Chapter Five

THE Preacher has multiplied his illustrations of his subject—All is vanity. There is, however, one exception—the service of God. Let us then go into the sanctuary. Precious privileges belong to the house of God. Never does he fail to cheer his humble worshippers. (Isa. 56:7.) ‘In the word of God and prayer there is a salve for every sore.

Yet even here,—alas! what a mass is there of vacant service—of traditionary form—the copy and dead imitation—no throbbing of spiritual life! How important therefore is the Divine rule to maintain the vital sacredness of the service—Keep thy foot—as with Sabbath consecration. Let it not be a careless step, as into an ordinary house. Begin the holy exercise ere you leave your home.

See that your heart is engaged—not in the trifles of the moment, but in the realizing of eternity—not in company with thy friend, but in communion with thy Lord. Oh! it is awful to trifle at the church door. Our buisness is with the High and Holy One. He “is greatly to be feared in the assembly of the saints, and to be had in reverence of all them that are about him.

Holiness becometh thine house, O God, for ever.” (Ps. 89:7; 93:5.) Utterly revolting therefore is that service, which is not imbued with a reverential spirit. “In thy fear”—says the man of God—“will I worship toward the holy temple.” (Ps. 5:7.) If we have right views of the Divine majesty, shall we not be as sinful worms in our own eyes—how much more in his sight? And is this exercise an easy work—a refuge for the indolent from the harder toil of service? Ah! no.

If it be “good” (Ps 73:28)—it is hardest of all—“to draw near to God. It needs the face steadily set heavenward—the “girding up of the loins of the mind” (1 Pet. 1:13)—most of all—the eye looking towards that blessed mercy-seat, where God and the sinner are at one, and where, at the moment that we bow our knees before him, the great High Priest stands up for our cause with Almighty pleading. (Heb. 9:24.) So prepared—so worshipping—we shall find “the House of God to be the gate of heaven.” (Gen. 28:17.) And here lies our preparation for profitable hearing—a matter of no small moment.

Many admit the importance of hearing, who have little regard to that which makes the main difference in the house of God—the remembrance of what we hear. The evil to the barren professor is—that, not liking the close personal application, he lays the burden of his unprofitableness at the Preacher’s door. Solomon’s rule—Be ready to hear, is that of our Divine Master—“Take heed how ye hear.” (Luke 8:18.) Prayer neglected—the exercise of faith withers.

We are disposed to ask curious questions, but very unready to listen to practical truths. ‘What miserable delusion’—observes the late excellent Mr. Venn—‘to think sermons will profit awakened and enlightened people, when they have no heart to call upon God, and “worship him in spirit and in truth! Again—referring to one of his large London congregations—‘I see the people greatly inattentive to the worship, and yet hearing with seeming earnestness. This will never do.

“Worship in spirit and in truth” must mellow the heart, and dispose it to hear with profit; otherwise God’s Spirit is grieved and withdrawn. The preacher may be praised; but the soul will not be profited. Again—‘While the grand business should fill their souls, a total inattention is visible in many countenances. Their entertainment seems only to begin, when the preacher has taken his text.

Professed believers! can you imagine you shall receive profit in one means of grace, when you pour contempt on another? Often indeed is there attendance without attention. We look for novelty, rather than for edification, forgetting that—as Judge Hale wisely remarked—‘our great object is to be impressed and affected, and to have old and new truths reduced to experience and practice.

Is it not humbling to remark, how little we realize the deep connexion of the house of God with eternity? We seem to have done with the word, as it has passed into our ears. But the word—be it remembered—will never have done with us, till it shall have “judged us at the last day.” (John 12:48.) Truly, the hindrances press heavily.

Perhaps all (save those connected with our physical temperament) are summed up in one—“The word preached did not profit, not being mixed with faith in them that heard it.” (Heb. 4:2.) Cornelius and his company exhibited a fine spirit of profitable hearing. They were ready to hear—not the servant, but the Master—“the things that are commanded thee of God.” (Acts, 10:33.) A message from God was looked for.

The Minister’s word was “received, not as the word of man, but, as it was in truth, the word of God. And thus it “effectually worked in them that believed.” (Thess. 2:13.) Many indeed are the hindrances to the true and profitable hearing.

