonah 1:5; Acts, 27:38)—may demand the sacrifice. The cross of the Gospel may require it. (Matt. 13:44–46; Luke 14:33.) The early Christians were called to a sharp exercise of their confidence, “taking joyfully the spoiling of their goods; knowing in themselves, that they had in heaven a better and an enduring substance.” (Heb. 10:34.) But sacrifices for Christ bring no repentance. (Philip. 3:7–9.) The grand object swallows up all the cost, as not to be counted of.

Abundant compensation is secured for both worlds, “in this life”—though with “much tribulation”—“an hundred fold, and in the world to come everlasting life.” (Mark 10:29, 30.) Here then is a treasure, which there is a time to get—blessed be God—there is no time to lose. “The good part,” once “chosen, shall never be taken away.” (Luke 10:42.) All the malice and power of hell is stirred to rob us of it. But a double security holds it fast. It is “reserved in heaven for us.

We are ‘kept on earth for it. The security is no less firm for the heirs, than for the inheritance. Whatever, therefore, else we may lose, let Christ be our heart’s treasure, and we are safe for eternity.

The reference to the garment is obvious. The rending was the sign of intense grief. The sewing, therefore, was probably the preparing of the garment for some joyful occasion. Here then we have again the time to weep, and the time to laugh. An emphatic repetition! With all its trials we love the world too much for our souls’ prosperity. We need stroke upon stroke to separate the heart from its deadly influence.

Yet let us not think evil of the ways of God on account of this discipline. All is sealed with that word of rest—“Appointed—unto affliction”—praised be God—“not appointed unto wrath.” (1 Thess. 3:3; 5:10.) Must we not bless God for the special love of the rending time?

Many a dark remembrance has it blotted out. (Heb. 12:11, with Rom. 5:3–5.) The recollection of God’s hand in the trial—the good he designs from it—the confidence of support under it—the certainty of being carried through it—all this, realized by faith, will bring brightness and peace. ‘Shall I’—said a chastened child of the family—‘think much to be crossed, who deserve to be cursed? But let us once more advert to the change of seasons—the joyous as well as the sad.

There are those—as one of our finest writers remarks—‘who dwell on the duty of self-denial, but they exhibit not the duty of delight. But, as he had just before beautifully observed—‘it is not possible for a Christian man to walk across so much as a rood of the natural earth, with mind unagitated and rightly poised, without receiving strength and hope from some stone, flower, leaf, or sound, nor without a sense of a dew falling upon him out of the sky.

The next contrast is of enlarged and important application. The well-disciplined man of God will be a man of opportunities, carefully marking and improving them, as they pass before him. The tongue is the most responsible member—for evil or for good. ‘The wise man observes, that there is a “time to speak, and a time to keep silence. One meets with people in the world, who seem never to have made the last of these observations.

And yet these great talkers do not at all speak from their having anything to say (as every sentence shows), but only from their inclination to be talking. Their conversation is merely an exercise of the tongue: no other human faculty has any share in it. Many times of silence may be profitably remembered.

When to speak would be “casting pearls before swine” (Matt. 7:6. Comp. Ps. 39:2)—revolting, not convincing—“the prudent will keep silence in that time, for it is an evil time.” (Amos, 5:13. Comp. Mic. 7:5, 6.) We must often use the same restraint in the treatment of “a fool;” lest by unguarded indulgence of his folly, we “also be like unto him.” (Prov. 26:4.) The dealings also of our loving Father with our souls solemnly call for a time of silence.

We “hold our peace” under his frown. (Lev. 10:3.) We “become dumb, and open not our mouth, because he did it.” (Ps. 39:9.) We learn to “be still” under the assurance of his mysterious sovereignty. (Ps. 46:10.) We “sit alone, and keep silence, because we have borne the yoke upon us.” (Lam. 3:28.) A time of sorrow also must be mentioned as a time of restraint. Precious words are often wasted at this season. The time of silence is more soothing.

We had better restrain our words, till the waters have somewhat assuaged. A voluble comforter adds to the trouble he professes to heal. He is rather a sore than a balm. Great wisdom is required to know when, as well as what, to speak. The wise improvement of the time to speak brings a diversified and fruitful blessing. The fool is restrained. (Prov. 26:5.) The afflicted is comforted. (1 Thess. 4:18; 5:14.) Christian rebuke is rightly and lovingly administered.