It is not to go as to a concert—“to the lovely song of one that playeth well upon an instrument.” (Ezek. 33:32.) It is not the nice adjustment of the balances, to determine the little proprieties of the preacher’s tone, gesture, emphasis, or attitude; as if it was of little moment what he speaks, if only he speaks in good taste.

Nor is it “the man, who looketh in the glass, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was.” (Jam. 1:23, 24.) Such service can only be the sacrifice of fools. ‘A fool is the priest, and folly the oblation.

For what else can it be, to conceive that the Searcher of hearts is pleased with mere external formalism? or to forget that “God is a spirit,” and therefore can only be acceptably worshipped in spiritual service and in truth? (John 4:23, 24.) This is indeed vanity in its most revolting character—vanity brought into our worship—our very religion turned into vanity. (Isa. 1:13; Matt. 15:7–9.) Worldly thoughts, pleasures, and plans are brought—not only to the very door, but even to the sanctuary itself.

“Our Father’s house is made a house of merchandize.” (John 2:16.) The truth floats across a multitude of hearers; but no profitable impression is left. All is absolutely worthless—a mockery of God. And yet, such is the self-delusion of this folly, that the heartless worshippers consider not that they do evil. (Hos. 7:2.) But however well conceived be the outward form, the substance is “the sacrifice of the wicked, which is an abomination unto the Lord.” (Prov. 15:8.) Account will be taken at the great day, not only for the commission of sin, but for the service of duty.

Alas! who of us has not cause to remember every step of our prayerful course, as a deep and large ground of humiliation before God? Indeed—as a dying philosopher was constrained to admit—‘What would become of a poor sinful soul, but for that blessed, all-comprehensive sacrifice, and that intercession at “the right hand of the Majesty on high?” ’ This we can plead, and never shall we plead it in vain.

This is a Divine Rule for prayer. We need not restrict it to public worship. Let it apply to “all prayer and supplication. The vanity of the heart in prayer gives full scope for this rule of discipline. Have we not cause to pray, that we might know what prayer is? How little do we know—because how little time and heart we have given to it! How much of our own spirit mingles with our intercourse with God! We admit it as a duty—Nay, do we not enjoy it as a privilege?

Yet how little we realize its power—prevalence—majesty! Our business with God is infinitely greater than with all the world beside. Bright indeed is our encouragement—‘nothing,’ as Bp. Taylor beautifully observes, ‘but desiring of God to give us the greatest and best of things we can need, and which can make us happy. And yet such waywardness! such ignorance! such rash utterance of the mouth! such hastiness of spirit!

“strange fire before the Lord.” (Lev. 10:1.) Oh! the blessedness of realizing the Indwelling Intercessor “helping our infirmities! There will be no more cold generalities—coming without an errand—the sure mark of an insensible heart.

The Spirit brings up our real wants and concerns, frames our desires, and moulds every thought “according to the will of God.” (Rom. 8:26, 27.) ‘To pray without the Spirit’—as an experimental writer observes—‘is the same as thinking without a mind, or speaking without the power of speech. In Him alone thou art a living thing. Whence all thy waverings in prayer—thy discomfort after prayer—conscious of having dealt with God, yet not prevailed? Is it not this?

The mind has thought, the lips have moved—without the Spirit. Better be silent altogether than run before his motions. The want of this “preparation of heart” to speak in the Lord’s ear makes the heart careless and irreverent, and brings guilt upon the holy exercise.

The thought of “the Lord in heaven sitting on his throne,” and the defiled sinner on earth standing before him (Isa. 6:5–8), the infinite distance between his greatness and our vileness—‘this would keep us from that heart-nonsense, which, though the words be sense, yet through the inattention of the heart, are but as impertinent confused dreams in the Lord’s ears. Here is a wholesome bridle to our rashness, but no restraint upon the Spirit of adoption.

The way is open—not only to a Father’s throne, but to a Father’s heart. The few words here directed are words well weighed—well chosen and ordered. They contrast strongly with the “vain repetitions”—such as the frantic orgies of Baal—the Romish Pater-nosters—or the Pharisees’ long prayers—“thinking they shall be heard for their much speaking.

But ‘God hears us not the sooner for many words; but much the sooner from earnest desire, to which let apt and sufficient words minister, be they few or many. The fewness of the words is not the main concern; but whether they be the words of the heart—‘whether they be gold or lead’—what life there is in them. For ‘nothing is more unacceptable to God, than to hold on speaking, after we have left off praying.

So long as the heart and the tongue flow together, never suppose that your Lord will be weary of our many words. The exercise may be indefinitely extended—the true spirit of the rule is not transgressed.

It stands indeed to remind us ‘that his goodness must not cause us to forget his greatness;’ that “the throne of grace” is a throne of majesty (Comp. Heb. 12:28, 29, with Deut. 4:24); and therefore that the confidence of the child must be tempered with the humility of the sinner. But the few words imply the heart set in order before utterance—a thoughtful mind in a spiritual habit. It is often large and mighty prayer in a narrow compass.

There is more substance in a few minutes’ real communion, than in an hour of formal exercise. There is no artificial method—all is full of feeling and confidence—all is sealed with gracious acceptance. To maintain this tone of feeling, ought not the Christian to study his prayers, as the minister does his sermon? each remembering himself to be in the awful presence of God? The keeping of the mind and heart with God is most valuable discipline for prayer.

Any defect here restrains the holiest privileges of the Gospel. A protracted exercise may be only empty formalism—prayerless prayer—the sacrifice of fools—routine, not vitality. The heart is far from God. Loose and incoherent impulses also contrast with the few sober, recollected words. They are like the confused images of a dream, flowing out of the hurry of distracting business. ‘As a multitude of business produces a dream, so multitude of words discovers the folly.

And “in the multitude of” such “words”—where the tongue pours out its torrent separate from the heart—assuredly “there wanteth not sin.” (Prov. 10:19.) The indwelling word is the storehouse, that supplies the matter, and inspires confidence for prayer.

For “if ye abide in me”—saith the Saviour—“and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.” (John 15:7.) Prayer—such prayer as this, drawn out from the Divine treasury—is a sacred exorcist, which puts legions to flight. Never parley with the rushing thoughts of this world’s vanity, or of inner unbelief. In a posture of resistance, all is brightness and energy, well poised and balanced in readiness for the conflict.

Here then is the true spirit of prayer—collected—deliberate—pursued. It is not advancement only, but possession. Only give it permanence in the habit of faith. The Divine work will develop itself in prayer, “in newness of spirit”—with the heart in earnest. It is in holy secrecy that the soul takes the firmest hold.

There may be no words—or only stammering words (Isa. 38:14)—little beside sighs and tears. (Ps. 6:6; Lam. 3:56.) Yet is it the remedy for conscious weakness—as the dying Foster—after adverting to some matters of utter helplessness—added—‘But I can pray, and that is a glorious thing.

But let the feeling have full vent in the “intercession of the Divine Spirit with groanings which cannot be uttered;” and this, not as the result of unnatural animal excitement, but as the expression of the intense breathing of the spiritual life. (Rom. 8:26.)

The rules in the former verses apply to the ordinary service of God. This relates to a special exercise. The warning, however, against rashness and haste applies here, ‘lest we beg a blessing, and fall into a snare. Indeed this subject of vows requires a very careful and delicate treatment. A solemn engagement advisedly made with God is a transaction needing much prayer and consideration. It should rest upon the clear warrant of God’s word.

It should concern a matter really important, suitable, and attainable. It should be so limited, as to open a way for disentanglement under unforeseen contingencies, or altered circumstances. It will be an hindrance or an help, according as it is the result of impulse, or of intelligence.

There must be a real conviction of our total weakness, acted out in simple dependence upon Omnipotent grace; else the most sincere vow will be found too feeble an engagement for the hour of temptation, and will issue in discouragement and perplexity. The soul is rather ensnared than helped, and the enemy gains an advantage even in the very posture of resistance.