The ignorant is instructed. (Prov. 10:21; Isa. 1:4.) Succour is given in the time of extremity. (Esth. 7:4; Prov. 31:8, 9.) Christian intercourse is improved. (Mal. 3:2–6.) Sound knowledge is “dispersed” in our respective spheres. (Prov. 15:7.) But, oh! to have the word ready for the time! (Pr 15:23, M. R. Comp. also c. Pr 25:11)—the heart, as in the praises of “the king, inditing a good matter”—the “tongue the pen of a ready writer” (Ps. 45:1, 2)—the heart pouring out “the good treasure” in abundant and suitable application. (Matt. 12:34.) O Christian! ever think of your responsibility!

The tongue is an important talent for Christ and his Church. Let it not be kept too much for your own private use. Yet value the discipline of it. A talent for conversation will be of little use, except as combined with a talent for silence. Flowing humility, kindness, and wisdom give beauty to the social accomplishment. But considering how weighty the influence of the “little member”—both in restraint and constraint—upward let the heart be lifted for guidance.

Hence it must come. For “the answer of the tongue”—no less than “the preparation of the heart—is from the Lord.” (Prov. 16:1.)

The first clause probably refers to the individual feelings; the latter to public movements. ‘At one time, men meet with kindness, which excites their love; at another, with injuries, which tempt them to resentment and hatred. Then nations experience seasons, when they must wage war, as well as opportunities for the renewal of peace; nor can individuals on all occasions shun dispute and contention.

Love is emphatically called “the bond of perfectness”—the very bond of peace and of all virtues. A time to love is, therefore, the appointed time and sphere for the exercise of love in the natural flow of sympathy, or gratitude, or the impulse of a natural affection. Hatred, under the most aggravated personal provocations, is forbidden. (Matt. 5:43, 44.) It can only therefore be admissible in our relation to God, which constrains us to count his enemies to be ours.

Their abhorrence from our standard naturally stirs up opposition of feeling. ‘The master wheel, or first mover in all the regular motions of love, is the love of God grounded on the right knowledge of him. This principle vehemently excites the passion of hatred. Each energizes the opposite—“I hate vain thoughts; but thy law do I love.

Therefore I esteem all thy precepts concerning all things to be right, and I hate every false way.” (Ps. 119:113, 128.) The same principles find the full sphere for their exercise in the wider field. There is a time of war, whether arising from men’s ungoverned passions (Jam. 4:1), or the just reparation of injury (Gen. 14:14–17), or some legitimate occasion of self-defence. (2 Sam. 10:2–6.) All this is not chance.

It is the providence or permissive control of the Great Ruler of the universe. War is his chastisement; peace his returning blessing. It is his prerogative to “make wars to cease unto the ends of the earth” (Ps. 46:9), to “scatter the people that delight in war” (Ps 68:30); and, when the sword has done its appointed work, to “make peace in the borders of his people.” (Ps 147:14.) “When he giveth quietness, who then can cause trouble? and when he hideth his face, who then can behold him? whether it be done against a nation, or against a man only.” (Job 34:29.) And what are the lessons we learn from this picture of change?—Man’s impotence and inconstancy—the certainty of disappointment in expecting stable happiness from such an unstable world.

All is with God. The order is in his own mind. The issue will be to his own glory. Yet many of the wheels of his Providence are very mysterious. Nay—even “they were so high, that they were dreadful.” (Ezek. 1:18.) But in whose hands are the wheels, with all their motions? Look—not on the wheels—but on the Great Worker, His wisdom and love. The voice speaks peace.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Ps. 46:10.) But a pondering mind is greatly needed to mark the loving display of the dispensations of God. (Ps. 107:43.) The endless vicissitudes belonging to them throw great light upon the path Divinely appointed for us from eternity, as that most suited to our individual work.

Hence we learn that lesson of happiness, which, if St. Paul had not declared his attainment of it (Philip. 4:11), we should have thought would have been the labour of a life. ‘In fine, thus Solomon, by an induction of divers particulars, and those very various, and each by way of antithesis, with his contrary joined to him—some natural actions, some civil, some domestical, some vicious, some virtuous, some serious and solemn, others light and ludicrous, some wise, some passionate—by all these he assureth us, that there is a holy and wise work of God in pre-defining, ordering, limiting, tempering, disposing of all these and the like affairs of men, and so qualifying in the life of a man one contrary with another, and balancing prosperity and adversity by each other—that in every condition a good man may find cause of praising God, and of trusting in him, and of exercising this tranquillity and contentment of mind even in contrary conditions, because the holy hand of God is in the one as well as in the other.