And yet some special season of covenanting with God may be valuable, to strengthen the weakness of the young disciple, to remind him when he is apt to forget, and to humble him in the consciousness of short-coming or fall. The early choice is often so wavering—‘convinced by the grace of God, not persuaded; and then persuaded, but not resolved; and then resolved, but deferring to begin; and then beginning, but in weakness and uncertainty.

Vows however are not like prayers—our daily work, “without ceasing.” (1 Thess. 5:17.) We have burdens and infirmities enough pressing upon us. Let us be careful, that we do not rashly or needlessly multiply them. The obligation indeed more fully belongs to the Old dispensation. The “law of liberty” gives no express direction. We might suppose that a clear apprehension of the terms of the Gospel would render vows altogether unnecessary.

For are we not bound by direct, sacred, and constraining obligation to consecrate to the Lord all that we are—all that we have—all that we can do—independent of an extra bond? Here we are brought to the utmost that can be required. And yet Scriptural allowance appears to be made, in order to meet the infirmity of the case just alluded to. The Evangelical Prophet seems to connect the ordinance with Gospel times.

The “subscribing with the hand to the Lord,” under the outpouring of the Spirit, was evidently a special bond, and an acceptable service. And even in the history of Israel’s solemn covenanting with God, the “blood sprinkled upon the people” made provision for the breach of the covenant, and gives an Evangelical character to the transaction. (Heb. 9:19, 20.) May not Sacraments also be considered, not only as the seals of God’s faithfulness to us, but as the pledges of our devotedness to Him? (Comp. 1 Pet. 3:21.) Here, however, is not the direction to make a vow, but the obligation—having made it—cheerfully and instantly to pay it.

It is an engagement we should be careful to discharge to man; much more to God. (Deut. 23:21; Ps. 76:11.) The rule is therefore emphatically repeated—Defer not to pay it. Pay that which thou hast vowed. Jacob’s forgetfulness brought upon him the scourging rod. (Gen. 35:1, 2, with 28:20–22.) Hannah deferred not to pay. (1 Sam. 1:11; 24–28.) Instant readiness is the best proof of sincerity.

Oh! my God—what is there?—is there anything—that withholds my whole heart this moment from thee? Let me live under the awful weight of the words—He hath no pleasure in fools—‘who go about, one while to flatter him in making a vow, and afterwards to mock him in refusing or delaying to pay it. Far better to have refrained from the vow, which was a self-imposed obligation, than from the payment, which is now a bond upon the soul.

To refuse to enlist may be guiltless; but to desert the colours is to be guilty of death. We had need be cautious in making vows, that we may be upright in paying them. “Make a straight path for our feet. Go onward in singleness and simplicity of heart. There must be a living faith, not only that we may lay hold at the beginning, but hold on to the end. All depends—not only on laying hold, but holding on. But vows contrary to God’s word cannot bind a right conscience.

A vow cannot make that right which is morally wrong. What is contrary to the law can never be a legitimate engagement to the Lawgiver. Herod’s engagement (Matt. 14:9), therefore, would have been more honoured in the breach than in the observance. ‘Know’—saith Bp. Sanderson—‘that neither oath, vow, nor other tie whatever, is allowed by Almighty God to bind thee to sin!

Oppose then against all thy rash promises and vows that solemn promise and vow thou madest unto God in the face of the congregation, and tookest the holy sacrament upon it in thy baptism—“to keep his holy commandments, and to continue his faithful soldier and servant unto life’s end. Let equity teach thee, that the first bond should be first discharged; and reason, that if an oath or a vow must stand, the first should rather.

Every member—so active is the principle of sin!—stirs the whole body. The rashness of the mouth causes the flesh—the whole corrupt mass—to sin. To how many inconsiderate and unwarranted vows does this warning apply! (Judg. 11:30; 1 Sam. 14:24.) Never suffer thy mouth to promise what thou canst not, and oughtest not to perform.

This is to bring sin upon us, by seeking occasion for it, when God has left us free. (Acts, 5:4.) The vow of celibacy, without the gift of continency—what a torrent of sin has it poured in upon the Church! It might often occur under the Jewish economy, that a man—greedy of eminence in the Church—would vow before the priest beyond his power and intention; and when the claim was pressed (see 1 Sam. 2:13), he would attempt to deny the extent of his engagement.

Many a modern hypocrite hath laid this snare for himself. To stand high with his brethren, he sets apart “that which is holy. His carnal appetite subsequently “devours it,” and “after vows he makes inquiry” to avoid the obligation. Let him not say before the angel, that it was an error—a thoughtless mistake. Oh! clothe not the hateful sin with so slight a name. Let it be seen in its fearful colours—its heavy aggravations.

The Omniscient Searcher of hearts strips off the flimsy cover—God is angry at his voice; and destroys the work of his hands. Such awful mockery the God of Truth could never pass by with impunity. The fruit of this deceit proves its source. No steady purpose can flow from half-hearted principle. All such words and professions therefore have as little substance, as the multitude of dreams. In many words how fruitful is the harvest! A single thoughtless word lights up the fire.

A word of discontent stirs the troubled waters. Many words—divers vanities. “The Lord knoweth the thoughts of men, that they are but vain” (Ps. 94:11)—multiplied provocations! But the remedy is before us. Fear thou God.

Here is the grand fundamental of godliness—inseparably linked with every Christian grace—not impulse, but principle—the “bit and bridle” to repress the rashness of the flesh—the habit of holy discipline to frame the spiritual service—“Sanctify the Lord God in your hearts. And let him be your fear; and let him be your dread.” (Isa. 8:13.) Let him have the best—not the dregs. Let him have the whole confidence—the whole heart.

But be sure that every exercise—ordinary or special—has the one distinctive character of “a living” and “spiritual sacrifice.” (Rom. 12:1; 1 Pet. 2:5.) All ascends upwards on one ground—through one way of access (Heb. 13:15)—with one plea for acceptance.

And here sins of infirmity, no less than sins of presumption, when confessed and repented of, are covered, cleansed, and blotted out forever. (Heb 10:19–22.) What do we know of vital religion, unless we come to God by this his own—his only—way of acceptance?

We need not in this book always expect continuous connexion. It is not the regular dissertation upon a given subject, but a rapid survey of the different points in the great sphere before him. Yet this verse falls in with one great object of the Book, which is to compose the minds of the servants of God to stillness and confidence under his inscrutable dispensations.

Solomon supposes a wide extent of unjust oppression—not a village—town—city—but a province under perverting influence. This is truly a dark page in providence, which exercises “the patience and faith of the saints” (Ps. 73:12, 13; Jer. 12:1), stumbles the ill-instructed, and opens wide the caviller’s mouth. But—as Bp. Butler wisely remarks—‘there may be the wisest and best reasons, why our happiness and misery should be put in each other’s power in the degree in which it is.

There is therefore no cause to marvel at the matter, as if it were unexpected, to allow hard thoughts of God, to complain of his dispensations, or to be weary of his service. There is an appeal to a higher court. All will be set right there. If the oppressor be high, the Higher than the highest regardeth. (Ps. 10:11–14; 12:5; Prov. 22:12, 13.) He does not look on as an unconcerned spectator. If he “keeps silence,” his forbearance is not forgetfulness.

He is only waiting—as in his dealings with the chosen nation—his own best and fittest time for their deliverance. (Exod. 3:7–9.) Messiah’s kingdom is brightened with the sunbeam—“He shall deliver the needy when he crieth; the poor also, and him that hath no helper.” (Ps. 72:12–14.) High and lofty as the oppressors of the Church may be, let us look upward. “The Lord reigneth.

Here is our present stay. (Ps 46:10; 97:1, 2; 146:7, 10.) “I know that the Lord will maintain the cause of the afflicted, and the right of the poor.” (Ps 140:12.) His angelic messenger—higher than the oppressors—may be the swift invisible instruments of vengeance. (Ps 103:20; 104:4, with 2 Kings 19:35; Acts, 12:20.) The Lord cometh—Here is our “blessed hope.

He will assert his own sovereign right, and remove all inequalities. (Titus 2:13; Mal. 3:5; 4:1–3.) “Rest” to the oppressed will be the joyous consummation of that day. (2 Thess. 1:7.)