Yet the diversified changes in all this work of special Providence greatly exercise faith and patience. If the sun shines to-day, the darkening cloud may come to-morrow. One thing only remains unchangeable—“the glorious Gospel of the blessed God”—God’s love to his people—Christ’s work perfected for them, and in them. Not a shadow of change is found here. All is a rock firm for eternity.

As regards the contrast between earth and heaven, ‘there are many of the things for which there is a time on earth, for which there is no time there. To those who are born into that better country, there is no time to die. Those that are planted in God’s house on high shall never be plucked up. There, there is nothing to hurt nor to destroy; but perpetual health, and lasting as eternity. There the walls of strong salvation shall never be broken dawn.

There, there is no time to weep, for “sorrow and sighing are” forever “fled away”—no time to mourn; for when they have left this vale of tears, “the days of their mourning are ended. There, it is all a time of peace, and all a time of love. There, monuments are never defaced nor overthrown. For those who are “pillars in the temple” above, with the new name written on them, “shall go out no more.

There, in the sanctity of the all-superseding relationship, there will be no severance; but those friends of earth, who have been joined again in the bonds of angelhood, will never need give the parting embrace; for they shall be ever with one another, and ever with the Lord. Meanwhile “have faith in God.

Calmly and joyfully wait his best time, in the assurance, that in his own mind, and in the dispensations of his love—to everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the sun.

The question is again repeated—What profit can man’s labour bring out for his true happiness? We may thank God for a thousand disappointments, if only we have learned the valuable lesson, not to look for indulgence, where he intends discipline. He may permit some apparently casual event to sweep away the result of years. After all it is only a broken cistern. ‘All man’s best labours here only increase his heap of vanities. The soul is impoverished.

Nothing is added to its comforts. The Lord alone offers the substance. Looking then to him—anxious soul—stretch your expectation to the uttermost. The world has left you dissatisfied, restless, and unhappy. Now let God’s remedy be fairly tried. If this does not fill up the void, ease the disquietude, and sustain the heart in the conflict—let it be cast away. The testimonies to its efficacy are undoubted. ‘It is all that is valuable’—said the dying Scott.

‘You may think that it does little for me now. But it is all. I have found more in Christ, than I ever expected to want. Another witness we have in the last exercise of the venerated Simeon—‘I am in a dear Father’s hand. All is secure. I see nothing but faithfulness—and immutability—and truth. I have not a doubt or a fear, but the sweetest peace. ‘Firm in hope’—was the last breath of the revered Bishop of Calcutta.

So fully does the precious remedy unfold its entire satisfaction and triumph in the moment of nature’s extremity! Then as to the present state of trial. Solomon had seen all the changes of life, and marked the Divine reason for them. They were not the fruit of blind confusion, but the chastening travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it. Never was it his purpose, that earth should be his children’s home.

The consecrated pathway therefore to the “rest that remaineth to” them is appointed “through much tribulation”—Praised be God! through a wilderness—not through an Eden. If we do not find our happiness in his dispensations, where shall we look for it? ‘I love’—said the saintly Fletcher to Mr. Venn—‘the rod of my heavenly Father. How gentle are the strokes I feel! How heavy those I deserve! Christian confidence is the present fruit of this travail in the school of discipline.

And all will end at last in the unclouded brightness of the eternal consummation.

This was the judgment of God of his created works—“very good.” (Gen. 1:31.) Each was marked by its own peculiar beauty. The minutest insect to the eye of Christian intelligence displays a beauty, as if the whole Divine mind had been centered in its formation. The seasons of the universe—“seed-time and harvest—and cold and heat—and summer and winter—and day and night (lb. 8:22)—all bear the same marks”—beautiful in his season.

But the more direct reference here is to those endless vicissitudes of life, which have just been detailed. ‘Works of Providence, as works of creation, may begin in a chaos, and seem “without form and void” (Gen. 1:2); but they end in admirable order and beauty.

Everything is suited to its appointed use and service—perfect in all its parts—not only good, and without confusion; but beautiful—if not in itself—yet in his season—all circumstances considered—most orderly, and every way befitting. Nay—even evil, though in itself most revolting, yet by a wise exercise of Omnipotence, is overruled for good, and exhibits the beauty of the Divine workmanship.

The histories of Joseph and Esther illustrate this beauteous harmony—the combination of circumstances fitting in their proper places—all in due connection and dependence. Also the world—not this vain world of pleasure—but the Universe—the Book of nature—the whole course and changes of human affairs—this he hath set in the heart of man—as the object of his intense interest and delight.

He has put into his heart a vast desire to study, and great power to comprehend it in all its order and beauty—except that the field is so wide—the capacity so limited—life so short—our knowledge of the past so imperfect, and of the future so clouded, that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end. Indeed much of his work is begun in one age, and finished in another. The development therefore is necessarily imperfect.

Many things seem to lie in a confused heap. But when one part is compared with another—when all is put together, and God’s work viewed as a whole—all is beauty and order. The elaborate work in the loom is often only seen piece by piece. The wise mixture of the colours, as the work advances, tends to form the elegance of the piece. The full beauty of the work from the beginning to the end is only known to the Great Director, who sees the end from the beginning.

We can neither unravel the thread of his counsels, nor grasp the infinite perfection of his work. Thoughtful study and reverential praise are our most profitable exercise. “O the depth!”

This statement is often in substance repeated. The repetition shows its importance. God would have us observe it. He encourages us to trust him. And how does he return our trust by the overflowing fulfilment of promised grace beyond prayer and expectation! Have we him with us? Then surely joy should be our element. Endeavor to enjoy him in everything—everything in him. Look at our temporal mercies only. When can we find time to count them?

Yet if we do not bring them before our mind, how can we ever be thankful for the receipt of them? But never let the enjoyment of the present swallow up the recollection of and gratitude for, past mercies. Of the future we know nothing.

It is evidently therefore the path of wisdom to make the best use of the present—not perplexing ourselves with that which we cannot alter, but improving the fittest opportunities for practical usefulness, and cheerfully bearing the natural changes which belong to a changing world.

A cheerful expectation of the best bath a fountain of joy with him; Ask for good, and have it; for thy friend would see thee happy.

This thankful godliness is a bright portion in a cold, disappointing world—a true enjoyment—a real good—not to be found ‘in the creatures, but from the gift of God to do good with them, or to enjoy the good of them. This addition is here made to the former statement. The man not only rejoices, but he does good all his days. And what an increase is it to our own happiness, that our God and Saviour should have indulged us with the privilege of thus promoting his glory!

We might have been secluded in a monastery, conflicting with our own corruptions, or occupied with the selfish contemplation of our own happiness; and never have had our hearts enlarged with the joyous privilege of doing good. Whereas now he has made us not only the recipients, but the almoners, of grace; not only “enriched” with all blessings in our own souls, but “unto all bountifulness” (2 Cor. 9:11), to supply the wants of others.

Thus the happiness of every member of the body is increased by contributing to the welfare of the body. We are blessed with our father Abraham, that we may be made “a blessing.” (Comp. Gen. 12:3, with Gal. 3:9.) Is it not a privilege to feel, that as the servants of God, we have no work to do merely on our own account? We are chosen of God, that, by doing his work, we may be a blessing to man. To enjoy our own blessings is the stimulus to communicate them.

Never can we ourselves “eat the fat, and drink the sweet” (1 Tim. 6:17, 18), and forget to “send portions to them for whom nothing is prepared.” (Neh. 8:10–12.) ‘It is human nature to live to self—Divine grace to live to the Lord—the highest luxury of enjoyment to serve him through our fellow-creatures. In the act of doing good, we enjoy the fruit of our labour.

If therefore—as our Lord assures us—“it is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts, 20:35)—how can a selfish man be happy? Yet it is not for us to cast away the gifts of God. Let us rather stand upon a higher level, and acknowledge the responsibility of being stewards for him. If this be the gift of God—‘that we may have this good’—as a pious expositor instructs us—‘ask it of him. The man of prayer will receive largely.

Nay—what is there that he is not warranted to expect?

‘Often has the vanity of the works of man been declared. It follows to describe the character of the works and counsel of God. And here observe the striking view of his unchangeableness. His works pass away, when their use is finished. But his eternal counsel—the working of his counsel—What he doeth, it shall be for ever—not to be altered or set aside by man’s will or power. The counsel of the Lord endureth for ever; the thoughts of his heart to all generations. (Ps. 33:11.

Comp. Prov. 19:21; 21:30.) Amid outward changes and seeming confusion all things are carried out unchangeably. His decrees are like the “chariots coming out between mountains of brass” (Zech. 6:1)—firm and immovable.