Moreover—connects this statement, though somewhat obscurely, with the preceding. Perhaps the supremacy of God giving to all an equal interest in the earth, was intended as a memento, that common interest and mutual dependence should check unjust oppression. Gradation of rank is indeed the ordinance of God, evil only, when the higher abuse their elevation.

Yet there is a level, where “the rich and the poor meet together.” (Prov. 22:2.) The curse upon the ground is so far mitigated, that while “bread” is still “eaten in the sweat of the face” (Gen. 3:17) there is profit—directly or indirectly—for all. The many live by it. The highest cannot live without it. The King himself is served by the field. He is more dependent upon the labourer, than the labourer is on him.

He has more need of the labourer’s strength, than the labourer has of his royal crown. Agriculture was an ordinance of God before the fall. ‘And of all the arts of civilized man, it is transcendently the most essential and valuable. Other arts may contribute to the comfort, the convenience, and the embellishment of life. But the cultivation of the soil stands in immediate connexion with our very existence.

The life itself, to whose comfort, convenience, and embellishment other arts contribute, is by this to be sustained, so that others without it can avail nothing. In their dependence on the field all are equal. The prince and the peasant are alike served of it. Humility, therefore, is the lesson for the rich; contentment for the poor. All of us may be reminded of the important truth, with its daily responsibilities—that all are members of one body—parts of one great whole.

Independence is man’s proud delusion. The desire of this prerogative was his fall and ruin. (Gen. 3:4, 5.) Gracious therefore and wise is the dispensation, that sweeps it away. The highest cannot say to the lowest—“I have no need of thee.” (1 Cor. 12:21.) No man lives for himself, but for the body. Mutual helpfulness contributes to the increase and prosperity of the whole. (Eph. 4:15, 16.)

The tempter may paint a brilliant prospect of happiness. But fact and experience prove, that he that loveth silver or any worldly abundance will be satisfied neither with the possession, nor with the increase. The appetite is created—not satisfied. The vanity of this disease is coveting what does not satisfy when we have it. Hunger is satisfied with meat, and thirst with drink. But hunger or thirst for this world’s wealth is as unsatisfied at the end, as at the beginning.

‘Could you’—says a lively expositor—‘change the solid earth into a single lump of gold, and drop it into the gaping mouth of avarice, it would only be a crumb of transient comfort, a cordial drop, enabling it to cry a little louder, “Give—give. So true is it, that “a man’s life”—his real comfort of life—“consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth.” (Luke 12:15.) ‘Nature is content with little, grace with less, but lust with nothing.

Silver can neither give peace, nor make up for the loss of it. Be it however remembered, that the evil lies in the love—not the possession of silver. Abraham had abundance of it, but with an heavenly heart. (Gen. 13:2; 24:2, with Heb. 11:9, 10.) David’s treasures were almost countless.

Yet they were not his portion, but his talent—always felt to be not his own—laid up joyfully for God. (1 Chron. 28:10–19; 29:1–16.) It is the love of money—the “will to be rich—enlarging the desire as hell, and as death, which cannot be satisfied” (Hab. 2:5, Comp. Isa. 5:8)—the making riches the idol—the all—the treasure—here are the “snares and temptations, that drown men in destruction and perdition.

‘The whole system of heathen idolatry furnishes no more complete renunciation of God. He who makes a god of his pleasure, renders to this idol the homage of his senses. He who makes a god of his wealth, renders to this idol the homage of his mind; and he therefore of the two is the more hopeless and determined idolater. The former is goaded on to his idolatry by the power of appetite.

The latter cultivates his with wilful and deliberate perseverance, consecrates his very highest powers to its service, fully gives up his reason and his time, and all the faculties of his understanding, as well as all the desires of his heart, to the great object of a fortune in this world.

“Thou, O man of God, flee these things.” (1 Tim. 6:11.) For when our desires are running before our wants, it were far better to sit down content where we are, than where we hope to be in the delusion of our insatiable desire. A portion in this life is therefore far more to be dreaded than to be envied. Success is enough to frighten a sober, intelligent mind. It is often connected with the disease of spiritual consumption—insensible to present danger.