The sentence comes from his own mouth—“My counsel shall stand, and I will do all my pleasure.” (Isa. 46:10.) Truly “he is of one mind, and who can turn him?” (Job 23:13.) Of this glorious unchangeableness—‘that little thereof we darkly apprehend we admire; the rest with religious ignorance we humbly and meekly adore. Thus sings the man of God of the perfection of his works—“He is a Rock; his work is perfect.” (Deut. 32:4.) Nothing can be put to it, nor anything taken from it.

There is nothing defective—nothing redundant. How splendidly does his Providence display every attribute of his name!—“All his ways”—so the song continues—“are judgment. A God of truth, and without iniquity—just and right is he. Turn we from the brightness of his Providence to a yet higher display. Can we forbear extending our view to his work of all works—his crowning work—his masterpiece of Divine workmanship? “It is finished”—was the triumphant cry. One word was enough.

For ever—was the stamp of perfection—Nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. The prophet finely contrasts this immutable salvation with the fading nature of earthly things. “The moth shall eat them up like a garment.

But my righteousness”—saith Jehovah—“shall be for ever, and my salvation from generation to generation.” (Isa. 51:6.) Here there is the ground of godly fear, and reverential worship—“Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints. Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name?” (Rev. 15:3, 4.) And yet in the midst of all external changes there is substantial uniformity.

That which hath been is now, and that which is to be hath already been. The work of God is the same in every age. The scene seems to be acting over again. God requireth that which is past. He calls it back before him as the precedent for his present and future dispensations. Solomon had before shewn this uniformity in nature. (Ecclesiastes 1:9, 10.) In Providence the same laws of government are in force, as from the beginning.

There are few events, but what may find their counterpart from the annals of the past. The children of God are exercised in the same trials; and the same proofs of sustaining and delivering grace are vouchsafed to them, as to Noah, Abraham, and the saints of old.

Some indeed of them are so scantily versed in their Bibles, that they “think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try them, as though some strange thing had happened unto them” (1 Pet. 4:12.)—as though none had ever wrestled through, as they have been called to do. But a deeper searching of the Sacred Records will shew, that “the same afflictions are accomplished in our brethren which have been in the world.

“There hath no temptation taken you”—the apostle reminds us—“but such as is common to man.” (1 Pet. 5:9; 1 Cor. 10:13.) If then we cannot alter the dispensations of God, let us set ourselves down to the more profitable work of altering our own judgment of them. A murmuring spirit subdued to quietness will be much to the honour of God.

We shall soon pronounce our verdict—that “all the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth” (Ps. 25:10)—all as they ought to be—all as we could wish them to have been, when we shall look back upon them in the clear light of eternity.

A thoughtful mind is often exercised on the apparent inequalities of Divine Government. Solomon’s observant eye could not overlook that, which has been a stumbling-block to men of reason, who only dispute about what they see, and therefore are ready to find fault with the appointments far beyond their wisdom. May we not hope that Solomon found rest in his difficulties where his father had found it (Ps. 73:16, 17)—in the sanctuary of God?

This injustice is seen in the best governments. ‘The guardian of the innocent often becomes the hangman of the innocent. This evil has also sometimes been found where we should have little expected it. Samuel was directed to rebuke it in Eli; yet it afterward appeared in his own house. (1 Sam. 3:13; 8:3–5.) Power, if it be not the instrument of promoting godliness, only makes its possessor a wolf or a tiger to his fellow-creatures. So dangerous is worldly elevation!

The pinnacle is a hazardous position. Our corrupt nature can bear but little raising. There is one ever ready to help us to climb. But let it be our desire to be kept upon lowly ground. We cannot know what is in our heart, till the stirring power of temptation has brought it before our eyes. It is also a great aggravation of wickedness, when it stands in the very place of judgment and righteousness.

How clearly does this disorder prove, that “all the foundations of the earth are out of course!” (Ps. 82:1–5.) Yet all will soon be set right. God will judge over again these unrighteous judgments, judging both the righteous and the wicked with unerring righteousness. (Acts, 17:31.) But why does he delay his work? There is a time for every purpose, and for every work. “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?

Shall not God avenge his own elect speedily?” (Gen. 18:25; Luke, 18:7, 8.) There is not a breath of “the loud cry under the altar—How long?” but it brings the pledge of a speedy decision. (Rev. 6:9, 10.) Before us “we look” for the joyous hope, “according to his promise, of the new heavens, and the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.” (2 Pet. 3:13.) Wait then the light of eternity. Hold fast the Christian confidence with unshaking grasp.

“At evening time it shall be light.” (Zech. 14:7.) All will furnish matter on both sides for the everlasting Alleluia. (Rev. 19:1–6.)