Every way, therefore, the verdict flashes upon us—This is also vanity. Nor is it to be forgotten, that an increase of goods is followed with a corresponding increase of consumers. Solomon’s expensive establishment kept pace with his increasing treasures. (1 Kings 4:22–26.) In all similar cases the multitude of retainers increases. A certain appearance must be maintained. The owner may be a poorer man, than when he had less riches, and fewer mouths to feed.

The only good is the mere empty pleasure of beholding with his eyes, and saying, ‘These are mine. ‘The poorest artisan in Rome, walking in Cæsar’s garden, had the same pleasures which they ministered to their lord.

The birds made him as good music, the flowers gave him as sweet smiles; he there sucked as good air, and delighted in the beauty and order of the place, for the same reason, and upon the same perception as the prince himself: save only that Cæsar paid for all that pleasure vast which of money, the blood and treasure of a province, which the poor man had for nothing.

‘I have no comfort in all these things’—said one, who had made for himself a princely Elysium—‘because I meet death in every walk. ‘Ah! David, David’—said Dr. Johnson to Garrick, when shewing him his Twickenham Villa—‘these are what make a death-bed terrible! Even in the common comforts of life—is not the balance often in favour of the poor? Having little to lose, they have but little fear of losing.

Their sleep is therefore the natural fruit of weariness without care; whereas the abundance of the rich is often a sleeping weight. When the last thoughts are of the world, and the heart centred there, carefulness is the atmosphere of the day, and hurried restlessness often the weariness of the night. Thus are sleepless nights connected with anxious days.

Perhaps Shakespeare’s royal picture may paint the anxieties of a worldly heart, as well as the trouble of a guilty conscience—

“How many thousands of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep,” &c.

Grandeur often pays a nightly penance for the triumph of the day. This is the evil of covetousness—an “easily besetting sin. Multitudes condemn it in others, who little suspect its influence in their own hearts. ‘It is a fleshly desire—something that has got into the place of God—a deep, desperate, plausible, but damning sin. Men are accustomed to give it a softer name, such as prudence; but there is no sin more hardening and stupefying to the conscience.

It is an awful thought, that this habit does not necessarily bring an outward blot upon the Christian profession. We may “err from the faith” under this deadly principle (1 Tim. 6:10), without changing one atom of our Evangelical Creed. We may slumber in the delusion of our varying religious feelings, while the cankering habit is fixed in the world hidden within. Oh! what need of deep searchings of heart—“of watchfulness unto prayer!

Well does an old commentator remark—‘He is rich—not who possesses much, but who desires little’—we may add—whose treasure is in his God and Saviour. For where—but in Him—can the vast desires of our souls be satisfied? If he loves us, he will not lose us. Yet he will use his rod to the end, rather than suffer that to abide in us which his soul abhorreth.

Another illustration of the utter vanity of riches. This profound book discloses many humbling secrets. Is the man repining about his hard lot, and ready to envy his more wealthy neighbor? Let him study here the lesson set before him, and return with a contented—yea—with a thankful heart—‘Thank God! I have blessings with less care, temptation, and disappointment. On no side can we look, but we see a sore evil under the sun—painful to the eyes—much more to the heart.

Can we wonder at it? The seed produces the harvest. “Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” (Gal. 6:7.) Mark this picture of grovelling vanity—Bunyan’s Muckrake drawn to life. Riches centred in selfish aggrandizement, and therefore kept for the owners thereof to their hurt. And grievous indeed is the hurt.

Such strong temptations to pride, vain-glory, love of the world, forgetfulness of God—so many bye-paths to perdition (1 Tim. 6:9, 10)—so many mighty hindrances against entering into the kingdom! They are always a temptation. So often a rise in the world is declension or apostacy from God. It is only when they are consecrated to God, and laid out in the service of our fellow-creatures—that they become a blessing.

Here, however, the fortune which the miser had heaped up, has perished by some kind of evil travail. There is nothing in his hand. He leaves his child a beggar, and he returns to his mother’s womb naked as he came forth. (Job 1:20; 1 Tim. 6:7.) This may seem a commonplace picture. But what if the reality had its due practical influence? What a substance of the truest happiness would there be in living for eternity!

The miser’s present course is indeed a sore evil—all his profit of pouring out his heart upon the world will be found at last to have been only labouring for the wind (Hos. 8:7; 12:1)—‘embracing a shadow; grasping the air; wearying himself for that which hath no substance of true felicity in it. Sickness and sorrow shadow his path to a clouded eternity.

And what will be the forlorn despondency in awakening to the consciousness—‘I have wasted all the golden opportunities that can never be recalled, of gaining grace, and winning heaven—wasted them in the most senseless of all objects—heaping up treasure for no other end than the splendour of my own name?

“Horror taketh hold of me” in the thought of the last passage—‘even when cold in death, his hand remaining clenched in the last convulsive grasp, with which he sought to retain his darling treasure’—wrath from above!—terror from within!—a dark eternity of unspeakable torment!—one everlasting! night He “shall never see light!” (Ps. 49:19.)

A bright vision comes before the wise man, in contrast with the frowning cloud just before. He calls our earnest attention to it. It is a matter that he can vouch for. Behold that which I have seen. There is a school among us who are fond of describing religion by its sorrows, and who forget, or seem to forget, their overbalancing joys. In their view it is as if we were ‘humbled and degraded, with only not despair; sorrowing with a perpetual sorrow.

But Solomon shews us the reality of happiness even in a world of sin and sorrow. “All things are ours—things present,” as well as “things to come.” (1 Cor. 3:22.) And good and comely is the privilege of connecting our present blessings with the enjoyment of God. Is this the picture of mere worldly happiness? as if we might plead against over-strictness, and in favour of more indulgence. Shall the libertine plead it in excuse for his own lust? We think not.

The law of discipleship in the Old and New Testament is substantially the same—self-denial—taking up the cross. Solomon only insists that the true servant of God is really the happiest of men—that “God giveth him richly all things to enjoy” (1 Tim. 6:17)—that he has a goodly portion in the world—though not the world for his portion—something really to be enjoyed, allotted by him, who in temporals, as well as in spirituals, “divideth to every man severally as he will.

This is the gift of God—every day of our life a new gift—specially to be employed for his glory and in his service. It is difficult to maintain a just appreciation of the gifts of God. ‘We err either in excess or in defect. ‘A Christian’—as has been well said—‘knows the value of the good creatures of God. But he does not put them in the place of God. It is most important to set out Christian liberty, while we inculcate Christian mortification.

We must be careful not to give unworthy views of the real happiness to be found in the world—not primary indeed, yet valuable, though subordinate. Let there be no cloud upon the glory of the Divine beneficence. Let godliness throw a sunbeam upon all temporal enjoyments. Let us carefully adjust the balance.

We have seen that riches well-nigh shut us out of heaven (Matt. 19:23)—and that “the love of them drowns men in destruction and perdition.” (1 Tim. 6:9, 10.) Must we not then cast them away? The Preacher gives the due balance. They are not essentially evil. The evil is in their abuse—as we have said—in their love, not in their possession. The true difference is not in the gift, but in the power to use it—to eat thereof. The gift may belong to the ungodly.

The power is the exclusive privilege of the Christian. He ‘is not the slave of his worldly goods, but truly the master of them. God ‘giveth him bodily health, joy of spirit, occasions of content, peace, and liberty, of possessing, and enjoying, and other the like favours, without which goods are useless to men; and yet they depend only upon God’s good-will, and riches cannot give them; nor man of himself gain them. And what of the ungodly? His days drag heavily.

The remembrance is clouded. The road before him dark and wearisome. But what with him, who ‘lives in God’s grace? God answereth him in the joy of his heart ‘by the comfort of his Spirit. With him time flies on with angels’ wings. The remembrance of the days of his life are “few and evil.” (Gen. 47:9.) The glowing anticipation melts away the past.

For how soon will every spring of sorrow be dried up for ever! (Isa. 35:10.) How bright does the eternity of joy contrast with “the affliction but for a moment!” (2 Cor. 4:17.) “Pleasures” ever new are his portion “at God’s right hand for evermore.” (Ps. 16:11.)