This confusion before the wise man’s eyes pressed heavily upon his heart. He could not forget the sad retrospect, when he had degraded himself from the dignity of a son of God, to walk before men like a beast. He now had before him, not only the mighty oppression just alluded to—but the mass of mankind, the sons of men, in the same bestial state. How could he restrain the saying of his heart concerning their estate, that they might see that they themselves were beasts?

For indeed they will never know their honour, until they have known their shame. Yet this they will never see, until God shall manifest unto them their real state. So degraded is man, that he cannot understand his own degradation.

Yet when we see men of vast capacity—of the mightiest grasp of mind in earthly things—living as if they had no souls—seeking happiness in sensual pleasures—never looking beyond the grave—never calculating soberly the Infinite stake of eternity—rather determined to perish in rebel stubbornness, than willing to return to God—does not man here sink his immortal nature to the very lowest “brutishness?

The testimony of God is true to the very letter—“Man that is in honour, and understandeth not, is like the beasts that perish.” (Ps. 49:20; also 14.) This is his spiritual level. As to animal life—all go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. (Gen. 2:7; 3:19.) In the mere outward respect—both breathe, and live, and die alike. Man hath no preëminence above a beast; for all is vanity.

Let us take the death-bed confession of one of the world’s grandest heroes. ‘I die’—said Buonaparte—‘before my time; and my body will be given back to the earth, to become the food of worms. Such is the fate which so soon awaits the great Napoleon. Then catching a view of the sublime contrast, he exclaimed—‘What an abyss between my deep wretchedness, and Christ’s eternal kingdom, proclaimed, loved, adored, and spreading through the world!’

Though there be no animal preëminence of man above the beast, yet vast indeed is the difference as to their spirits. The one goeth upward to “the Father of spirits,” “returning to the God that gave it.” (Ecclesiastes 12:7, with Heb. 12:9.) The other goeth downward to the earth. It dies with the body, and perishes for ever.

‘The soul of a beast is at death like a candle blown out; and there is an end of it; whereas the soul of a man is then like a candle taken out of a dark lantern, which leaves the lantern useless indeed, but doth itself shine brighter. We must not pass by this clear proof of the immortality of the soul. The spirit even of the wicked goeth upward.

It appears in the presence of the Great “Judge of all”—who, though “filling heaven and earth with his presence, hath prepared his throne in the heavens.” (Jer. 23:24; Ps. 103:19.) Here is our lively hope—not like the feeble twinkling rays in the dark heathen cloud. Not “life” only, but “immortality is brought to light by the Gospel.” (2 Tim. 1:10.) But who knoweth? How few realize the confidence! All beyond the grave rests on Divine Revelation.

Yet unspeakable is the mercy, when in this clear light we can see our “spirits”—not going downward to perish, but “made perfect” (Heb. 12:23) in the presence of God for ever. ‘Take then into your estimate of happiness’—as an admirable expositor exhorts—‘the whole extent of your existence. Let your inquiry be—how an eternity of existence may be to you an eternity of enjoyment. Jesus is revealed as the Son of God—the Divine Redeemer—the Hope of sinners. Believe in Him.

Live to Him. Thus shall you possess true honour and true felicity. When your mortal part shall descend to the dust, your spirit, commended into the hands of God your Saviour, shall rise to the perfection of purity and bliss.’

Solomon is returning to his former statement. There is a godly as well as an infidel (1 Cor. 15:32) enjoyment of “things present. Let the Christian look for it in following the will of God. Here are his own works—not done in his own strength, or for his own glory and reward. And here also is his portion.

Here he “remembers his God, and his God meets him with his acceptance.” (Isa. 64:5.) Here we have our “rejoicing—with trembling” indeed; yet with “the testimony of our conscience.” (2 Cor. 1:12; Gal. 6:4, 5.) Godliness is a bright atmosphere of Christian joy to the whole-hearted Christian. And if our present portion be so precious, what will it be, when we shall grasp “the prize of our high calling of God in Christ Jesus? Meanwhile the future is uncertain.

None can bring us to see what shall be afterward. But the simple reliance for the day sweeps away the tossing cares for to-morrow. (Matt. 6:34.) Soon will eternal rest swallow up present anxieties. Thus sings our Christian poet:—

Set free from present sorrow, We cheerfully can say— E’en let th’ unknown to-morrow Bring with it what it may. It can bring with it nothing, But He will bear us through: Who gives the lilies clothing, Will clothe his people too. Olney Hymns, iii. 48.